Fear the Wolf Page 7

  But the biggest difference from a human was in the Tenniac’s arms. It had two upper arms, but each one split off at the elbow into two forearms, giving the Tenniac a total of four forearms and four hands. Each hand sported three slender fingers and one opposable thumb, all capped with pointed black nails.

  I was aware I’d been staring too long. I raised my injured arm. “Why did you help me?”

  The Tenniac tilted its head, causing its head-tails to sway. “You are hunting the Wolf.” Its eyes darted to Reni’s sword—my sword—which had been placed with my shield a few strides from where I had woken up.

  My heart jumped as I realized I was defenseless. If I dashed for my weapon now, the Tenniac would have plenty of time to stop me. It had a sword of its own, sheathed in a scabbard on its back.

  The Tenniac watched me with bright yellow eyes. “I’m not here to harm you. I am also hunting the Wolf.”

  Aldan interrupted, “We’re not hunting the Wolf! Are we, Senla, are we.” The way he said it was less of a question, more of a reassurance to himself. He remained sitting on the ground, shaking his head vehemently. “We’re looking for a village that’s got good people. There’s no one to protect us now, is there?”

  I winced at hearing my words from yesterday repeated back to me. “Yes, Aldan.”

  “I’m hungry,” he said. “It’s breakfast time.”

  “Eat some of the food you brought with you.” I pointed to his bag, which lay beside him. “But not all of it now. Save most of it.”

  He grumbled but did as told.

  The Tenniac and I faced each other from across the burned-out fire. I struggled to think straight. I still felt somewhat sick and dizzy. I fought not to slip into grief or to think about everything that had happened the day before. First, I had to be sure I was safe in this creature’s presence.

  “Who are you?” I asked. “What is your name?”

  “Name,” the Tenniac repeated tentatively, as though the question hadn’t been asked in a long time. “My name is … Illus Ti’Deyuh Meh Tor.”

  My mouth dropped open foolishly. I thought the name through. “May I simply call you Illus?”

  “That is my name. What is yours?”

  “Senla … Senla Nora.”

  “May I simply call you Senla?”

  I frowned, unsure whether the Tenniac was mocking me or trying to make a jest. The steady, humming quality to its voice lacked enough variety for clear expression. Whatever the case, I was in no mood for humor.

  “Yes,” I said stiffly. Without much thought, I asked the most stupid, awkward question. “Are you … female?”

  Illus smiled slowly. I noticed with some discomfort that the creature’s tongue was black, contrasting with its sharp white teeth. “Does it matter?”

  I thought it over and decided it didn’t.

  “I can bear eggs,” Illus answered anyway. “To your understanding, that might make me a female.”

  My cheeks heated with embarrassment. I nodded gratefully to acknowledge her answer.

  She did have a feminine air to her, but I was unsure what exactly gave that impression: perhaps her bodily proportions, the way she held herself, or the style of her clothing. She wore a tight-fitting garment around her waist and upper legs. A small pointed tail poked out of the back. I assumed the shorts were made from animal skin; they weren’t like anything I’d ever made.

  My people didn’t believe in the keeping or killing of animals, unlike nomads, who hunted them for meat, clothing, and whatever else they could use the bodies and bones for. It appeared Illus did the same. She wore another skin garment, covering her upper body and shoulders, leaving her midriff bare. The small mounds on her chest resembled my own, though her clothes were much tighter-fitting than my tunic.

  “So, will you join my hunt?” said Illus.

  Fear rushed to the base of my throat. With Aldan listening, I couldn’t admit I was hunting the Wolf. “What? No. I’m not … I … Why do you want my help?”

  “I can’t do it alone.” Illus glanced down at one of her legs. Her foot was raised slightly, the rear toes lifted above the ground.

  “You’re injured.”

  Illus smiled again, apparently unaware of how frightening the grin was. “Yes. But if you are a skilled fighter, then together we may seize the chance to slay the Wolf.”

  Aldan looked up from his food. “We’re not hunting the Wolf! We’re not, are we, Senla, we’re not.”

