Rite of Merit for naranda1

Fidgety wasn’t a word that would normally describe Ishida, but today, under the quickly setting sun that cast a cold glow over the windswept snow, he couldn’t help but shiver against the breeze. Though he had been harnessed before with no trouble many times in the past, today the weight of the leather felt off against his thick coat, as though it threatened to pull him to the ground. Uncomfortably he shifted his weight, trying to figure out why it balanced so strangely on his fur- he couldn’t describe the wrongness of it exactly, just that there was wrong in the way it wrapped around him. Unsatisfied by the change shifting brought him, he whined loudly to his handler and attempted to pull at the straps near his shoulders with his teeth- only to find that Sakari hadn’t yet finished the straps.

“Shh, Ishida. Calm down.” The girl’s tone of voice was familiar to the yeti- it designated a very certain emotion from his rider, one where purpose simply had to override her attention to anything else. He could tell by the way her brow was scrunched that she was deeply focused on getting his harness sorted out, so much so that she simply didn’t have a moment to give Ishida the extra attention he might want, but didn’t ultimately need. A moment’s passing and his rider was finished, and quickly boosting herself to her feet to finish securing the harness to the heavy sled behind him. It wasn’t entirely normal for his rider to be in such a rush; though she was simply reflecting the same undertone of anxiety that had overtaken the street where he stood. Normally, as the sun fell low and the temperature dropped, most inhabitants of the snowy town would take their business and their children indoors, where they could keep warm and enjoy a homely night in the company of loved ones. Tonight, however, even the children were still outside; yet none of them put more than half a heart into playing. From where the yeti stood, he could see one small boy toss a snowball at his sister, only to find the girl storming away instead of reciprocating against his sneaky attack. They too were picking up on the nervous energy. Meanwhile, some adults milled about and spoke in hushed tones to pairs or groups; something that Ishida couldn’t help but note could easily be accomplished indoors. A few of the men and women, however, were hefting boxes. They emerged from one of the dark buildings with packages, wobbled on uncertain legs down the stairs, and despite any caution ended up dropping the heavy boxes onto the back of the sled. Each time, Sakari would count another number, tracking the number of these boxes were loaded onto his sled. She did so with utmost reverence to whatever was contained in the fragile boxes.

Ishida’s ears twitched at the sound of a somewhat familiar yet authoritative voice, loud enough to command attention that the people gathered in the street, even the children, quickly looked up at him. The yeti recognized the chief of the village, known for his gentleness but also his grace under pressure. “Sakari, you know well how dire this trip is.” He spoke- though Ishida perceived his handler’s name amid the words, somehow he knew that the chief was speaking to a wider audience, perhaps to sate the worry of those gathered.

Impressively, Sakari did not flinch as all eyes turned to her, instead she set her jaw. Her eyes blazed with determination, a strong energy despite the chill of the night quickly settling over the street. “Of course. Without these medicines, lives might be needlessly lost. Ishida and I will be there as quickly as the terrain allows.” The tokota whined at the sound of his name. He couldn’t miss the deep reverence there was to the task at hand. That alone was enough to get the yeti to raise his head a bit higher, to set his weight proudly despite the harness. The task at hand, the pulling of this sled- there was no way it was a meaningless task; somehow, the job he did mattered deeply. He would do it well.

A few more pieces of conversation passed back and forth, though at the time Ishida wasn’t listening all that closely. Instead, the sight of the heavy packages had stolen his attention. Somehow, instead of daunting him the challenge sparked his energy. Though the harness was still uncomfortable against his fur, he pulled against it slightly, feeling the tension against the sled; a signal to Sakari that he was ready to go. Evidently, his rider was as well. Leaving the chief with a few distracted words, she visually checked the sled, then, satisfied, she stepped onto the wooden runners. “Ishida, go!” That was all the signal the yeti needed- his strain against the weight of the sled required all his effort, but soon they had broken the friction of the ground, and Ishida got the sled moving at a moderate pace through the streets. Behind them, people called out their good-lucks, but neither tokota nor handler paid them no mind; they had a job to do.

Despite his best efforts, there was no doubt that the sled was far heavier for one tokota to pull alone for too long, and yet, there was no choice. As she balanced easily on the back, Sakari couldn’t help but see the heavy weight in her field of vision, reminding her of the effort poor Ishida would have to exert- if only he could really understand the lives that rested on this effort. Though the tokota was perceptive, she could only hope that the yeti would be able to comprehend the importance of this task, and forgive her for the fact that she had to willingly put him through such pain- she hated it as much as he did.

