by H G Lynch
Sarah floated up to Laura, taking Ben away from her as he squirmed unhappily, still wailing. She reached down and took Annie’s hand, and Annie hugged her leg, burying her face in Sarah’s hip. Ben’s wails quieted to whimpers, and Laura gave Sarah a tight, grateful smile.
“Thanks,” she said breathlessly, shifting Emma on her hip and bouncing her gently. “It’s Spencer. We don’t know where he is and there’s…” Laura’s voice trailed off as she caught sight of me over Sarah’s shoulder.
Sarah glanced back at me, as if she’d forgotten I was there, and let go of Annie’s hand to take Laura’s elbow, drawing her away.
Over her shoulder she called, “Dominic, look after Tilly. Des, go and find your mother so she knows you’re safe. She’ll fill you in.” Then she and Laura disappeared into a tent with the kids.
Desmond didn’t waste a second in obeying her order, and took off into the camp in search of Jane, leaving me and Dominic the only still pieces in a riot of panic. I turned to him, wanting to say something, but his hard expression made me swallow whatever comment I’d been about to make. His green eyes were narrowed, scanning the area as if he expected an attack, and I had to wonder if all the panic was really necessary over Spencer being missing. Somehow, I couldn’t see him getting himself into any kind of danger he couldn’t handle, definitely couldn’t see him getting lost. He’d probably just gone for a wander to a quiet place to be alone and forgotten to come back.
Looking lost without Chris on his tail, Justin stumbled past us, and Dominic reached out, nudging his shoulder with his knuckles to get the boy’s attention. Justin turned around, his eyes the same hazel as his twin sister’s. He looked like a clone of Marissa, only with shorter hair and sharper features.
“Justin, what’s going on? I heard something about Spencer being gone,” Dom asked the kid.
Justin shrugged, his mouth turned into a sulky frown. “John saw a hunter in the woods and nobody can find Spencer. They’re worried he might get shot because he changed–”
“Okay, got it.” Dominic held up a hand, giving Justin a very stern look.
Justin blinked innocently, looking confused, and then shrugged again.
Dom asked, “Did Graham and John go to find him?”
The kid nodded, his dirty blonde hair flopping into his eyes. “Yeah, but I’m not worried. Spencer can handle himself. He’s totally kick ass.” Justin lifted his chin defiantly. He shoved his hands into his shorts pockets, and I almost smiled at his obvious attempt at Spencer’s manner.
Dominic snorted, rolled his eyes. “Look, find Chris and go play in one of the tents, keep out of everyone’s way. I’ll let you know when we find Spence, okay?” Justin nodded and Dominic mussed his hair. The kid scampered off, and Dom sighed. “That kid hero worships Spencer, and I don’t have the heart to tell him Spence isn’t someone to worship,” he said, half to himself.
“Why? What’s wrong with Spencer?” I found myself asking.
Dominic grimaced. Instead of giving me an answer, he just shook his head, looking somewhere between exasperated and sad. I was about to mention that I’d spoken to him last night and he seemed like a very…reserved person, but Dominic changed the subject.
“I’ll be back in a minute. I need to check something with Kat. Will you be okay here for a bit? You can wait for me in one of the tents if you don’t feel safe out here.” He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he took off through the camp with amazing quickness, loping gracefully between tents and tree roots.
I stood for a few moments staring after him, chewing my lip thoughtfully, before deciding that I really didn’t want to just hang about when I could be doing something useful—like helping look for Spencer. Asshole or not, if there was a hunter going about with a gun, he could accidentally get shot. Or maybe not so accidentally, if he irked the hunter the same way he’d irked me last night. Whatever my personal opinion of the guy was, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t let him get himself shot, just because he was stupid enough to go wandering when there were hunters out looking for deer.
It would upset Dominic, I thought, using that as my excuse.
Decided, I turned and slunk away into the trees, wishing for the first time ever that I could sense people the way I felt my surroundings. It would be so much easier to find Spencer that way. I’d just have to feel for a cold spot of boredom and mild irritation.
