Poem: "Strong, Competent, Capable"
Jul. 23rd, 2025 07:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem is spillover from the July 15, 2025 Bonus Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from janetmiles, chanter1944, and discussions with dialecticdreamer. It has been sponsored by janetmiles. This poem also fills the "Sunrise / Sunset" square in my 7-1-25 card for the Western Bingo fest. It belongs to the series Frankenstein's Family and follows (several months later) the poems "Signs of Their Trespass" and "Incompetence, Sloppy Thinking, and Laziness" so read those first or this won't make much sense. It is the first in the triptych followed by "The Future by Consequence, the Past by Redemption" and "Fed from So Many Sources."
Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics, including canon-typical levels of violence. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes a fruitless hunt, irrational behavior, legally risky action in effort to protect people, unplanned and unmarried pregnancy, domestic abuse, verbal abuse, death threats, pregnant woman fleeing from danger, rude language, minor character death due to terminal stupidity and testosterone poisoning, begging for mercy, uncertainty, and other mayhem. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward. Readers with a history of domestic unrest may wish to think twice about this one, but skipping it would leave a major gap.
"Strong, Competent, Capable"
The werewolves trotted through
the valley in human form and
fanned out to scout for prey.
The mazil had suggested that
a few chamois would be welcome
for holiday feasting later in December.
So the werewolves were up in
the thin gray light of winter dawn,
nosing around to see where
the goatlike creatures were
currently foraging for food.
This part of the valley broke
into a series of steep cliffs
separated by narrow ledges
of stone, grass, or brush where
the high rocks of the ridge fell off
to form the riverland far below.
In summer, the shepherds and
goatherds brought their flocks up
from the low pastures to graze
on the tender new greenery.
In winter, the rocks were clad
with a thin sheen of ice where
frost and snow melted in the sun
and then refroze during the night.
As the werewolves surveyed the land,
sunlight broke through to sprinkle motes
of silver and gold over the frosty slopes.
Scattered trees released showers of
frost and snow as birds burst from cover.
As the morning wore on, the werewolves
found piles of scat but no actual chamois.
Fridrik leaned on a tree. "They've been
here but then moved on," he observed.
Janika scuffed a foot in the stubble. "They
ate all of the plants in this patch already.
I think they're moving toward the ridge."
"Then we follow," Fridrik declared,
scanning for a good path upward.
There wasn't one here, so they
moved towards a copse of
short, scruffy evergreens
in search of a game trail.
Then they heard something
large thrashing towards them.
It was one of the poachers.
"Iancu," Fridrik said, snarling.
"You were banned from this --"
"Foresters, help!" called Iancu.
"Ghenadie has run mad and
we fear that he'll kill the girl!"
"What girl?" Janika demanded.
"One of the servant girls, Amalia,"
said Iancu. "When Ghenadie returned,
she told him she's carrying his child.
He flew into a rage, and she fled.
He may harm her or other people."
It was true that Ghenadie had been
a sullen worker at best, only putting
his back into it once the mazil had
assigned an extra month because
the earlier work had been so poor.
None of the local girls had shown
much interest in him either, and
that hadn't helped his temper.
"What is that to us?" said Fridrik.
"She does not live in our valley."
"Amalia hid overnight in our village,
then left early," said Iancu. "We
think she may have come this way,
because word from the traders
names your valley a refuge."
"For some," said Fridrik.
"We have seen no sign of --"
Just then, Shandor came through
the brush dragging a boy with him.
"I found this one sneaking around."
"Ilie!" said Iancu, giving his brother
a despairing look. "You were not
supposed to cross the ridge. It is
bad enough for me to take the risk."
"But he's gonna kill 'em!" Ilie wailed.
I heard him shouting threats. I tried
to lay a false trail, but I don't think
he bought it. They're not far."
"Shandor, guard these two --
the mazil will want to speak with
them," Fridrik ordered. "Janika,
Mircea, help me to search for
the girl and that lout Ghenadie."
Mircea was not visible now,
but wherever Shandor was,
she would not be far away.
They followed the trails left by
the two intruders, hoping that
the fleeing girl would choose
a similar route as theirs.
Fleeting snatches of scent
drifted on the breeze, but
100 they could not find her trail.
"There!" Mircea said suddenly
and pointed up the slope.
