2. Foenix Gate

The proposed law was ludicrous, but Himnib did not fear for himself. He was a Companion and allowed to travel anywhere. The same was true for the three other Bear Shepherds wearing a Companion Necklace. If all else failed, he hoped one of them would arrive in time.

It was a slim hope. For more than ten years, Himnib was the only one who appeared at votes. The other shepherds stayed away, or maybe they had even …

All the weight was on his shoulders, which meant he could never stray too far from the Council. Always new laws, always new votes. This little detour into the Hima mountains had already been more risky than anything he’d done before.

No, he mostly feared for the other shepherds who were not Companions, and his hundred sheep. They had no place to go. And if they took away his sheep, what would he ever do with his life? He could barely remember life before his first sheep. He couldn’t even remember how most of them became his, they just … appeared and started following him.

But nowadays he knew them all. By name, by personality, by the black dot on Barina’s butt and the half-grown horn on Behdo’s head—whom he suspected was secretly a goat but tried to hide that fact. Behdo himself claimed his ancestors were clearly unicorns.

And that’s why he was absolutely certain that several sheep were missing.

If the other Companions hear this, he thought, those snow leopards will surely lose their vote! Maybe even their land and other rights.

The snow storm raged on. He’d only been outside for a few moments, but both him and his sheep had turned as white as their surroundings.

He hesitated. Hesitation was bad. Doubt meant delay. Would he ever reach the Council of Kame in time?

His heart wanted to go after his missing sheep, surely stolen. Maybe they still lived. Those leopards wouldn’t dare break actual laws, right? They only did this to delay Himnib.

Don’t doubt. Doubt leads to delay.

He turned to Foenix. If he crossed that entire country, all the way until Sommer, he would soon reach the Council of Kame. He could take the route along the Dophin Pass. Even though Gulvi wasn’t around anymore to guard it, that body of water was still a safe and busy area.

His walking cane sunk deeper into the snow. His herd ran down the final stretch of the mountain, which meant a steep downward slope.

“Behdo is missing!” Behdiël yelled beside him. The strongest and wooliest sheep he’d produced after all those years.

“I know! I know. But if we don’t vote against that law in time …”

Was he against it? The gods had strict rules too and that had made the land safe.

That was different, though. Most roads weren’t guarded anymore and if bandits attacked you, well, tough luck and you’re on your own. If you happened to be born as the son of a king, then you were the luckiest. If he had to believe the stories from the first cities, life inside them was worse than when everyone still freely walked around in the Wilderness.

The other Companions would be against it too, right? He wasn’t sure anymore. Those laws made it seem as if everyone hated shepherds.

They reached the foot of the mountain. Himnib rejoiced in solid ground beneath his feet, though they were tired. They would enter Foenix and rest briefly, then—

Foenix had built a fence on its border.

He looked left, he looked right, but the fence was endless. All he saw was a gate with two guards. A very small gate, lit up using controlled fire. Must have been Bunjo’s work too: a beautiful gate that wasn’t practical at all.

He waited until the floor beneath his feet wasn’t covered in snow anymore. Then his walking cane tapped a rhythm of four notes.

The sheep formed a neat row, one behind the other, exactly one sheep wide. Himnib took his Companion Necklace from his satchel and showed it.

“Bear Companion here! I request immediate access, for both me and my herd.”

The guards, two male deer, pushed their antlers towards him as if they were spears.

“We must let you through,” one said. “But not your herd.”

“It will take a year before all those sheep have passed through,” the other added.

“Well, come on, sheep are nice and far more intelligent than you think!”

Himnib looked over his shoulder. Six sheep ran away from an annoying bee in such a frenzy that they bumped heads and fell into the dirt unconscious.

The deer was not impressed. “We have no room for it.”

Then you shouldn’t have built a fence, Himnib wanted to yell. But he said: “No room? For hundred small sheep? I am a Companion and demand you grant my request.”

The deer exchanged glances. “Can they do that?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Yes, but you don’t think in general.”

“How dare you! Offend me in the presence of a Companion!”

“Maybe the necklace is fake. He doesn’t look like a Companion.”

One of them entered a watch tower from below, which was built on top of the fence. Surely not by Bunjo, because that thing was ugly, with twigs and pillars sticking out as if it were a wooden porcupine.

“What had you expected?” Himnib yelled in frustration. “A beast with four eyes and dragon wings? A crown on my head? Formal speech with unnecessarily difficult words?”

“Well, yes, yes that would have been more convincing.”

The other deer returned with a smile. “No, Companions cannot demand things from us.”

