The Last Wild

by Piers Torday

  Now it’s not just them either. The whole shoreline as far as I can see is starting to fill up with animals. There are large white rabbits hopping towards us from the other end of the lake. *Hares, actually,* the General chips in before I can even say anything.

  Up in the sky, other birds join the pigeons. The biggest, with their wings blocking out the sun as they fly past it, must be golden eagles, I reckon – even I know that much. There are also some noisy birds which I think are seagulls, as well as some funny-looking blue and grey crows and some little fat birds which look like brown tennis balls. I even see what looks like a bat dangling from a tree, but I can’t be sure.

  Nearer to the ground, there are butterflies, bees and dragonflies buzzing over the reeds in the water. A line of reddish ants marches out from under a log. This whole place, which a moment ago seemed dead and empty, has become as busy and as noisy as the Yard at feeding time.

  A badger says to another, *It will never hold, it’s unnatural* – and I wonder what it is.

  More and more animals keep joining the crowd. There are goats with twisting horns, scruffy-looking cats that are definitely bigger than any pet I ever saw, and I think I might have even spotted a snake with a zigzag pattern winding its way between the mass of legs and tails. But they all have one thing in common.

  They’re alive.

  Living animals, right in front of me, and not a red eye to be seen.

  I look at my watch. The screen is cracked and smeared with mud from the tunnel, but it still works. Hiding behind my boulder, I take as many pictures as I can of all the different creatures. Dad is never going to believe this. I only stop pointing and clicking when I feel the pigeons gathering behind me, cooing crossly.

  *You have to tell me properly now,* I say to them. *What is this place?*

  *You are in the last place we have left,* says an old voice.

  That didn’t sound like the pigeons, or the General. It sounded more like my grandad.

  *No human has been here since we first discovered it. You are the first.*

  I turn around to see a deer much bigger than any of the others.

  *Our stag,* whispers the General.

  A stag. I had heard of them, but to see a real one, right in front of me – enormous, dark brown, twice the height of any other animal here, with wide horns, jabbing and curving in all different directions. He takes a few steps towards me and all the other creatures part to make way for him, like he’s the king.

  He lowers his head. I flinch back against the rock, trying not to breathe or touch him. But he doesn’t gore me. He sniffs me. He sniffs my hair and face and hands, all over, inhaling every inch. When he next speaks, his voice is soft.

  *This old stag humbly asks for your forgiveness, but I am the one who summoned you here. I sent the pigeons to help the cockroach.*

  *I don’t understand – why? I mean, how are you even still –* But I can’t say the word. It sounds wrong.

  The stag raises himself to his full height once more. It’s hard to read his face. I can’t tell if he’s smiling or frowning.

  *Alive? Look around you, man-child. Tell me what you see.*

  *A lake, a load of animals –* I swallow, not daring to look him in the eye. The next words come out in a whisper. *Animals that should be dead.*

  He makes a noise at the back of his throat, part cough, part chuckle, and looks out over the crowd.

  *Yes, we should be. But we are not. At least, not yet.* He tosses his head towards the forest we just flew over, the horns catching the sun. His words are strange and old-fashioned, almost like he’s speaking a different language.

  *I am the Wildness, and these creatures are my wild. The last such gathering of animals left alive. Once we roamed far and wide for many strides all over this island – until your sickness came and destroyed so many. The creatures you see before you are the last who remain, each sent by their kind to form this wild and keep their blood alive, in response to my call. I led us as far north as the ground went, and found this hide-all – a Ring of Trees, free from humans and disease. It is all we have left. We are the last. The last wild.* He pauses, and must see the expression on my face. *You are surprised, I think, to hear me call it your sickness?*

  Right now that’s the least of my worries. *I’m surprised you brought me here. I thought the birds were going to take me home.*

  *Fear not – we do not expect you to stay here. Even if you desired so, we would not permit it. No, the reason I have had you brought to us will soon be plain to see.* He looks down at the ground. *We thought we had found safety here, we thought we were protected – but we were wrong.*

  I get a bad feeling in the bottom of my stomach, and step back.

