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The Nature of Predators - Venlil Foster Program (8/14)
🕑 Added 2023-02-26 12:01:00 +0000 UTC---
Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender
Date [standardized human time]: October 28, 2136
Business picked up at the bar, once Terrans learned that their kind were permitted. It was obvious how social the predators were, given that word circulated within a day. Kaulin enjoyed the profit we could scrape off of them, since the predators were content with diluted liquor. Hell, a few even paid us extra to make alcoholic beverages that were mostly juice!
One of the most common items the Terrans ordered was beer, which I did my best to replicate. Learning its alcoholic composition made me laugh; it could practically be considered water. But the massive predators were happy to sip on a mug of my knockoff, and several chipped in tips for my services. Only one human started to get aggressive with me; the others intervened before I could blink.
The last day of Jimek’s suspension happened to be his birthday, so I suppose it all worked out. Dustin contacted the UN embassy soldiers, wishing to impart Terran customs to our celebration. He’d asked my permission first, of course. Once I confirmed there was nothing violent or hunting-involved, I had no objections. It remained to be seen what the Canadian orphan thought of our traditions.
Honestly, it’s been enjoyable to learn more about his culture. Humans aren’t as bad as their reputation makes them out to be.
A pounding noise came from the front door, and Jimek raced to open it. Olek and Lisa were on the porch, dressed in more casual clothes; come to think of it, I’d seen Bondarenko out of soldier pelts at the bar. The female human was wearing a loose collar around her neck, which might be a symbol of cattle wrangling. Why else would the predators put stone chokers on themselves? It gleamed in the sunlight, making it impossible to ignore.
“Ollie!” Jimek squealed. “I’m glad you came! I thought nobody was coming.”
I wandered up behind my son. “Dustin wanted to show you some human celebrations. I’m holding him to the ‘nothing predatory’ pledge.”
Olek removed his shoes as he crossed the threshold, which I figured was to make himself comfortable. Lisa tailed behind him, and carried a circular object in a box. The female peacekeeper quietly slipped me an envelope, which was filled with credit slips; I flicked my ears with heartfelt gratitude. I was glad the soldiers would see how happy their kindness made the boys.
“Nana wouldn’t come to a predator-infested house.” Jimek spoke in a matter-of-fact voice, and Dustin slunk up beside us with dejection. “Aunt Lashie thought about it, but her wife wasn’t as open-minded. And Cousin Stram doesn’t care any—"
I swatted him with my tail. “Jimek, you don’t need to give these poor soldiers our life story! Show our guests to the kitchen like a good host.”
Olek snarled at me, which sent a shiver down my spine. The adult humans were careful not to touch anything. I doubted any Venlil had invited these two beasts inside their dwellings; most civilians avoided them like the hot side of the world. Even if my last two shifts at the bar were overstimulating, I was getting used to their appearance. Dustin was tame compared to a raucous institution full of Terrans.
My foster son tiptoed over to Lisa, and took the circular object from her hands. I could make out a foamy texture on all sides, which was white as snow. Blue swirls dotted its top, with stilted Venlil writing that read, “Happy birthday Jimek.” The Terran artist who’d crafted this must’ve heard of my son’s passion; Dustin was thoughtful to recommend this. I could tell they had difficulty with the swirls of our alphabet, but it was legible enough.
“What is that?” Jimek whispered to his brother. “You ordered a sculpture for me?!”
The orphan flashed his teeth. “It’s called cake, but we get to the cake last! I wanna see the Venlil traditions anyways, before I explain our stuff.”
Olek glanced at Lisa. “I’m curious how you guys celebrate, especially after trying your liquor. That is, if you’ll have us. I don’t want to intrude on a personal moment.”
“We’d be happy to include all of you in our festivities! Venlil see our birthday as a celebration of surviving another year,” I chimed in.
“What…what do you mean by surviving?” Dustin asked suspiciously.
“My son has made it another year without getting eaten as a helpless pup. Every birthday until reaching adulthood, we do a ritual to repel predators.”
The humans fell silent as a rock, and my eyes widened with horror. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let these alien hunters stick around, given that this celebration was meant to ward them off. My fur burned with embarrassment, but I waved them out to the backyard. The Terrans followed in a subdued manner, with expressions much tighter than before.
Dustin looked a bit hurt, and I could understand why. Still, his inclusion in this tradition should prove I didn’t lump him with the animals. Then again, human senses might be as susceptible as other predators. Venlil discovered that bleach deterred hunters long ago; its odor could interfere with the ability to smell long-term. What if the scent was noxious to Terrans as well?
“Yay! Look at me!” Jimek flopped into the inflatable tub, and waded around in the bleach. “Your fat nose can’t smell my blood anymore, Dustin.”
My foster son glared at the grass. “I couldn’t smell your blood anyways. We don’t have working vomeronasal systems…we can’t detect liquid compounds.”
“You lost me. Olek, a 14-year-old is smarter than us. Sounds about right,” Lisa growled.
