The Rememberance

He was an old man, even by the reckoning of his own people, and by any reckoning, they were long lived. Little now, did he remember of his people—only faded memories of glories past both in triumph and defeat that scoured the edges of his subconscious, desperately searching for the slightest crack through which to emerge, once more, into the light. In memories that were as old as his, there was nothing to be found but heartache—a great yearning for things that were so long gone they might as well never have existed. That’s how he counted his age these days. Not in years, but in the layers of sediment that had accumulated atop the fossils of his memories.

He supposed that’s why he was making this little pilgrimage in the first place. Hoping the journey across lands he’d known through countless iterations would loosen those old memories from their moorings and allow him to remember what for so long had been lost to him.

Traveling was much harder for him now than it had been when he was young. It wasn’t that he’d aged poorly, he was still near his physical prime, but that the terrain had grown less hospitable over the intervening years. The roads, which at their first appearance in the world, delighted him to no end, were long buried and utterly forgotten in this land. Even the living things that still populated the Earth were angrier, dumber, and more dangerous than they’d been in his youth. They posed little threat to him mortally, but their constant attempts slowed his progress considerably. His lone companion, a shiba inu/wolf hybrid that he called Ronin, didn’t fare as well against their assaults and so he had been forced to carry him. It was that or leave him behind and that was not something he seriously contemplated. The dog was a marvel in and of itself that he had bred long ago to withstand the deleterious effects of time almost equal to the man’s own hardiness. He would keep him to the end.

At night, they would camp under shallow rock outcroppings and he would cling to the dog to keep it calm as the shadows of creatures that even the man might not be equal to, slithered past after emerging from their ancient homes in the caves that dotted the land. He would not sleep until they were over and beyond the mountains and the mountains were far more numerous than the last time he’d visited them. Then, they had been places of great beauty and wonder, he now remembered, and even some of his people had called them home. But now, they were ugly and scarred, and completely devoid of civilized beings.

In the morning, the dim light from a sun that had slowly crept farther and farther away as the universe expanded, signaled that it was time for them to move. They would be through the mountains by the end of the day if nothing else interrupted their progress and then the going would be easier—flatter at any rate. He kissed Ronin’s nose and as he hefted the large animal to his chest, promised him that he’d get first shot at any fresh water they’d find but secretly to himself, wondered if there was any left to find.

Near the foothills at the end of the mountain range, Ronin started barking wildly and wagging his tail excitedly and the man, against his better judgement, had no choice but to set the animal down. The dog limped over to a mound of snow and began digging furiously. The man, becoming uncharacteristically impatient with his companion, was about to drag him away when he heard the unmistakable trinkling sound of moving water. The dog had found a small underground stream that looked, against all odds, to be clean enough to drink. As he’d promised, he let the dog drink first and to his fill. The man drank next and when he’d gotten all he needed, filled a canteen they’d later share. It was likely the last potable water they’d find before they reached the end of their journey.

Their speed had increased such that the man decided they should travel at night as well to make up ground. There were fewer dangers away from the mountains and the land was open enough for all of them to exist without sharing space. He could feel the dog’s breathing shallow against his chest and was thankful that his old friend would finally get some sleep.

The land was becoming more recognizable now and the ghosts from his past that he’d been looking for started to populate the scenery. He could see ancient gatherers sowing fields that had yet to see any tools not made of stone and emigres from his kind, showing them the different seeds and ways of caring for them. Even older memories, from a time when his people were the only people and they had to navigate a world filled with giant beasts that fought constantly for dominance until, almost overnight, they were swept away, and the world restarted anew. But still, he and his kind persisted.

Great battles, some remembered only as myth, stretched out before him and he watched his tribe join them, earning names that would become legend. He watched the landscape torn down and built again by time and nature and the climate turn from green house to ice age and back again, over and over. He wept as the memories of so many friends and loved ones he’d lost—far too many to count, both of his own kind and normal humanity, came flooding back into the front of his mind. And he laughed, when Ronin finally woke and began licking his face to taste the salt in his tears.

Right when he began to think the remembering would be too much and overwhelm him, breaking his mind, he was violently ripped back into the waking world by something slamming into his back and knocking him to the ground. Ronin leapt over him, growling at the unseen attacker. When the man turned over, he saw the dog being violently shaken as his teeth were buried in the furry forearm of a great beast the likes of which he’d never seen before. The man let out a scream of rage and futility and charged the creature. It howled in pain as it ripped Ronin’s teeth from its arm and flung the dog hard through a rotted tree. The man barely heard the dog’s pained yelp over the blood pounding in his head as he made for the throat of the giant, repugnant, thing.

Both man and beast tumbled backward, each howling in blind rage and desperation. The beast tried in vain to claw the man’s back, to bite him, to do anything to separate himself from the violence being borne upon him. It was no use. The man had just watched for the second time, everything he ever loved and cared about taken from him forever and there was no depth his fury wouldn’t now reach. A sadistic smile creased his face as he saw the fear and surprise in the beast’s eyes. It had been the dominant predator here and was being torn apart by something it didn’t understand and had never seen before—something that looked to it like easy prey. The light left the thing’s eyes and it would never have the chance to contemplate in its dull mind, the terrible mistake it had made this day.

The man rolled off the massive creature and lay on the ground for a moment catching his breath. When the adrenaline had gone and he could breathe normally again, he rushed over to where his last friend in this world was laying, curled up in pain. He could see immediately that splinters from the tree had pierced the dog’s thick hide. From his labored breathing, he knew they had reached a lung. He was blinded by his tears as he scooped the dog up and turned back to the direction they were headed. Then, he began to run.

He ran faster than he had ever ran before, faster than any living thing had ever ran. He ran though his lungs were on fire and he thought they might burst at any moment. He ran with legs that had turned to rubber and threatened to give way with every step. He ran because they were almost home and even though he knew it was an irrational hope, thought that maybe the magic that had existed there once, that had created him and his people, might exist there still, and though diminished as it surely was, might save his friend.

When he reached the place of his birth he stopped running. The waters that once flowed there and brought with them unimaginable gifts were frozen over. He carried the dog to the pond where the waters collected, now frozen over in ice meters thick and laid him down. He started to chip away at the ice and quickly realized it was futile. It was too thick and hard and even with his strength would take years to get through. The world had taken one final thing from him.

He looked to his oldest friend with fresh tears in his eyes and knew the animal could see the sorrow in his face. The dog barked quietly, letting him know it was alright. He had done everything he could.

Then, he raised a paw, beckoning the man to him. The man sat cross-legged on the frozen pond and pulled his friend to him. He held tufts of its coat tightly in his hands and plunged his face into the dog’s thick fur and breathed deep, taking in his scent one last time as he sobbed uncontrollably. The dog barked again and he raised up to look him in the eye. He hugged him around the neck and held his face next to the fading animal’s. With great effort the dog lifted its noble head toward its beloved friend and licked his face until its final breath gave out.

“Ronin. Oh, Ronin,” the man sobbed.

The man hunched over the animal and rocked it in his arms. He knew that this was his end too and it comforted him. He would sit here with his friend and pass from this world to join him in the next. There was nothing else left to remember.