The Trees Have Eyes

by Tobias Wade

  “It’s a legend that’s been passed down in my family for generations,” Max says, her eyes still locked on his. Syd wants to look away but also doesn’t want to appear weak. Max has no room for weak people in her life.

  She and Emma have been friends since childhood. Syd wants to remain in Max’s good graces. He’s only been dating Emma for a couple months. They haven’t done much more than make out on the couch. Syd is ready to take the next step but doesn’t want Max messing things up for him. He likes to tell me all of this at least once a week. I guess he likes to believe I can live vicariously through his relationship--his words, not mine.

  “You have Native American blood on your mom’s side, right?” I ask. My back leaning against the log I have all to myself. Sitting on the hard ground made my butt go numb during the last story but I still am afraid to stand up. My trembling legs might betray me.

  I hadn’t said much as the scary tales were being told. I’m not good at telling stories but I like to listen to them. There’s a certain nostalgia that overtakes me when we gather to tell stories at our annual camping retreat.

  “That’s right,” Max says. Her tone is challenging, as if she is daring someone to refute that claim. No one does.

  “Tell them the story about Ahanu,” Emma says softly. “It’s a good story and I know it’ll give me nightmares tonight, but the others should hear it. It was one of the first scary stories I ever heard. Max would tell it at sleepovers when we were kids trying to scare ourselves silly.”

  “Who’s Ahanu?” I ask when Max doesn’t say anything. Grabbing a stick from the pile next to me, I begin poking the fire with it, pretending the stories aren’t getting to me.

  “I don’t know,” Julie slowly says. “Max’s stories can get pretty scary.” Max returns to the log and sits next to Julie. She draws her girlfriend close and kisses her cheek.

  I turn my eyes away and focus on the stick in my hand, the tip is smoldering. When I pull it out wisps of smoke curl away. I shove it back in the fire and poke at the flaming logs. Sparks crackle and embers float into the night, like tiny glowing eyes of some otherworldly creature.

  Not for the first time that night, I wish I had a partner like the others. Normally, it doesn’t bother me that I’m the only single person in the group. I’m in no hurry to find a significant other and settle down. Maybe once I have my master’s next year I can begin the hunt for a wife—or a husband. I’m not too picky that way. But tonight, seeing the others cuddling under their blankets and making doe eyes at each other has me feeling a bit lonely.

  “The first man to turn into a wendigo,” Max says in her best scary-story-narrator tone. “The man the legend is based on.”

  No one says anything in response. Max lets the silence sit for a minute before regaling us with the tale. The cracking of logs is the only sound that can be heard as we wait for her to scare us shitless.

  Scavenger birds called to each other as they flew over the field. Black shapes dropped from the sky to land on the dead. Tapping sounds echoed across the green and crimson sea as the birds gorged themselves.

  Ahanu surveyed the battlefield from his position at the base of a tree. Slowly, his eyes moved over the bodies strewn across the open land outside the forest. The enemy had annihilated them. The men of his tribe were no more. He knew where the enemy was heading next. He needed to get there before them to help Sakima and his unborn child escape. He needed to get up from the ground first in order to get anywhere.

  He put a hand on the ground next to him. The grass was slick with his blood. He glanced down at it. Viscous, ruby liquid oozed between his fingers. He couldn’t let this wound stop him. He had to get to his wife.

  With one hand clenched tightly against his abdomen, he pushed off the ground with the other and struggled to his feet. Dizziness washed over him and he nearly fell. He would have, had he not gripped the tree with his free hand. The sturdy trunk kept him upright until the dizziness passed.

  Ahanu looked for his bow but couldn’t find it. The enemy had probably taken it for their own, if they hadn’t snapped it in half. His knife was also gone. He would have no weapons. If he didn’t get home before the enemy arrived, he would be cut down along with the women and children. Turning into the forest, he followed a game trail he knew would take him right by the wigwams.

  It was a constant struggle to stay on his feet, but he knew he had no choice. The thought of his pregnant wife being slaughtered was too much for him. The image flashed through his mind every few feet, just as he was ready to stop for a small rest. His mind reeled each time, and somehow he found the strength to carry on.

