The Wildcat's Claw

by Varian Johnson

  “I’m sorry that I couldn’t warn you,” Dawson said. “The captain got here a few minutes ago.”

  “The young earl almost had us fooled,” the woman said. “But then my men found the strangest item in his bedroom, hidden underneath the floorboards.” She held the tattered green cloak up high, then let it unravel to the ground.

  Rollan didn’t miss a beat. “Dawson, you’re a Greencloak! You should have told us—”

  “Save it,” the woman snapped. She walked over to the three men holding crossbows. They looked pretty banged up, with ripped clothes and ash in their hair. One could barely hold his weapon—the wrist of his non-firing hand was wrapped in a thick bandage. “Are these the kids you saw running through the streets?”

  “Yes, Captain,” the oldest one said. “The two girls. The boy wasn’t with them.”

  Rollan realized these must have been the men who chased Meilin and Abeke. Either they had escaped their bonds, or someone had found them and released them.

  Meilin shook her head. “I told you that you should have shot them,” she whispered to Abeke.

  “Why are you here?” the captain asked. “We’ve had enough of your kind in our town. Conquerors, Greencloaks, Oathbound, and everyone else. We just want to live our lives in peace.” The woman almost sounded like she was pleading. “Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

  “Just put the weapons down, and we’ll be gone before morning,” Abeke said. She glanced at the three men with the crossbows.

  The captain shook her head. “The Oathbound will be back by then with more men. I don’t know how, but they could tell you were here. Their leader, Cordelia the Kind, threatened to ransack only half the town if we turned you over upon their return.”

  “She calls that kind?” Rollan shook his head. “And I thought Wikam the Just was misnamed.”

  “Please consider what you’re proposing,” Dawson said to the woman. “You’d be a fool to trust the Oathbound over the Greencloaks. Surely you’ve heard the rumors about these bounty hunters dressed in black. They don’t care who or what they destroy. They don’t care about anything in their path. They only care about catching their target, no matter what stands in their way.”

  “Yes, I’m a fool,” the captain said, turning her gaze to Dawson. “I’m a fool for thinking you were better than your father. You’re a liar, just like him. Do you plan to steal from us, too?”

  “I am not my father,” Dawson said, his jaw taut. Beside him, Rumfuss snorted and tapped on the floor with his hoofed feet. “Shylene, I asked you to organize the militia because you are brave and fair. You were one of the only people to speak out against my father. You always know the difference between right and wrong.” He took a step toward her. “Trust your instincts,” he said. “You know I’m telling the truth.”

  “Look at your men,” Rollan added. “Can’t you tell from their faces? They know we don’t mean them any harm.”

  The captain glanced at her men. Their expressions were much more conflicted than hers. “It’s true, Captain,” the bearded one finally said. “They could have killed us, but didn’t. And they fixed up Sully’s arm and everything.”

  The captain shook her head. “How can you trust them?” she asked. “How can you trust any of them? These outsiders care nothing for your lives or your families.”

  “Then don’t trust them,” a voice said. “Trust me.”

  Rollan turned. Slowly, Worthy faded into view, like a fog taking human shape. The men gasped.

  “What type of trickery is this?” the oldest man asked, his arms shaking as he pointed his crossbow at Worthy. “Stay back, monster!”

  Worthy flinched. Rollan wasn’t sure if the man had called him a monster because of the way Worthy had materialized in front of them, or because of how the Redcloak looked. Either way, it wasn’t a compliment.

  “I’m not a monster,” Worthy said. “I’m one of you. At least, I used to be.” He took a cautious step inside the cottage.

  “Stay where you are,” the captain warned, swinging her weapon toward him. Unlike her men, she didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. “Who are you?”

  “I’m called Worthy,” he said. He reached behind his head and unfastened his mask. “But before, I was known by another name.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed as she took in Worthy’s unmasked face. She blinked a few times. “Devin Trunswick?” she asked, her voice softer. “Is that you? What happened?”

  “That isn’t important.” He took another step forward. “So you do remember me. Do you also remember the last time we saw each other?”