  The stag bellows deep from his chest. A barking roar, which sounds half like he’s in pain, half like he’s super-angry. This close up, it’s definitely deafening. His teeth are all cracked and worn down, with scraps of twig stuck between them.

  In response to his bark there’s a kerfuffle of barging and pushing among the crowd of animals, as they make way for some new arrivals. Another deer, a badger, a goat and a scruffy black bird with huge wings dragging along the ground line up in front of the stag, their heads bowed – like they’re embarrassed about something. I hadn’t noticed these ones before; it’s like they were hiding at the back of the crowd, out of sight. He stalks up to them, touches each one of them gently with his snout and turns back to me.

  *Two moons ago, a fierce wind blew in what we feared the most.*

  I don’t want to know. I don’t want to look.

  *You have nothing to fear. Please – come.*

  I put my sleeve over my nose and mouth, and edge round to the other side of the rock. I don’t want to go any closer, and I don’t need to. I’m not my dad, I’m no vet, but even I can see from here that these animals are not well. They aren’t hanging their heads in shame, they’re hanging their heads because they’re weak and exhausted. I thought the first deer I saw looked a bit skinny, but these poor things have fur and feathers coming out in great clumps. The skin underneath looks yellow and flaky, bones pressing against it.

  *Look closer still,* commands the stag in his craggy voice. *You cannot catch it from looking.* Still barely daring to breathe, I go a few steps nearer. As I do, they all look up – the deer, the badger, the goat and the bedraggled black bird. I stop dead in my tracks as I see their eyes.

  The eyes that are all red – bright red and burning with light.

  *Our name for it is berry-eye,* says the stag. *The berry eyes are themselves the final mark before a great heat savages them from within. These ones do not have long. The plague moves from beast to beast with the greatest of ease. No water, no leaf, no amount of rest can bring relief.*

  As if the virus itself is listening, the she-deer standing in front of him is racked by a huge cough, her skinny body spasming and shuddering before her legs give way and she collapses on to the ground. The other deer crowd round, nudging her back up again while the stag watches.

  *It is a mystery to us in every way – but we cannot allow it to spread further. After these have gone, then it will be the turn of others, and then we will all be gone. This sickness will not stop until it has driven us from the earth, and then–* He stops abruptly, like he was going to say something else, but he doesn’t. He just looks up at the sky. The first bright sky I have seen for years, the first sky with a sun, not filled with dark clouds.

  I can’t believe he’s saying that they’re going to die right in front of them, but the infected animals don’t even blink. I take a step back.

  *Why are you showing me? What do you expect me to do about it?*

  The words sound harder outside my head than they did inside, but I didn’t mean them to. The stag shakes his horns, like he’s astonished. A murmur runs through the crowd.

  *Why do you think, young human? Because you can help us – to find a cure.*

  *But I’m just a boy. I mean, the best scientists in the world, they’ve t
ried –*

  *You are a boy who can hear us and speak for us. You can tell your fellow men that the last wild still lives and bring us a cure – a special cure from your human magic.*

  Human magic that has failed so far.

  *But I can’t. Talk to other humans, I mean.*

  *The human has many ways of making himself understood, of that I am sure.* The stag bends his head and front legs, like he’s bowing. *But we only have you.*

  I have one last try. *I still don’t understand why you chose me.*

  *You spoke to us. You spoke to the moth, the cockroach. You have the gift of the voice.*

  I shake my head. That’s what the pigeons said in my room, but I don’t have any gift. Apart from getting further and further away from home, it seems.

  The stag fixes me squarely in the eye. *When we heard that there was a boy who tried to talk to us, we decided to summon you here.*

  *I wasn’t trying to talk to them. I was …* The words falter in my head before they are out as I look at the last animals left in the world, led by a great stag – all waiting on me.