  Within minutes, he was a panting, sweating mess. Greased chunks of hair fell in his face from his mohawk. With the battle over, it was like even his hair had given up. The wound in his abdomen ached with fire. It begged him to stop. Each step was pure agony. Sporadic patches of darkness lit up in the corners of his vision. More than once, he ran into a tree when the darkness threatened to overwhelm him.

  Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, he arrived at the edge of the woods. Without a tree to place his hand on and help him walk forward, he fell to the ground behind one of the wigwams. Ahanu lay there for a long time, breathing deep lungfuls of air and battling the dark clouds that swam across his vision.

  Finally, the sounds of screams and running feet brought him back to life. Using the wall of the wigwam as support, he pulled himself to his feet once more. He had arrived too late and would have to fight the enemy a second time. Sliding his hand along the wall, he shuffled to the side and around to the front.

  The horrific sight of women fighting against the men who would kidnap or kill them stopped his feet from moving forward. He couldn’t see Sakima among them. Was she already dead? He knew his wife wouldn’t die without a fight, no matter how big her belly was.

  One of the enemy caught sight of him and began running toward him, a huge knife dripping with blood aimed right at his head. Ahanu knew he was going to die. There was no way he could outrun the man barreling down on him, not in his current state. If Sakima was dead, then he was ready to die also.

  Ahanu wanted to close his eyes and drift away. He didn’t want to watch the knife as it split him open, but he couldn’t close his eyes. He was a warrior. Warriors didn’t cower. Warriors accepted when it was their time. They met death head on.

  A flurry of movement off to Ahanu’s left caught his attention and without turning his head, he looked in that direction. Sakima was running at the man, her full lips open in a silent scream, her face filled with fury. Blood ran down her face from a gash in her forehead. Ahanu could see it filling one eye, but Sakima didn’t let that slow her down. She blinked against the blood and continued running. She was going to save him, and the enemy didn’t even see her coming.

  Sakima mowed the man down. He saw her at the last moment, but it was already too late for him. He had just enough time to register it was a woman who would kill him and his mouth fell open in surprise. Then a knife was plunged into the side of his neck. The enemy fell and didn’t rise. Sakima wrenched her knife free. Without pausing to wipe the blood off, she ran for Ahanu, who was still standing next to the wigwam.

  “We must run,” Sakima said in a hurried whisper when she reached Ahanu’s side.

  Ahanu shook his head. He didn’t trust his voice to say anything. All of his energy was concentrated on the task of standing on his feet.

  “If we stay, we will die,” Sakima said, her black eyes filling with tears as she looked around at the women and children being carried off or slaughtered where they stood.

  Ahanu couldn’t stop her from taking his arm and leading him back into the forest. He didn’t want to leave his tribe, the only home he had ever known, but he knew Sakima was right. He had a wife and child to think about. If it had been only his life at stake, he could have fought the enemy until he was killed. Without a backward glance, he followed Sakima into the forest and away from the
melee.

  Sakima wasn’t Algonquin, as Ahanu was. She came from the Ojibwe tribe his people sometimes encountered in their travels between home sites. Their union had been promised between his chief and hers when they were little. Ahanu and Sakima were a symbol of peace between the Algonquin and Ojibwe. As long as they were united, the two tribes would never war with each other. If only Sakima had been Iroquois, then they wouldn’t be in this mess, but the Algonquin and Iroquois would never see peace. At least, that’s what Ahanu had always been told.

  The two wandered through the forest for hours, always in the direction away from the battle. They were headed east, away from the setting sun. The forest stretched for hundreds of miles to the east. The lake lay on the other side of the forest.

  Sakima knew they didn’t want to be too close to the lake with winter coming. Snowfall could be much worse there than deep in the forest, where trees sometimes grew so close together that hardly any moisture fell through their branches. If they could find a shelter in one of those patches, they could last the winter eating nuts and dried berries and melting snow for drinking water.

