Chapter Text
Mosquitoes danced over the water's surface as the sun was on its way down. A bright green frog sitting at the lake's edge caught one with his sticky tongue. Several frogs croaked into the fading light, unaware or not minding the larger creature behind them, who had yellow ochre skin, a broad face and neck similar in shape to theirs but with short hair growing on top, and big forward-facing yellow eyes.
Cherry only had his head above the water – it was just shallow enough for him to sit on the bottom – and puffed out his cheeks as he released a deep ribbit from his throat. He liked listening to the frogs, who were distant relatives of the ribbipud, or so he was told by the elders. Similar to how the small hair-covered apes were distant relatives of the larger ape-like two-legged creatures he often saw. He had observed three kinds of apeoids: apeoids with skin tones ranging from light pink to dark brown who had round ears, other apeoids with a paler complexion and pointy ears, and lastly apeoids with several hues of grey, yellow and green skin who had mouth bones sticking out of the bottom of their mouth like tusked hogs. The ones with the round ears sometimes had hair on their face as well, unlike the others.
Cherry’s eyes followed the movements of the mosquitoes as he thought about the creatures he had observed over the years. Suddenly he shot out his tongue into the swarm, retracted it and smacked his lips. Not very substantial, but it was food, and they had a pleasant taste.
His thoughts returned to the apeoids. The pointy-eared ones came to this lake most often as there was a settlement not too far from here. They had learned the ribbipud language and often spoke with the elders. The elders met them at the shore of the lake as their houses were too small for them; an adult ribbipud reached an adult pointy-eared’s hip when they stood up straight. Cherry liked them; they were gentle and wise, and they even protected them from large predators. The only downside was that ribbipud were nocturnal, just like the frogs, and the pointy-eared apeoids were diurnal – active during the day. The green ones were the most dangerous of the apeoids – they were hunters and their smallest prey was around his size. And, as Cherry had heard, they were the only nocturnal of the apeoids.
The last time he had seen the green ones was around three years ago; he had just turned fifteen and had gone on a journey to another ribbipud village. They had witnessed the green apeoids fighting the round-eared apeoids from a distance. The ribbipuds from the other village had said some of their kind always went missing whenever the tusked apeoids – their word for the green apeoids – were in the area.
Another ribbipud emerged from the water behind him.
“It’s time for the hunt,” he croaked. “A few more days before the dholes move through the area again and we should have food ready for when they come.”
“Coming, dad,” Cherry replied and waded further into the lake until it was deep enough to swim. The dholes – fox-like predators with orange hair – moved around a lot as they followed their prey, and they came close to this lake twice a year. The pointy-eared apeoids generally kept them away from the lake, but sometimes they still got to the lake, and they had to stay inside when that happened. The dholes were fast, good jumpers, decent swimmers, and they had sharp claws.
Cherry followed his father to the other side of the lake where wooden huts floated on the water, attached to the shore and each other with ropes. Some ribbipud sat on the wooden decks of their huts; others used rope bridges to cross to other buildings. Their skin tones were several hues of ochre: yellow, red and brown. Cherry was part of the hunters, who dedicated their lives to bringing food back to the village. All ribbipud could hunt small animals when they were hungry; small fish and mice could be caught with their tongue and swallowed whole, and berries, worms and insects could be found anywhere. The hunters brought back larger prey, so others could devote time to master other crafts, such as building houses and furniture from branches, making rope from reed, or guarding the village. That was one thing that set the ribbipuds apart from frogs, who ate to live and lived to eat. They had learned to preserve food, and the use of fire allowed them to stay awake during the winter, instead of hibernating. The cold made them slow, and most chose to hibernate, but it was no longer a necessity. Those who stayed awake devoted their time to study and doing chores.
One group of ribbipud swam with spears to the centre of the lake to hunt big fish that would be cut into swallow-sized pieces and smoked for later use. Others picked up some stones for their slings to hunt birds in the fading light. Cherry joined the group that would hunt rodents and hid in the reeds where he waited patiently. When he spotted a mouse, he shot his tongue out. The mouse squeaked as he pulled it in. While he could swallow it now, the goal was to collect them, and it was generally recommended not to swallow live mice because they could claw and bite. Most ribbipud had a stone knife with them to quickly decapitate and declaw a mouse, but bashing in the skull worked as well. When rodents were too big to catch with their tongue, they either jumped at them to kill them with their knife or used their sling.
