We set up our beds by the early evening moonlight, but I ain’t the least bit tired. I feel all on edge, and my blood is strumming through my veins. I lay staring up at the night sky, listening ‘til finally I hear Finn’s slight snores and Tater’s louder version. Even Cat is sleeping, twitching as she chases some dream prey. But sleep eludes me. I move my blankets to a tree, prop myself up against the trunk, and lay the iron shooter in my lap. I cain’t rightly say what’s bothering me, but I watch the valley floor and the slopes for any sign of movement. I strum my fingers against the long barrel of the shooter. I wait.
The moon is high in the sky now, but it’s not much help with all the shadows of the valley. I keep watching, looking for … I ain’t sure what. I don’t know how long I sit there. I can hear a critter hooting off in the distance, its call eerie in the quiet night. It’s getting hard to keep my eyes open now. I’m being foolish, I think. I should get some sleep.
Then suddenly there below me. Something is moving. Fully awake now, I bolt upright and hold the iron shooter tighter. I wish I had thought to ask Tater for his spyglass. I keep watching the spot. There it is again. I get a brief glimpse of it as it emerges from the shadows into a moonlit patch of valley floor. It looks to be hunched over and shuffling like … like the creature I had seen in the sand lands. I blink my eyes, trying to focus. It disappears into the darkness again, and I cain’t see it no more. I keep watching, not blinking ‘til my eyes start to burn, but I don’t see it again. Was I imagining it? I could have sworn something was there. But if there had been something, there’s no way it could have been the same creature. What I’d seen that night in the sand lands had been weeks and leagues away from here. What were the odds the creature had been traveling in the same direction as us? Following us? Even though I don’t see no more movement, I decide I ain’t sleeping tonight. Imagination or not, somebody needs to keep watch. I sense something in my gut, and it just don’t feel right. I settle back against the tree and level the iron shooter on my knee, pointing it straight ahead. If there is something out there, it isn’t getting past me tonight. No way in hell.
“Tara. Tara, wake up.” Dazed and confused, I open my eyes. The sun is up. It’s morning. Suddenly remembering the moving shadow, I search my lap frantically for the iron shooter. It ain’t there. Then I realize Tater is standing above me, waving the shooter and grinning.
“Looking for this, oh great protector?” He was obviously aware of my intent last evening and my total failure in staying awake. I yank it out of his hand, ignoring his laugh, and pack it into the slingbag at my feet. Finn walks over to join us and hands me a water skin.
“How come you slept sitting up against that tree, Tara?” he asks.
“No reason,” I say. I take a big gulp from the water skin, but he keeps looking at me curiously, waiting for more.
“I was just star gazin’, and I fell asleep is all.”
He seems to accept this without question and moves on to pack up his bedding, but Tater is eyeballing me. He knows I ain’t telling the whole truth.
“Did you witness any unusual constellations during your gazing?” he asks.
“If by that you mean strange stars, then no, just the usual,” I say. I reckon it best not mention what I had seen last evening or thought I’d seen. I kind of feel foolish for my fright, and I wasn’t even sure it was real now in the light of day. No sense worrying them over what could have very well been my imagination. ‘Sides, if something had been here last evening, Cat would have sensed it. She would have warned us. Instead, she had slept sound through the night. Obviously, she hadn’t sensed anything amiss. No, best push it out of my mind and blame my jitters on my exhaustion. We got us more pressing matters like some crazy villagers, mountains, and possibly raiders to worry about instead. Just another typical day in the sand lands.
Mid-afternoon, day five in the mountains. The ground changes the higher we climb. And we are climbing. Not so quickly that you really notice, but the ground is sloping upwards. It’s getting rockier and sparser. The loose shale sometimes makes it hard for Winnie to get her footing, but Tater coaxes her along with gentle patience. I believe he truly does love that mule.