  Sakima looked at Ahanu at her side. She had to help him walk through the trees. He might not make it to the middle without her. They had to get far enough away that the enemy wouldn’t be able to find them, but Ahanu couldn’t make it much farther in his condition.

  Soon after Sakima thought this, Ahanu’s legs buckled and he fell to the ground, nearly taking her with him. She pulled from his grasp before that could happen and leaned against a tree to catch her breath. She was in no condition to help an injured man travel as far as they needed to go.

  “Can you make it to that cluster of trees?” Sakima asked, nodding in the direction of a band of trees several paces away. “We can shelter there for the night, and I can see to your wounds. You won’t last much longer bleeding as much as you are.”

  Ahanu didn’t have the energy to nod. It took the last of his stamina to drag himself to the patch of trees Sakima had pointed out. He collapsed in their middle and immediately lapsed into a fitful sleep. Sakima felt his forehead. He was burning up. She would have to staunch the bleeding and bring the fever down if they were going to keep moving in the morning.

  “Does he die?” Julie asks, interrupting the story. Max blinks at her in surprise. She looks like she had forgotten about us. She jumps as some sap inside a log explodes in the fire, sending sparks flying in every direction. None of us laugh because I think we all jumped also.

  “Of course not!” I retort from across the fire. “He becomes the wendigo.”

  “Way to give away the ending!” Syd shouts in anger and launches a barrage of marshmallows in my direction. Several fall short and wither and die in the fire. Others land in groups around me. A few even drop in my lap. I grin at Syd through the fire and pop a marshmallow in my mouth. “Sorry,” I say, making sure not to sound the least bit apologetic. “I had to say something. Emma looked like she was about ready to run for the hills.”

  Syd glances down at Emma, who is looking white in the moonlight. “It’s okay babe, I won’t let anything get you. Especially Alex.” Everyone knows I’m the least threatening out of all of us. At five foot-four, I’m even shorter than the girls.

  The others laugh. I just shake my head and eat another marshmallow. Sticking another on the end of my charred stick, I set it to cook slowly over the flames.

  “If I may return to the story now,” Max says in a harassed tone.

  “Does Ahanu become the wendigo, Max?” Julie asks. She has pulled the blanket she’s been sharing with Max tight around her chest and has tucked the edge under her legs. The other edge no longer covers Max’s lap. Max tucks her end under Julie’s other leg and turns back to the group.

  Max looks around the circle and grins at our wary faces. “Just remember there is more than one character in this story.”

  “Sakima…” Julie whispers. Max waggles her eyebrows at her girlfriend but she slides closer and wraps an arm around her waist to comfort her.

  “It’s just a story,” Max reminds her. Julie nods and gestures for Max to continue.

  “Sakima fixed Ahanu’s wound but the fever persisted for several days. Ahanu had nightmares about losing his wife and unborn child in horrible ways. When he was finally better he had become a ghost of the man he once was. He saw danger behind every tree and expected the Iroquois to find them at any moment.

  “Eventually they found a place deep enough in the forest to call home for the winter. The couple fixed up a one-room shelter in a thick cluster of trees. Ahanu cut and tied boards in the gaps so the fierce winter winds wouldn’t freeze them at night. Sakima couldn’t help very much with this part. She was very close to giving birth.”

  ***

  Ten days after finding the place they would take shelter in for the winter, Sakima gave birth to a tiny girl. The labor was easy. Both of the parents were grateful for that. Ahanu didn’t know what he would have done if he had lost either of them during the delivery. Sakima was worn out and lay on their bed of leaves and needles for days.

  Up until this point, their diet had been mostly nuts and berries, with the occasional rabbit thrown in when Ahanu had the energy to catch one or two. He hadn’t been the same since the fever. With snow coming, Ahanu knew things were only going to get worse. Meat was going to be scarce. They needed to harvest all the nuts they could before the autumn ended. Ahanu spent his days foraging for food and setting snares to catch small animals. He had no bow and arrows to catch the plentiful deer they saw and had only a small blade to skin the animals he caught in his snares. It was going to be a long, hard winter.

