Antler
Wilderstory 17
Dot watched, as the nature spirits continued to emerge from the surrounding cliffs. They collected into a loose procession along the bank of the river, filling the canyon floor with a mass of flowing shapes.
A gust of wind came down from above, bringing with it a host of glowing specks from the canyon’s rim. They bounced through the air, reminding Dot of the burning bits of ash that swirl above campfires.
As they flew closer, she saw them for what they were: butterflies, moths, bees — and others that were too small to name. Many more raced along the surface of the sand, weaving this way and that toward the growing throng.
Birds arrived, too. And from the depths of the slow-moving river, fish began to surface, swimming upstream.
All of them, animals — but also not animals.
They moved in flowing, silent ways. Their bodies shifted and glistened in the night air, as if covered in some unknown, fantastical skin.
And in the middle of it all strode the great, dear-like beast. It entered the shallows of the river, advancing through the water with ease. Dot tried again to discern its true shape. But it continued to change before her. It’s hide shimmered and vibrated, reshaping itself in broad patches along its body.
It’s singular horn kept changing as well. It grew and bent and writhed in the air. Fanning out into points. Growing solid and heavy. Then sharpened and warped. At once an elk. Then a moose. Then a gazelle.
“Antler,” breathed Abe.
Dot looked sidelong at him, “No kidding,” she teased.
Abe crouched beside her. He pushed his elbow into her side.
“It’s his name,” he whispered.
Dot settled herself beside Abe. She felt a faint rumbling in the ground — and in her fingertips, which she pressed flatly onto the sand before her. From somewhere deep and far away came a long, steady hum.
Like whales in the ocean, Dot thought.
It caused ripples to appear on the surface of the river, which fanned out in irregular patterns as the sound increased.
The others joined in. Some matched the low drone, while others yipped and howled and chattered on their own. Over time, they settled into a thrumming beat; a slow-moving rhythm that Dot could feel pulsing inside her head. It tickled her skin, and raised the small hairs on the back of her neck.
Dot giggled, feeling the vibration surge.
She cupped her hand over her mouth to contain it. Just a singular gasp of delight, drowned in the chorus of the deafening song.
The great deer lifted its head and let out a great wail that pierced the din. It echoed against the canyon walls, as the rest of the noises fell away.
It looked like a statue now, standing still in the middle of the river. Fish bobbed and lolled in the water around its legs, as birds and bugs flitted around its tall, undulating horn.
It swung its head slowly toward the gathered masses, as if to acknowledge their presence. As it turned, it settled its gaze in the direction of Abe and Dot.
Abe dropped his head in a gesture of reverence, while Dot sat motionless on her heels beside him. The great beast pushed its head forward — straining its neck as it huffed and sniffed at the air. Its eyes flickered; probing and searching the space around where she sat. And it bent its head to listen.
Dot froze. She felt exposed. But it didn’t feel like she was seen. It felt like she was seen through.
A sinking feeling pulled her down from within.
Abe pressed his hand on top of hers. “Steady,” he whispered, “be still.”
A few small creatures broke off from the larger group. They circled close to Abe and Dot, scratching in the sand and sniffing at the air. One of them nearly brushed against Dot as it ambled by.
Dot closed her eyes, trembling. She felt the sand between her fingers loosen as she leaned forward, struggling to keep them still.
Beside her, Abe was standing up. He closed his hands into fists and planted them on his hips.
He lifted one leg and kicked into the air. And then the other.
And then he started to sing.
He turned and leaped and kicked, bellowing a jaunty tune.
In time, the animals joined in. They screeched and called and jumped in their own ways, following the bouncy rhythm. The birds and bugs spun in the air, as the surface of the river broke with splashing fish.
Abe was twirling now. Puffing his chest. Throwing his arms in the air and waving them side to side.
In the water, the great beast huffed and turned away. It waded upstream, as the mass of dancing shapes followed. The creatures around Abe and Dot departed, joining the rest along the bank.
Dot watched in silence as the procession moved into the darkness, bending around a nearby cliff. She could still see the one great antler, waving slowly in the growing mist.
In time, even it disappeared.
Abe wheezed and puffed the last few bits of song, as he let his hands fall from his waist. At long last, the canyon fell silent. Abe crouched and pointed to the hair on the back of his neck.
“Grab on,” he said. “I’ll carry you back.”