As I walked, searching, the trees tugged at me to listen to the whispers of their leaves. I tried to ignore them, but the tugging became stronger, and I paused. The camp was way behind me now, out of sight, and I couldn’t hear the stream anymore. The trees loomed up around me, endless pillars of bark holding up a roof of leaves, talking to me in a way that didn’t need words. I closed my eyes and listened, letting the leaves tell me what they wanted to say. My heart rate slowed and the world dimmed out of focus until I could feel what the trees were telling me.
My eyes flew open and I ran, letting my feet guide me to where the trees wanted me to go. I stepped over roots and leapt over a fallen tree, avoiding crushing a rabbit’s warren. My body knew the terrain, even if my mind didn’t.
I made it to where the trees had directed me, just in time to see a gruff man with a greying beard and an orange cap pointing a shotgun at a large, tar-black wolf. The man had the gun raised to his shoulder, his finger on the trigger, his lined face set with concentration though the trembling of his gun betrayed his fear.
The wolf—Holy hell, an actual wolf!—was huge, its hackles raised, its massive pointed teeth bared in a snarl that was so low and continuous I felt it in the rattling of my ribs as much as I heard it. The wolf was angry, its lupine body coiled and ready to attack. I knew that, the second it started to move, the man would pull the trigger.
Without thinking, I threw myself in front of the wolf, spreading my arms to shield it. My heart pounded loudly in my ears as I stared down the barrel of the shotgun, and distantly, the rational part of my mind screamed at me. I ignored it. I couldn’t let the man shoot an animal. I remembered, as a kid, when my mother had taken me to the zoo and shown me the wolves in the enclosures. I remembered her saying that it was monstrous to lock up such a beautiful animal, that the only thing worse was hunting them for their pelts or as prizes to be hung on a wall. I didn’t have time to reminisce though, because there was a man pointing a gun at my head and an angry wolf less than a foot behind me.
Yeah, not your smartest move, Tilly.
The hunter jerked, his narrow eyes widening under his bright cap. He was wearing a plaid shirt with ratty jeans, heavy workman’s boots, and an old green fleece coat that clinked when he shifted, telling me he had ammo in his pockets. He looked startled by my entrance onto the scene, then angry because I was blocking his shot, but he didn’t lower the gun.
“Get out the way, girly! You trying to get yourself killed?” he rumbled, bushy brows pressing down over his eyes. His mouth was a thin line, half-hidden under a rusty moustache and a month’s worth of beard. He didn’t look like the kind who’d shoot a girl just to get at an animal, but I knew better than to underestimate what people could do when they were properly motivated by fear and power. He had the gun after all.
The wolf, behind me, growled loudly and the pressure to scream rose in my throat. I could feel the wolf’s hot breath on the small of my back, damp and heavy through my t-shirt. The backs of my legs felt vulnerable, the air hitting my bare calves and ankles. My hands shook as I raised them, palm forward, toward the man with the gun.
“Put the gun down, sir. Please, put the gun down,” my voice trembled.
The man scoffed, then spit on the ground toward me. “You crazy, lass? That’s a wolf you’re trying to protect! The minute I put this gun down, it’s gunna rip us both to bits. Get out the way before you become its lunch.” The hunter shook his head, but his gun didn’t waver.
I heard, felt, the wolf take a half step closer to me, so close its nose brushed my hip. I gritted my teeth, refusing to flinch. It could probably smell
my fear, but it wasn’t the wolf I was really scared of, it was the man with the gun.
I held my ground. “I’m not moving. I won’t let you shoot it. It won’t hurt either of us, if you just put the gun down. You’re scaring it, that’s why it’s snarling at you. Put the gun down, and it won’t hurt anyone.” I tried to use a reasonable voice, but I sounded more as if I was pleading. The man scoffed again, and I felt my fear curdling into anger, adrenaline making it harder to control my temper.
The wolf’s muzzle nudged my hip again, and I glanced down at it reflexively. Its large head bumped me, its golden eye looking right at me. It nudged me again, and for a second, I thought I understood what it wanted—it wanted me to move out of the way. It was trying to push me aside, out of the way of the gun. I stared at the wolf, amazed, and then heard a soft click. I turned just in time to see the hunter flipping his shotgun closed; he’d been reloading it. It hadn’t been loaded before, but now it was, and he was pointing it at the wolf’s head next to me. His finger twitched on the trigger, his hands steadier than before, his tongue caught in the corner of his mouth as he took aim.