  He repeats himself one more time. *The question is, now you are here – will you help us?*

  I look around at the rock behind me, the dark water beyond, the silver trees stretching on for miles around its edge. The middle of nowhere, full of animals with redeye, animals who will die if I don’t help them. The last animals ever. A wild, he called them.

  I think. I think some more.

  There is one small chance. So small – but it is the only chance they have. I take a step towards the stag and I say it.

  *I don’t have the magic to find a cure for the berry-eye.* The animals cry out in despair. *But my father is a famous scientist – a human magician, who works with animals. He might be able to help.*

  A buzz of chatter sweeps through the wild. The stag quiets them down, and turns to me again.

  *You are sure of this? You are sure your father’s magic can cure the berry-eye?*

  No, I’m not. Six years have passed, and I have heard nothing. People still live in cities under glass roofs eating Facto-made formula. The countryside is still a quarantine zone, and as I can see right in front of me, the virus is still very much raging. But maybe, in six years, Dad has made some progress. I just nod, and to my surprise the animals scatter. The stag barks again. But they don’t listen. They’re panicking, stampeding. The sound of animals of all kinds trampling and splashing across the shore fills the air. What did I say? The stag lowers his head and growls, like he’s going to charge at me.

  *Kester!* call all the pigeons from above. *Look out!*

  It’s too late.

  A creature thumps straight into me from behind, sending me flying to the ground, the wind knocked clean out of my chest so I can barely breathe. I try to move, but heavy sharp claws are pressing into my back. There’s a smell of rotten meat. Just behind my ear, a low hoarse voice whispers with a hiss –

  *Who did this? Who let a human into the Ring of Trees?*

  I gasp for air. The weight crushes me further and further into the pulpy ground.

  *Let the man-child go,* orders the stag.

  The creature just presses his heavy foot further down on to my back, growling deep in his throat. I try to twist my head round and catch a glimpse of a long snout, the black lips pulled back over the teeth.

  *No human may enter the Ring of Trees,* it snarls. A wet nose runs all over my back and neck, snuffling and sucking. *There is no point talking to this thing.* Then another hissing breath. *We must destroy it.*

  My head pressed into the mulch, all I can see out of the corner of my eye is the stag bowing his huge head of horns.

  *Noble Guardian – the blame lies with me. I summoned the man-child here. We discovered he had the voice. I sent the pigeons and the cockroaches to collect him. He will go to the humans and tell them that the last wild still lives. That it is not too late to save us. His father is a great human who will deliver a magic cure.*

  The beast on my back grunts and sniffs me once more. *No human has ever been allowed within the Ring of Trees since we first arrived. It is only our vigilance that has kept us alive till now. We are Guardians of this wild, not you.*

  He grinds his paw deeper down into my back. I want to tell him that the berry-eye arrived before I did, and I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

  *What if the human in question has come to help us?* asks the stag.

  *The only help a human can ever offer us will be the kind that aids our own destruction.*

  The stag peers down at me, trapped face down on the ground. I’m choking on moss and mud. He paces around for a moment, like he’s thinking, before saying to the beast –

  *Very well – then I will fight you for him.*

  The snouted creature heaves his body round and gives a high-pitched howl. Other whines come back at him from all sides. There are more of these things, whatever they are.

  Then the thing lifts his foot off me and air rushes back into my lungs. I manage to crawl out of the light to the edge of the woods. My sight slowly swims back to normal, everything coming into focus. I can just make out the stag to my right, pawing the ground, his head lowered. Behind him, the last wild huddle together for safety, reaching far back along the shore.

  I can see why they are scared of the thing that knocked me to the ground, the thing about to take on the stag. He’s the leader of a seven-strong pack, animals I have only ever seen once before, on a screen in Dad’s lab. I take a quick picture of them with my watch just to be sure I’m not dreaming.