It’s getting cooler too, especially the nights. I’m real glad I have Thomas’s rawhide jacket to keep me warm ‘cause the wind that sometimes blows cuts like a knife. I’d made Finn a cloak out of one of my blankets to keep him protected from the biting wind, but Tater, he only seemed to need the warmth of his tin flask, just adding to my belief that he is indeed a mutie.
The half-man assures us it will only take a few more days’ travel before we start going down the other side, and then things will get better. Better, he says. I’m not sure about that. Littlepass means closer to Lily and answers to my questions about Ben and the young’uns. But it also means we’re getting closer to the Prezedant’s lands. To my plan of abandoning Finn. I ain’t yet told him of my idea to settle him there. I hope he won’t hate me too much, but it’s all I can think to do for him. I know it’s gonna to be hard to say goodbye to him. I kind of enjoy having him around. Cat too. Even Tater don’t irritate me so much though the thought of not hearing his voice every day don’t bother me at all. But the thought of not seeing Finn every day … it don’t sit well.
I watch him now plodding along after Tater, yammering with a hundred questions.
“How much further, Tater? What does Littlepass look like? What kinda food do they eat there? Do they have sticky buns? Ma used to make those, and they’re my favorite.”
His hair sticks up like normal, and there’s a big streak of mud across his cheek. Don’t know how he got that. He sees me watching him, stops talking, and gives me his goofy, gap-toothed grin. It tugs at me some, but I squash those feelings right away. I ain’t got time for that. I cain’t afford to have any kind of care for anybody right now except for Ben and Jane and young Thomas. They’re my only concern. Besides, I know it’s best for him and me to part ways. Some of what I’m thinking must be showing on my face; however, ‘cause his smile fades away.
“You okay, Tara?”
“What? Me? Aye, I’m fine, you mule turd. Why you askin’?” I say.
“Cause you look … I dunno … sad kinda,” he says and starts walking towards me.
I give him my brightest smile and reach out, try to wipe the dirt off his cheek, but it’s stuck good. “No, I’m fine. Truly. I … I was just thinkin’ about how the sky looks mighty dark up ahead.”
I grasp at something to change the subject. I don’t want to have to tell him anything yet. I don’t need to be arguing with him the rest of the way.
“Looks like it’s gonna rain.”
Tater stops at my words and studies the sky.
“Hmm, you’re right, Tara. There is definitely a rainstorm up ahead. We’re going to have to wait it out. It’s too dangerous to be walking in the gulch right now.”
“What do you mean, Tater? Why is it dangerous?” Just like that, Finn totally forgets about me at the mention of danger. He trots back over to the little man. “Why is a storm comin’ dangerous?”
“Rain in the mountains is different from the sand lands. The rains are intense and torrential and can cause the gulch to flood and sweep us away before we even realize it’s coming. We need to get out of the gulch now, wait it out on that plateau above us.”
I ain’t sure what a pla-toe is, but I follow Tater’s gaze and figure he’s talking about the mountain ledge up ahead. The ledge is flat and open, but there are a couple of boulders high enough to maybe give us shelter from the rain if it came this way. It would have to do.
Reaching the ledge, I choose one of the boulders to rest against and ease my slingbag and bow from my shoulder. Tater does the same, easing Winnie’s burden by taking off her saddlebags and laying them under the other boulder to keep them as dry as possible. Winnie is enjoying this bit of freedom and takes a happy little romp about the grass, scaring away some sort of mountain bird that had been using the grass as a hiding
spot from us. The bird squawks and takes off, Cat following and nipping at its tail feathers. I smile at the chase. I’d be willing to bet we’re having mountain bird for our evening meal tonight.
I lay back against the rock and close my eyes. I feel bone-tired, and my shoulder is aching something fierce. The slingbag strap has been irritating me some lately. I’m going to have to try and get some extra padding on it.
Finn, unlike me or Tater, is showing no signs of weariness. He ain’t even bothering with sitting down; he’s busy exploring the ledge and continuously yelling my name to get my attention. I crack open one eye. He is at the ledge’s drop off, not close enough for worrying, but close enough to see how high up we’ve climbed.
