It seemed that the only direction in which I could travel was west. Very well. I would probably be denied entrance in Muse City, but since I had already decided that big cities and I did not get along, I didn't mind. Surely somewhere in the entire city-state of Muse would need the aid I could provide.

Why are you doing this? I asked myself, momentarily struck by the strangeness of my inexplicable desire to help. In the past, I had cared no more for other humans than they for me. Perhaps I had been touched by the unexpected kindness of a complete stranger in Ryube. Perhaps it had been the tiny mangled bodies of the innocent children of Toto and Ryube, or the fierce comradeship and loyalty I'd sensed in my fellows at the Mercenary Fortress. Whatever it was, something had struck a chord deep within me, making me realize that this was my tribe. Flawed as they might be, the human race were my people, and I felt a need to help them, to prevent other children from suffering the same fate as those poor innocents. I think the children affected me most. They were still so pure, uncorrupted by the tainting complexity of adult politics. These backwoods towns deserved better than to be caught up in the intrigues of others who were unconcerned about anyone but themselves. The villagers had not yet completely lost the ways of nature, still had a little of the wild decency of the woods. They did not take life except for food or self-defense, and I respected them. They were almost people of the forest, and as the self-appointed guardian of wild innocent things, I felt it was my duty to defend them.

I found myself in Toto. The charred remains of buildings seemed the bleached skeleton of a once warm and living town. Someone had been there between my last visit and now, had buried the dead in hasty graves, but the place still reeked of blood and death and rot. I heard a faint, high-pitched whimper to my left and followed it instinctively.

A dog paced in front of one such grave. It was a mutt, with all the sturdiness of the mixed-breeds, but its coat was disheveled and it did not appear to have eaten well in days, perhaps weeks. I knelt in front of it, waited until it had determined from my smell that I was not a threat. It whined and wagged its tail weakly. I reached over and scratched it between the ears, and it flopped onto its back, exposing its belly for me to rub; this had obviously been someone's housepet, and loyalty had kept it from going far enough from its home to catch a decent meal. I didn't want to think about what hunger had caused it to eat.

"Poor pup," I told him, feeling more than a little nostalgic for my own companion. "Waiting for your master, aren't you?"

Its wet brown eyes stared mournfully into mine as it sat up and rested its head on my lap. I knew that dogs understood a great deal more than most humans gave them credit for; this one, like me, could sense the wrongness, even if it could never understand the motivation behind the destruction. Not that I truly understood the purpose of war, but at least I had some idea.

The dog could tell I was a friend. Having spent years in the company of animals, I suppose I had picked up somewhat the aura of a non-predator. When I stood up, he trotted around my heels, trying to tell me something. I waited patiently for his actions to make sense. Animals were generally reasonable creatures, and dogs were particularly easy for me to read, perhaps due to my years with Shiro. This one trusted me. I could tell from the impatient wag of his tail that he was waiting for me to leave, and his determined eyes informed me that he would follow my lead.

I rapped lightly on the door. Though it was plainly marked as an inn, I felt uncomfortable entering any building without at least alerting the owner to my presence. It seemed horribly rude to just barge in without any warning, and humans (I had learned) were every bit as territorial as a wolfpack, if not more so. Wolves generally gave you fair warning to leave their territory. Humans acted immediately.

Satisfied that I could enter without trespassing, I did so and closed the door quietly behind me. The sound of a door slammed shut made me nervous, and I much preferred avoiding it if possible. A strikingly beautiful woman looked up from the long wooden table she had been wiping down. She smiled politely at me, quizzical.

"Good day. Can I help you, sir?"

"Um." I blinked. "This is an inn, correct?"

"Yes, this is the White Deer Inn. Would you like to stay here, sir?" She prompted me as one might an idiot or a small child. I had the feeling I gave that impression often, but the presence of humans was disquieting and made it difficult for me to speak coherently.

"Yes. Well, I would like to, but... how much does it cost?" I blushed. "I'd like to stay a few days, really, but I don't know how many I can..."