  I waved him quiet, feeling another blush come to my face. A skilled fighter? Hopelessness dragged me down in a flash. Although we’d just met, I got the impression that Illus was a fierce warrior—she would have to be to survive in the forest for long—but if she was asking me for help, then what chance did I have of killing the Wolf alone?

  I frowned. Something about Illus unsettled me. I felt like I was forgetting something, but when I tried to remember, only frustration filled my head.

  I narrowed my eyes at the Tenniac. “I thought your kind were all ... dead. That you were killed for presuming too much.”

  “You think that’s what happened?”

  “I … it’s just what I was told.”

  “Will you join me or not?” Illus limped around the fire, moving closer to me. Instinctively I took a step back, before realizing I had distanced myself from my sword. “Do you dare join me? Together, together … we’ll sever the Wolf’s head from her body.”

  Stunned, I tried to think of a response. Perhaps traveling with Illus, both of us defying the Wolf together, would draw the Wolf to me sooner—and we could end this. Or I could at least die trying. But as I imagined us defying the Wolf, other thoughts invaded my mind.

  Sever the Wolf’s head? A severed head … A severed wolfling’s head!

  “It was you,” I said, my voice turning breathy. “You drew the tree, and you drew the picture of me standing over a dead wolfling.” I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to soothe my mind as yesterday flooded back to me full force. “It was a Tenniac lurking in the forest, watching Reni and me … It was you!” I jabbed a finger toward Illus.

  She just stared, unruffled, apparently still waiting for an answer to if I would join her.

  We were beyond that point. I shouted, “How long have you been watching me? That’s why the Wolf attacked, isn’t it? Because you’ve been lurking around our village for so long. It was your fault, not—”

  Illus was upon me. Her limp vanished as she closed the gap between us. Before I could do a thing, I was lifted off my feet and pinned to a tree. Using only one of her freakish forked arms, she held me by the throat with one hand and by the hair with the other.

  My eyes watered as I gasped for air. Through blurry vision, I saw Aldan shoot to his feet, but he stayed where he was. He drew his arms across his chest, watching nervously. A gleeful glint entered his eyes. It seemed violence excited him as much as it unsettled him.

  Illus said nothing, tilting her head and squinting at me. Her black tongue darted out and ran across her upper lip.

  I choked out my words. “I thought I had … offended the Wolf. I blamed … myself. But it was—”

  I screamed in agony as Illus released my throat and left me hanging by my hair. Baring her teeth and hissing, she slapped me across the face with the hand that had held my throat. All her head-tails sprang up and out at once, surrounding her face like rays around the sun. As she grabbed my neck again, the head-tails rattled in a way that was both captivating and frightening.

  That was when I noticed it. The color white flashed in her eyes, bright white veins creeping over her yellow irises.

  I forced out my words again. “You have … the sickness.”

  Illus flung her head to one side, shook it, and blinked hard. When she turned back, the white veins were gone.

  “I saved you,” she said in her smooth, eerie voice. She glared briefly at my bandaged arm. “But if you do not want my help, then you will not have it.” Her head-tails stopped shaking and fell back to her shoulders. Sh
e dropped me to the ground. “See how long you last without your village comforts.”

  Breathless, I scrambled for my sword and leveled it at her. I stepped sideways until I stood protectively in front of Aldan. Coughing at my sore throat, I tried to find my voice. “Stay away from us,” I wheezed. “Don’t come near us again, or … or … I’ll kill you!”

  My threat was pointless. Illus had already turned and walked away without looking back. To my frustration, her sullen behavior almost made me feel ashamed. I said nothing, though, cautiously watching her.

  I trembled. The only time I had been smacked across the face like that—so unexpectedly, so suddenly—was when my mother had slapped me on the night of the telling. Now, I felt like that helpless child again.

  Illus wended through the trees until she was out of sight. It was a while before I realized that I hadn’t collapsed in this part of the forest. Illus or Aldan must have carried me here while I was unconscious.

