Page 5 of Hoof It

Five

Chapter 4

Jimazu

M y restlessness has only grown the past few months. I rarely leave the area immediately surrounding the cave system that I’ve called home for the last several hundred years. I can’t remember the last time that I saw a human up close.

I’m so bored with my solitary life. It’s to the point that for the first time in years, I seriously consider wandering closer to the human civilizations that lie beyond the forest. For no reason other than to break up the monotony of my life. Before I manage to talk myself out of what I know is a terrible idea, I grab my goat mask and leave my cave and walk in the direction of the humans.

It takes me half a day of walking before I’m close enough to hear a cacophony of sounds I’ve never heard before. It stops me in my tracks. I close my eyes and try to separate the various noises that my sensitive ears pick up. Not having been around modern humans for so long, I’m unable to picture what each sound is. All I know is that humans these days are insanely loud. I already miss the serene quiet of my home. But I push myself to keep walking closer.

Before long, I draw near to the edge of the forest. Just beyond the tree line, I can see a wide-open space full of large…cars, I think is what they’re called? They look so different from the last time I saw cars. The last ones I’d seen were about my height, and looked like solid hunks of metal. The humans don’t look so different though.

I can see multiple herds of humans and their kids running around. Some of the herds are sitting and eating. Others are stepping out of their cars. There’s one herd walking towards a footpath that leads from the lot where they left their car into the forest.

Seeing the herds and all their kids rocks me to the depths of my soul. My heart clenches, nearly knocking me off my hooves. I can’t stop the mournful bleat from escaping my throat. I throw my hands up to cover my mouth, but it’s too late. Dozens of human heads turn towards the shadowy spot where I’m hiding. Quick bursts of light flash before my eyes, nearly blinding me. Before they have a chance to move in my direction, I turn and run as quickly as I can. I’m thankful for the mask; I don’t need humans seeing what my face truly looks like. My hooves trip over tree roots and I make a much louder escape than I’d wanted. I’d hoped to simply see the humans without alerting them to my presence.

So much for that plan.

I manage to make it back to my cave just as the sun is beginning to set. I take one last look out at the forest before I disappear into my home and the darkness swallows me whole.

Sheer memory is the only reason I’m able to reach my main living area without lighting any of the torches that line the long path. I relight the fire I keep lit year-round before dropping my body down onto my bed made of hay and old blankets left in the forest by humans. It’s not the most comfortable bedding, but it’s still better than the ground alone. I toss the mask off to the side and hope it lands softly.

My head slowly pivots as I take a look around my home. It’s in need of a good cleaning. But it’s not as though I have any reason other than for my own comfort. I’ve been alone here for so long, and it shows. I promise myself that I’ll clean up a bit in the next few days.

I reach down and rub my furry lower legs. I’m not used to walking that much, so they’re a bit sore. A dip in the lake would help relax my sore muscles. The water should still be warmed from the sun earlier. Plus, it’s the perfect time of day to go for a swim and not need to wear my mask. Though, I always bring it, just in case.

My mind made up, I stand and grab one of the torches, and light it using my fire. I leave my cave and walk towards the lake that’s not far from my home. Reaching the water, I use one hand to dig a small hole to stand my torch in the ground. I don’t need much light at night. But I don’t really care to swim in total darkness either. Dropping the mask beside the torch, I walk into the water up to my furry knees. I dive forward and plunge the rest of my body underwater before quickly resurfacing.

A night swim is exactly what I need. I can already feel the soreness leaving my lower legs as I float around the lake. I hear voices off in the distance, but they’re far enough away that I’m not worried.

This is the most content I’ve been in far too long. I silently vow to myself to come to the lake more often. It’ll help break up the boredom, and the walking is good for this old goat.

A few hours later, I emerge from the lake and shake as much water out of my fur as I can. I reach down and pick up my torch and mask. Finally feeling more like myself and less melancholy, I walk back to my home and enjoy the leisurely pace I’ve set for myself. I stop once or twice, grazing on some wild grass and a berry bush. I take in the view each time I stop, and I’m happier than I’ve felt in a long time.

