Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 641
jaguar watched her, not moving. "Can I--can I touch her?"
"I don’t know." He squinted at the animal. "Yes, I think
you can."
Tamsin rummaged near the fire for scraps of the pheasant
they had spitted earlier. Then she got down on her haunches
and waddled carefully over to the jaguar.
"Here." She held out a drumstick that still had some
meat on it. The jaguar sniffed, then gravely took the bone from
her hand.
Tamsin stood up and took four steps back. Then she let
out a breath she’d apparently been holding. "Animals. They
sent us animals, not monsters. I was so worried, I--"
"Look." Jordan stood up and pointed into the darkness.
They were visible at first only as pairs of glowing disks
in the night. One, two, half a dozen, twenty, roving around the
fire. Then a bear walked into the light, and squatted down next
to the jaguar. After it, two scampering ferrets, and then an
antlered deer, who snorted and pawed at the dirt next to the
bear.
They could hear it now, an immense quiet motion in the
dark. There was nothing out there but dark forms, black on
black moving. "How many are there?" shouted Tamsin, as she
glimpsed phalanxes of horns closing in from one side, an ocean
of furred backs from the other.
Jordan shook his head. He looked so serious that she was
afraid to ask what he was thinking. To Tamsin, the arrival of
these beasts seemed wondrous. She couldn’t imagine why he
found it disturbing.
They continued to come, all night, and eventually Tamsin
had to sleep. She lay down facing the jaguar and wept quietly,
for it seemed as though she and Jordan were being granted a
benediction by nature tonight--and she had not realized until