  I raised my chin and held back a scream. “Aldan,” I said through a locked jaw, “I think we’re lost.”

  PART TWO

  The Forest

  A New Path

  18

  “Aldan, do you remember where we were when I collapsed? How did we get here?”

  Aldan finished eating and tensed his face. “You fell down, didn’t you?”

  I huffed. “You know I collapsed. But that was somewhere else. How did we get here?”

  “We … um …” He scratched his head, frowning. “We’re looking for a village that’s got good people. That’s how come we left our village and got here. Am I right?”

  “I’m not testing you, Aldan! I need to know how we got here so we can find our way again.”

  A flash of anger crossed his face. He thumped his knees, then crossed his arms. “I’m not playing this game anymore.” After sulking for a bit, he said, “I want to go home.”

  Me too, I thought. But I said, “We don’t have a home.”

  At that, I finally cried. And although Illus had left, I trembled for a long while. I jumped every time a small animal rustled the bushes, or the wind twitched the treetops. When I eventually convinced myself the threat of immediate danger was gone, I still shook from nausea, the cold, and my aching muscles.

  My back thrummed with pain. I stretched and twisted about, glaring at the hard ground where Illus must have laid me down to sleep last night. I scoffed through my tears. One night in the forest, and I missed my straw bed already.

  But that longing was nothing compared to my sorrow.

  Still sitting, I pulled my knees to my chest. I hugged them tightly and rested my head on my kneecaps. I didn’t want to distress Aldan any further, so I sobbed quietly, keeping to myself.

  My thoughts regurgitated the argument with Illus. I had blamed her for everything, but it had been so hard to think straight. The memories of yesterday—all the death and pain—had swirled around me, trapping me in the center of a whirlwind with more shame than I could bear.

  Truthfully, I knew it was my fault the Wolf had attacked—

  No. I stiffened, shoving that thought aside. Anger buzzed through me as I focused on my tender neck, sore scalp, and stinging cheek. Illus had attacked me, she had attacked me! And for no good reason. I didn’t want her help, and I would never give her mine, even if she came limping back begging for forgiveness.

  I would need to slay the Wolf alone.

  Alone, I thought. That was how I felt. Utterly alone, even with Aldan nearby.

  I cradled myself for some time. The tears came unevenly, some of them with great effort, fighting through my rage, and the rest in gushes of realization over everything I had lost.

  I heard shuffling footsteps. They scraped closer until big, warm arms wrapped around me. At first, I went rigid. Then I relaxed into the embrace, leaning against Aldan while he crouched to hold me.

  “My father hugs me when I cry,” said Aldan, squeezing me tighter.

  I don’t know how long we stayed like this. But eventually, my tears refused to come, and my loneliness faded to a whisper at the base of my skull.

  Aldan mumbled, “My father’s dead.”

  “I know,” I said gently. “Mine too.”

  I stayed in his arms a while longer, siphoning his warmth, before suggesting we get up.

  If all I planned to do was sit here and feel sorry for myself, then I might as well have died along with everyone else. I stretched, ignoring the shooting pains in my body, the sickness in my stomach. After forcing down some stale bread, I gathered my belongings and peered through the trees.

  Illus had taken us off the Wolf’s trail. But a beast as large as the Wolf must have left many trails throughout the forest. I just needed to find one that would lead me to her lair.

  “Let’s go,” I said, picking the same general direction Illus had gone in.

  Aldan bristled. “Now?”

  I nodded.

  “No! I always tidy Father’s smithy after breakfast.” He gazed up at the scarce light piercing through the thick boughs. He seemed to have a better sense of time in this forest than I did. “Then I fetch the water from the well person, and I bring it back.” He struck a pose and imitated his father’s voice as he said, “Go fetch our daily share, Son!”

  I shook my head. “Aldan, you just said it yourself. Your father is gone. Everything is gone. We have to keep moving.” My pitch had soared in frustration.