Fury boiled up inside me, and before he could pull the trigger, I lashed out. Not physically, but with my power. I’d been taught to never, never lash out that way, that I could kill someone if I did. At that moment, I didn’t care. I wanted the hunter to die. What right did he have to murder an animal just because he had the fingers to pull a trigger and it didn’t? What right did he have to kill something just because he could?
Fire sparked along my nerves. The power blasted out from my body with enough force that I stumbled backward, nearly losing my footing—Newton’s Third Law of Motion, I guess. Across the clearing, the orb of white light slammed into the man with the gun, knocking his shotgun from his hands. As it twisted from his grasp, his finger jerked on the trigger and a shot rang out deafeningly loud, startling the birds from the trees with terrified shrieks. The shove of power sent him sprawling on the ground, clutching his chest breathlessly. His cap fell off his head, and I saw his eyes showed white all around. He was gasping and staring at me in horror, as he scrambled to his feet and took off, forgetting his gun and cap. He fell over a tree root, and then was up and running again, glancing back all the way, until he made a swerve and was out of sight.
Breathing hard, I realised I had fallen to my knees and my palms were sweating. My heart raced, my fingers itched with aftershocks from the power, throwing tiny white sparks into the leaf litter. Distantly, I hoped that wouldn’t be enough to make them catch on fire, but it was a numb thought. I was in some sort of shock and didn’t even remember the wolf until it circled around in front of me, huge, sleek and black as midnight. It stood several feet away from me, eyeing me warily through reflective golden eyes, its head tilted a little as if it was trying to work out whether or not I was edible. I was suddenly too tired to care if it wanted to eat me. I wanted to lie down somewhere quiet and rest for a while.
Through the trees, I heard voices yelling and quick footsteps crunching in the dirt. Everyone back at camp must have heard the gunshot. It was still ringing in my ears—or maybe that was my own blood.
“It came from over here!” Desmond’s voice was close by.
I tried to stand up, keeping my eyes on the wolf, but my legs felt like noodles. A wave of dizziness swept over me and I groaned, planting my hands into the dirt, so I wouldn’t face plant and get a mouthful of leaves.
The wolf’s ears pricked up at the sound of running feet and calling voices, shouting for Spencer and for me—they must have found I was gone too—but it didn’t take off as I thought it would. It stayed where it was, watching me. I tried to return its gaze, but the edges of my vision were turning grey, and I felt exhaustion crawling over me. My eyes slid shut, but I could still hear.
“Over here!” Desmond shouted.
“Oh my God, Tilly!” Dominic, sounding worried.
“Is she okay?” someone else asked in a concerned tone.
I could hear others mumbling to each other; nobody mentioned the wolf. I wondered if it had finally run off.
“Did she get shot?” another voice, female, questioned.
“No.”
That was Spencer; I recognised his quiet, dark voice amidst the panicked murmurs.
“No, she’s fine. Probably just got scared and passed out,” he said.
I heard a gentle mutter of sympathy from Jane. Dom was murmuring by my head, not talking to me, but to the others. I couldn’t be bothered with listening to what he was saying. I wanted to slap Spencer for his comment.
Got scared? Screw him. Why the hell I’d went out there looking for him in the first place was beyond me. All it had gotten me was a near miss with a wolf and a bullet, and a snarky comment.
Arms slid under me, lifting me off the ground, and I knew without having to pry my lazy eyes open that it was Dominic. His voice was louder in my ear, his steady breathing on my cheek, and he lifted me as if I weighed no more than a rag doll, though I supposed I really didn’t weigh much. I was too tired and weak to bother being embarrassed at being carried like a small child, so instead, I relaxed into Dominic’s gentle arms as he walked with sure, easy strides. I let myself fall asleep, knowing I was as safe as I could be for now.
Chapter Four
** Tilly **
I woke up back in Sarah and Annie’s tent, with a blanket draped over me. I had a flash of déjà vu from the day before, waking up in the same place in the same way. Only that time, I wasn’t wrapped in bandages, and instead of Annie, it was Desmond keeping a check on me. The tent was dim, making me wonder how long I’d been asleep, and if Desmond had been watching me sleep the whole time. His green eyes were fixed on me intently when I blinked mine open, and he let out a chuckling sigh of relief, pushing his wavy dark hair out of his face with one hand.