A girl was scrambling down
one of the grassy lanes
that connected the cliffs.
She had a blanket wrapped
around her, and when it flapped
open, they could see a dress
of thin green fabric underneath.
Long red-gold hair tossed in
the wind. Her hands clutched
a belly beginning to swell, but
not yet cumbersome, and so
she must be about halfway
through the pregnancy.
Mircea and Janika bounded
up the slope toward her.
"You have crossed into
the next valley," said Mircea.
"You will be safe with us."
"Not safe," she panted.
"He is ... right behind me."
"Down here," Janika said,
urging Amalia to the edge.
"I can't climb that!" said Amalia.
"It's too steep. I'll fall down."
"We will help you climb,"
Janika promised, holding
out a hand. "You won't fall."
One above and one below,
they coaxed the girl down
the steep face of the cliff.
Fridrik moved closer so
he could protect them,
and then lifted his head.
"He's close," Fridrik said.
"I can smell him now."
Ghenadie lumbered into
view, shouting for Amalia.
"You come back here, bitch!"
he said. "I'll teach you to run!"
"Ghenadie, turn around,"
Fridrik warned. "You are
not welcome in this valley."
But Ghenadie had spotted
Amalia and rushed toward her.
He slipped on the icy cliff and fell.
His body smacked on the rocks
far below. He did not get up.
"Good, he's dead," said Janika.
"Let's get out of here now."
Fridrik shook his head.
"Check the way that Igor
showed us," he insisted.
Janika pressed a hand
to Ghenadie's throat and
poked at one staring eye.
"He's dead-dead," she said.
"No heartbeat, no breathing,
and no eye reflexes. Also,
his head is broken open."
Iancu and Ilie looked shocked,
while Amalia looked both upset
and relieved by Ghenadie's death.
"Janika, guard the body," said Fridrik.
"The mazil will want to see where it lies."
With the weather so cold, there was
no fear of rot, only scavengers.
"Come away," Mircea said,
draping an arm over Amalia.
"Igor will want to check on you,
and the village has a midwife."
"You too," Shandor said to
his captives. "We will take
you both to the castle."
"Take me, but let Ilie go,"
Iancu begged. "He's just
a boy! It was my idea
to help Amalia escape."
Fridrik beckoned him and
lowered his voice. "Our mazil
does not kill children, nor punish
those who do good," he said.
"You will get true justice."
They were still terrified as
Shandor led them away, but
they went along without fighting.
Amalia clutched her belly as she
leaned against Mircea. "What now?"
she whispered. "What will happen?"
"We will go to the castle," said Mircea.
"You will be safe there. Victor and Igor
are good men. They will take care of
you and find other women to help you."
"I'm only a few months from giving birth,
and my baby's father is dead," said Amalia.
"I don't know what I'm going to do next. I'm
not strong enough for this." She sniffled.
"You will do fine. Birth is all about
making mothers," Mircea assured her.
"Strong, competent, capable mothers
who trust themselves and know
their inner strength. Already you
are stronger than you know,
because you had the courage
to escape from Ghenadie."
Certainly Amalia was
worth ten of that lazy lout.
"I had to," said the girl. "He
was just so terrifying ..."
"Men are often beasts,"
said Mircea. "Not all of
them, though. You and
your baby survived, so
you will be all right now."
Amalia just clutched at
her blanket and shivered.
Fridrik shrugged off the fur
that he wore and tossed
it over her shoulders.
Even in human form,
werewolves didn't feel
the cold like humans did.
It would take care to get
these people safely down
to the castle that waited below.
Then, it would be up to the mazil.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its notes appear separately.
janetmiles, chanter1944, and discussions with dialecticdreamer. It has been sponsored by janetmiles. This poem also fills the "Sunrise / Sunset" square in my 7-1-25 card for the Western Bingo fest. It belongs to the series Frankenstein's Family and follows (several months later) the poems "Signs of Their Trespass" and "Incompetence, Sloppy Thinking, and Laziness" so read those first or this won't make much sense. It is the first in the triptych followed by "The Future by Consequence, the Past by Redemption" and "Fed from So Many Sources."Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics, including canon-typical levels of violence. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes a fruitless hunt, irrational behavior, legally risky action in effort to protect people, unplanned and unmarried pregnancy, domestic abuse, verbal abuse, death threats, pregnant woman fleeing from danger, rude language, minor character death due to terminal stupidity and testosterone poisoning, begging for mercy, uncertainty, and other mayhem. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward. Readers with a history of domestic unrest may wish to think twice about this one, but skipping it would leave a major gap.