"20 potch per night, meals included." Her voice was warm with amusement at my awkwardness. "Will you be staying --"

"Mommy! Mommy! There's a dog outside!" A little boy shot past me.

"A dog?" The woman patted him fondly, the absent-minded touch of a mother, reassuring herself that all was well. "That's very nice, sweetie. He probably belongs to this young man here."

The little boy turned to me, seeing me for the first time. "Is he really your dog, mister? Can I play with him? Please?"

"Well..." It was difficult explaining to people that I did not own animals, that one could no more own an animal than another human. "He is traveling with me, yes. And I'm sure he'll be glad to play with you. He is very sad right now because he lost his family."

The little boy wasted no time in going to cheer my new friend up. After he had gone, I sighed. "I found the poor dog in Toto. He was waiting at his master's grave. He followed me here... dogs trust me."

"Are you from Toto?"

"No. Ryube -- the area around Ryube. The forest."

"Forest?" She stared at me oddly. "Are you a hunter?"

"No."

I was not a hunter; I had failed Chelios's first test. I could not kill. If anything, I was the antithesis of a hunter.

"Toto and Ryube... we've had a handful of refugees come through here, but so few..."

"Yes." My eyes welled up. My friends were not among that number -- those few who had shown me kindness and friendship were now eternally in the embrace of the forgiving earth. The inn blurred, and I hastily sat down at the table.

"I'm sorry... that was thoughtless of me. Please forgive me." She left me to my quiet introspection. I sat at the table, deep in thought, silently mourning the tragic victims of another's hatred. It was impossible to retain such thoughts, however; laughter and joyous woofing filled the air, banishing the ghosts of the slain with the exultation of life. I followed the noises outside, unable to resist the promise of happiness.

The dog paused mid-lick and trotted to me, leaving a giggling slobbery boy seated on the dirt. The sadness was no longer prevalent in the dog's attitude, replaced by contentment.

"Does he have a name?"

"I'm sure he does." I sat down beside the boy; the dog followed me and flopped heavily on my feet. I stroked his muzzle. "Bo. I think it's Bo."

The dog whimpered in response to his name, and I felt grateful again for whatever instinct permitted me to feel these things. It had only happened with a name once before, when I first met Shiro. The dog, Bo, nuzzled my hand, whimpering slightly.

"Do you have a name?" The little boy grinned toothily at me, our mutual friendship with the dog enough to put me in the same standing with him.

"Yes. Kinnison."

The boy made a face. "That's a weird name. I'm Pete."

I played with Bo and Pete until our shadows began to lengthen and the boy's belly rumbled ominously. I glanced up at the sky before entering the house, noting a change in the air. The dog sensed it too, but he followed Pete indoors, much to the dismay of the boy's mother.

Inside, I paid Hilda, the innkeeper, and went upstairs to my room, a cozy place that was comfortable but not extravagant. I deposited the worn pack that held my few belongings and sat on the bed, staring purposelessly at the ceiling. I remained like that indefinitely, vaguely distant and lost in thoughts that immediately vanished when I heard the door open and slam shut, followed by pleasantly excited voices. I made my way to the top of the staircase and observed the scene below. The absence of a larger community had caused this small family to form into the sort of tight-knit pack I was used to seeing, and there was a warmth between them that stirred various emotions within me. I was an outsider, for the first time in my life wondering what it might be like to be inside.

Pete saw me and waved me down. "Daddy, that's Kinnison. Bo is his dog. He let me play with Bo..."

I descended awkwardly. Fathers always made me think of Chelios and my shortcomings, and I was even less at ease around them. "He's not really my dog. He just followed me here."

"Ah." The man acknowledged me with a nod of his head. "I'm Alex. Pleasure to meet you. You're staying with us tonight?"

"Yes."

He conversed with his wife for several minutes, she lightly scolding him for some sort of explorations. He was honest, earnest, and I felt that I could trust him. Innkeepers in general seemed to be a good-hearted breed, from my experience.