When the hunters were pleased with their catch, they returned to the village. The rats they found were cut up to remove the head, tail and limbs and put in a smoker to preserve for later use. While his father was handling the meat, Cherry went to the biggest building in the centre of the village: the community house. It was large enough to house all ribbipud in case of important meetings. He heard music and songs before he opened the door, and he smiled broadly, puffing out his cheeks and letting out a pleased ribbit. The moment he stepped inside, he joined in with the song and clapped his hands as he danced to the tunes of the reed flutes. A few ribbilets jumped to the music. While there were similarities between ribbipuds and the much smaller frogs, they didn’t have limbless tadpoles hatching from the eggs, but small ribbipuds. They fed on insects in their early months, which they instinctively caught themselves, and were fed a berry and fish paste with a spoon. After a year, they knew how to find berries and practised catching mice, and after five years they were considered ribbipuds who could look after themselves if needed. Cherry took two ribbilets by the hand to dance with them as he ribbited along with the others.
Before dawn, when the sky turned a lighter shade just before the sun was up, Cherry swam through the lake. While he loved the rich orange colours of dusk and dawn, the bright sunlight hurt his eyes, so he always made sure to be back at the village by the time the sun peeked over the trees. A strange sound caught his attention. At first, he thought it was the grunts of a swine, but it wasn’t the same. There were different tones, and there was definitely a melody to it. He stayed low and used his arms and legs to gently move himself towards the sound. Staying between the reeds, he watched one of the green apeoids, although this one had pale skin and wasn’t as tall or broad as others he had seen. Body-wise, it reminded him more of the pointy-eared apeoids, as this body lacked a lot of the bulk the others showed, but the tusks were a clear sign he belonged to the greens. And the pale skin wasn’t as pale as the pointy-eared; it had some greyish-lightgreen hues. Among the ribbipuds was a saying: the greener the apeoid, the more dangerous it is. He noted the long black hair tied together behind the head and touched his own hair, short and thick, as everyone else of his kind had. Apeoids had various hairstyles, and at times he was envious of that. Now, his attention was mostly on the sounds coming from the apeoid’s mouth. He slowly blinked one eye and then the other. If he stayed here and didn’t move, the apeoid wouldn’t see him. There was no danger in listening to the strange song. At times he closed his eyes to enjoy the mysterious tune.
When the green apeoid was done and walked away, Cherry turned around and swam back to the village, where he told the guards he had spotted a green apeoid on the other side of the lake. The guards exchanged worried looks and thanked him for the information. The news was brought to the elders, who decided that they would need to send out scouts to watch their movements. Cherry volunteered, and so did many of the hunters.
After a good day of sleep, evening came along. Cherry swam alongside the edge of the lake to see if any of the apeoids were in sight. He saw the pale one from the night before. With silent movements, he followed him until he stopped. Cherry waited to see what he would do next. As he had hoped, the apeoid started his song again. The melody was the same as the night before. He softly croaked along until the apeoid stopped and tried to find him. Cherry hid behind the plants. The orc started his song again, but a larger and greener apeoid came along. Cherry silently sank deeper into the water and watched them snarl and growl at each other. The pale one nodded at the end and followed the large one.
Back at the village, he reported about the pale orc from before and another orc with whom he had left. Some of the hunters had left the safety of the water, and one had found a camp full of green apeoids, not far from the settlement of the pale pointy-eared apeoids.
The next evening the scouts all patrolled their lake again, Cherry included. He swam straight to the place where he had seen the singing apeoid, whom he referred to as Grey in his mind because he was not as pale as the pointy-eared ones, but not as green as his fellow apeoids. He had thought about the song a lot; it was so different from any of the songs he knew, and how was it that they could sing like that while being built so differently? Those tusks didn’t seem to hinder at all. And who could have thought those growls and grunts could sound so good? At times the sounds it produced were almost familiar.
