by J.C. Fiske
Chapter 8: Battle for the Boon
With their first Boon recovered, Gisbo and Rolce continued their trek through the woods, heads held high in confidence. Rolce cradled his little eagle in one arm and rocked it back and forth.
“Harpie wants to tell you thanks, Gisbo, she saw the whole thing down there,” Rolce said beaming, refusing to tear his eyes away from his little eagle.
“The squirt's already got a name, huh?” Gisbo said.
“Of course it does! She told me her name. And it’s not a “squirt.” It’s my Boon and her name is Harpie!” Rolce retorted.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time,” Gisbo said.
“It’s weird . . . I mean, how quickly I picked this skill up. I guess I had it in me all along, I just never even thought it was possible. As soon as I opened my mind to the possibility of it, boom! I can do it no problem now! I think I rather like being a Naforian,” Rolce said, rattling on without Gisbo listening.
The boys walked a little ways and came to an abrupt stop. It seemed they had reached the outer bubble for they could see a wintry landscape on the other side of it, as if looking through a fuzzy window. Gisbo stopped for a moment, thinking hard, or at least as hard as he was capable of.
“Rolce, what is it that you felt when you knew that your Boon was close?” Gisbo asked.
“I kinda felt butterflies in my stomach. It was like a pull, something was telling me to go forward, and then I heard little Harpie here calling out for help,” Rolce said. Gisbo turned, looked at the barrier in front of them, then back at Rolce.
“Yeah, I’m starting to feel it too. Something feels like I need to keep going, out of the barrier. I think my Boon is out in the snow somewhere. It’s more like a gut feeling than anything, it’s strange,” Gisbo said, lost in thought.
“That's exactly how I felt. If you feel we need to go out there, then let's go,” Rolce said. Gisbo nodded and they both made their way out of the barrier with the same familiar WOOP noise as before.
Before them now lay an entire new country, covered in white and extremely cold. They both turned around, only to see more snow-capped trees. It was as if there was no barrier at all. Rolce stretched out his hand where the barrier had been and it instantly disappeared. He pulled his hand back and stared at it in awe.
“Fascinating . . .” Rolce said in wonder.
“Rolce, who the hell says fascinating? Come on, just say it’s cool or neat or something. Jeesh, I hate people that try to use complicated words for no reason. Talk normal,” Gisbo spouted.
“Hey! That’s just how I talk!” Rolce argued.
“Whatever, let’s just find my Boon before we both freeze. Open up those ears of yours and listen for anything calling out for help,” Gisbo suggested and they set off through the crunchy snow. They saw many woodland animals as they trekked onward: rabbits, foxes and a wide variety of owls and snow birds.
“Any of these feel right to you, Gisbo? They are all very friendly it seems, asking if we are looking for something and if they could be of help,” Rolce translated as he shook his head, telling the small animals around them that they were fine on their own.
“Nope, nothing,” Gisbo said.
“I was just thinking, Moordin said that the Boon was a reflection of self, a guide for us inwardly as we are a guide for it outwardly. I think the outward part meant the Boons would be in trouble and we needed to save them. Then the next part would possibly be the training. I mean, I haven’t a clue how Moordin and Falcon summoned their Boons like they did,” Rolce said.
“Reflection of self, huh? Well the eagle makes sense for you, Rolce. Eagles are very smart, very big and very reserved for birds of prey, but they are still hunters. I think that fits you quite nicely if ya ask me,” Gisbo spoke in a very encouraging way. Rolce was taken aback by his sudden articulate reasoning.
“Wow, that’s impressive. Maybe you're not so dumb after all. You’ve got a point there. Hmmm . . . well, maybe this notion can help us find what your animal might be. Gonna be kind of hard to find a stupid, crazy, bottomless stomach sort of animal,” Rolce said with a grin.
“Screw you, man! This is what I get for throwing out compliments! But you're not really far off. I mean, there are many animals like that. Believe me, I was called some sort of new animal name every day back in Oak County,” Gisbo recalled, a little angry toward the end. Just the name Oak County brought up fury inside Gisbo. A similar effect befell Rolce, who tightened his grip on the little eagle, as if making sure it was real.
“Something tells me your animal is going to be not very nice. What kind of fierce animals live in this kind of cold?” Rolce asked, without expecting an answer.
“Wolves . . .” Gisbo stated. It was then Rolce noticed what Gisbo was looking at. All around them yellow eyes were beginning to form out of the bushes and a pack of twelve black wolves had them completely surrounded. Rolce looked beside himself, but Gisbo felt like he had been in this situation before.