Finally, he appeared to give up the argument -- it seemed tired, one that had been gone over many times before -- and directed his attention to me.

"You're awfully quiet. Something the matter?" I shrugged. He tried again. "So where do you come from?"

"He's from Ryube. He just passed through Toto," his wife told him softly.

"Oh?" He raised concerned eyebrows at me. "Were your folks in Ryube?"

"No... no, they died years ago. When I was a very young child."

"Relatives?"

"None... just a friend in Toto."

"Ah." He nodded his head, his voice sympathetic. "I have -- had -- friends there as well. Good people, all of them... you didn't happen to know the innkeeper, Gregorio, did you?"

"I did. He took me in, even though I couldn't pay and had to work for my board... he was a friend of mine."

"Oh." There was a tense silence. I could tell he was curious about his friend, but hesitant to ask me. He was obviously a considerate man, and I appreciated the consideration. Curiosity won out. "I don't suppose he..."

"No. He was wounded when I returned, and he didn't... didn't last long." I winced, remembering that even his last words had been kind to me. "He gave me this."

Alex's eyes misted a little as he acknowledged the Rage Rune I showed. Ordinarily, I would never have attached such a tool of destruction, but it had been the parting gift of a dying man. "I'm... sorry to hear that. He was a generous person, a bit gruff, but good-hearted."

We reminisced at the table a while, though I was unaccustomed to talking so much. Hilda and Alex inquired about how I met Gregorio, our mutual friend, and I told them the story. No one had ever listened so intently to me, and I stopped several times, blushing awkwardly. They gave each other their full attention when one spoke, and this courtesy was extended to me as well. Even Pete tried to listen, though he eventually gave up and ran off to play with Bo. Finally, Alex stood up and counted out 20 potch from a pouch on his belt, which he then passed to me.

"We couldn't accept payment from a friend of Gregorio. If he trusted you and considered you worthy of carrying that sword of his, it's the least I can do."

I pressed the potch into his fist. "No. You have more need of this than I -- you have a family to take care of. I can fend for myself if I need to."

Hilda shook her head. "I don't like the thought of it, a lad like you alone in the wilderness. Especially with that storm you say is coming. You must stay tomorrow, as a friend.

I opened my mouth to protest, but she silenced me with a stern maternal stare. "If you feel the need to pay for your stay, come help in the kitchen."

I followed her dutifully, wondering what sort of task she would set before me. I had some skill at foraging and making edible dishes, but I was not at all picky about the taste of my meals. As soon as I entered the kitchen, however, I blanched. A large slab of meat sat on the counter, awaiting preparation.

"I'm guessing you don't know your way around a kitchen, but I'm sure you can cut meat. Here, take this knife, and..."

I barely noticed her words, repulsed and wanting to turn from the bloody spectacle on the cutting board. She stopped mid-sentence and stared curiously at my face, sheet white beneath its tan. Several drops of blood had squirted onto the counter when she cut the meat, and the red liquid coated the bottom of the equally red flesh. Poor, dead beast.

"Are you a vegetarian?" Hilda asked finally, her voice gently condescending. I nodded and turned my head from the gore. She pressed a heavy bag into my hands. "Wash and peel these. Do you know how?"

Potatoes. Yes. I nodded my head vigorously and set the bag beside a wash basin that had apparently been brought in earlier for the purpose. I scrubbed the dirt from the potatoes, glad for the clean earthy smell that cleared my nose of the rusty tang of blood. So I had made a fool of myself. In the forest, I had known not to watch Shiro when he ate, and the only other corpses I found I buried with utmost respect, for death itself was not a thing to be revolted by. I simply could not stand the thought of eating another creature's body, stripping it of its life merely to satisfy a craving that would return again within hours. I was not so sure of my own superiority that I felt entitled to the flesh and life of another. I didn't think less of Hilda or Alex because they ate meat; I simply could not bring myself to do so with them.

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"Kinnison" and "Suikoden 2" are (C) Konami This chapter was posted October 15, 2000