Cherry waited for a while, hiding between the plants. As he had hoped, Grey returned. Cherry remained between the plants as he gazed over the water before taking in a breath and opening his mouth to sing. The same song again, Cherry listened to it at first, opened his mouth and let out a pleased ribbit, and croaked along to the melody. The apeoid stopped. Their eyes met. The moment was over in a second and dragged on for an eternity. Cherry knew he had to hide, but this one didn’t seem hostile; he didn’t even carry any weapons. Cherry croaked again, emulating the melody and trying to mimic some of the sounds. The apeoid grunted at him, with a raised tone at the end. A question? It sounded like a question, and between the grunts some sounds were familiar, as if he used sounds similar to what ribbipuds used, but in a different way. Another moment of silence, and then the apeoid started singing again. Cherry joined in with soft croaks of his own, mimicking the sounds Grey produced as well as he could. He quickly hid when he saw another orc approach; this one was as broad and tall as most orcs but had a light, yellowish hair colour instead of the usual black, and his skin had hues ranging from dark yellow to dark green. Cherry silently swam back and slowly went underwater. At the village, he again told the others about where he had seen the apeoids, but he didn’t say anything about the singing.
***
Roserus went to the lake shore and gazed over the water that reflected the stars. He took in a deep breath to smell the wind that rippled the water. The scents here were so different from back home. So much green and life. And strange creatures. His eyes moved over the surface. Last night he was certain he had heard a frog, but somehow it sounded like his song. Maybe the frog lived here, maybe he would hear it again. Roserus took in a breath and opened his mouth to sing.
Stars shining down on me
Please help me to see
Show me the way
I cannot stay
Moonlight show me the path
I have to flee the wrath
Guide me my way
I cannot stay
There it was. Roserus tried to find the origin of the croaking, and when he found it, he stopped singing. A giant frog was in the water and looked straight at him, but this frog had hair, and his face had some characteristics that seemed familiar. For a moment they just looked at each other.
The frog croaked again. It sounded as if it was singing his song. “Do you like my song?” Roserus asked him. He waited for a moment, but when the frog didn’t answer, Roserus sang again.
Wind hide my smell from those
once friends and now my foes
Hide me away
I cannot stay
Night cover my own track
Hide me from their attack
I’ll go away
I cannot stay
Footsteps behind him, Roserus turned his head to look over his shoulder. The orc that approached had light, yellowish hair, and his skin had hues ranging from dark yellow to dark green. “Andy.” Roserus returned his attention to the lake. The frog was gone.
“What are you doing here by yourself?” Andy asked.
“It’s gone.”
“What is?”
“A… frog, but bigger and yellowish. And, I don’t know, its face was like ours, but smooth and no tusks or ears.”
“Ah. Frogoid, probably. A fairly common race. Not as common as humans or elves are. The scouts saw some tracks; there might be a village nearby.” He put a hand on Roserus’s shoulder. “The others are leaving on their raid on the elven settlement; we should get ready for when they are back.”
Roserus followed Andy to their camp. This was their third night here: raid night. Shortly after they had arrived, he had visited the lake at dawn because no one at the camp had wanted to hear him sing as they put up the tents and sleep. The second night he had returned and once again sang his favourite song, but the raid leader had sent an orc to bring him back because they had captured some elves who had likely been on their way to the settlement. The second night was always scout night. The elves, two males, one female and two children, had begged to be spared, but they had been brutally slaughtered one by one. The raid leader had appointed the orcs for the kills and had given him the blade when it was time to kill the young elves. The children had cried when the others died, which had sounded just like orc children. Roserus hadn’t been able to kill the child appointed to him and had dropped the blade. Another orc had picked up the blade in his place, and Roserus had looked away when the children were murdered. His reluctance to participate had led to a beating as punishment, but before the raid leader could force a promise to do better during the raid out of him, Andy had stepped up to take him as an apprentice. Now he would learn to be a healer and had to stay at the camp. He wasn’t sure if he could learn that, but he was glad he didn’t have to be a part of the raid anymore.
“Why do we do it?” he asked.
“Hm?” Andy turned to look at him.
“Why do we attack elves?”
“Oh, we have a long history. We attack them, they attack us. I suppose it all began…” Andy furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “Maybe not a conversation to have now.”
While Roserus wanted to know, he decided that it wouldn’t do much good to press him further on the matter. He’d ask about it some other time.
The orc camp was almost completely abandoned. The only ones left were two guards. Andy took Roserus to his part of the camp and showed him how to prepare the bandages and told him how he made the paste that he used to glue broken tusks, and the cream that helped heal bruises. Roserus tried to remember it all, but all he could do was nod with a dumbfounded expression. Andy grinned.
“No need to remember all the details right now; there’s plenty of time to learn it later. It’s not that difficult, and you’ll be a fine healer one day. But reaching the same level of awesomeness as me, that is highly unlikely.”
Roserus frowned at him. “Awesome?”
