Cedar looked at the notebook, then crouched down and bent over slightly (He dared not simply bend over with the barrel on his back; doing so would have likely made him come all the way forward on top of the poor man) while gripping his staff for support, then snuffed in several long, slow drags through his nose.
The prince was a cleanly sort; traces of a quality soap were present where the prince's clothing had come into contact with the book. Hints of oak gall ink.. old food and beverage spills on the binder... but the scent of the prince was apparent. Young. Not yet into manhood.
Holding that scent in his mind, he surveyed the scene.
There were bootprints and horse hoof marks all over the place, along with several sets of old wagon tracks. The boot prints were a motley assortment of styles, shapes, and sizes, indicating a diverse group of people had been there. Some were heavily indented, suggesting they had been moving a heavy burden. The grass was flattened in some places, indicative of a large body being there, then drug. The blood in the grass suggested "horses".
There were dog tracks as well-- Not surprising that they had used dogs.
"Can I sees the dogs a minute?" he asked the man who had been identified as "Anderson". Cedar wasn't sure if that was his first name, or his last name. Not that it mattered-- He didn't have a last name himself, or at least, his dad insisted it was not important-- that was a thing that people living in towns and cities used to not end up marrying their cousins. Cedar didn't really need one-- everyone already KNEW who's kid he was. He just wasn't entirely sure if he should just call the man "Anderson", or "Mister Anderson"-- He pushed the foible aside.
The man looked at him very confused for a moment--
"Why do you want to see the dogs?" he asked, very confused.
It never ceased to amaze Cedar how it was that people always underestimated what animals knew or understood. They always seemed to think of animals as "mindless things" that you just cajole into doing stuff for you, and not as intelligent beings that have their own perspective of things that is just different from those of people-- and how people never seem to be bothered to find this out, even when its pointed out to them. Sometimes repeatedly.
Instead, he just gruffed out a weary sigh before answering.
"I want's ta ask em some questions-- I cain't ask em any questions, if'n I caint see em, now can I?" he responded matter-of-factly. It simply astounded him how completely clueless about this people tended to be. Well-- most people. His dad didn't seem to have this issue at all-- in fact, it's how him and his mom had gotten together---....
'enough of that' he thought to himself.
"Please, jus git em o'er here, and let me talks at em. Ya dont gotta understand how dis works-- and asides, I couldn't explain it if I tried-- just bear wit' me here, aright?"
This 'Anderson' fellow gave Cedar a cross between a "do you think I'm an idiot?", and a "what's your game, bear-man?" look, before putting his fingers slowly to his lips, then letting out a piercing whistle. In moments, several large hounds bounded up, slobbering and panting excitedly by the man's boots. His eyes never left Cedars.
"Thank ya kindly sir!" Cedar drawled amusedly, before patting the man on the shoulder, then sitting down on the ground with a thud near the dogs, who looked at him worriedly and incredulously.
"I's allright fellers-- I aint gunna bite ya..." he drawled, while doing the "trick" he had learned from his dad doing it with him, when he was a tiny cub. He made eye contact with the first of the dogs, and somewhere in the back of his mind, 'contact' was made. An awareness of the animal's thoughts, feelings, and sensory experience washed through that part of his mind, visceral and profound. Wariness tinged with excitement gave way to sudden panic and fear, at the returned sensations and feelings bleeding the other way, as the dog realized "it was not alone."
It was always this way, Cedar had come to learn, when making initial contact with an animal. Not having a conception of complex speech, above maybe associating certain sounds with certain actions-- like the man's whistle, which the dog had associated with praise, pets, or food--- they had no idea how to react, or comprehend the sudden realization that other beings had minds just like theirs, or even more complicated than theirs. That was a terrifying and alien experience for them, and it needed to be addressed gently and carefully.
Almost with practiced and effortless self control, the man-bear radiated a concept of being completely safe, harmless, and 'just different', and 'more like you than he is', but 'still friendly like him.'-- referring to the man named Anderson that the dog was now trying to hide behind.
The man seemed to react to the dog's sudden change in demeanor, ready to demand to know what Cedar was doing to his dog, but he raised a paw at the man, and gently gruffed--
"S'ok-- It's just scary for em the firs' time's all..."
"What's scary? What are you doing to Brutus?" the man insisted, sounding heated.
"Tryin' ta have a conversation with 'im-- Like I said, it's scary the firs' time havin' somembody in ya head as aint yaself-- he scared shitless-- but i's aright, I aint' gunna hurt im none..."
The other dogs looked at him and 'brutus' in confusion, continuing to pant and wag their tails at Anderson expectantly. The man calmed them by patting their heads, then rubbing Brutus behind his ears.
Cedar could feel the dog calming under his master's touch. The dog genuinely trusted the man implicitly, and he got the impression that the man was truly a good man to his animals-- even if he did not really understand them like he should. The dog's mind seemed to ease up from absolute terror to curiosity, as its head filled with all kinds of curious thoughts relating to its revelation-- could cedar understand it's master? What was that like? Were people good to him? and a raft of others.
