The Rabbit And The Raven

by Melissa Eskue Ousley

  She knew who it was. Tierney.

  With this realization came a surprise. She was no longer afraid. She was angry. This ends tonight, she thought. No more secrets, no more hiding.

  Standing up, she took one last look at David, who was still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware that she had left his side. She was thankful for that. Whatever happened next, she didn’t want him to know about the dreams with Tierney. She had never meant to betray him, and she felt guilty enough as it was. She stepped out of the firelight and into the darkness.

  In spite of the blackness of the night, she could see Tierney moving just ahead. She snuck away from the campsite to follow him, her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready for whatever he had planned. He led her through the trees to a place where there was a break in the canopy, and the moonlight streamed through, lighting his handsome face.

  His hair was as dark as David’s, but longer and wavy. He was a little taller too, and had olive skin. The biggest difference between them, though, was their eyes. It wasn’t just that Tierney’s were so dark; there was something older about them, timeless and ancient at the same time. And while she could tell what David was thinking just by looking into his eyes, it was impossible to read Tierney. Not that she cared what Tierney was thinking. She just wanted to put an end to this madness, to make him stay out of her head and leave her and David alone.

  He stepped up on a large, flat rock and nonchalantly leaned against a low branch in a tree. Guarded, Abby followed his gaze to the pond that lay below his perch. The water was so calm and still that the pond seemed unreal, like mirrored glass. Giant lily pads rested on its surface, and a single, sweet-smelling, white flower sat in the center of each; the flowers glowed like tiny moons.

  “It’s beautiful here, is it not?” Tierney asked. He looked at her and smiled warmly.

  Abby had been expecting him to intimidate her, to threaten her. Not this. She felt her resolve falter as he gestured for her to join him, to sit and enjoy the view, it seemed. She had come prepared for a war of words, prepared to die fighting if it came to that. She had not considered a peaceful outcome.

  Silently she stepped closer, joining him on the rock. She leaned against the trunk of the tree, trying to mirror his calm stance, but she was unwilling to let her guard down. She could feel his eyes on her as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I didn’t frighten you this time, did I?” he asked.

  “No,” Abby said. “You didn’t.” She didn’t want to look at him. She stared out at the pond instead, and came to a decision. If Tierney was going to play at peace, she would play nice too, at least until she had the answers she needed. She turned to look at him. “I had a dream about you,” she said.

  “Did you? I’m flattered.” His dark eyes burned into hers. “Tell me, little Rabbit. What did you dream?”

  Abby uncrossed her arms and put her hands on her hips. “Why do you keep calling me Rabbit?”

  Tierney grinned to himself. “You will find out soon enough.”

  “Fine,” she said angrily. “But that is not my name.”

  “All right then, Abigail. Tell me your dream,” he said softly.

  Was he actually apologizing? Abby wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about a lot of things all of a sudden. She felt her guard slipping away as she lowered her arms to her sides. “You showed me a city, and how my world was being destroyed by my own people. You said we’re locusts, and without you to prey on us, we would destroy ourselves completely,” she recounted.

  Tierney stared at her. “There is truth to that. You humans do have a tendency to self-destruct, don’t you? I know you think I’m a monster, Abigail, but without me, humans would have killed themselves off long ago. You don’t know how many times my kind have saved the human race from itself.”

  “So enlighten me. I want to know.”

  “Do you really?” A small smile played on his lips as though he were amused by her boldness. “Well, then, as you wish, dear girl. Long ago, before we were barred from your world, those like me provided a valuable service to your kind. You were at each other’s throats all the time, warring, preying on one another. We targeted the most vile among you, those who preyed on innocence, and we thinned the herd, as it were, removing those who would have poisoned you all. You were like rats, multiplying, greedily competing for food, killing each other with disease. Was not the loss of a few worth the salvation of many?”

  “You did us a service?” Abby spat, incredulous. “Call it what you will, but you’re still talking about killing people. If we are rats, you are snakes.”