  Sometimes, Aldan seemed to fully grasp what had happened; other times, he was so absorbed in his old routine that he forgot it no longer existed. Within seconds, he went from being helpful, kind, and comforting to being moody and uncooperative.

  Now he glared at me and flapped his hands about.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  He clenched his teeth, hard bumps appearing below his ears. Then he picked up his stuff and followed me.

  19

  We walked and walked until hunger stopped us. It was midday, according to Aldan, who wouldn’t stop telling me. We sat down to eat and drink.

  I let Aldan know I needed some privacy, then left to relieve myself. I chose a thicket as far from Aldan as I thought I could go without us losing each other. After tensing my bladder all morning, I was annoyed to find I couldn’t release the tension now I wanted to.

  I wished for my privy and a room with a latched door. Out here, the air swept over my bare skin, raising the small hairs. I felt watched. I had visions of someone or something ambushing me while I squatted awkwardly, unable to defend myself.

  Aldan didn’t share such concerns. Earlier today, during our walk, he had announced, “I need to go.” He immediately lifted his tunic and pulled his trousers down in front of me. Luckily, I realized what he was doing in time to look away. I caught a flash of flesh, but nothing more.

  Afterward, I asked him to hide out of sight next time. I reminded him, “Only couples are allowed to see under each other’s garments.”

  With a mischievous grin, he had laughed and squirmed about. “You nearly saw!” he sang, but he agreed to do as told.

  Squatting behind the bushes now, I finally found relief. It was both painful and strangely pleasurable after holding it in for so long.

  I returned to Aldan. He was still eating, which gave me time to rethink my plan.

  The day was half spent, but I’d found no signs of the Wolf’s movements. Already, blisters had formed between my toes and on the sides of my feet, where my sandals cut into the flesh with each step. If we continued like this, we wouldn’t just be ragged and breathless by nightfall—we would still be lost.

  With a new plan in mind, I looked all around at the nearest trees in search of the tallest one.

  I didn’t get far.

  Now that I’d actually stopped to inspect my surroundings, the beauty of the forest overwhelmed me. When we first left the village, I had recognized most of the trees. There were bulky beeches with knobbly roots that refused to stay below the ground; towering neverbares, standing rigid, like guard
ians on watch; thin, straight birches with mottled bark and sparse leaves; fat, greedy elms claiming all the land and light above and below them, competing with giant oaks, ashes, and starleafs.

  Here, the trees were nameless. They had dark barks—grays, browns, and blacks—and they were more twisted and tangled together. Masses of deep green leaves weighed down their upper branches, blocking out most of the daylight, but the lower limbs were leafless. The dark trunks would have looked plain if not for the colorful mosses, fungi, and vines covering them. These smaller plants were near luminous. They gave a shock of contrast: blood-red shrooms against black bark; fiery orange moss streaking the brown boles; purple vines crisscrossing the gray trunks.

  I’d never seen so much color in one place. It filled me with warmth.

  But it also left me pensive.

  How could these little plants claim so much beauty without bringing the Wolf’s wrath upon them? Were they not presuming too much? Anger swept through me. All my life I had lived without this color, this brilliance, this magnificence—and my village had suffered its ill fate, anyway. It seemed even trees and plants had more freedom to express themselves than my people had ever possessed.

  On the other hand, something was poisoning the wildlife, perhaps punishing it the same way the Wolf punished insolent people.

  The white sickness.

  So far, I’d come across several trees bearing signs of the corruption. Silvery white veins creeping through the trunks, reaching the tips, draining the foliage of all vibrancy before leaving the tree withered and warped and bare.

  Everything I knew about the sickness came from Old Fendra, who had managed to live most her life in the forest without ever contracting the mysterious disease. She had believed the sickness crept up from the depths of this world, from the darkest pits of the deepest chasms that separated the lands—a cruel corruption released by the Tearing.

  It infected the deepest parts of the wildwood the worst, but a few times it had reached my village’s crops and fruit trees, jumping from plant to plant. Whole fields and copses had to be set afire to stop the white scourge spreading.