The tracks left behind by the runners lay deep in the snow, pressed in against the weight of the sled itself. Attentively, Sakari gripped the reins as tight as she could. However, they weren’t needed must- Ishida and his rider were in sync. There was no need for the excess commands given to a new puller, nor the caution needed to control a puller who believed he knew more than his handler and sought to choose the right path. In that way, both knew they were lucky- they could put complete trust in each other, knowing it would be rewarded. Silent comradery helped the journey, though it was still slow-going. Ishida couldn’t help but feel as though he should be moving faster; occasionally he gave his weary legs a mightier bound, but it was impossible to keep up a quickened pace. Sakari couldn’t make herself ask Ishida to move quicker- he was putting in every ounce of energy he had; if she were to request more, he’d probably give it to her, and hurt himself in the process. As it was, the journey seemed slow by its very nature. Ishida was on edge, and though he wished to arrive as quickly as possible, there were limits. Even the best motivator couldn’t make muscles stronger, not the distance shorter.

As tokota and rider moved together as one, linked by the heavy sled and the desperation they both held, beautiful scenery passed by; Ishida focused on it with as much of his attention as he could muster, a way to distract himself from his weariness. To his right stood a great range of mountains, positioned in the distance like soldiers in a row, all pointing mightily to the night sky. The light of a bright moon was their best guide; it showed down upon the smooth snow until it seemed to glow in the distance, endless lands that bore only the marks of the animals that lived there, untouched by human or machine. Along the path sprung up groves of strong pines, laden with snow yet no more prone to breaking than the sun was to stop rising. They appeared as quickly as they appeared, Ishida and Sakari having no time to reflect upon a particular one. Between them and the mountain stood a great frozen lake. Natural forces had set large chunks of ice adrift in chilly waters, the whole surface rippling in the gentle breeze that seemed to follow them. Every so often appeared something of a marker, or a structure, all seemingly weathered from countless years of weather- they served to mark the path, to allow one to reach the town they aimed at most directly. Though Sakari normally enjoyed trying to remember the exact order of the markers, or imagine the history behind them, today they were as insignificant as a stone- their only value was reminding them of the path they took.

The vast, snowy moor was mostly flat, giving Ishida the ability to skim over the ice with as much ease as possible, neither worried about gravity holding him back or the slippery snow sending the whole sled tumbling on a slope. However, the village itself was built on a hillside; there was no avoiding it. As they grew nearer, Ishida saw the lights of fires despite how late it was; he could even swear he saw figures moving about in a rushed manner. And yet, his eyes couldn’t help but settle on the worst of the problems: the incline between them and his goal. A whine escaped his throat, barely audible, though the observant Sakari heard it well. A weight settled on her shoulders. There was no way her loyal tokota could manage that feat; they’d have little choice but to unload some of the boxes and come back from them after dropping off the first batch; all the while hoping they wouldn’t be ruined. She resigned herself to such a fate and when she reached an area clearly marked by one bony pine, she pulled on the reins.

“Easy there, Ishida. Let’s stop here a bit.”

To her surprise, the shaggy tokota did not stop, nor did he even slow- he yanked against the reins, nearly pulling them from her hands in the process, and barreled on at the same determined speed. “It’s no use-“ Sakari began, but it wasn’t even worth trying; a growl from Ishida told her that he wouldn’t be so easily stopped. Instead, she braced herself, and put her trust in the yeti- it was up to him now.

As soon as the ground sloped the slightest perceivable amount, the weight of the harness seemed to grow a thousand times heavily. Ishida was weary, and the sled weighed down so much- and yet, he refused to give in so easily. Gravity wouldn’t stop him; nothing would. Ignoring even his most trusted Sakari, he lowered his head, and forced his legs to carry him forward. Despite strain and struggle, the sled continued to move.

Deliberately, up the slope the pair went. Sakari couldn’t help but fear that Ishida would collapse halfway up due to the strain; she wouldn’t realize until later that she was holding her breath. However, Ishida wasn’t one to quit. Despite nature’s best power to stop him, the ground soon became flat again as they arrived on the outskirts of the town, and the tokota allowed Sakari to guide him one again. Around a few turned, and to the crowd of people, many of which were teary-eyes; he could smell their fear like a cloud. When he was finally pulled to a halt, Ishida could do nothing but let his weary legs give out; he collapsed there in the harness in the middle of the street. He could hear the crowds murmur; the small, inquisitive hands of children touched his coat. Normally, he’d have done something to stop them, but tonight he had ears for only one voice: Sakari’s. The girl, abandoning her post, came quicky to his side. She sat in front of him, stroking his head with gentle hands, whispering her heart to the poor tokota who had worked so hard for her.

“Thank you, Ishida. Thank you.”