  Wolves – they’re definitely wolves.

  Their fur is greyish brown. They have long snouts and sharp teeth, and even sharper-looking claws on their giant padded feet. The largest one, the one who jumped me – has grizzled fur around his jaw. He’s so large it’s a miracle he didn’t snap me in half.

  The youngest of the pack, a cub about half the size of the others, looks ready to take us all on and win. A pink tongue darts out between his bared teeth, under his velvety black muzzle.

  He shouts angrily, his eyes flashing straight at me.

  *You will see! You cannot win against my father, he is the best fighter in the whole world!* He thinks for a moment. *And you smell strange!*

  Some of the watching animals titter, but the grizzled wolf snaps at the cub to be quiet and then pulls back on his haunches, ears pointed, hackles raised and teeth bared. He growls, a deep, shuddering sound. Just a few metres in front of him, the stag paws the earth and lowers his head.

  There’s a flitter-flutter behind me and I turn to see the pigeons, who have dropped down into the grass.

  *Can’t you stop this?* I ask them.

  *It is the animal way.*

  *But what about the berry-eye – the reason you brought me here? What about me? What will happen if the stag loses?*

  *Then you will belong to the wolf.*

  I stagger up. My voice sounds light and faraway, like it’s coming out of a hole in the ground. I wave woozily at the stag.

  *Stop – listen to me. You have to stop this.*

  He mutters under his breath. *Do not interfere in our affairs. This is our custom.*

  Suddenly the wolf launches himself at the stag with a roar they must have heard all the way to Spectrum Hall. The deer tosses his horns and deflects him, but an outstretched paw catches his rear flank, scoring a long and glistening red gash down the side. He cries out in pain.

  The grizzled wolf, knocked but not down, snarls and prepares for his next blow.

  I have to do something. The last animals in the whole world. I have to take them to Dad.

  I take a few dizzy steps forward. From the grass the pigeons coo with worry.

  *Please don’t do anything you might regret, Kester!*

  *Kester! I don’t regret anything!* shouts the white pigeon proudly.

  The stag runs for a second time at the wolf, who lunges right back, drawing blood from his neck. The clang of stag horns against the
thick muscle of the wolf sounds like a sword hitting a wooden block.

  The other members of the wolf’s pack start to draw in. I notice the young cub hang back, as if he is uncertain what to do, his green eyes flicking anxiously from me to the stag and to his father and back.

  Maybe the pigeons are right, but it’s either ‘Do something you might regret’ time or ‘Get torn apart limb from limb’ time.

  I stand up and walk between them. There are gasps from the animal audience.

  The grizzled wolf roars, *Get out of the way, human, or face your fate now!*

  The stag, even though he’s wounded, nods slowly. *Have faith in me, boy. Let us settle this our way.*

  *No! Look at yourselves. Look at what you’re doing. Look at all these sick animals.*

  I point to the group of moulting creatures watching us from a distance. The gaggle of cowering badgers, shivering deer and eagles with drooping necks.

  *Look at them! They need your help. What good does it do if you tear each other apart?*

  The wolf stalks towards me. I find myself staring him right in the mouth. A mouth curled up with hate.

  *You brought about this disease, human.* He doesn’t know that; no one knows how the disease started. *That is all humans bring with them: disease and death. So first I will destroy the traitor that brought you here. It is the duty of a Wildness only to lead his wild to safety, not invite intruders in.* He licks his lips with a purple tongue. *And then we will destroy you.*

  The other six wolves crowd behind him in a semicircle, growling and flashing their teeth.

  *But what if the human magic could help?* asks the stag.

  *Lies! Lies and trickery! Like this human child talking in our common tongue!* The wolf spits. *You were not appointed Guardians of the wild! We were, by common consent of all.*

  Murmurs ripple through the crowd.

  *Then why have you not protected us from the berry-eye?* calls out a snake, his tongue flicking.