Eumaios and the Skunks (Part 1)
Following is the first segment of the four-part story "Eumaios and the Skunks," by author Michael O. Varhola. It takes place in Skirmisher Publishing LLC's "Swords of Kos" fantasy campaign setting, along with the novel Swords of Kos: Necropolis and the multi-author fantasy anthology Swords of Kos: Hekaton. In this initial piece we are introduced to retired soldier Eumaios and the creatures that share his ruined villa with him ...
From where he stood several feet away, Eumaios saw the two skunks waddle up into the light of the dying cooking fire and, after sniffing around a few seconds, discover the remains of his dinner. He had planned to read a few minutes before turning in and had walked to the woodpile to retrieve enough chunks of dry juniper to revive the blaze sufficiently to see by it but, as the animals began to jostle each other, he leaned against the crumbling wall of the ruined villa where he lived and decided to watch them instead.
Whereas most animals employed their claws, fangs, or other natural weapons the same ways against their own kind as against other creatures, skunks dealt with others one way but had a unique method of fighting amongst themselves. If one of the dozen cats that cohabitated with him on the abandoned farmstead had molested either of the skunks, it would have gone up on its tiptoes, arched its back, and presented the offender with its puckered rectum, all of which was adequate to discourage most antagonists — and a blast of acrid musk would drive off almost all the rest. When competing for food with another of its kind, however, a skunk would instead try to keep eating whatever it was interested in, dig its little clawed feet into the ground, and then lean into the other animal and push in an attempt to shove it out of the way. Eumaios enjoyed watching such spirited but nonlethal spectacles, which were as stylized as any Human wrestling match he had ever seen, during which the tails of the animals would intertwine and they would look like a single mass of writhing, black-and-white fur.
Eumaios's skunks battled each other like this for a few minutes and then one of the little beasts seized the denuded drumstick of the feral hen the man had been eating and broke away, stamping off and dramatically swinging the leg bone back and forth in its mouth like a tiny club. Once it had gone about five feet it lay down, clutched the bone in its forepaws, and began to gnaw on it, while its companion furtively searched the area around the fire for anything else edible, stopping and sniffing for several seconds before moving a few feet and repeating the process. Three or four of Eumaios's cats watched this scene from where they had been sitting when the pair of intruders had made their appearance.
"Daphne, Claea, how are you girls doing this evening?" Eumaios asked as he walked slowly back toward his fire, recognizing this pair by the unique patterns on their backs and distinctive tails. He had wanted to read a little, but it had been a long day and he was achy, so the Odyssey would have to wait and the drama of the skunks suffice for his evening's entertainment. As he approached, the animals jumped up on their toes and faced him, each of them bouncing up and down a few times; they knew him, and regarded him well enough that they would not presume to present their backsides to him, but they were still wild creatures and would not let him touch them or get closer than a couple of feet. As he neared they turned and ran, scuttling on their squat little legs toward an overgrown pile of limestone blocks that had once been a small outbuilding and in which they dwelled much of the time.
Eumaios smiled indulgently at them, stopped to pet a couple of his cats and chat with them a few seconds, and then knelt down by the remains of the fire and set up his sleeping pallet; it was a clear, temperate evening, and he had decided to sleep outside, rather than in the apartment he had established in the cellar of the ruined farmhouse. Then, picking up a pair of iron tongs that sat nearby, he shoved them into the ashes and grasped a flat slab of rock that he had put there earlier. Lifting the hot stone out of the embers, he placed it on a piece of goatskin and then wrapped it up, hairy side out, and laid it on his sleeping pallet, after which he laid down upon it, adjusting the heated bundle so his lower back and hips rested on it. He could feel the warmth seep into his bones and it felt good, soothing his achiness and making him feel contented and even sleepier.
In the morning he planned to go into Kefalos to buy a few things that he could not find or produce for himself, and while he was there he has going to have a cup or three of wine at the Gorgon's Head, his tavern of preference in the village. The wine he made himself from the wild vines that grew on the nearby hillside was fine for day-to-day purposes, and he had enjoyed some of it with his meal tonight, but once in awhile he liked to avail himself of something a little finer. And maybe he would have beer instead, or purchase a cask of it to bring home with him, as that was something he did not make himself at all. As he drifted off thinking of these things, Eumaios could make out the stars of the constellation Gemini in the clear dark skies above him.
Read Part 2 of "Eumaios and the Skunks"
