by K.N. Lee
No. Isabelle’s legs felt weak. She sat on the stairs, her mind reeling. No.
Just like that, her dreams of archery school vanished. She should have known it was too good to be true. She ran a hand through her dark hair, thinking. What could she do? She couldn’t live a life without her archery. It was everything to her. It was her calling. Mother didn’t understand. Marry the butcher?
I’m being selfish. Isabelle bit her lip. The honorable thing would be to listen to her mother’s advice. She knew she couldn’t marry someone she didn’t love, but she could still get a job as a seamstress and support herself.
There has to be another way.
Tymothias. He’d left to try his hand at becoming a Fabled Hunter. Could Isabelle become one? She didn’t know. She was skilled with the bow, but that was the extent of her talents. Tymothias was fast, strong, and clever. It’d take more than archery skills to get through the tournament, and Isabelle wasn’t sure she had the grit.
Her mother urged her father to get some sleep, and Isabelle quietly went back to bed, her mind racing. She could become a forest hunter. Traditionally, it was a man’s profession, but if she could gather enough fur pelts to sell to merchants and traders, then who cared if she was a woman?
She lay in bed for over an hour, waiting until she knew her parents were asleep. Carefully she rose and dressed, then gathered an extra set of clothing, stuffing it into her pack. She picked up her bow, extra string and quiver, and silently went downstairs. Taking some food from the kitchen, Isabelle considered leaving a note. Her father would be heartbroken.
Mother won’t, she thought sourly. I’ve never measured up to her expectations.
She wouldn’t write anything. She didn’t want to leave a trail. I’ll send some money when I’ve earned it. That would have to be good enough.
Donning her red cloak, she left the house, closing the door quietly behind her.
The moon shone down, swathing the land in a pale, silvery light. Perfect for traveling. Isabelle stole away from the house, heading for the forest. Her fate lay beyond its dark comforting boughs. She could feel it.
At the edge of the yard she paused and turned, looking at the ivy covered house that was her home for as long as she could remember. She hastily wiped the tears that sprang to her eyes. Had been her home. Not anymore. She would seek her fortune elsewhere.
She turned to face the forest and ran.
4
Most of the villagers found the forest dark and forbidding, a place where monsters and robbers lurked. They were right, but what they failed to see is that the forest also held a lot of good.
Isabelle breathed deeply as she walked. The air was thick with the smell of green growing things. Spring was almost here, and the forest seemed to revel in it. The trees were beginning to put out new growth, and birds filled the air with their songs of renewal. Squirrels and chipmunks scampered along boughs, chattering at Isabelle if she walked too close. The forest was alive and felt safe. At least in this part of the woods.
The ground was soft and damp from the past few days of rain. Isabelle drew her cloak closer. Fortunately for her, the forest canopy provided a fair amount of protection from the elements, but she was still cold. From the pale light filtering through the heavy boughs, night would approach in a couple of hours. She needed to find shelter soon.
Isabelle hastily made a fire, and triumphantly held out the rabbit she’d shot that day.
Once the fire began to crackle, Isabelle took out a long knife from her pack, preparing to skin it.
A faint rustle in the nearby foliage caused her to snap her head up in alarm. She laid the rabbit down and held her dagger up. Nothing.
She remained still for several more moments, but didn’t hear anything else. She turned back to the fire and froze, looking into the golden eyes of a wolf.
The beast crouched a few paces from the fire, watching her warily. Its fur was dark gray and matted. It turned its gaze to the rabbit, licking its lips. Isabelle frowned at the wolf. One of it’s paws looked hurt, dried blood covering it.
“You want the rabbit?” Isabelle asked, speaking softly. She didn’t want to startle it. “You may have it. I can eat something else.”
Faster than thought, the wolf leaped toward the rabbit laying at Isabelle’s feet. Isabelle fell back with a startled shriek, holding her dagger aloft. The wolf didn’t give her a second glance. It snatched up the rabbit with its teeth and, half limping, half running, retreated to the bushes several yards away.