Their antlers turned forward again and pressed into Himnib’s belly.

“Thus we ignore your request.”

His sheep grew impatient. More and more left their neat line, especially those at the back, who still stood inside a dark forest. They were ready for Himnib’s command to overwhelm the guards or jump over the fence themselves. That’s how he’d survived until the end of the First Conflict. With the handful of sheep he’d befriended, he’d constantly misled and attacked the enemy.

But not this time. I must show that Bear Shepherds are not a plague, he thought.

“Then it is not a demand, but a friendly question. We will not stay. I am merely on my way to the Council of Kame.”

“Then leave your herd behind.” The deer pointed his antlers to a set of smaller fences in the distance. A meadow next to a stable. As if those low fences would contain his sheep in any way. “We can easily store them there.”

“You just said there was no space and now—”

“Make a choice. Other animals want to enter Foenix too.”

It was no choice. He would never leave his sheep behind, surely not here.

He turned around and walked away.

The deer yelled after him: “And a good night to you, sir!”

“I wish you a terrible night!” Himnib yelled back.

Once he was under cover of darkness again, he immediately turned left and strolled along the fence. He walked and walked, until the sun rose, and the fence knew no end. It almost felt like the Great Wall of Kina—another needlessly strong building that prevented him from every traveling further into Kina.

He did notice, though, that the quality of the fence deteriorated. As if their resources had depleted or the builders ran out of energy. Well, that would have to do.

His walking cane tapped a rhythm of seven notes. The sheep immediately ran for the lowest part of the fence and jumped over it.

Not all were equally successful. Barina couldn’t get high enough and slid back down, a long shameful path, until her butt entered the mud once more. Himnib himself obviously couldn’t jump that high.

He stayed behind with the weakest and smallest sheep, an increasingly common situation. The weakness spread through his herd like an illness, probably caused by lack of food or bad food.

Maybe they were right: shepherds were a bad influence on the world and unhealthy. Never, he thought instantly. We use almost nothing, ask almost nothing, and take care of everything ourselves. Most animals have forgotten shepherds exist, that’s how little we impact them!

Behdiël stood on top of the fence. Himnib threw his smaller sheep at him. They’d bounce on strong wool and safely reach the other side.

Barina could not be thrown. She was old—even more ancient than Himnib—and had terrible eyesight. She had to pushed upward as if she climbed the fence.

Climbing. That’s what Himnib had to do now. He found a soft spot in the fence and pressed his walking cane into it. Like hammering nails into a wall like he used to do …

He pulled himself upward. His heavy bear body reached only halfway.

“Hold it!”

The loud scream made the fence tremble and Behdiël almost fall. A deer came running for them.

“This is illegal!”

Why were deer so fast?

Himnib’s hind paws scraped along the wood, reaching for solid support. Once he felt secure, he pushed to the left and started swinging from his walking cane. Higher and higher, like a child on a swing who tries to loop the loop.

“Cursed shepherds,” the deer yelled. “The rules apply to everyone, do you understand?”

One more turn. One more swing. Himnib prepared to let go and make a final flight over the fence.

Sharp antlers pricked his back. He grunted from the pain and reflexively let go of his cane. His heavy body only flew upward a small bit, then started the inevitable descent.

Behdiël panicked and jumped off the fence.

The deer’s antlers pinched Himnib relentlessly, as if it were a sword intent on lancing its enemy.

A grey stone flew at Himnib, from the bushes. He twisted in the air to dodge it, but the deer was hit in the face and walked in dizzy circles.

Behdiël landed below Himnib. His thick, woolly fur formed a trampoline that bounced Himnib back up. On his way up, his bear paws grabbed the sheep like eager tentacles.

With his loyal sheep pressed to his chest, he arced over the fence and landed inside Foenix.

“Intruders! Alarm! Intruders!” the deer yelled. He was about to jump over the fence himself, then backed out. They didn’t have the sheep’s training nor their soft fur if they landed badly.

The deer stayed on the other side. But his antlers grabbed the walking cane and pulled it from the fence.

Himnib snatched the other end just in time. Both of them pulled, and the cane creaked and groaned. The cane was not allowed to break in to. Could this cane even be broken!?

The cane also wasn’t allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Himnib bared his teeth, found new strength, and yanked his cane out of the fence.

His sheep broke his fall. Himnib thought he saw a purple flash of light behind the bushes, and the deer fell down too.

He caressed Behdiël and hoped to find a nice field of grass to reward him. Preferably a field close to the Wilderness, so he could hunt for food himself.

“Onto the Council of Kame,” he mumbled.