The door whipped open and the stranger stepped into the pub as the sky screamed behind him. All some twenty of us stopped our conversations to look up at the two mysterious eyes peering out of his tattered head wrap as he stood by the open door. Heavy boots firmly rooted in a wide stance. The chill of the biting cold seeped into the pub like a disease gnawing at our bones while we winced in agony. I watched the snow settle on the floor. Then the stranger stepped out of the doorway leaving his black print on the wet wood and the door slammed shut.
The room stayed quiet. All of us staring at his strange brown eyes. That’s what gave him away. How we knew he wasn’t from these parts. He walked slowly up to the counter and peeled off his gloves. His hands were black as night and blistered and swollen from his journey. And the skin below his cuticle was starting to look charred. My stomach turned from the ugliness of him. From the nakedness of his flesh and the pain that was obvious.
He searched the thick layers of his wrap for something. Struggled to pull it out. Winced as he revealed a small woven pouch.
“Water,” was the only word he could muster.
The bartender looked him dead in the face. Put down a glass. We all waited silently for his answer.
“Where you from?”
The bartender put his paws down hard on the counter. His claws dug into the wood. He brought his face up close to the stranger and stared coldly into him.
The stranger took a breath. We all listened for his answer. Waited for him to say it. Turned our long ears up towards him so we wouldn’t miss it. Bristled our coarse fur and turned out our claws incase it was one. Sent a low rumble through the room as a warning.
The stranger stood tall. He readied himself to fight. Felt the floor beneath him move like water as he started to faint from fear mingled with exhaustion, but kept himself steady and strong anyway. Forced himself to keep alert and gave his answer.
“Earth.”
Rambling and Wallowing 