‘Them as abuses animals can do without their services, I say,' Sinead defended herself.
But Liam said, 'True enough, but they'll only be slowin' us down if they walk, cheechakos that they are. They can use Mother's Sidhe and Da's Oosik.’
‘Come to that,' Aisling said, 'one of 'em could use Darby. She's gentle.’
‘Fine then,' Sinead said. 'You three newcomers can take the curlies first shift. The poachers here can walk for a spell.’
After rounding up the horses in question, the eight of them rode - and walked - away into the sunrise. Two hours later Sinead was forced to relent. The two poachers had suffered hard treatment at her hands the night before. Neither of the off-worlders had been able to sleep well among the dogs; at first because the men feared the dogs, and later because as soon as the dogs stopped licking their visitors' faces or sniffing their behinds, they managed to steal the blankets. When the poachers began to stumble and fall more often than they walked, Sinead had two of the newcomers dismount and allowed the walkers to ride.
A short time later, they came to the first culling place she was willing to show them. She had disarmed Ersol and de Peugh of their high-tech weapons the previous day and though she, Liam and Seamus all carried daggers, short thrusting spears and bows and arrows, the other three - Mooney, Clotworthy and Minkus -had not been allowed even those.
‘Frag, there must be ten or fifteen rabbits in there,' Ersol said, seeing the hole where the rabbits sat or lay, waiting for them.
‘Probably. There have been about that many since spring,' she answered.
‘So, you gonna stab 'em or shoot 'em with your bow?' one of the others asked.
‘Neither,' she said, then gently lifted one rabbit by the scruff of its neck and, avoiding the mouth, twisted its head saying, 'Thank you, little brother, for giving your life that we can live, for your flesh to feed us and your fur to keep us warm. We honour you.’
‘Excuse me?' said Nigel Clotworthy, who had admitted to being a systems analyst. He looked at his companions in a puzzled fashion.
‘She was talking to the rabbit, not you, buddy,' de Peugh answered.
‘We gotta talk to rabbits?’
‘Yeah. Hey, Sinead, baby, what if Harvey there says he doesn't want to get his neck wrung and he's not so crazy about being your earmuffs either. Do you let him go, say "Sorry, my mistake."
‘They're here,' she said, pausing to wring another neck with an emphatic crack and murmur the same prayerful thanks before she continued her explanation to the hunters, 'because they want to be killed. Rabbits tend to overproduce. These will be the sick ones, the old ones, the extra bucks or does who couldn't find a place. Rabbits are very sensitive, actually, and they get depressed if they're not wanted. They know we have a use for them. So they come here. It's like that with all the animals in the culling places, only more so with rabbits.’
‘What about foxes?' Ersol asked, and met her black look steadily.
‘Foxes,' she said, 'don't get depressed. But sometimes they do get sick, or too old. Or there's not enough food and they decide to become culls.’
‘Sounds unnatural to me. I mean, it's survival of the fittest and all that but everybody wants to live, as a rule.’
‘Yes,' she said. 'As a rule. So it's sure a shame to kill something that doesn't want to die, isn't it?' Her glacial blue gaze caught and froze his.
‘It's not very sporting though, is it?' observed Minkus, one of the other hunters.
‘Killing is serious business,' Sinead said, with a shrug. She handed him the rabbit she had just picked up. 'Here, you try this. Make sure the break is clean and say part of the thanks before you finish him so he knows you're doing it.’
‘Lady, I never try to hurt anything any more than it takes to do the job, but you people have gone over the top. This anthropomorphism shit is crazy. The whole universe is going to have a big belly laugh at your expense. First you try to tell us the planet is sentient and then you want me to believe you're intimate with the psychology of bunny rabbits and foxes.' Minkus snapped the rabbit's neck in anger.
First Sinead said thanks to the rabbit. Then she had words for the hunter. 'You don't think we just made all this up, do you? We learnt a long time ago that the animals are willing to come to these places to die as long as we are courteous and grateful for their sacrifice. But if we forget our manners, there'll be no rabbit, no moose, no caribou, bear, or fowl and we'd better hope the vegetable crop was good in the summer because the long and the short of it is, there'll be no meat at all. It's the same with the sea creatures.’
‘Come on, you people have only been here a couple hundred years,' de Peugh said.
‘Yes sir, that's right, we have,' Seamus put in. 'By the time we came, our ancestors back on Earth on the Inuit side had taken to outside ways and didn't listen to the animals no more. And you know what? Them animals got extinct - at least as far as men knew, for they never came near 'em no more. Except for the polar bears that is,' Seamus grinned. 'They just turned the huntin' round the other way. You boys manage to snag a polar bear, I want to warn you for your own good, be real polite to the one you take or his kinfolk will take exception.’
‘Your turn, Seamus,' Sinead said.
After there was a rabbit apiece, duly dressed and skinned, she motioned for them to move on.
‘How about all your little friends in there wanting to die?' de Peugh asked.
‘There are more folks in Kilcoole than just us,' Liam said.
In two more hours, the trail led to a kidney-shaped lake, clear as crystal and full of lily pads. The curlies became restive.
‘Whoa, boy…' said Clotworthy, leaning forward and patting the curly's neck to reassure his mount.
‘Darby's a mare,' Liam offered.
‘Girl then. What's wrong with her?’
‘They want to go swimming,' Sinead said, hopping down from her mount, 'and unless you want to go too, I'd suggest you dismount and remove her tack. You others do the same.' Liam and Seamus already had their saddles and bridles off.
Minkus and Mooney, who had been walking, decided to join the horses. The freeze of the previous night had cooled the water only slightly. The day had been sunny and warm after the snowfall and the lake, like most Petaybean waterways, was partially fed by hotsprings.
Sinead was hot and tired, too. She wasn't naturally cranky, anyone would tell you that, but she was at a loss how to impress on these oafish off-worlders the seriousness of the relationship between the species on Petaybee. She had heard in stories and songs how it had been on Earth before her great-great-grandparents left; how the animals were no different from made things, how the world was something you walked on and nothing more. Maybe it was because Petaybee was alive that the relationship between hunter and hunted was a special, privileged one, maybe it was not like that on old Earth, maybe it wasn't like that anywhere else in the universe, except…
The old songs and stories her ancestors' ancestors had handed down as curiosities long after they had ceased to have any meaning in their day-to-day lives reflected that once the animals had been thought of as sisters and brothers, just as they were on Petaybee; that once they had talked with people even more easily than they did now. Maybe this new batch of crazies had the right idea. Maybe you had to pretend that living things were something to be worshipped, instead of doing as Petaybee and its inhabitants had always done and having a bit of friendly give and take. But maybe it took religious awe to get bozos like these blokes to respect anything.
She waded in after the men and horses and plunged her hands, then her head into the lake's waters, surface diving, opening her eyes to see the swaying stems of the lilies. The curlies' feet churned up mud but soon they too were swimming - curlies were good swimmers. The mud settled and she could see their legs working away under water. Then, as if by agreement, all six of them dived at once.