When I arrive home, I put out my torch and lay down on my bed. My fire is still lit, and my cave is warm enough that I don’t feel the need for a blanket tonight. I easily drift off to sleep, dreaming of what life would be like if I had a mate and a herd of my own. It leads to me jerking awake more than once, my heart racing yet empty. Eventually, I find myself praying that I’ll be able to sleep dreamlessly for the first time in my life.

When I wake the next morning, my good mood has fled with the sunrise. My loneliness settles back deep in my chest. I lift a silent prayer up to Pan, begging him to ease the ache in my soul. Then I set about cleaning up years’ worth of neglect and excess dirt.

It takes me several days to remove all of the cobwebs that have accumulated, as well as the extra dirt I’ve tracked in over the years. I take all of my bedding outside and shake it all out. I dig through the entire cave for half a day to find the broom that I hadn’t touched in at least a decade.

Before I know it, my home is free of extraneous dirt and dust; everything has been put away and no clutter remains. I feel a sense of pride in myself for accomplishing such a task. Then I look down at myself and realize that I’m filthy. Usually, I step outside of the cave and just rub against the bushes to clean myself up. Mother always licked herself clean, but that’s a habit that actually grosses me out.

Seeing just how much dirt is stuck to my fur, I know that I’m going to have to head back to the lake. The sun is directly overhead, which means that there will be people in the water. I’ll have to wait until nighttime to get clean. For now, I’ll stomp around a bit outside to shake out some of the loose dirt. I also need to eat. I’ve been so focused on cleaning that I haven’t eaten anything in several days. In the midst of the plumes of dust coming from my body, my stomach rumbles almost loud enough to alert the humans far away.

Mind made up, I pick up my mask, firmly securing it over my face, as well as a small basket that my mother wove for me when I was a kid. I exit the cave in search of some fresh berry bushes. It doesn’t take me long to find several wild strawberry plants. While foraging, I eat enough strawberries, juneberries, and blueberries to satisfy the hunger that had been coursing through me. Thankfully, no other animals or humans have been this way for a while, so the bushes are heavy with ripe fruit

Hours later, my basket is full to the top with fresh berries and the sun has started to set. Not wanting to backtrack, I carry my basket of fruit with me to the lake. I gently place it on the ground a few feet away from the water before dropping my mask closer to the shoreline. I submerge myself and run my hands through every inch of fur that I can. I dip my head under to clear any dirt from my furry ears, not caring if water gets in them.

I pull a small handful of hornwort from the lake to scrub my hooves clean of any dirt and another to wash my face. The squishy plant is uncomfortable on the skin of my face. I quickly decide that I don’t like it, so I toss it aside and use the fur on my arms to wipe my face clean.

After scrubbing every inch of my body free of dirt, I allow myself to relax and float in the water. I close my eyes and listen to the ambient sounds of small animals in the woods nearby.

That’s when my ears pick up the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard in my long life, and I feel a shock to the deepest part of my soul.

“I think this is our site guys.”

My hooves immediately hit the bottom of the lake and I submerge the rest of my body in the water. I thank Pan that I waited until it was dark to come out. I can see three female humans as they unload packs that they have strapped to their backs. The one that spoke has long, dark hair that she has tied into a tail at the back of her head. Of the two others, one has light hair and the other has hair that seems to be some shade of blue or purple.

I crouch down lower into the water and slowly move closer to where they appear to be moving in. The sweet voice meets my ears once again. “Ugh, I can’t believe how long it took us to get here. Now it’s too late to swim. And we still have to set up the trail cams.”

A deep voice speaks directly into my furry ears and I know that it’s one meant just for me to hear as I stare at the female speaking– “Mate.”

I lose my footing and fall under the water. It takes everything in my body to stay low and swim my way back to my side of the lake, instead of staying here and listening to every sound that she makes. I let one furry ear break the surface to see what I can hear. My mate and her companions are rushing to set up their trail cam facing the lake because they heard me fall under. I lift enough of my head out of the water to see if they’re looking my way or not.

Seeing that they’re all turned away from the water, I exit the lake as quickly and quietly as I’m able and somehow manage to snatch my mask off the shore. As fast as my legs will carry me, I run towards my cave. It isn’t until I’m sitting on my bedding that I realize I forgot my basket of berries.