  She nodded, still taking Worthy in. “At the center of the square,” she said. “I’d been locked in the stocks for three days with barely any water. I didn’t know how much longer I could last. But you … you stirred the crowd and started a riot. The townsfolk overtook the guards, then freed me. We marched to the castle after that and burned it down. I would be dead if not for you. The earl would probably still be in power as well.” She pointed her sword at Rollan and the others. “You’re working with these Greencloaks?”

  “I am,” Worthy said. “I trust them with my life.”

  The woman took a deep breath. “Then I trust them as well,” she said. “Lower your weapons,” she said to her men. “These Greencloaks mean us no harm.” She sheathed her sword then turned to Dawson. “I’m sorry about what I said.”

  He was already waving her off. “Don’t worry about it. You were only doing your duty. No one is above question in Trunswick, including me.”

  “I should apologize as well,” Rollan said to Abeke and Meilin. “I’m sorry for bringing the cloak with me. I just couldn’t part with it yet.”

  Meilin patted his shoulder. “I know,” she said. “But no more secrets, okay?”

  Rollan nodded. “No more. Complete honesty from now on.”

  Meilin raised an eyebrow. “About everything?”

  Rollan could feel the heat rising to his neck. “Well, almost everything. I do have a reputation to protect and all.” He looked at Worthy. “And speaking of truths—who would have guessed that Worthy was actually telling the truth about saving that woman? Maybe he’s not so bad after all.”

  MEILIN’S HORSE NEIGHED AND STOMPED AT THE STIFF ground. She rubbed on its neck, trying to calm it. The animal didn’t like carrying her, that was for certain. He was a field animal, more suited for pulling a plow than racing into battle, but riding was better than walking.

  Meilin readjusted the sword at her side so it wouldn’t interfere with her new, royal blue uniform. In addition to providing horses, Shylene, the captain of the militia, had issued each of them a Trunswick militia tunic. The journey to Wilcoskov would have taken weeks if they’d been forced to travel by foot under the cover of night. But by pretending to be part of the militia, they hoped to be able to travel during they day without attracting too much attention.

  Meilin squeezed her knees around the horse, motioning him forward. She trotted over to the three militiamen—the same men who had chased her and Abeke the night before. Even with the tumble they’d taken through the floor, they seemed to be in good shape, thanks to Jhi’s healing powers.

  “Thank you for the horse and the clothes,” she said. “But you don’t have to travel with us. It could be dangerous.”

  “Captain’s orders,” the bearded one said. Meilin had learned that his name was Albert and that he was a pig farmer. “The villagers to the north know our faces. You’ll be questioned less if you’re seen traveling with us.”

  “Thank you,” Meilin said again. It seemed too much of a risk—these simple townsfolk risking their lives to help them. But Meilin reminded herself that the people of Trunswick had much to lose as well if the Greencloaks weren’t successful.

  The others slowly climbed onto their horses. Anka looked the strangest of them all, wearing her blue tunic, plainly in sight. She still carried Meilin’s old quarterstaff.

  Rollan was the last to mount his horse. He almost fell
off a few times, but he eventually made it onto the saddle. “Are you guys sure that you don’t want to walk? It’s probably safer.”

  Meilin rolled her eyes. Even after all this time, Rollan still wasn’t comfortable on horseback.

  They passed the city walls just as the sun peeked over the horizon. Now that it was easier to see, Meilin noticed that the flags flying above the city walls displayed the image of Rumfuss the Boar. The last time she’d visited, the flags glorified Elda, the black wildcat with whom Worthy had been unnaturally bonded.

  Meilin slowed down and joined Worthy at the rear of the group. “Did you enjoy being home?”

  “It’s always good to see my brother,” Worthy said. “But this isn’t really home anymore.” He nodded toward the men at the front of the group. They were talking with Conor, laughing about some shared story between them. “Did you see how they looked at me? Did you hear what they said? They’ve made a point of steering clear of me.”

  “It’s just because they aren’t used to the way you look,” Meilin said. “Give it time.”