  Tierney chuckled softly, his dark eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “Oh, humans. One serpent leads you astray, and you are forevermore biased.” He took a step toward her, his hands clenched at his sides. “I am not a snake, but I am a predator. I cannot deny it, I cannot switch it off. This is what I was made to be. A killer.”

  Abby stood frozen. His eyes were intense—she couldn’t look away.

  “But Abby—that does not mean that you and I are enemies.” He suddenly pulled her to him and kissed her.

  Abby. Not Rabbit. Not Abigail. Abby. The way he said her name was so tender, so intimate. She knew she should pull away, that if she let him kiss her she really was turning into Lucia. But she didn’t.

  David stirred in his sleep and reached for Abby. She wasn’t there. He woke up, suddenly desperate to feel her beside him, to know she was safe, instantly aware that something was horribly wrong. In a flash, he was on his feet.

  He was the lion again, searching for her scent. He bounded off into the darkness, leaving Jon and Marisol by the fire. Startled into their own awareness that something was wrong, David heard them calling for Cael to wake up as he left the campsite.

  David sped through the forest after Abby, his white fur almost glowing against the darkness. He could feel her and something else—something that might take her from him.

  As he broke from the trees, he saw her, dazed, teetering on a rock above a moonlit pond. Surrounding her, in an ever tightening circle, were dark, squatting shapes with red eyes and gnashing teeth. Toads, David thought, in a flash of recognition. They were monstrous, bigger than any amphibians he’d ever seen, with ridges on their heads like horns, and great lumpy warts covering their slimy skin. But there was something else too, something with Abby, a shadow encircling her like smoke.

  David changed back into himself and took flight, launching himself toward Abby. The toads leapt into the air, jaws snapping at him as he scooped her into his arms. Pressing her tight against his chest, he rocketed up into the sky, away from the shadow thing, away from the creatures that wanted to feed on her. And then, when he looked back from high above the pond, there was no sign of the shadow, only the toads that were a nightmare come to life.

  David held Abby close, flying through the trees. Her eyes were shut—she was fast asleep. He was angry with himself. How could he have slept through her sleepwalking into that mess? How could he not have known the danger she was in until it was almost too late? Never again, he thought. I will never fail her again.

  He landed by the fire and set her down gently on her mat. “Abby,” he said. “Abby, please come back to me.”

  “What happened?” Cael asked.

  “She was sleepwalking, and these toad things almost got her. And now I can’t wake her up.” David felt helpless. Abby was alive, but she seemed lifeless. Had those things poisoned her somehow? He scanned her body for any sign she’d been bitten.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a rustling sound coming from the direction of the pond. It was getting closer. Fast.

  “What is that?” Marisol asked, stepping into Jon’s arms. In the darkness, hundreds of red lights blinked on and off. “Oh no—please, no. Not again.”

  Jon pushed Marisol behind him and drew his sword. Beside him, Cael drew his.

  The rustling sound grew louder, and a dark shape flew in the air toward Cael’s face. He neatly sliced the monster toad in half. It sizzl
ed and melted into a pool of dark slime at his feet.

  “It’s huge,” Jon exclaimed. “Is that thing for real?”

  “’Fraid so,” David said. “Climb that tree, Marisol. I need you to take care of Abby.”

  Marisol nodded and climbed to a large branch, hopefully out of the toads’ reach. David flew up and nestled Abby between Marisol and the tree’s thick trunk.

  “Hold on to her,” David said. “Don’t let her fall.”

  “I won’t,” Marisol promised, wrapping her arms around Abby’s limp body.

  David landed between Jon and Cael and drew his own sword. The toads were everywhere, surrounding them, leaping at them. David’s sword was a blur of silver, cutting them down. In the periphery of his vision, he could see Jon and Cael slashing at the toads, trying in vain to stop the tsunami of fanged amphibians.

  “Climb!” Marisol shouted from the safety of the tree. “It’s hopeless! There are too many!”

  “Do it,” David ordered, slicing a toad flying toward Jon.