"Strong, Competent, Capable"
The werewolves trotted through
the valley in human form and
fanned out to scout for prey.
The mazil had suggested that
a few chamois would be welcome
for holiday feasting later in December.
So the werewolves were up in
the thin gray light of winter dawn,
nosing around to see where
the goatlike creatures were
currently foraging for food.
This part of the valley broke
into a series of steep cliffs
separated by narrow ledges
of stone, grass, or brush where
the high rocks of the ridge fell off
to form the riverland far below.
In summer, the shepherds and
goatherds brought their flocks up
from the low pastures to graze
on the tender new greenery.
In winter, the rocks were clad
with a thin sheen of ice where
frost and snow melted in the sun
and then refroze during the night.
As the werewolves surveyed the land,
sunlight broke through to sprinkle motes
of silver and gold over the frosty slopes.
Scattered trees released showers of
frost and snow as birds burst from cover.
As the morning wore on, the werewolves
found piles of scat but no actual chamois.
Fridrik leaned on a tree. "They've been
here but then moved on," he observed.
Janika scuffed a foot in the stubble. "They
ate all of the plants in this patch already.
I think they're moving toward the ridge."
"Then we follow," Fridrik declared,
scanning for a good path upward.
There wasn't one here, so they
moved towards a copse of
short, scruffy evergreens
in search of a game trail.
Then they heard something
large thrashing towards them.
It was one of the poachers.
"Iancu," Fridrik said, snarling.
"You were banned from this --"
"Foresters, help!" called Iancu.
"Ghenadie has run mad and
we fear that he'll kill the girl!"
"What girl?" Janika demanded.
"One of the servant girls, Amalia,"
said Iancu. "When Ghenadie returned,
she told him she's carrying his child.
He flew into a rage, and she fled.
He may harm her or other people."
It was true that Ghenadie had been
a sullen worker at best, only putting
his back into it once the mazil had
assigned an extra month because
the earlier work had been so poor.
None of the local girls had shown
much interest in him either, and
that hadn't helped his temper.
"What is that to us?" said Fridrik.
"She does not live in our valley."
"Amalia hid overnight in our village,
then left early," said Iancu. "We
think she may have come this way,
because word from the traders
names your valley a refuge."
"For some," said Fridrik.
"We have seen no sign of --"
Just then, Shandor came through
the brush dragging a boy with him.
"I found this one sneaking around."
"Ilie!" said Iancu, giving his brother
a despairing look. "You were not
supposed to cross the ridge. It is
bad enough for me to take the risk."
"But he's gonna kill 'em!" Ilie wailed.
I heard him shouting threats. I tried
to lay a false trail, but I don't think
he bought it. They're not far."
"Shandor, guard these two --
the mazil will want to speak with
them," Fridrik ordered. "Janika,
Mircea, help me to search for
the girl and that lout Ghenadie."
Mircea was not visible now,
but wherever Shandor was,
she would not be far away.
They followed the trails left by
the two intruders, hoping that
the fleeing girl would choose
a similar route as theirs.
Fleeting snatches of scent
drifted on the breeze, but
100 they could not find her trail.
"There!" Mircea said suddenly
and pointed up the slope.
A girl was scrambling down
one of the grassy lanes
that connected the cliffs.
She had a blanket wrapped
around her, and when it flapped
open, they could see a dress
of thin green fabric underneath.
Long red-gold hair tossed in
the wind. Her hands clutched
a belly beginning to swell, but
not yet cumbersome, and so
she must be about halfway
through the pregnancy.
Mircea and Janika bounded
up the slope toward her.
"You have crossed into
the next valley," said Mircea.
"You will be safe with us."
"Not safe," she panted.
"He is ... right behind me."
"Down here," Janika said,
urging Amalia to the edge.
"I can't climb that!" said Amalia.
"It's too steep. I'll fall down."
"We will help you climb,"
Janika promised, holding
out a hand. "You won't fall."
One above and one below,
they coaxed the girl down
the steep face of the cliff.
