The One Who Tells the Story (Short Story) (Patreon)

I've been meaning to share more of the finished stories from Gnoll Tales with Patreon, so here's another one. This one is set when the book's narrator is young and is one of two personal stories he includes in the collection.

I am not the only one of my people who is interested in our stories. When I was young, the small village I lived in had an old wise woman who was known only as the Claw Keeper. I’m sure she had a personal name, but I don’t think anyone ever used it. She was a striped gnoll, with shaggy fur and blind in one eye. Her clothing was worn, and she wore only hides, not the fine linen of those who traded with the humans and elves.

The Claw Keeper lived by herself and prepared her own meals. However, in the warm months, when it was hot and we cooked outside, she would come sit by our fire and mutter to herself as she cooked her food. My parents treated her like she was a relative, but I thought her odd and kept away from her until one day she called for me to sit by her.

“Why do you not sit with me?” she asked, when it was just us by the fire.

Being only a few seasons old and having yet to learn the importance of tact, I was honest. “You talk to yourself.”

She chuckled. “That’s because I talk to the wind.”

“Which is yourself.”

She chuckled again and leaned forward so she could fix her good eye on me. “The wind will tell you much if you listen, Ingot.”

“What can the wind tell me?” I asked.

“It can tell you where the birds go, and when rain will come. It can warn you of danger you are not prepared for, and for all this, it asks only for our words, which it carries away.”

I tilted my head and looked at her.

“Perhaps when you’re older you’ll understand, or maybe you won’t. Your fate is not yet determined.”

My ears perked. “I have a fate?”

“We all have a fate, but what that is we may never know. Take you for instance. Your mother wanted a son, but you were small and weak when you were born. You weren’t quite ready for life, so she named you Ingot to let life know it could temper you. It could keep working on you. Now you grow bigger and stronger. Is that not fate?”

I looked up at her, trying to figure out what she was asking me. The Claw Keeper’s stripes were faded, and some of the adults of the village only tolerated her because she was an elder. One of the other cubs in the village said she lost vision in the eye when she sneezed too hard, and it fell out. She’d pushed it back in, but it never worked after. I was skeptical about that story though. I had sneezed hard already and still had both eyes. I realized I barely know her.

“I guess?” I offered. I didn’t know what she expected me to say.

She laughed. “Ah, perhaps signs are not your strong point, or you wish to be modest.”

“No, you say strange stuff,” I replied.

“Oh, I do, but who doesn’t? Now sit with me and listen, Ingot. What do you hear?”

Our village was little more than a cluster of small roundhouses. There were a little over fifty of us here in the summer, although others would return to winter in the village after traveling to practice their various trades. Today was a spring day, and a fire had been built in the center to celebrate the completion of spring planting. Dusk was falling. It was quiet, save for the crackling flames and a few distant voices.

“Just the fire.”

“And?” she asked me?

I tilted my head and swiveled my ears. “It sounds like some people are talking about hunting.”

“Listen harder,” she told me.

I did, and I could sort out the night insects awakening, and the wind, lazy right now, but still there. I told her so.

“What does the wind tell you?”

I tilted my head and looked at her in confusion, thinking she had gone daft. “The wind doesn’t speak.”

She smiled, amused. “Listen a little longer, young one, and focus on just the wind.”

I rolled my eyes but did as she told me. The wind was just the wind, but on it there was a faint, wordless voice promising rain tonight. “It will rain?” I asked her, confused.

“Stay with the voice and listen to all it can tell you,” she said, taking my small paws in her gnarled ones.

I did as she told me, and the voice promised a cold rain tonight and clouds quickly blowing by in the dark night. “I think it’s saying it’s going to be colder tomorrow.”

The Claw Keeper took a sharp breath. “I see your fate now,” she remarked, looking at me. “You have a gift. It will take time and work to master it, but it will serve you well.”

“What if I don’t want that fate?” I asked, concerned. Horrible things could happen to people, and what if one of those things was now fated to happened to me?

“Oh, you control it. I firmly believe that. Wait here,” she said, letting go of my paws and getting up. “I will be just a moment.”

She walked off, and I sat by the fire on my haunches, unsure what she wanted. I knew it probably was important I stay, but every part of my young body wanted to bolt and go play. I was restless and this exchange felt odd, but now that she had told me I could listen to the wind, I could do that if I focused on it. Did that mean I had crossed into adulthood? I barely had a mane yet, so I couldn’t have, but why could I understand the wind? None of the other adults in my village spoke to it.

A few minutes later she returned carrying a small pouch. She reached into it and pulled out a leather necklace with a claw hanging off it. “I want you to have this.”

Unsure, I took the necklace. “What does this have to do with the wind?”

“Nothing, but this claw belonged to a druid. She was a brave gnoll called Sniva, and if you can listen to the wind, you need guidance. I am too old to teach you much about the powers of nature, but her claw will give you strength. Few gnolls donate the claws from their paws when they die, but she did. It shall whisper to you what you can be.”

I, being only a few summers old, had no idea what any of this meant. Obviously, my confusion was visible since she again took my paws. “It’s okay, Ingot. She lived to a very old age before she gave up her claws. This is the last one I have to give during my journey, but I knew there was a reason I still had it. Her guidance is yours to listen to, and yours to ignore.”

“But what does any of that mean?”

She smiled, showing her fangs. “You can be something special, but it takes work. There is the ability to touch magic within you, however it will take years of practice to master. For now, listen to the wind when you have time, and that is enough. When you’re much older, it will be clearer. I will talk to your parents about this.”

“Are they going to be mad at me for this?” I said, suddenly worried. They treated the Claw Keeper well, but even they thought her weird.

“No, no, no. I will take care of that. You do know what druids can do right?”

“They talk to animals and uh… hang out with trees?”

She laughed. “Let me tell you about Sniva. She’s the one who taught me what I know, and from her story, you might see where you could go.”

And that was when I learned something I could do that most people could not. I learned who the Claw Keeper really was and the journeys she’d undertaken in her many years. She taught me the first things I learned about magic, and the stories of our people that we don’t always have time to tell. She showed me the life in all things, and while she was indeed old beyond years and could not teach me everything she knew, it benefited my understanding of the world greatly. When she died a few years later, I received her claws.

I gave half to the druid who finished training me, and I kept the others. I have given two to young gnolls who have shown great interest in my work as a druid and the history of our people. Each time, I tell them the Claw Keeper’s story, and give them a claw so her wisdom can guide them. I hope to find suitable recipients for the others, and if I have an apprentice when I pass, I will gift them my claws, so they can pass on my wisdom.

As for Sniva’s claw, I wore it proudly for many years until I had finished my training as a druid. Even today, I still carry it with me on my journeys, safe in the pouch the Claw Keeper gave me.