“You’re welcome,” Isabelle called out. She put a shaking hand to her heart. She hadn’t expected the wolf to understand what she was saying, nor to react in such a manner. She’d heard of animals like that in stories, but had never met one in real life.
She thought about the wolf’s matted fur and how thin it’d looked. “It needed the meat more than I did.” She rummaged through her pack, pulling out the last of the bread she’d brought from home. She needed to find a village. She’d purposely stayed away from the path, knowing it would stop her parents or any local help they’d enlist from finding her if they tried to look. It had worked, but she would have a hard time of things if she didn’t come across a village soon.
After eating, Isabelle huddled close to her fire, wrapping the cloak her mother had sewn her around her thin frame. Night fell over the forest like a thick blanket. The familiar sounds of birds and squirrels were replaced with more ominous noises: the hooting of owls, rustles in the foliage, howls and grunts of wild animals.
Isabelle closed her eyes. She’d been traveling in the forest for almost a week. The sounds didn’t frighten her like they had the first night.
Thud. Thud.
Isabelle’s eyes flew open and she sat up, straining her ears. Was it the wolf again?
Thud. Thud.
Slow heavy footsteps. Isabelle silently rose to a crouch, picked up her bow and nocked an arrow. Something was out there in the forest. Something big.
The footsteps paused. Isabelle stared into the night, holding her breath. Maybe it would go away.
With a shuddering cry, a huge man lumbered from the trees, wielding a massive club. No, not a man. His features were all wrong. His eyes were almost squinted shut and glowed red in the dying light of the fire. His nose was huge and bulbous, and tusks protruded from his mouth.
An ogre. He towered to a staggering height of over seven feet, and his build was much bulkier than that of a human.
Isabelle raised her bow, taking aim. She wouldn’t miss. He was too close.
Letting her arrow fly, she dropped her bow and snatched her knife, scrambling to her feet.
The arrow slammed into the ogre’s chest. With an agonized cry of rage, the creature rushed at her. Isabelle raised her knife, stumbling over a tree root. She screamed instinctively, knowing it was a stupid thing to do. “Help me!”
With a snarl, the wolf barreled out of the night shadows, its teeth bared. It leaped at the ogre, latching onto his throat.
The ogre grabbed the wolf, pulling it off him, but not before the wolf’s fangs had done their work. The monster collapsed to the ground, shook in his death throes, and was still.
The wolf stood, its sides heaving, blood dripping from its muzzle. It looked up at Isabelle, golden eyes sad. It was the same wolf from earlier.
“You saved me,” Isabelle whispered.
The beast lowered its head in a nod, still watching her. It stood guarded, as if it might flee at any moment.
“Thank you,” Isabelle put out a tentatively hand.
The wolf flinched when her hand touched its fur, then visibly relaxed, it’s eyes half closed in obvious pleasure as she stroked its neck.
“Good boy,” Isabelle said. The wolf looked up at her, head slightly tilted, its expression puzzled. “You’re a boy, right?” Isabelle laughed.
The wolf stepped away from her and limped toward the trees. Reaching the edge of camp, it turned and looked at her a moment, then to the trees, then back to her.
Isabelle felt her scalp prickle. “You want me to follow you?”
The wolf looked toward the trees again, taking a step into the shadows. Isabelle hurriedly gathered her things, trying hard to not look at the dead ogre. She didn’t retrieve her arrow.
“I’m ready.” She stood beside the wolf, putting a hand on its back. Wolves were generally mistrusted and viewed with suspicion, but the wolf had risked its life for her. Isabelle would trust it.
The wolf slowly padded forward, leading Isabelle. It was dark, the moon’s light barely reaching them through the trees. They walked together for the better part of an hour before the trees broke into a small glade. A stream trickled through. The air was silent. The only sounds were those of normal nocturnal creatures. It felt … safe.
“Thank you.” Isabelle patted the wolf on its head. It’d protected her and risked its life for her and had led her to a place of safety. She had no fear of it now.