“Well, I am incredibly handsome and very talented." Andy stroked his tusk as he examined him. "You could do with a little more meat on your bones and bigger muscles. The females want strong partners.”
“Is that why you don’t have a partner yet?”
Andy put a hand on his chest. “Ouch. The truth is, I don’t know what I want, but I know she’s not back at our village. I hope the next midwinter gathering will have some interesting females.”
When the orcs returned, the injured were brought in. Roserus helped Andy to the best of his abilities. He wrapped a bandage around someone's leg as Andy instructed him and handed him a flask when he asked for it.
The raid leader joined them. “We won.” His eyes moved to Roserus. “Not thanks to you.”
“I’m sorry,” Roserus muttered without looking at him.
“Be glad you have orcs dedicated to the craft of healing,” Andy interjected. “Our death toll would be a lot higher without my expertise, and I need an assistant.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“You get it for nothing in return,” Andy replied with a grin.
The raid leader grumbled and then turned to the orcs behind him. “Tonight, we feast!” he exclaimed, getting roars of excitement in return.
“You go have your feast, Poru,” Andy said as he moved to an orc who had a deep cut across his chest. “I want no part of it.”
Poru turned to glare at Andy. “You are a weakling.”
Andy rose to his feet and looked their raid leader straight in the eyes. While not as muscular as Poru, he was a little taller, and he used that to his advantage by straightening his back. “Me choosing not to fight and me choosing not to eat intelligent life is not based in weakness,” he stated with a calm voice. “And I will not accept your insult.”
“Why don’t you prove it?” Poru growled as he reached for his weapon.
The two orcs glared at each other. Poru’s hand was close to his weapon. Andy placed his hands on his sides. Other orcs gathered around them. One of the wounded orcs groaned.
“I have better things to do right now,” Andy stated, gesturing to the wounded orcs. He turned to Roserus. “Bandage.”
“My son will take part in the feast,” Poru growled before turning his back on them and walking away. The gathered orcs dispersed as it was evident there would be no fight in the camp.
Andy looked from him to Roserus, who had picked up the bandage. “I can handle the things here if you want to go eat some elves.”
“Eat elves?” Roserus replied.
“Feast on the conquered enemy,” Andy explained, as he tended to the wounds of the orc in front of him. “It’s a thing we do in raids. Well, they do. I refuse to take part in it.”
“Why?”
“Why we do it or why I don’t?”
Roserus scratched his head, trying to decide what question he wanted answered. “Both?”
“We do it because of tradition. It shows our enemies we are superior and on top of the food chain. Everyone is nothing more than prey.”
“But you don’t believe that?”
“We are the strongest race, and I don’t particularly like elves either, but I believe intelligent races shouldn’t be killing each other and definitely shouldn’t be eating each other. Especially when there are common… when we have things in common.”
Roserus crossed his arms; it sounded like Andy had wanted to say something else. Something related to the reason they were fighting? “Why do we kill them?”
“Because filthy elves don’t deserve to live!” one of the nearby orcs roared.
Roserus kept his eyes on Andy, who shook his head. “I told you, I’m not going into that now. When we're back home, you can ask me again.”
“Okay. Then what makes a race intelligent?”
Andy examined him with a curious look in his eyes. “I consider species intelligent when they communicate, think ahead, build houses and tools, use their skills for things other than survival or procreation, show emotions like love and grief, and when they can adapt.” He gestured to a flask, and Roserus quickly gave it. “Obviously we are intelligent as we do all that. So are ogres, stone gnomes, humans and elves. Frogoids build villages and hunt with tools; I’d class them as intelligent as well.”
Roserus took in Andy’s words and was about to ask even more questions, but Poru came for him and dragged him to the feast. One of the dead elves was cut up by an orc, and the meat was thrown on a cast-iron square with metal bars over the fire; while they could eat it raw, grilling the meat on the gridiron made it even better. Roserus had seen prey being butchered before; he had even cut up a swine himself, but even though elves were different, there were too many similarities. Elves walked upright on two legs, using their arms for weapons and tools, as they did. The faces of elves had mouths, noses, eyes and ears in the same place as they had.
Poru pushed a piece of meat in his hands. “Eat up, maybe you’ll do better during the next raid.”