  “Ahanu.”

  Ahanu dragged his eyes from the small fire to look at Sakima. The baby was swaddled tightly in her arms. He couldn’t see her face but he knew she was nursing. Ahanu stared at the back of her head. She was always suckling her mother’s breasts. That’s all the tiny human did—eat and then poop her pants. She touched Sakima more than he did.

  “Ahanu,” Sakima said again. He reluctantly looked at her. “What’s wrong?”

  With a shake of his head, he returned his gaze to the fire. There was probably only an hour left before its warmth dissipated and they would be forced to go inside their makeshift home for the night.

  Night was Ahanu’s least favorite time of day. He had to share a bed with the tiny creature. Sakima kept her close to her chest most of the night. Still, he was afraid he would crush her in his sleep. He wondered if that would be such a bad thing.

  He missed the days when it was just he and Sakima. Having a third person around complicated things. Even though the baby fed off her mother’s milk, Ahanu had to make sure Sakima had enough food to supply the baby with the nutrients she needed to grow strong. Some days that meant he had to forgo food. He never told Sakima that, of course. If she knew he wasn’t eating enough, she would try to give up her own food to feed him. Every time she asked why he wasn’t eating with her, he told her he had eaten his food on the way back home.

  “I know you, Ahanu, and I know when something is wrong. Please tell me,” Sakima pleaded.

  “There’s something out in the forest.” Ahanu hadn’t meant to say it. He had felt someone, or something, watching him when he was out looking for food. He didn’t want to scare Sakima so he hadn’t said anything.

  “What?” Her head whipped around the dark forest, but of course she couldn’t see anything. “Iroquois.”

  Ahanu shook his head. He knew the enemy, had felt their presence many times. This—whatever he was feeling—wasn’t them. It was something he had never encountered before. And whatever it was, it had the presence of mind to hide itself from him whenever he searched for it.

  “Bear?” Sakima asked. Her hold on the baby shifted. Subtly, she pulled her even closer to her breast.

  “No,” Ahanu said slowly. He swiveled his head to look all around him. He felt the itch again. The thing was here now. He clutched the handle of
the knife strapped to his belt. Anger flared inside him. The thing had the audacity to come near his home, his wife, and his baby. Slowly, and with great care, Ahanu got to his feet. He kept his eyes on Sakima the entire time. Then he turned and dashed into the woods before Sakima could say anything to stop him.

  “Ahanu! Don’t!” Sakima called after him, but he didn’t hear her. His ears were strained for any noise from the thing hunting him. He realized in that moment that that’s what he had been feeling all along. Is this what rabbits felt just before his snares snatched them up?

  Ahanu crashed through the forest, heedless of the noise he made. Somewhere deep in his mind he knew the thing would hear him coming from miles away. That voice was buried beneath the uncontrollable desire to find the thing and throttle it; the image of his hands wrapped around its throat soothed him. He had been failing to feed his family properly. Killing the thing that plagued them would set things right again.

  Snow began to fall as Ahanu trampled through the woods. Tiny flakes splashed against his cheeks but he didn’t notice. He didn’t feel the cold that had settled around their cocoon of fire and trees either. A branch slapped his face. Warm blood gushed down his cheek. Still, he ran. The thing was just ahead. He knew it. If he just kept going, he would finally catch it.

  Sakima gasped when Ahanu entered the small house. The fire had died hours ago. She had called for Ahanu until she was hoarse. She finally decided to lay down with the baby when the moon reached its zenith in the night sky. Ahanu would eventually return. She hoped that when he did he would carry enough meat to satisfy their bellies for once.

  He stood in the doorway now, his hands empty except for his small knife. Moonlight framed his back. Sakima couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the ragged breaths he took.

  Sakima had been wary to marry a man from another tribe. It had taken time to get to know Ahanu after their wedding night, but eventually she had fallen in love with him. Everyone in her tribe spoke highly of Algonquian people. Never had she been scared of her husband or anyone in her new tribe.