Library: The Path of Nuu: Book I - The Warm Hall

THE DAY OF GIANTS ----------------- My first world was made of warmth. It was my mother's fur beneath my paws, her breathing beside me, and the small bodies of my brothers and sisters pressed close whenever sleep found us. I knew every scent in that world. I knew where milk waited and where I belonged. Nothing had ever left, so I did not know that anything could. Then came the giants. They smelled unfamiliar, spoke in voices too large for the den, and lifted me with hands that could hold my whole body at once. I called for my mother. I twisted toward her scent. But the giants carried me away, and soon even the ground began to move. I was no larger than two fists of fur. I had paws I had not mastered, ears that tried to hear everything, and no words for what was happening. My mother's scent grew faint behind me until all I had left of the first world was a small ache in my chest. I was afraid. For a while, fear was the only thing I understood. The giants spoke above me throughout the journey. Their voices rose and fell like weather. I could not tell whether the sounds promised danger or comfort, so I listened carefully and trusted none of them. But among the weather of their voices, I noticed one sound returning again and again, always meant for me. Nuu. At first it was only another sound. Later, food followed it. Gentle hands followed it. Warmth followed it. Whenever I disappeared behind something large, the sound came searching, and when I returned, the giants seemed pleased. Slowly, I understood. Nuu was not a command or a warning. It was a small spell the giants had made only for me. It meant that, even in this strange new world, someone knew I was there. I liked it. The world of the giants was far larger than the first den. At its heart was a warm hall filled with chair-forests, table-caves, forbidden corners, and soft mountains carrying the giants' scents. Every room opened into another mystery. My ears turned toward footsteps, doors, distant voices, and countless hidden things. The giants called it home. To me, it was the warm hall, and I knew none of its laws. THE LAWS OF THE WARM HALL ------------------------- The first law revealed itself because, after a long and frightening journey, my body had an urgent request. I searched for a suitable place. The mat was soft, the middle of the room was open, and no one had told me otherwise. It seemed a fine location. I squatted, left a respectable pile, felt immediately better, and noticed something interesting beneath a chair. By the time the giants discovered my work, I had nearly forgotten it. They gathered around the pile and spoke in low, puzzled voices. I watched from beneath the chair. Their interest pleased me. Perhaps leaving gifts in obvious places was another law of the warm hall. Their tones soon suggested otherwise. There were many such laws. Some places were for sleeping, while others only looked comfortable. Some objects welcomed teeth, while shoes apparently did not. Bowls had owners. Closed doors concealed important matters. I learned through careful experiments, and the giants learned to watch me carefully. The giants themselves were the greatest mystery. They lived far above me, but one of them often came down to the floor. This was sensible, because it placed his face inside my reach. I began with a polite inspection. The eyes watched me. The mouth made sounds. The nose rested boldly in the middle, unguarded. I tested it with my teeth. The nose answered at once! The giant jerked away with a sharp cry. I was delighted. Few things in the warm hall responded so quickly. Better still, the giant returned later with the nose still attached, allowing the experiment to be repeated. Yet not every discovery required teeth. One day, the giant lay upon the floor with his belly toward the sky. He had abandoned every sensible defence. His throat was bare, his paws were useless, and he trusted the roof not to fall upon him. I studied him for a moment. Then I lay beside him and turned my belly to the sky. Nothing attacked us. For a while we did not hunt, investigate, or guard anything. We simply breathed together. His hand rested near me without holding me. I could have risen and walked away whenever I wished. I stayed. Until then, the giants had been strange creatures who gave food, moved mountains, and became strangely troubled by the perfectly good piles I left behind after dinner. Lying there, I learned a greater law: safety was not only a place. Sometimes it was another creature choosing to be defenceless beside you. The giants were no longer merely giants. They were becoming my herd. THE WINTER HAM -------------- By the winter feast, I had grown larger, quicker, and wise in many laws of the warm hall. My paws knew its floors. My ears knew the footsteps of the herd. I understood which doors might open and which giant was most likely to drop something worth finding. I had also learned that folded ears and a quiet face could hide many intentions. During the feast, the giants brought forth a treasure unlike any I had encountered. Its scent filled the warm hall: salt, meat, and glory. They carved pieces from it and ate until even giants could eat no more. Then they carried the remains toward the cold iron vault. I followed at a respectful distance. The giants made two mistakes. First, they placed the sacred winter ham upon the lowest shelf. Second, the tall giant left the vault open for one heartbeat too long. Cold air rolled across my whiskers. Light shone upon the ham. Beneath the giant's legs appeared a narrow road, perfectly shaped for something small, swift, and certain. I moved. Between the giant's feet. Onto the lower shelf. Teeth around the treasure. Then I fled. The shout behind me announced that the raid had been discovered. I ran with the ham clamped in my jaws, heart blazing and paws striking the floor like war drums. The giant pursued with the unfair speed of long legs and great alarm. He caught me, but the battle was not over. His hand closed upon the ham. I pulled back. He pulled harder. I did not know that the treasure held too much salt for a young warrior. I knew only that I had entered the cold vault, claimed my prize, and escaped. Such victories must be defended. My smallest teeth found his finger. Blood fell upon the floor on Christmas Eve. The giant won back much of the ham. But not all of it. Never all of it. I had tasted the treasure, survived the pursuit, and drawn the first blood of the battle. Victory was mine. Later, when the blood was gone and the cold vault stood closed once more, the giant's hand returned to me. It carried no ham, but neither did it carry anger. I smelled the wounded finger, accepted that the battle had ended, and allowed the hand to rest against my fur. This was another law of the warm hall: battles passed, but the herd remained. I had arrived as two fists of frightened fur, carried away from the only world I knew. Now I knew the paths beneath the tables, the songs hidden inside noses, the danger of open vaults, and the peace of a belly turned toward the sky. Greater worlds still waited beyond the doors. I knew nothing yet of free kingdoms, water vast enough to carry me, or a moving den beneath northern skies. But I knew my home. I knew my name. I knew my herd. I was Nuu, theirs as surely as they were mine.

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Library: The Path of Nuu: Book I - The Warm Hall