He did his best to address them, and to interpret the exchange he and Anderson were having into the form of simplistic concepts that could be conveyed-- before conveying the reason he was there, and why he had asked his master to call him. Slowly, some conception of understanding clicked into place, and the dog recounted his experiences with sniffing out the trail.
His human had shown him an item-- like he always did when he wanted something that smelled like it found-- (which Cedar recognized as the same notebook-- with the same smell the dog was remembering, which the dog was excited to share a conception of experience about with him). He had sniffed around, and found lots of tracks where the scent had been drug through.
...
One by one, Cedar "Interviewed" the dogs, each reacting scared then looking at the others as it realized why the other dogs had been startled suddenly when it had been their turn before-- as the whole process was repeated-- Introductions-- attestations of non-hostility and friendliness-- attempts to convey conceptions of intent and meaning, and the profoundness of growing understanding and enlightenment glimmering behind otherwise innocent eyes, followed by recollections of the past day's events.
There had been 3 paths that the attackers had taken, each with about 2 attackers each-- Cedar did his best to catalogue the wandering and disjointed recollection of the dogs with his own initial quick look of the scene. There had been horses in both groups, and the dogs had found several dead ones-- others had run off into the woods, and had not come back. The humans weren't interested in the strange men, or the horses-- only the smell on the notebook-- They had found a boot-- and had gotten a yummy slab of beef for it. They were very proud of themselves, and happy to have helped their human. He was very nice.
He broke contact with the last one, then stood up, as the dogs looked expectantly at Anderson.
"They says there was about 6 or so of em. An' horses. Said some o' em had run off, and not come back- other's 's dun been killed when they found em-- I sees ya's had people here cleanin up--- gunna make this harder. Thankya for yer time Mr Anderson. Ya got good boys there. They really like ya."
"Some of them had run off? Who do you mean?" asked the man, still incredulous of Cedar's supposed "interview".
"The horses silly!" gruffed Cedar incredulously, before shuffling over to the scene, and going his own sniffing. His nose was better than the dog's were, by a fair amount, but at least he had some idea now of what was new, and what was not, and what he should be smelling for.
The prince and 3 others were apparently initially on horseback, but were attacked...
He snuffed at the ground near the obvious horse prints coming from the direction of the city, tracing them to the first signs of boot prints beside them... An older man. A younger man... An older still and grizzled man (judging from the scent), who walked more lightly, even when hitting the ground... and the young prince, who had jumped down suddenly....
He kept sniffing and looking through the tracks.
The younger man had been the first to come off his horse, and it had not been gently. There was blood on the ground, near a body shaped imprint.
"Regulus was found there." Anderson quipped. Cedar nodded, then continued his sniffing and investigation of the site.
"Man got shot offn' 'is horse. Hit bad-- Neck I think. Lotsa blood. Poor fella."
Just a half pace ahead, the older gentlemen had reeled his horse around sharply. Cedar made note of the direction the horse had been turned. "Regulus"'s horse had bolted, and ran into the underbrush, but cedar was not certain if it had continued running or not.
The prince's horse, (as he surmised later), had reared a little, and dislodged the unwary and inexperienced prince. Cedar could smell him in the butt-shaped imprint in the grass of the clearing. There was no blood.
"Prince fell offn' 'is horse here..." cedar muttered, while continuing his investigations. "Landed square on 'is butt."
The horse's tracks suggested it had only sidestepped a bit, and in the general direction of the assailants. Blood and a horse shaped body print that somewhat overlapped the 'crawl marks' the prince had left, suggested the horse had been hit with arrows, and then fell over onto the prince, where he had been pinned. The prince must have had some scrapes, as the dirt smelled a bit too strongly of the prince than would otherwise be expected from that-- but no indication of serious injury. Probably scraped and bruised though.
"Horse got hit-- Prince was a crawlin' thisa way... Horse fell right on topa 'im...."
"And Gregor and Abbott?" asked Anderson, almost bemusedly-- clearly a question he already knew the answer to.
Cedar resumed his investigation, head down-- investigating the tracks of the older man's horse. It had about-turned hard after trying to rear, then taken several steps back.
"Ol' man rounded--- ... ... I think he may've made some shots? Horse steppin' funny..." He looked up and in the direction the man's horse had been facing. There were arrows lodged in a tree trunk a fair ways distant-- He looked back the other way, and saw several more, with different colored fletchings, lodged in the trees behind. "Yuupp... Pop shots at each 'oer.. Huh... Aint ne'er seen fletchin's that color afore..."
His dad had always used white goose quills to make fletchings, with dark tail or wing feathers for the cock feather. These were a strange shade of tawny brown, with a white cock feature. It probably meant nothing, but it did suggest somebody had sourced arrows from an unusual source of feathers. It probably meant nothing-- but it did serve to help identify who had been shooting and where at least.
"Get on with it bear---" grumbled Anderson.
"Aint no need ta be rude---" grumbled Cedar back at the man.
The old man's horse veered to the right sharply, then tore up the ground in an explosive start.
"Ol' man took off atta way--- Prolly tryin ta get a be'er angle..."
"Our trackers suggest the same event-- We found him about 20 paces further afield, full of those brown arrows."
