by James Somers
Minion took flight from his perch high in the trees near the warrior’s encampment. The wil sailed back through the trees in the form of a brown bird until he encountered the companions he’d been waiting for.
Three plump, little pigs ran into the short clearing as Minion landed, assuming his wil shape again. “Where are they?”
The pigs snorted and morphed their forms into wils of varying color, but similar size.
“They’re coming,” said One.
“Yes, they couldn’t resist piggys,” said Two, snorting gleefully.
“Quiet,” Minion hissed. “We don’t want to alert the boy and his companions. By the way, you guys stink.”
All three of Minion’s companions had covered themselves in dried pig excrement. They bristled and clumps of filth fell from their fur. “You said to give them pig smell to follow,” said Three, shrugging his small shoulders.”
Minion waved his hand like a fan in front of his small nose. “Come on, let’s finish the trail that will lead them to their meal.”
The four wils took bird form and flew toward the encampment.
WOLVEN
Bon and Jale stood at the edge of the camp like statues. Bon sniffed the still air with his eyes closed and his ears open. He tried to let these senses take over completely and do what his eyes could not.
The others watched unmoving. They did not dare distract the big cats from something that might well save all of their lives. After all, this wasn’t called the Deadwood for nothing.
Bon’s eyes popped open as he caught something puzzling upon the air. “Pigs?”
Four birds penetrated the camp overhead. They fluttered over the camp raining down bits of dried pig excrement upon the warriors below.
Bon and Jale growled and roared at them.
“What is it?” Daniel asked.
The birds screeched overhead, then took up perches within the black branches of the Deadwood’s petrified timber.
“What are those crazy birds doing?” Louie said, aiming his bow.
Meineke stood next to him. “Those aren’t birds,” he said, glaring. “They’re wils!”
The four wils resumed their normal appearance cackling at the warriors below them.
“Yes, and unfortunately we’re not the only company you’ve got,” Minion shouted from his perch.
“What does that mean?” Louie said.
“I know,” Bon said. He looked beyond the edge of the camp in the direction the wils had come from. Out in the darkness, pairs of twinkling red lights began to appear among the tall trees. Each pair moved as one, bobbing just slightly as they came closer.
The big cats tensed instantly. They bore their claws and flexed their muscular bodies. “Father are they—”
“Yes, they are Wolven,” Bon growled.
The name cut through the others like a shockwave, except for Daniel. He alone remained unfamiliar with the term, but he knew it didn’t sound promising. They all drew their weapons, swords, and pistols, ready for a fight.
“This isn’t going to be pretty,” Louie said as he and the other cherubs nocked arrows.
The wils continued to mock the warriors from above. They remained well out of reach. “Look at them. They’re about to become lunch for the Wolven!”
The group began to back away from the approaching eyes. They heard the heavy breathing of large animals lusting for their prey. The clearing where they had their camp was a small place. The eyes approached from the trees before them.
Louie steadied his bow on the glowing red eyes. It would be impossible to find a target among trees that blended with the night so efficiently. “Stay alert, boys,” he said to his cherubs, Mickey and Bob.
Bob backed into an object and turned with his bow. Large red eyes burst open in front of him. Rows of white daggers flashed out of the darkness and snatched the cherub, pulling him into the night. The feeding frenzy had begun.
Huge gray mammals, similar to wolves, shot out from the trees and into the clearing. Daniel screamed as one of the creatures came in for the kill. Bon intercepted the beast, tackling it from the side. The panthera went straight for the jugular and the quick kill. Within seconds Bon had mortally wounded one of the beasts and had moved to another, trying to attack Louie.
The cherub fired arrows like an old west gunslinger, but it took too many well placed shots to kill even one of the Wolven. Everyone fought for their lives. Swords flashed and pistols fired as a whole pack of Wolven descended upon their camp from the woods.
Daniel hacked at one of the creatures trying to defend against its gnashing teeth. Marissa threw a spinning cutlass at Daniel’s attacker. The blade hit the beast just behind a shoulder joint, penetrating the heart. The Wolven stumbled to the edge of the small clearing and fell there, but more closed in from among those encircling the camp just beyond the tree line.
“Meineke, get Daniel out of here!” Marissa shouted.
The wil responded instantly. Meineke hurled the dagger-for-a-sword, he had been fighting with, at the Wolven in front of him and leaped backward in a somersault, landing on Daniel’s shoulders. Meineke took bird form in a fraction of a second and, with powerful wing strokes, he hoisted Daniel off the ground.
“Marissa, I can’t leave you guys!” Daniel cried.
“Meineke get him to safety! Everything depends upon it!”
Meineke grunted against gravity and the boy’s weight. It took everything he had, but he got Daniel above the fight and sailed through the treetops with him.