Isabelle wearily lay down on the soft grass, her eyes barely having time to close before she was asleep.
5
“I hear it, too.” Isabelle paused mid-stride, tilting her head to mimic the wolf’s. Crying. “From where?”
In answer, the wolf turned left and trotted through the woods, Isabelle on her heels. Isabelle had learned the wolf was female and named her Ash after her thick, shaggy gray coat. It’d been a week since they’d struck up their unlikely friendship. Ash’s paw had been hurt, most likely from another wolf or beast, but Isabelle had been able to wash the wound and wrap it. She wasn’t sure how Ash understood human speech but it was thanks to this strange ability that the wolf had been able to cooperate and heal faster. Now she could leap and run without any impairment.
Isabelle had managed to shoot a few more rabbits, giving them to her canine companion. In return Ash guarded Isabelle, watching over her at night while she slept. Isabelle’s bread had run out, and she was obliged to forage for berries and greens. Ash seemed content to now travel with Isabelle.
The wolf now weaved through the undergrowth, her gray fur blending in with the shadows and light of the forest, never going too fast for Isabelle to keep up.
The crying grew louder. Ash became noticeably more agitated, quickening her pace. She whined in response to the sound. A break in the pine trees revealed a little girl standing in a small clearing, covering her face with her hands as she wept.
“What’s wrong?” Isabelle asked, stepping forward. Ash hung back, as if aware that her presence might alarm the child.
The girl jumped, startled, looking up with a tear-streaked face. “I-I’m lost,” she said, fresh tears springing from her eyes. “Are you going to steal me? I want to go home!” She was wearing a plain brown dress, dirt stains on the hem.
“I’m not going to steal you.” Isabelle tried to mimic her mother’s soothing tone when one of her brothers scraped a knee. “You’re going to be just fine.” Next to the girl’s feet was a little basket, half filled with frost berries. Pale blue, they only grew in the early spring. She picked it up. “Let’s get these, and you, home safe and sound. Which way do you think you came from?”
“I don’t know.” the girl replied. “I can’t remember.” She’d stopped crying, but her pale little face was still red and splotchy. “Maybe that way?” She pointed hesitantly in the direction Isabelle had come.
Ash padded forward, sniffing the girl’s dress. The girl flinched away, but Ash ignored her. Picking up the scent she’d been looking for, the wolf turned and began walking east, smelling the ground occasionally.
“Let’s go.” Isabelle grabbed the girl’s hand, pulling her along. Isabelle had left the forest path near her home several days before, but a break in the trees showed another, smaller path. This one looked less well traveled, with stones and small clumps of grass littering it. Ash trotted down it, her tail wagging.
“Does this path look familiar?” Isabelle asked the child.
“I think so … I don’t know.” The girl’s nose wrinkled as she tried to remember.
Less than fifteen minutes later the forest opened up into a large clearing. A small village was settled there, thin tendrils of smoke rising from the chimneys.
The girl tugged her hand free from Isabelle’s. “This is it! I’m home!” She ran laughing down the small hill.
“Elsie!” A woman came running up the hill to meet the child, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. “Elsie, I thought I’d lost you! You were supposed to stay in the garden!” The older woman hugged the child tightly, burying her face in the girl’s shoulder.
“I’m all right, Momma.” The child patted her mother awkwardly on the shoulder. “A wolf saved me. And a woman,” she added as an afterthought.
The mother peered where Isabelle and Ash were standing, the wolf still under the shade of the forest’s eaves. “Who are you?”
Isabelle stepped forward. “I’m a traveler, ma’am. I was just passing through the area when I heard someone crying.” She gestured to the child, who was now seated on the grassy ground, eating berries out of the basket. “The girl said she was lost, so we found the path together and came here.”
“Thank you,” the older woman replied, but she still watched Isabelle warily. “When I discovered she’d left the yard, I thought for sure she’d be lost like the others.” She turned to Elsie. “Let’s get you inside. You can help with the baking.”