  “Not without you,” Jon called, stabbing a toad inching toward his feet. It popped like a water balloon filled with slime. Jon jumped back to keep the sizzling goo from slopping over his boots.

  “Go, Jon. I can fly. You can’t,” David said.

  “Valid point,” Jon agreed, surveying the unending amphibian mass pouring into the camp from the darkness. “Cover me.”

  David and Cael kept the toads at bay while Jon threw himself into the tree, scrambling up to perch in the fork of a large branch near Marisol and Abby.

  “You next,” David told Cael. “I’ll keep them off you.”

  “All right,” Cael said, and followed Jon. But as he pulled himself up, a toad leapt through the air and latched onto his thigh, sinking in its teeth. Cael stabbed it with his sword and kept climbing as the toad disintegrated into black sludge.

  Seeing that Cael was out of the fray, David rose into the air. Sheathing his sword, he held out his hands, feeling the heat build. Then he focused his energy and incinerated the toads.

  They began to melt as the heat rippled across the swarm, leaving only a handful hopping around the campfire. These he targeted one by one, until none remained. He circled the camp, making sure he had eliminated any strays.

  The night was quiet again as David landed on the ground. The sleeping mats and packs were covered in thick goo.

  “I think our mats are done for,” he called up to the others. “But we might be able to salvage some supplies from our packs.”

  “I say we get them in the morning,” Jon said, clinging to his branch. He scooted closer to the trunk of the tree and wrapped his arms around it. “I don’t know about you, but I’m staying in this tree tonight.”

  “I don’t blame you,” David replied. “Marisol—how’s Abby?”

  “I can’t believe it,” Marisol said, shaking her head, “but she actually slept through all that.”

  “That’s not good,” David frowned. Why isn’t she waking up? he wondered. What if he hadn’t gotten to her in time and those toad things had poisoned her? She hadn’t been bitten, as far as he could tell. He considered the way the creatures’ guts had sizzled after making contact with the silver swords. It was possible that even touching the toads might be toxic, that poison could be secreted through the skin, like a poison dart frog in the Amazon. There was no way to know if she’d touched one. What if he was going to lose her just like he’d lost his parents? What if a vision of her own death was what she’d been hiding? He felt himself freezing up with fear and forced it aside. If he wanted to help her, he couldn’t afford to think like that.

  “Let me take her.” David flew up and retrieved Abby from Marisol’s arms. He settled down on an adjacent branch, balancing Abby in his arms while scooting backward to lean against the trunk of the tree. “Abby,” he said, his voice faltering. He stroked her hair. “Abby, please. Wake up.”

  Abby stirred at the sound of his voice. “David,” she whispered. Then she took in her surroundings with wide eyes. “Why are we in a tree?”

  Laughing with relief, David pulled her closer to him, holding her tight. When he let her go, he felt a tear roll down his cheek.

  “What happened?” Abby asked, looking concerned. She brushed away the tear. “You’re scaring me.”

  “I thought I was losing you,” David answered, and kissed her forehead. “But everything’s okay now.”

  “Not quite,” Cael called out from one of the lower branches. “We may have a problem.”

  In the morning light, Cael asked David to inspect his wound. He had managed to climb down the tree on his own, but now, sitting on the ground with his back against the trunk, he wished he had taken David up on his offer to fly him down. He felt dizzy from the effort of climbing down, and exhausted from yet another sleep-deprived night. Gingerly, he probed the injury on his thigh. The skin around the bite was hot, festering from the venom.

  “I can heal this.” David placed his hands over the wound.

  Cael grimaced. Even the most gentle touch sent searing pain up and down his leg.

  “That is a generous offer, but I cannot let you do that,” he said through clenched teeth, shoving David’s hands away.

  David stared at Cael’s face and then placed his hand on Cael’s forehead. “But you’re burning up with a fever,” he said. “Why shouldn’t I heal you before the infection gets worse?”