“Tara, you gotta come see this. It’s like we’re at the top of the world. It’s amazing!”
I close my eye again. “I’ll take your word on that, Finn,” I say, too tired to move. “Don’t get no closer to that edge.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, brushing aside my warning.
I’m still listening to his yammering about the view below when suddenly, I get a real bad feeling in my gut. Seconds later, Winnie starts braying in fright. I bolt upright and instinctively grab for my bow. The mule rears up on her hind legs, and before Tater can stop her, she runs off towards the gulch.
“What the—?” I duck instinctively as a huge, dark shadow leaps from the boulder above my head. It lands right in between us with me and Tater on one side and Finn on the other.
“Holy damnation!” Tater’s cussin’ bursts out of him as he stumbles backward into me, nearly knocking me from my feet.
The creature standing before us is enormous, even bigger than Cat. Definitely a male devil cat. Its light fur is matted and dirty, and the red eyes regarding me and Tater at the moment look wild and hungry.
“Tara!”
At the boy’s cry, the creature’s head swings toward him, and I can see the powerful jaws on the massive head. It bares its teeth. They look like a mouth full of daggers. Finn sees what I see and it freezes him in place, his face a mask of fear.
“It’s okay, Finn,” I yell out to him, sounding a lot calmer than I really am. Slowly, I raise my bow and reach for an arrow only to grab at empty air. Shizen! I had taken my quiver off with the rest of my things earlier. I see it out of the corner of my eye, laying about four paces from me, and make a move for it, but the creature’s head swings my way. I freeze, waiting for it to pounce on me. Finn must fear the same ‘cause he cries my name again, causing the devil cat’s attention to shift back to him. It crouches then, finally deciding on the boy as the easier prey. I don’t stop to think; I just drop the bow, grab my knife from the sheath, and run at the beast screaming. I cain’t let it get to Finn. It springs into the air away from me, and I yell, terrified, “Finn! Run!”
From out of nowhere Cat flies past me, her teeth bared and snarling like the she-devil she is. She collides with the other beast in midair, and she brings it down. They tumble over and over, a black and golden blur, their claws and teeth ripping at each other’s throats.
“Finn, get away from them!”
I’m yelling at him to move, but all he can see is his beloved beast in danger, and it’s like he don’t even heed me.
“Cat,” he screams. “Cat, no!” He runs right into the path of the fighting beasts, and I watch in horror as he is knocked from his feet and disappears over the mountain edge.
Once when Ben and me had been real young, he had challenged me to see who could jump from the highest rock ledge above the old swimming hole. Never one to back down from his challenges, I had climbed straight to the top of the highest ledge possible. I’d jumped, convinced it was going to be my best dive ever. Only when I hit the water, I hit belly first, and it felt like every breath of air was knocked clean out of my lungs. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think. This is that same feeling. I watch Finn go over that edge, and my body is gone numb … useless. I can still hear the beasts’ shrieking off to the side, but it don’t matter. Not anymore. Finn is gone.
I can hear someone yelling, but it sounds so far away. Who’s yelling?
The realization it’s Tater dawns slowly. But his yelling of Finn’s name, over and over again, is like a slap to the face and jolts me into action. I push him out of the way as I run to the edge. I have to see with my own eyes before I can believe it. Desperately I scan the ground below, fearing for what I will find. I search for Finn’s broken body, my ragged breaths loud in my own ears. I keep searching, but he ain’t there. Where is he?
“Tara …”
The voice is weak and terrified, but it fills me with such relief my knees go numb. There he is; I see him. He’s sprawled on a narrow ledge, about halfway down the rocky slope. Thank the gods.
“Finn,” I yell. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
At first there’s no answer. He’s blacked out, I think.
But then, “My leg hurts some, but I think … I think I’m okay.”
Tears well up at his response, but I quickly dash them away. No time for tears.
“Don’t move. I’m gonna get you up,” I say.