Bondarenko forced a snarl. “Callsi, I’m sorry…is it safe for Jimek to be in all that bleach?”
“It’s diluted so that it won’t harm him,” I replied. “He’ll wash it off after he plays for a minute.”
“I think Dustin needs a cleaning.” Jimek lowered his paws into the bleach deviously, and met the human’s gaze. “I can smell him and I don’t even have a nose. Come—”
I jumped in his way. “JIMEK, STOP! Don’t splash the humans. We don’t know what concentration will hurt their skin.”
“C’mon! Just a little?”
“I said no! Look at them! I don’t think they’re enjoying this.”
“It’s about Jimek, not us,” Lisa offered. “Though I must say it’s a morbid tradition.”
Dustin nodded. “You hate us by virtue of what we are, Callsi. You always will! It’s in everything you do.”
The little Venlil pinned back his ears with sadness, and ran over to the Terran orphan. I intercepted his hug, signaling for him to go wash up. As Jimek went out of earshot, I escorted the humans to the kitchen. We’d rendezvous with the birthday boy there, and hope Earth’s traditions had a smoother introduction.
I placed one arm around Dustin’s neck, and pulled him close for a hug. The Terran tried to wriggle away, but I dug my claws into his trimmed mane. It was all I could do to hold him, as tears gushed from his eyes. Jimek loved the bleach tradition, so it would dampen his fun to have scrapped it. However, I should’ve explained it to my foster son ahead of time.
“I wouldn’t have invited the other humans if I wanted to repel you,” I asserted. “But I should have asked if it affected you. I’m sorry…I was thinking about Jimek.”
Olek squeezed Dustin’s shoulder. “Callsi cares about you, kiddo. Jimek wouldn’t want you down in the dumps either.”
“I don’t belong here. They’re gonna get rid of me once they get the stipends,” the Terran kid muttered.
“That’s not true. I love you, Dustin, I really do. You’re my son now, whether you like it or not!” I snapped.
Dustin’s mouth hung agape for several seconds. He withdrew from my hug, and rubbed the back of his neck in a self-soothing gesture. His binocular eyes narrowed at me, as though scanning for signs of deceit. Pity seized my heart, realizing he didn’t believe that anyone could love him. There was a lot of work to be done, overcoming his insecurities.
Bondarenko snarled. “See? Now put on a happy face for Jimek. You wanted to tell them about our traditions, remember?”
The birthday boy sauntered back into the kitchen. His silver fur was sticking up in random places, the aftereffect of a hasty towel job. I curled my lip at the puddle on the floor; the little Venlil was still sopping wet. Jimek was almost an adult, so I figured he should be able to dry off thoroughly by now.
My son ensnared Dustin in a hug. “Now you’re wet too. And you’re gonna tell me about the cake.”
“Before presents?” the human sniffled. “I, uh, thought you’d want your gifts. You guys give gifts, right?”
“The cake is a gift if it comes from you. I want to learn how Terrans celebrate, so I can be just like my big brother.”
Olek nudged Dustin on the shoulder, and dramatically exhaled a gust of air. Lisa pointed to the cake, then to Jimek. The human kid seemed to understand, because he started counting out sticks. Thirteen cylinders were passed onto the table, which led to inspection from me. The wire on top appeared to be a candle wick.
I was tempted to stop the predators then and there. Were they planning to start a fire? What did this have to do with a celebration? Terrans cooked their prey, but it was unlikely they wanted to broil Jimek. l doubted this was their exterminator audition, and I didn’t trust them not to burn down my house. However, my unease was shoved aside when I saw Dustin snarling.
Just back up to the sink, and be ready to splash water on a blaze. The humans must know what they’re doing.
The shy orphan retrieved plates, and the other humans lifted the cake lid. Concern assaulted my mind, as I realized this was some food confection. It was impossible to tell what the contents were, and this was predator food. I had no idea how to question their intent without causing offense. Lisa started decorating it with candles, while Olek carefully lit the ornaments.
“It’s vegan, right?” Dustin whispered.
Olek nodded. “Yep.”
I wasn’t sure what that “vegan” word meant, but I wasn’t given a moment to ask. Without warning, the humans launched into song. Their throaty voices carried a tune with surprising accuracy, and Jimek basked in the attention. The words were a simple Happy birthday to you!, belted out in a resounding chorus.
“…birthday dear Jimek.” Dustin’s voice was off-pitch, but it was noticeable how his spirits had improved. “Happy birthday to you!”
The predators began cheering and mashing their hands together, which startled me. The song was a wholesome tradition, but the Terrans didn’t do anything in quiet fashion. It wasn’t clear why the blazing candles were left atop our food. Was this some sort of sacrifice, to cleanse the predation out of their birthday meal?
Dustin steered Jimek over to the cake. “Okay, so you can’t tell anyone what it is, but make a wish in your head. Then blow out all the candles!”