  Cael closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the pain. “Because,” he managed, “the venom of a toothed toad is particularly potent, and I have no idea how it might affect you when you take my wound. We need your strength for whatever horrors may lie ahead.”

  “He’s right,” Jon said. “If you hadn’t toasted those toads, we’d all be, well…”

  “Toast,” Marisol finished.

  Cael smiled at this, in spite of his pain.

  “If you took on your wolf form, would that somehow expel the poison?” Abby asked.

  “A brilliant idea, but I am too weak at the moment to try,” Cael admitted, opening one eye. “Not to worry, though. This is not the first time I have had something nasty take a bite out of me.”

  “Well, then, what can we do?” Marisol asked.

  Cael noticed that Marisol’s gaze was trained on the long scar running from his jaw to his neck, the remnant of a wound acquired from an earlier encounter with monstrous beasts. That time it hadn’t been toads, but the bite had left him similarly feverish and had taken a long time to heal. He didn’t want to think about what kind of scar the toad bite would leave. “If we could just make it to the village, they may have an antidote,” he said. “I imagine they have seen this kind of wound before.”

  “I’ll carry you,” David said. He stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees. “We’ll try to cover as much ground as we can before dark.”

  Abby picked up her pack and David’s, and Jon grabbed Cael’s and his own.

  “Nasty,” Marisol said, scraping dark slime off her pack with a stick. She glanced at the mats, still lying in liquid toad. “So much for those. They’ve been marinating in that stuff. Definitely toast.”

  “Is there anything worth saving in the packs?” David asked.

  Marisol opened her pack, and a dank stench filled the air. “Ugh! That goo leaked inside.” She plugged her nose, using her stick to probe the pack’s contents. “No—nothing to salvage here. My food is ruined.”

  “The other packs seem okay,” Abby said, taking a cue from Marisol and using a twig to scrape them clean. “A little slime, but I think they were on higher ground, so they didn’t get as soaked. Don’t worry about food, Sol—we’ll share.” She tossed her pack to Marisol.

  “Thanks, Abby.” Marisol scrunched her nose in disgust, eyeing the blob of toad slime that had dripped onto the toe of her boot. She flicked it off with the stick. “Not that I’m very hungry now.”

  “Let’s go,” David said. “It gets dark fast around here. I’ll try not to bounce you around too much, Cael.” He slipped i
nto his lion form, and Jon helped Cael onto his back.

  “I have a feeling we are getting close,” Cael said. “It seems like we made good progress today.” He was lying on the ground, close to their newest fire pit.

  “How are you feeling?” Abby asked, gently laying her palm on his forehead.

  Cael’s fever was worse, but now he had the chills as well. “Horrid,” he said, a wry smile on his lips.

  She reached into her pack and pulled out a piece of flatbread. “Do you feel like you can eat this?” she asked.

  “I would rather not,” Cael replied. “I have a feeling we shall see it a second time if I do.”

  Abby frowned. “Well, let’s at least try a little water, and see if you can keep that down.” She held a leather cask to his lips. “It won’t help to get dehydrated.”

  Cael drank a few sips. “Thank you, Abby.”

  “Of course,” she said, patting his hand. “Rest now.”

  Cael did as instructed and closed his eyes.

  David had circled the camp in his lion form, looking for signs of predators. Slipping back into his regular form, he snuck up and took a look at Cael’s wound, careful not to wake him.

  “We’ll have to watch him closely tonight,” he said to Abby. Jon and Marisol had busied themselves gathering dry branches to add to the fire. “If he gets worse, I’ll have you guys spend the night in another tree, and I’ll carry him to the village and come back for you.”

  “I don’t like that idea at all,” Abby said, crossing her arms. “Who knows what’s waiting out there in the dark? How would we be able to help if something attacked you?”

  “Well then, I’ll fly him there. I have half a mind to do that anyway, considering how that wound looks,” David replied. “But, after last night, there is no way I’m leaving you unless I absolutely have to.”

  Abby uncrossed her arms. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about that,” she said quietly, staring out into the trees to avoid his gaze. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”