He sat up on his heels, and leaned on his staff, snuffing at the air-- Yeah-- there was a pool of the old man's blood in that general direction.
".Yeah-- I's smells it.." While he was up like that, he snuffed for the last one-- this "abbot" or whoever. He caught the scent further into the tree line. The grizzled old one. He had dismounted quickly, then apparently slapped the horse on the ass to get it clear, judging from how its prints tore off into the underbush. He had taken refuge behind a tree for cover. Arrows studded it and the ground like quills. There was a bloody stain against the tree in the shape of a hand print. There was a trail leading into the brush deeper in. "Oldest feller went off in there-- Hit good."
"We found him, alive, but out cold and bleeding, a good ways in. Had crawled into the crotch of an old tree where the rain had washed it out some. We think the abductors left him for dead. He was hit in the thigh, but it had missed his vital."
"Good ta hear... Wiley ol' fart..." mused Cedar, moving from where the prince's party had been, to where the abductors had entered the fray. "I'll tell him you said that... When he recovers. He bled out a lot before we got to him."
The bandits had come straight in, stopped just short of the clearing, and had dismounted mostly together, then taken up positions around the clearing to set up a kill box. It was very much arranged-- groups of 2, with a 3 way pincer.
they had come in from the north east, circled around to the west, spreading out as they did so. They had NOT seen fit to tie their mounts though. Several horse tracks took off like bats out of hell in random directions. Boot prints had tried to follow, but given up pursuit, before converging on the prince's position.
There was human blood from at least 2 people that weren't in the prince's entourage-- One was just minor--Probably scratched up from tree limbs while trying to gain position after being shot at, the other maybe hit in a shoulder.
The trails diverged, some trying to seek after the spooked horses a ways, then giving up, but it was hard to be sure. It was a messed up scene with additional boot prints, and strangers that had been there to reclaim bodies, and drag them to where the carts had obviously been parked later.
"I needs ta ask the locals---" Cedar gruffed-- then just stood up and marched straight to the picket line where the guard's horses were tied, flipped open a saddle bag after snuffing at the air a moment, untieing the strap on one, rifling around inside with a displeased looking horse threatening to kick him for entering its personal space (and daring to smell like a bear) before extracting a handful of mixed grain intended for the guard's mounts.
The guards just looked at him with raised eyebrows, but didn't stop him, as he strode to the center of the clearing, before stopping, leaning on his staff, and then looking about in the trees.
After a moment's scrutiny, Cedar found what he was looking for. Usually, birds like to make their homes in 'forest edges' like this, because there was ready access to the insects and understory plants that grew there-- both important sources of food. High in the crook of a forked tree limb, he spotted the nest of a greater tit. A tiny little bird that would be dwarfed by just about anyone's hand, and would be tiny in comparison to one of his own, with yellow, black and white feathers, giving a splash of yellow over the breast, white along the chest and shoulder, and a black 'cap'. They liked to eat bugs and seeds, and would surely like what he had to offer, clutched in his hand. The female was sitting on her eggs, and was doing everything possible to evade being noticed by the highly disturbing assemblage of scary dogs and terrifying humans milling about. She almost bolted out of her nest in panic when the tall Man-Bear suddenly manifested his thoughts in her already fearful mind, but instinct had her just flatten down in her nest, and not move-- terrified in panic.
Cedar could feel her heart pounding in her breast, and the all consuming terror of having be discovered. Visions of being eaten, her eggs sucked empty, and other terrible things flashed through his mind, and it was all he could do to counter each one in turn-- leaving just him, and the frightened little bird alone, on a sunny summer afternoon amid the familiar forest gloom.
Minutes later, the bear waddled into the center of the clearing, scattered the seeds, then sat down cross legged--- before a menagerie of seed crops grew from the soil and welcomed the sun-- A motley assortment of grain ears sprouting, then turning color in the sun as they ripened, then bent over.
He stood up, and nodded silently at the tree, then returned to the group.
"The local o'r there says that the dumb-ass bandit's horses went thatta way--- Thatta way-- Thattaway-- and Thattay." Said Cedar, as he pointed in the directions he had gleaned from the 'witness'. "She REAL eager for us to git the hell outta her yard though. Lef' 'er a real nice gift though. She seems thankful-- but won' come down tills we all leaves. Says the dipshits went off on foot thatta way."
"I dont see any 'locals'... " gruffed Anderson.
"The bird silly! THE BIRD! She sawed everthung!" wheezed Cedar, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.
".... and she saw the prince?" asked Anderson incredulously. "Is he alright?"
"Hell if she know--- SHE A BIRD!" retorted Cedar, as if the man had asked the stupidest question ever. "She ain't not human doctor!"
Cedar shook his head, and tried to brush aside the absurdity of the man's question while making a deep sigh.
"'At said, she seen'd em grab up the kid, and gunny sack im-- Left a boot in the mud there un'er is horse as they'd shot. Bonked 'im on the head, and trundled off atta way-- mores or less. They splitted up a bit as ta conceal their movements, but they's bled on stuffs. I kin smell em."
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