“Gisbo, they aren’t here for us. They just told me,” Rolce said to him as they stood back to back, facing the wolves.
“What are you talking about?” Gisbo asked, but then he noticed something move by his feet and understood immediately why he didn’t notice it at first. There, right in front of him, stood a pure white wolf, so white that it blended in with the untarnished snow. Calling it a wolf however may have been giving it too much credit. It was but a pup, only coming up just above Gisbo’s knee.
When Gisbo’s eyes met the little white wolf, something seemed to click within his very soul, like a metal joint snapping into place. Gisbo felt a sudden rush of warmth within him and around him as a deep connection was forged between himself and the animal before him. The wolf looked up at him with dewy sky blue eyes and gave out a little pleading whine, beckoning to Gisbo.
“The wolves said they are not going to harm us. They said to just back away from the white abomination and let it have its deserved punishment. Gisbo, I’m not one to mess with mother nature, but, man, something doesn’t feel right about this,” Rolce said.
“Rolce! This is him, this is my Boon! I know it!” Gisbo stated. Rolce looked at him wide eyed.
“This? This is . . . well, it’s a she for one thing. She’s telling you not to leave her here to die,” Rolce said as he shifted his eyes to the pack around them. Gisbo looked at the white wolf cub.
“Tell her not to worry, I won’t let ‘em hurt her,” Gisbo said.
“Remember, she can hear you, Gisbo. I just need to translate for you. You can talk to her, she understands you,” Rolce said. Gisbo ran to the wolf cub and dropped to his knees to face her eye to eye.
“What’d you do, girl? How come they wanna hurt you?” Gisbo asked with deep concern, a concern he had never really had for anyone or anything else before. The wolf looked up at Rolce.
“She says she left the pack. These black wolves killed her mother for having outside relations with the pack. For the longest time she was looked upon as an outcast, never really belonging. They were very cruel to her and so she left the pack on her own and has been traveling for weeks, by herself, completely alone. The pack sees her as some sort of disease in need of purification. They’ve been sending out small groups to do her in and she has fended them off each time, but now the entire pack has arrived. They wish to kill her, Gisbo, as a way of purifying their pack. An honor killing, she calls it,” Rolce explained in a shaky voice, sounding appalled. The wolves began circling, growling around them.
It was then Gisbo noticed all the cuts, scratches, and wounds on the white coat of the wolf cub. Gisbo stared for a moment within the cub’s, no, his Boon’s, eyes. There he saw more than anything, more than anyone could, the same pain he bore. Images began flooding through Gisbo’s head, flashbacks of himself as the outcast and the bane of his town.
The growling wolf pack around them turned into the sneering Black Wolf Pack of Oak County, laughing, pointing at him and circling him. Tears of rage began to flow down Gisbo’s face. The wolf
cub felt it too as it took the place by his side and crouched in a growling stance, ready to pounce. Entranced in each other’s memories, the boy and his wolf stood staring at their opposition.
Two lone wolves now formed one, different species cut from the same heart. The boy clenched his fists, the wolf dug its claws into the snow. A calmness enveloped them both as their souls strung together, staring down the impossible situation before them. The boy and his wolf had already made up their mind.
“You wish to fight? You're nuts! Listen, do the math! There are twelve of them! Only four can attack us at any given time, which means we’d have to win three consecutive fights. That won’t happen!” Rolce yelled, voice quivering. Gisbo looked down to the ground and picked up a heavy branch. He looked down at the wolf.
“What’s your name?” Gisbo asked his Boon. The wolf looked at Rolce once more. The pack still circled.
“She said her name in wolf lore means 'crude or ugly.’ She is ashamed of it,” Rolce said. Gisbo actually smiled.
“Heh, somebody told me that you should never be ashamed of a name. The difference makes you stronger. They may hunt you for your difference, but even as a cub you have fended them all off. You’ll do the same now. Keep your name, make it a strength. Now what is it?” Gisbo asked. The wolf looked at Rolce again.
“She said her name is Fao,” Rolce relayed, looking at Gisbo. The wolves snarled and growled as if laughing at her.
“Fao, huh? I think that’s a great name,” Gisbo said with a smile. He could feel the happiness pulsating from his Boon in appreciation. Gisbo looked at Rolce as they moved back to back once more, branches raised.
“Rolce, you need to book it back to Heaven’s Shelter and tell them where I am. If we don’t win three fights, then I’m a dead man. If we do, me and Fao won’t be in any shape to make it back. This is something I have to do alone. You wouldn’t understand,” Gisbo stated.