Although reluctantly, Roserus took a bite from it. The taste wasn’t bad, but it didn’t feel right. They just had so much in common that it was hard to think of them as just prey. He chewed and swallowed and gave his piece to the orc next to him; the one bite was enough for his father, and he walked away from the celebrating orcs. He wanted to go back to Andy, but he had disappeared; the wounded orcs were all tended to, and when Roserus asked one of them where he was, the injured orc muttered "traps" with disdain in his pained voice. With nothing to do here, Roserus went back to the lake and watched the reflection of the moon. A gust of wind moved his loose hair and rippled the water, distorting the moon in the water. The mating call of frogs echoed in the darkness, but another kind of ribbiting caught his attention. He followed the sound and saw the frogoid from before.
“Hey there,” Roserus said. The frogoid ducked under water but came up again. The corners of its broad mouth lifted slightly. A smile. “Nice song.”
The frogoid croaked at him. It was hard to believe this was an intelligent creature. He thought back to the singing. It could have just mimicked the sounds, as some animals could. That didn’t make them intelligent, but Andy believed frogoids were.
“Can you understand me?”
The frogoid slowly blinked one eye and then the other, followed by a croak that sounded like a question.
“I better go, before they start looking for me,” Roserus said, and he bumped his chest as a greeting before leaving the lake. After the spoils of war were collected, they would leave. The last thing he wanted was to lead anyone to the frogoids.
***
After meeting with Grey, Cherry swam back to his village to report on the green apeoid activity. He couldn’t help but smile; it seemed Grey had come to listen to him this time. Grey liked singing as much as he did. Who would have thought that the green apeoids could enjoy music like that?
Cherry reported he hadn’t seen any other apeoids except for Grey, and the elders discussed what it could mean that one of them kept visiting the lake. Another scout had kept an eye on them from a distance and told them about the death of the pointy-eared apeoids.
The elders called everyone in for a meeting, in which they explained it was better to stay at the village as long as the green apeoids were around; it was simply too dangerous, especially since they had come up to the lake. Cherry reluctantly agreed; this meant he couldn’t meet up with Grey anymore, but he understood why it was important. One gentle green apeoid didn’t mean they would be safe from the others.
A shock went through the common room, and some of the ribbipud fell over. The one closest to the door opened it and opened his mouth in horror when he saw the ribbipud guards drop down with arrows in their bodies and the big green apelike creatures pulling the ropes.
“The green apeoids!” he screamed. “They are pulling the building to the shore!”
Screams of panic erupted. Cherry quickly opened the hatch. “Ribbilets and elders first! Swim to the centre!” he shouted. The gathered ribbipuds started leaving the building through the hatch, directly into the safety of the water. The elders and females took the froglets with them, and once those were in the safety of the water, the males escaped as quickly as they could. Cherry’s father locked eyes with him before jumping into the water.
When there were a dozen ribbipuds left, an axe splintered the wall of branches. Orcs came onto the platform to grab them. The last ribbipuds tried to escape, some successfully dodging the grabbing hands and jumping into the water, but others ended up in bags. Cherry ducked under one hand and jumped over another, but one of the apeoids managed to grab and bag him.
The bag swung from left to right, and Cherry yelped when he hit the back of the orc. The apeoid that carried him started running, and he continuously bumped into his back.
“Ouch! Hey! Stop it! Let me go!” Cherry croaked. “Help me!”
His knife! Cherry grabbed it and stabbed through the bag, cutting as quickly as he could. He dropped out of the bag, but the apeoid made a laughing sound and picked him back up, taking his knife between its fingers. It looked tiny in the big hand of the apeoid, who threw him over its shoulder and continued to run. He screamed and hit the apeoid with his fist, but the apeoid didn’t react to it. He stuffed him into a cage with the other captured ribbipuds.
Cherry pulled on the door, but it didn’t move. On the ground in front of the cage were dead ribbipuds with arrows sticking out of their bodies. Cherry’s eyes frantically moved around as he tried to calm his breathing. The green apeoids had captured them. Was it his fault? He spotted Grey. The two of them locked eyes for a moment. He reached out a hand. “Help us!” Grey turned around, and Cherry lowered his hand. He backed away when two wrinkled green faces with yellow tusks and bad breath came close to the cage. They laughed and produced a string of sounds of which Cherry recognised a couple from Grey’s song. He made himself as small as he could.
“We’re going to die,” the ribbipud next to him whispered.
With trembling hands, Cherry took him in an embrace. While he wanted to keep the hope up that they were just taken captive, the stories about the green apeoids made it impossible to believe that.