  He gave a weak laugh. “That would be fine, if it were only that. But my face and claws aren’t the only reasons why they keep avoiding me. Dawson was right—the old Devin Trunswick was a real bully. Take Sully, for instance,” he said, nodding toward the youngest of the militiamen. “His sister was jailed in the Howling House for a week, all because my father and I didn’t like the way she looked at us when we passed by one day. And Albert and his hog farm? I used to take my dogs hunting on his land once a fortnight, and wouldn’t even pay Albert when my hounds slaughtered one of his pigs.”

  “Have you tried apologizing?” Meilin asked.

  He seemed hopeful. “Do you think that would really work?”

  Meilin shrugged. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t hurt to try.”

  They continued riding all day, not stopping until it was almost dark. While Conor, Rollan, and Abeke prepared their meal, Meilin took Anka and the other militiamen to a clearing to work on some fighting techniques.

  “The key to good fighting is good footwork,” Meilin said, standing before them. Four arm-length strips of cloth were draped over her shoulder. “If you stand with your feet too close together, you run the risk of losing your balance and falling in a fight. If your feet are too apart, you won’t be able to move fast enough to counter your opponent’s attacks.” She tossed each of them one of the strips. “Tie these between your ankles, and let’s get started.”

  She spent the next hour working on their footwork, having each of them attack and parry. Then she had them pair up and face off against each other. Meilin was worried that Anka would struggle against the older Albert, but she held her own, even causing Albert to trip and fall a few times.

  Once dinner was ready, the three men untied their cloths from their ankles and rushed to the campfire. Anka stayed behind.

  “You’re not hungry?” Meilin asked, picking up the discarded strips from the ground.

  “I’ll eat in a little bit,” Anka said, twirling her quarterstaff like Meilin had taught her. “I want to practice a little more first.”

  Meilin pulled out her sword. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  As Anka and Meilin began to circle each other, Toey, Anka’s chameleon, scampered down her leg and hid in her boot. “You’re getting pretty good with that quarterstaff,” Meilin said, before lunging.

  Anka blocked her blade, then swung the other end of the staff at Meilin. Meilin ducked and then rolled out of the way. “Very good,” Meilin continued, getting to her feet.

  “Thanks. I’ve been studying how you move,” Anka said. Now she became the aggressor, swinging and lunging at Meilin. Meilin blocked each strike, then leaped onto a tree branch, out of reach of Anka’s staff.

  “Let’s try again,” Meilin said, peering down at Anka from the safety of her tree. “But this time, use your spirit animal.”

  Anka leaned against the quarterstaff and wiped her brow. “Are you sure? That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “In a real battle for life and death, you shouldn’t worry about what is and isn’t fair,” Meilin replied, swinging out of the tree. “We’re partnered with our spirit animals for a reason. Use Toey’s strengths to help you.”

  Anka nodded, then began to fade from view. Meilin spun in a circle, waiting for Anka to strike. Finally, Meilin heard the familiar swoosh of the quarterstaff swinging through the air, and stepped to the side just as it hit the ground. She stomped down, pinning the staff between her boot and the dirt, then performed a spinning roundhouse kick, knocking it loose from Anka’s grip. Slowly, it came into view.

  Meilin grinned. “Come on, Anka. You can show yourself. The fight is over.”

  “Not yet,” Anka said. “Would you stop fighting just because you didn’t have a weapon?”

  Meilin faced the direction that she thought the voice was coming from. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said. “Seriously, you should—”

  With an oomph, Meilin found herself on the ground, the wind momentarily knocked out of her chest. She flipped back into a fighting stance and scanned the area. She still couldn’t see Anka. Smirking, she began to run in a circle, dragging her boot heels into the dry ground. She was creating a small dust storm.

  Finally, she saw something waver before her. Then Anka coughed. “There you are,” Meilin said, running after her.

  Anka took off toward the same tree that Meilin had leaped into moments before. She reached the trunk, then quickly scampered up the bark before disappearing into the leaves. Meilin stopped and placed her hands on her hips. She’d never seen Anka move that quickly before. She wondered if her sudden increase in speed was thanks to her spirit animal.