“What? But I . . . Rolce trailed off, confused, sweating in nervousness.
“Do it, Rolce! Go get help! I won’t get you mixed up in what I need to do,” Gisbo shouted. Gisbo spun and sent a kick to Rolce’s behind as the big kid stumbled forward.
“This is my fight. Go. Let him through!” Gisbo yelled at the wolves as he pushed Rolce hard at them. The circle seemed to open up as they allowed Rolce to scramble back out of the circle, clearly uninterested in him. Rolce looked at Gisbo with utter helplessness.
“Quit stalling! I’m gonna need help! Go!” Gisbo commanded as he threw Rolce’s stick at him. Rolce caught it and looked at his friend…his only friend.
“You’re crazy!!!” Rolce shouted, shaking his head.
“Yup,” Gisbo responded with a wicked grin.
“I’ll be back. Just stay alive!” Rolce ordered as he spun and ran back as fast as possible. Gisbo saw him disappear as he crossed back into Heaven’s Shelter. Gisbo gripped his branch ever so tightly as he looked Fao in the eyes once more.
“Let's show these weak groupies what a lone wolf is capable of . . . the pack has leered at us long enough, let’s beat 'em this time,” Gisbo said as another smile spread across his face. The wolves pounced.
Gisbo let out a furious yell as he cracked a wolf skull with his branch. The stick didn’t break, but the wolf hit the snow, out cold or dead, Gisbo couldn’t tell, nor did he care. He then swung to his right, hitting another wolf who was just inches from tearing the flesh of his arm. It too fell into the snow unconscious. Meanwhile, Fao wrestled a wolf to the ground, holding it off long enough for Gisbo to whack it hard across its skull. With a whimper, the wolf collapsed. Without wasting any time, Fao reared around and threw herself at another charging wolf.
Gisbo continued to swing wildly and managed to land a lucky strike on a wolf leaping toward his waist. Three wolves down.
It was then a wolf pounced onto Gisbo’s back, tackling him into the snow. Gisbo felt the beast’s hot breath across his neck as it tore at his hair, seeking to get through it to the back of his neck, but before it could, Fao was on it as she slammed into the beast’s side hard enough to knock the wolf away. Gisbo pulled his face from the cold, wet snow and before he could react, another wolf jumped onto his chest, pinning him on his back. Gisbo managed to reach up and grab the wolf’s mane. With a strained yank, he managed to pull its snapping jaws away from his throat. Gisbo quickly let go of the wolf’s mane and thrust one hand under its jaw and hoisted it up while he punched and clawed at the wolf’s windpipe over and over again with his other hand until he pierced it with a spray of red. The wolf leapt off him and spun about in a coughing frenzy before collapsing to the ground.
With bated breath, Gisbo managed to rise to his feet and reached down, grabbed the collapsed wolf by its tail, swung it round and round and hurled it into two charging wolves who toppled to the ground in a spray of snow. One, however, recovered in a quick roll and pounced upon Gisbo and dug its teeth into his shoulder. Gisbo felt hot pain explode down his back and, out of instinct, he grabbed the wolf by its jaw with both hands, pried its mouth open and slammed the beast to the ground and repeatedly hopped atop the wolf’s head with his heavy boots until it lay still.
Gisbo felt lightheaded as he saw his whole shirt now drenched with blood from his torn shoulder. It was then he noticed Fao on her back, writhing, as two large wolves snapped at her. Gisbo ran and threw his whole body hard into one of them, toppling them both like dominos, and freeing his Boon. Gisbo then heard a snarl behind him and he spun around just in time to see another wolf flying in his direction. Before he could react, Fao dove over his head, slamming herself into the beast in midair, and they both fell into the snow, a storm of slashing teeth and claws.
Breathing hard, Gisbo tried to rise to his feet, but it was no use. Two wolves intercepted his efforts and plunged him back down into the snow, trying for his throat. Gisbo pushed his head backward, deep into the rigid snow, trying to keep his distance as he managed to kick one of the wolves hard below the jaw as he held the other wolf at bay with both arms.
The wolf who got kicked quickly rebounded upon him and bit into his forearm. Gisbo screamed in pain as he felt the teeth pierce his skin and grind against the bone. No matter how much Gisbo struggled, the wolf would not release its grip as it shook its head back and forth, rending his arm further. Gisbo felt hot tears touch the corner of his eyes as he fought the pain. If he let go, the current wolf he was holding would certainly charge downward and rip out his throat. He was trapped and suddenly felt immensely woozy. He saw red and then everything went black.