“Goodbye.” Elsie waved a little hand at Isabelle.
Isabelle watched them walk back to the village. Others?
She jerked her head toward the village. “I’m going to check it out, Ash. Perhaps it’d be better if you waited here.”
The wolf wagged its tail slowly and edged back into the forest. Isabelle wondered again what it was that made Ash understand human speech. It was more than apparent that she did, and reacted accordingly.
Walking down the grassy knoll, Isabelle approached the village cautiously. A few people were out doing their day’s work, and while some eyed her suspiciously, no one spoke to her. Something was wrong. In Isabelle’s village it wasn’t uncommon to see packs of children running around playing, but here there weren’t any. Why?
Isabelle soon discovered there wasn’t an inn here, but there were a few men lounging around the porch of a house that sat in the middle of the village. Isabelle walked over and stepped onto the porch, looking at the men who stood idly by. They weren’t dressed like common villagers. They wore leather armor, studded with steel, maces and swords hanging from their belts. Each wore a golden medallion emblazoned with a dragon.
Fabled Hunters. Isabelle had seen them a handful of times in her visits to Seabound and recognized them on sight. They were the protectors of the realm, meting out justice and extending mercy wherever they thought due. Next to the king and the four Province rulers, there wasn’t a higher ranked official. Their word was law.
One of the Hunters standing there cast her a curious glance, but for the most part ignored her. Isabelle felt a thousand questions burning on the tip of her tongue, but bit her lip and opened the door.
Inside were more Fabled Hunters. They stood in a close circle, talking in low voices. An older man, dressed in plain woodsman garb, stood with them. Isabelle decided he must be the spokesman for the town and walked up to him.
“Hello.” The older man frowned at her, his gray brow furrowed. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Isabelle.” She tried not to notice the Hunters were all now looking at her, their expressions ranging from mild curiosity to irritation. “I’m just passing through. I didn’t see an inn, and wondered if there is a place to stay for the night.”
The grizzled old man waved a hand toward the kitchen dismissively. “You’ll have to check with the other villagers. In the meantime, ask the cook for a bite to eat. Heaven knows you could use it.”
Isabelle felt her face warm at the chuckles of amusement from the Hunters. She turned toward the proffered door, intending to get away from them as soon as possible. As her hand reached for
the doorknob, one of the Hunters spoke. “So ten children have gone missing? That’s quite a number. Just from this village?”
Isabelle froze, ears straining. No wonder Elsie’s mother had acted so frantic.
“Yes,” the village elder replied. “In the course of a couple of months. We’ve tried to tell children to stay close, but you know how kids are. The men in our village have tried to search for them to no avail, even with some of our hounds.”
“We’ll see what we can do.” The same Hunter spoke. Peering over her shoulder, Isabelle watched him. He was a tall young man, who looked to be twenty-five or so. He had broad shoulders and long reddish-brown hair he wore in a long tail. Handsome.
Isabelle turned to face them. “Perhaps I can help. I found one of your children in the woods today and brought her home. Maybe I can find the others.”
Her ears flushed when every man in the room laughed at her.
“You?” The young Hunter laughed again. “I’m not sure what brought you here, sweetheart, but leave the serious business to the men.”
“I reckon I’m a better shot with the bow than you,” Isabelle retorted. She cringed inwardly. Did I really just insult a Hunter? But what was done, was done. “My wolf will track them down.”
“Wolf?” The old villager glowered. All amusement was gone. “Wolves are bad luck, girl. If you keep company with wolves, it’d be best if you moved on.”
The young man watched her, his lips a thin line of disapproval. This time all eyes were on her until she left the house.
Isabelle breathed a sigh of relief once she was outside. She would leave immediately. She was lucky that they didn’t physically run her out of town. Wolves were considered bad luck, but it was an old superstition, one that needed to go away, she decided. “Ash has more sense than the lot of those fools combined,” she grumbled, stomping back through the village the way she’d come. “She could find those children, I’m sure of it.”