Fridrik moved closer so
he could protect them,
and then lifted his head.
"He's close," Fridrik said.
"I can smell him now."
Ghenadie lumbered into
view, shouting for Amalia.
"You come back here, bitch!"
he said. "I'll teach you to run!"
"Ghenadie, turn around,"
Fridrik warned. "You are
not welcome in this valley."
But Ghenadie had spotted
Amalia and rushed toward her.
He slipped on the icy cliff and fell.
His body smacked on the rocks
far below. He did not get up.
"Good, he's dead," said Janika.
"Let's get out of here now."
Fridrik shook his head.
"Check the way that Igor
showed us," he insisted.
Janika pressed a hand
to Ghenadie's throat and
poked at one staring eye.
"He's dead-dead," she said.
"No heartbeat, no breathing,
and no eye reflexes. Also,
his head is broken open."
Iancu and Ilie looked shocked,
while Amalia looked both upset
and relieved by Ghenadie's death.
"Janika, guard the body," said Fridrik.
"The mazil will want to see where it lies."
With the weather so cold, there was
no fear of rot, only scavengers.
"Come away," Mircea said,
draping an arm over Amalia.
"Igor will want to check on you,
and the village has a midwife."
"You too," Shandor said to
his captives. "We will take
you both to the castle."
"Take me, but let Ilie go,"
Iancu begged. "He's just
a boy! It was my idea
to help Amalia escape."
Fridrik beckoned him and
lowered his voice. "Our mazil
does not kill children, nor punish
those who do good," he said.
"You will get true justice."
They were still terrified as
Shandor led them away, but
they went along without fighting.
Amalia clutched her belly as she
leaned against Mircea. "What now?"
she whispered. "What will happen?"
"We will go to the castle," said Mircea.
"You will be safe there. Victor and Igor
are good men. They will take care of
you and find other women to help you."
"I'm only a few months from giving birth,
and my baby's father is dead," said Amalia.
"I don't know what I'm going to do next. I'm
not strong enough for this." She sniffled.
"You will do fine. Birth is all about
making mothers," Mircea assured her.
"Strong, competent, capable mothers
who trust themselves and know
their inner strength. Already you
are stronger than you know,
because you had the courage
to escape from Ghenadie."
Certainly Amalia was
worth ten of that lazy lout.
"I had to," said the girl. "He
was just so terrifying ..."
"Men are often beasts,"
said Mircea. "Not all of
them, though. You and
your baby survived, so
you will be all right now."
Amalia just clutched at
her blanket and shivered.
Fridrik shrugged off the fur
that he wore and tossed
it over her shoulders.
Even in human form,
werewolves didn't feel
the cold like humans did.
It would take care to get
these people safely down
to the castle that waited below.
Then, it would be up to the mazil.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its notes appear separately.
Ding dong!
Date: 2025-07-24 12:43 pm (UTC)Perfectly apropos.
I love the way that the wolves focus on protection, first of the valley, then pivoting to protect Amalie from the immediate threat that Ghenaide poses. The readers' secret knowledge of the story 'verse makes Janika's promise that Amalie won't fall much stronger. It's the way that these two concepts play off each other that made the story worth rereading. Three times, so far. *G*
Re: Ding dong!
Date: 2025-07-25 03:12 am (UTC)Perfectly apropos. <<
Yeah, I really love that kind of ending when it fits. Nasty people tend to make trouble for themselves.
>> I love the way that the wolves focus on protection, first of the valley, then pivoting to protect Amalie from the immediate threat that Ghenaide poses.<<
Wolves do tend to be territorial and protective. Also, these in particular have their own experiences of fleeing from hostile men, so that rouses their instincts right away.
>> The readers' secret knowledge of the story 'verse makes Janika's promise that Amalie won't fall much stronger.<<
:D They know the valley and the mountains around it. That part is treacherous mostly because of the ice, so with three people moving together, it's more secure than it seems at first glance. Those ledges can be anywhere from about a foot to ten or twenty feet wide, and ten to thirty feet long. The nuisance is mostly clambering down from one to the another where they end. They're small in comparison to the cliffs, but it's not like barehanded bouldering with grips only half an inch deep. At least in that area.
>> It's the way that these two concepts play off each other that made the story worth rereading. Three times, so far. *G*
Yay! I'm glad you enjoyed this so much.