If only I knew how. I glance around wildly, looking for something, anything to help the boy. Tater, in the meanwhile, has retrieved the iron shooter out of my slingbag, but it hangs limply at his side as he stares at me in shock. He don’t need it. The two beasts have disappeared, which is a good thing. I ain’t got time to be worried about Cat. My eyes fall onto Winnie’s saddlebags.
“Tater, you got rope in those saddlebags?”
“Rope? Yes. Yes! I have a rope,” he says and heads for the saddlebags.
He don’t move quick enough for my liking. By the second yes I’m already halfway there, knocking him out of my way again. I don’t give a care for what else is in the bags; I dump them on the ground spewing the contents everywhere. I just want that damn rope. There. I grab the thick, cotton cord, and a desperate prayer for it to be long enough repeats in my head as I run back to the ledge.
“Finn,” I yell down. “I’m gonna make a loop in the rope and lower it down. All you gotta do is put it ‘round you underneath your arms, and we’ll pull you up. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, … I think so,” he yells back, but he sounds so frightened.
“Good boy,” I say. As fast as I can I make the loop in the end of the rope and cross it again to make a sturdy knot. The other end I tie ‘round my own waist real tight. I ain’t taking no chance of that rope slipping out of my hands. Kneeling over the edge, I start lowering it down.
Please be long enough.
A moment goes by.
“I got it,” he yells.
I close my eyes in relief. Thank the gods.
“Okay, good. Now be careful. Don’t move too quick. Put the loop over your head and move it down under your arms so it’s ‘cross your chest.”
I wait for him to do as I say, holding my breath. That ledge is so narrow. Just one wrong move, I think. I can hear Tater behind me, muttering, “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear …”
“Okay.” I hear Finn’s quivering voice from below. So far so good.
“Now, the end of the rope that’s sticking out, I want you to pull on it ‘til the rope is tight ‘round your chest. Pull ‘til it’s tight, understand?”
I can feel movement of the rope on my end as he does what I tell him to.
“It’s tight, Tara. I did it.”
“Good boy. Now, hold onto that rope ‘cause we’re gonna pull you up. Hold it tight, Finn.”
I get to my feet. Tater is still aimlessly pacing but runs straight for me as I motion for him to grab the rope. I move back, and he stands in front of me, hanging onto the line and still muttering or praying. I ain’t sure.
“Now, Tater,” I say, and we start pulling slowly so as not to hurt Finn.
Little by little we reel the rope in ‘til finally a tuft of red hair comes peeking over the edge, followed by a pair of huge, frantic eyes. He swings wildly to and fro, and one
of his skinny arms reaches desperately for the rock ledge trying to grab it.
I yell at Tater, “I got the rope. Go help him.”
Tater grabs for the flailing arm while I keep pulling. Once I see Tater has a good grip on the boy I give one last tug, and we get his body onto solid ground. Tater throws an arm around Finn and drags him away from the edge. They both fall to their knees once they’ve cleared the edge, gasping for air. I join them, grabbing Finn’s shoulders real tight. A mixture of emotion courses through me. Relief at his being safe, but it quickly butts heads with the brewing anger at his not heeding my words to run. Instead he’d been stupid enough to head right into the path of the fighting beasts. He’d almost gotten himself killed. What the hell had he been thinking? Why didn’t he listen to me? I want to shake him ‘til his teeth rattle, but lucky for him, the relief wins out.
“Are you hurt?” I ask gruffly, trying not to let my anger show as I run my hands over his arms, feeling for any injuries.
“Don’t think so … just my leg is banged up some is all.” His answer is shaky, but at least the color is coming back to his face. Tater starts laughing and does his crazy little clap.
“Thank the gods for this glorious miracle, indeed. We rescued the boy. We are true heroes, Tara. Well, us and that magnificent cat of yours, boy, for without her we’d most likely be in the stomach of that other beast right about now.”
New Bloods Boxset Page 9