This must be some Terran superstition of good fortune; perhaps ancient predators thought of smoke as a supernatural messaging service. The little Venlil thought for a moment, before his eyes lit up. Not requiring further encouragement, Jimek puffed out the candles with enthusiasm. Olek slapped him on the back, which made me flinch. Lisa started cutting the cake, and served out five portions.
“S-stop!” I stammered. “What…what is this cake made of?”
Olek cleared his throat. “I checked everything at the embassy. The icing is made from coconut m—pulp juice. It’s just a baked sweet, nothing you can’t have in there.”
I accepted my portion with reluctance, and stared at it for several seconds. It looked unappetizing, but I couldn’t push it away without offending Dustin. Jimek carried no such hesitation, digging into his food with a scooper. The little Venlil squeaked with happiness, and wolfed down ravenous bites. “Icing” was smeared across his snout, earning snickers from the Terrans.
Sensing Dustin’s eyes on me, I scooped up a tiny nibble. My tongue was braced for the worst, but the sugary grains melted in my mouth with delightful flavor. It was brimming with richness, nothing like the revolting cuisine I thought a predator would have. My foster son relaxed after I cleaned my own plate in seconds.
“Wow! Thank you for coming and sharing your culture. This was a wonderful treat,” I told the UN peacekeepers.
Olek bared his teeth. “Sure thing! I think it’s time for gifts, Callsi. What do you say?”
Jimek straightened and swished his tail with eagerness. Sighing with disdain, I took a napkin to the icing congealed in his snout fur. Dustin was shooting odd glances at me, and I wondered if the glint in his eyes was hope. Knowing how fragile his psyche was, he was still questioning my declaration of affection. The gift of art school might erase those doubts; I wouldn’t invest in a child I wanted to be rid of.
“Sit down. Both of you.” I clasped my paws in front of me, and watched their curious responses. “I have exciting news. Jimek, next week, you’re starting art school.”
The birthday boy sprang from his chair, exuberant glee plastered across his face. My ears ached from his high-pitched screech. He tackled me with a hug, and I ruffled his cream-colored cowlick with love. Jimek pulled away, dancing around the kitchen. The look on his face melted my heart; it encapsulated the joy I wanted to inspire.
My pupils darted over to Dustin. The human orphan was forcing a smile, and trying to act happy for Jimek. But his binocular eyes told a different story, emotive as ever. Fear was written in his irises, alongside a tinge of doubt. The predator kid must be terrified that the writing was on the wall.
Dustin doesn’t know if I meant what I said, or if I’m appeasing him long enough to pay off the school. Wait ‘til he finds out they’re going together!
“Dustin, listen to my next words very carefully.” I walked over to the human, and placed his hands between my paws. His watering eyes locked with mine. “If you’re going to paint my son purple, you need a proper lesson.”
“I’m sorry! It won’t happen again; I know I shouldn’t have! PLEASE!” he begged me, voice cracking.
“That lesson is going to be how to paint the Venlil way. You’re going to art school with Jimek too.”
“What?! You…you can’t be serious. You, uh, really want…you would…”
“Yes, darling. I know it was your favorite class on Earth, and you miss it. I want you to be happy.”
“…thank you. Thank you, Callsi! But is Jimek okay with this? I, uh, don’t want to, well, steal his thunder on his birthday.”
Jimek flicked his ears. “Of course! I want to go with you. I…I don’t have any other friends.”
“What about Lisa and I?” Olek snorted.
“You’re old! You don’t count.”
Lisa sucked in a sharp breath. “Nuh-uh. You did not just call me old.”
Dustin’s lips curved up, and he muttered a quiet thanks. The human wasn’t bouncing off the walls like Jimek, but he wasn’t as boisterous as the little Venlil. I could tell that he was touched; life hadn’t thrown him many blessings. It would be wonderful to watch his art school career. The predator had found a home in my heart within days, against what I thought possible.
“Serious talk, boys. I expect you to keep up your studies. This will be on your off-days, so you need to be ready for the time commitment,” I said.
Dustin bobbed his head. “I won’t let you down, Callsi. I’m going to make you proud.”
Jimek swished his tail. “I’m gonna be so good, you’ll be like, ‘Who is this kid and why is he in my house?’”
“And…Dustin. You’re going to be the first pr—human in this program. I’m sure these nice Peacekeepers have our back if needed, but there will be fear and resistance. I want you to understand the reality.”
“Yeah. I get it,” the orphan mumbled. “I’ll keep my head down. I can handle it.”
That wasn’t quite the reply I was hoping for, but it might help Dustin if he didn’t draw attention. Much like Sara and Noah’s first TV appearance, doing nothing could boost a predator’s reputation. The school wouldn’t be told about the human entrant until I secured both spots. Given that creative endeavors were prey undertakings, some pushback was expected.
It would be an uphill battle, but I wasn’t going to let other Venlil discriminate against my new son.
A/N - Part 8 is here! Jimek celebrates his 13th birthday, and we learn about Venlil traditions. Dustin and his Peacekeeper friends share Earth's traditions as well, before the boys are told about art school. Will Callsi be able to enroll Dustin in the program?
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