  “Let’s call this one a draw,” Meilin said, still searching the tree. “I’m tired, and our dinner is getting cold. The only thing worse than hot grub stew is cold grub stew.”

  “Deal,” a voice said behind her.

  Meilin spun around to find Anka standing there with the quarterstaff in her hand. Its end hovered underneath Meilin’s chin, ready to strike. A sly smile sat on the now visible Anka’s face.

  “Remind me not to spar with you again without Jhi’s help,” Meilin said, pushing the staff away from her. “How did you get out of the tree and around me without me seeing or hearing you?”

  Anka shrugged. “You’ve been good at fighting your whole life. I’ve been good at hiding.” They began walking toward the campsite. “I can teach you if you’d like. Show you how to move better without being seen.”

  Meilin shook Anka’s hand. “It’s a deal.”

  Anka smiled at her once more. “I’m glad fate brought us together, Meilin. You’re almost like the sister I never had.”

  Meilin grinned as well. Sister. That had a nice ring to it.

  Meilin continued to train Anka and the militia whenever they camped for the night. Worthy even helped out with their training a couple times. The men were still wary of him, but they didn’t keep their distance like they had at the beginning of the trip. Meilin hoped that they were making progress toward becoming friends. Or if not friends, she at least hoped that the men could understand that the past was the past, and that Worthy was now a different person.

  The days had grown colder the farther north they traveled. The winds strengthened as well, bringing freezing rain, then sleet and snow. She was glad that they’d come equipped with wool packs. That would help keep their clothes and food dry.

  The weather was indeed brutal, almost as bad as when they’d trekked through Arctica in search of Suka the Polar Bear. If they were lucky, the conditions would also slow the Oathbound. Using Essix’s powers, Rollan had caught sight of them two days prior. They, too, were headed north.

  The group paused at the edge of a large river. Fog hugged the ground, covering the frozen soil and rocky banks. Across from them stood the enchanted forest, Wilcoskov.

  “Why do they call it enchanted?” Abeke asked, sliding off her horse.

  “I�
�m not really sure,” Worthy said. “There used to be rumors that an ancient order lived in the forest. They practiced dark magic, using the bones of children in their potions.” He shrugged. “At least, that’s what my tutors used to tell me when I misbehaved.”

  “According to my brothers, the forest is filled with the ghosts of the Crimson Raiders,” Conor added. “As punishment for their crimes against Eura, the royal family banished the warriors to the forest. They supposedly froze to death within hours, but their tortured spirits remained tied to the forest for all eternity.”

  “Knowing the Greencloaks, they could have started the rumor about the forest being enchanted,” Meilin said. “They probably assumed it would be a good way for people to stay out and away from Gransfen’s grave.”

  “There’s only one way to find out for sure,” Abeke said, leading her horse to the militiamen. “This is as far as you all go,” Abeke said to Albert. “And you can take these horses with you. It’ll be easier for us to travel without them.”

  “That’s the first good news I’ve heard all week,” Rollan said, sliding off his own mount. He landed on the ground with a thud and the horse nickered. It sounded as if it was laughing at him.

  Worthy slipped off his tunic and handed it to Albert. “Do me a favor,” he said. “Keep an eye out for my brother, will you? He can be a little hardheaded.”

  “Sure thing.” Albert took the tunic. “Good luck, my lor—uh, Devin—I mean, Worthy.” He extended his hand to Worthy, and the boy eagerly took it for a handshake. “And stop by my home the next time you’re in town. My kids would love to hear more about your adventures.”

  Worthy smiled at the man. As Meilin watched him, she realized that, for the first time on their journey, he wasn’t wearing his mask.

  After the militiamen rode off, Conor began cutting some fallen logs in order to make a raft. With all of them working together, it only took a few minutes to collect the logs and lace them together.

  Using a thick branch, Conor navigated them across the water. “This’ll probably be frozen solid in a few weeks,” Conor said, pushing the branch into the river bottom. “Good thing we didn’t try to swim across. We’d probably freeze to death.”