“The princess awakens. You seem to have a habit of passing out in the woods. Next time, try making it to a bed first.” He grinned.
I glared at him. Opened my mouth to tell him I didn’t pass out, then realised I couldn’t explain what had actually happened without telling him I’d blasted some hunter with my power. Yeah. So not happening. Better to let them all think you’re a scaredy cat than a crazy person. So instead, I just intensified my glower until Desmond noticed it and held up his hands defensively.
“Okay, sorry! How are you doing? Hungry I’m betting. Dinner should be ready really soon.”
I blinked. “Dinner? How long have I been–”
“Out? Uh, little over four hours. Spencer said–”
I didn’t want to hear what Spencer said. I wanted to take a branch and ram it down Spencer’s throat, so he couldn’t say anything else ever again. “Oh, so you found him, did you? Where was he? Hiding in a cave?” I snapped before I could rein the words in.
Desmond’s eyes widened and he looked surprised by my outburst. He pressed his lips together, though I could see his mouth twitching at the corners, a sure sign he was trying not to laugh.
“Um. You don’t like Spence much, do you?”
He said it as if he understood perfectly. I’d expected him to maybe be angry with me for bitching about his half-brother, but he just looked amused. I shook my head.
“Not really. Sorry.” I wasn’t really sorry. It wasn’t my fault his half-brother was an anti-social caveman. But Desmond really didn’t look too offended, and I couldn’t muster up any guilt for disliking a guy I barely knew. I got the impression it would be worthless to even try to get to know him, even if I wanted to—which I didn’t.
“Yeah, Spencer is kind of hard to like sometimes. He’s not a bad guy, he just…prefers his own company, I guess. But you seem to be getting along with Dominic okay, and Annie likes you. She got kind of upset when we brought you back to camp unconscious again. What happened out there anyway? We heard a gun go off and thought…” Des trailed off, a small line denting between his eyebrows.
He was sitting casually enough, on the edge of Sarah’s bed with hi
s elbows on his thighs, hands dangling between his knees; but there was something strained in the set of his shoulders and jaw that made me worry. Had he, or someone else, seen me use my power? God, I hoped not. No, nobody had been around when I’d done it, I was sure. Only the wolf and I doubted it was telling.
Thinking of the wolf reminded me, and not completely unintentionally avoiding Desmond’s question, I asked, “The wolf. Did anyone else see the wolf?”
The question made Desmond’s spine straighten, though he tried not to show it, and I swallowed, confused by his reaction.
“Wolf? What wolf? There are no wolves around here, Tilly.” He looked at me as if I was crazy, but I wasn’t buying it.
I pushed it. “Yes, there is. There was. That’s what the hunter was shooting at. I jumped in front of it, so he wouldn’t kill it, and then…” I bit my lip, unsure how to continue without explaining why the hunter had run off, but it didn’t matter because the look Des was giving me made it clear he thought I should be locked up in a loony bin. I shook my head, frustrated. “I swear there was a wolf. It must have run off before you guys arrived.” It was the most I could say, but despite his expression, I knew he believed me. He just wouldn’t admit it. I didn’t know why he’d lie about such a thing, but I couldn’t see any way to ask without annoying him, so I let it drop, feeling foolish and irked.
He shrugged, effectively signalling the end of the discussion anyway. “Maybe it did run off, but I didn’t see any wolf. Anyway, dinner will be up in ten. Just grab a seat when you feel up to eating.” With that, he got up and left, the muscles in his neck tight the whole time until he disappeared out of the flapping fabric doorway.
I sat for a moment, staring at my hands and scowling. Really, I wasn’t that hungry, and I didn’t feel up to facing more questions about what had happened in the woods. Also, I didn’t want to run the risk of seeing Spencer at the dinner table, because I’d be too tempted to lunge across it and strangle him. I opted to sit up and spend some time meditating instead. Mediating was good for lots of things, mostly for releasing stress and anger. I’d been doing it for years now, and I was practised enough that I could meditate almost anywhere.