Blood, Peter realized, with a shock that made him dizzy and unable to rise to his feet. He also realized that Max was doing most of the screaming.
“They found us!” Max shouted. “The soldiers! You promised they wouldn’t follow us, but they did! They killed Father and almost got me! And now they’re coming to get the rest of us!” Max had a horrible look in his eyes and he was holding his new sword, stabbing it here and there, in the air, at no one in particular.
“We need to run away!”
This time Peter bolted upright, no longer dizzy and now fully awake.
“Scatter, children!” Mr. Peep called, having finally lumbered to his feet. “Scatter into the forest!”
Peter moved quickly, as the full import of what was happening began to sink into his head. Max seemed able to fend for himself. Father would look after Mother. But wait, hadn’t Max just said something about Father? Never mind. There’d be time to think it through later. For now he had to move. Everyone had to move. He already had his boots on — he’d slept in them — and most of his clothes. He reached down under his coat and picked up Frost in its carrying case, where he’d slept with it wrapped up in his arms. Then he looked to his left and saw that Bo was nearest. She was standing, tears and confusion in her eyes, holding onto her own boots, one in each hand.
Peter grabbed her under one arm and started pulling her away from the firelight, into the shadows of the woods. “Hold onto your shoes for now!” Peter said to her as he dragged her along. “We’ll stop to put them on later!”
At first they simply stumbled along together in the dark, crashing into bushes and trees and falling often. Each time Peter recovered Frost with one hand and helped Bo back to her feet with the other. She was blubbering steadily, but not too loudly and, more important, did what he told her to — almost automatically, as if she weren’t yet ready to face for herself the implications of what they were doing.
Peter’s eyes slowly began to adjust to the darkness and he could start to make out dim shapes — more solid areas of blackness in the greater black all around them. Now at least he could avoid running into the tree trunks themselves. Turning to look back, they were already completely out of sight of the fire. The terrain underfoot was sloping down and Peter went with it, thinking it was better not to fight it or take any route that might slow them. He would let the descent pull them along faster than they could run without it.
The angle of the slope increased and the density of the trees gave way to rounded boulders, covered with slick, wet moss. Peter slipped on one of them and fell hard on his rear, pulling Bo down with him. They began sliding downwards, going faster and faster. He dared not release Bo’s arm or he’d surely lose her in the darkness, so he held on tight, even though he could hear her smashing into rocks and other things as they fell. In little time they came up against a pocket of larger rocks that stopped their descent hard and fast.
Peter was in terrible pain. He’d banged his knee against something, and he thought there might be a cut above his already-injured eye. He was pretty sure blood was leaking down to pool in the folds of swollen flesh. He’d finally had to release Bo, as the last smashing stop jolted her out of his grip. But he could hear her right beside him. She’d obviously been hurt too.
Then in a panic he remembered Frost! He patted frantically on the ground around him with both hands, and soon enough came across the leather carrying case. Painfully he pushed himself off the ground, into a sitting position. The first thing he did was loop Frost’s strap over his neck and under one arm, so that he couldn’t lose it again. Then he felt around for Bo, but she was somewhere out of arm’s reach.
“Bo?” he said. “How bad are you hurt?”
“I lost my shoe.”
“What?” Relief flooded through him. If that was what had her most upset, she couldn’t be too badly injured, could she?
“You told me to hold onto my shoes, but I lost one of them. I think it was maybe when we fell down the hill. And they’re not shoes, they’re boots, and you shouldn’t call something one thing when it’s another. You don’t know everything, Peter Piper, so don’t think you can tell me what to do.”
Peter felt a flush of happiness. At least Bo was still Bo, he thought. If she could still scold him, then she was all right. And if she was all right then soon enough they both would be.
“Don’t worry, Bo. Your missing boot will have landed somewhere down here with us. We’ll feel around until we find it. But first try to pull your other boot on, so we don’t lose that one while looking for the first.”
“I’m already doing that. You don’t need to tell me obvious things.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter said. “I can’t see you yet. I can only hear you, and I know I should’ve heard you pulling your one boot on, but I’m not very smart and I don’t know what that sounds like.”
Peter sat quiet for a moment, listening to Bo beside him and listening to the greater darkness, trying to hear if there were any sounds of pursuit. He didn’t hear any — at least none that he could identify — but he did hear something he knew well, the constant sound of water trickling and flowing over stones.
“There’s a stream down here in this gully,” he said.
“I know,” Bo said. “I landed in it and now my bum’s wet.”
It was slightly lighter here where the stream cut its way through the woods, because there wasn’t as much tree coverage directly overhead. Now Peter’s eyes had adjusted so that he could make out the rough boundaries of the stream — he was almost in it — and he could see the outlines of a moving shape that he recognized as Bo-like enough to presume it was her.
“Can you stand up?” Peter asked.
“Can you?”
That was as good a question as anyone might ask in these circumstances, so Peter tested it. First he pulled his feet slowly under him, noting that the one with his banged knee seemed a little more numb and more wobbly than the other. Then he pushed himself up, with one hand on a big rock, but mostly by the strength of his legs. There was some newborn-faun shakiness at first, and he was uncertain that he could maintain his balance, but eventually he realized his legs — both of them — would take his weight.
“I can stand,” he said.
“Good, but you’re going to have to get right back down on your hands and knees again. I don’t think we’re going to be able to find my missing boot by looking for it. We have to crawl around and feel for it.”
“Fair enough,” he said, a phrase he’d often heard his father use with his mother.
Peter lowered himself back down to his knees and together they crawled around, going very slowly so as not to miss anything and to avoid getting further banged up. They carefully felt through wet and rotting dead leaves and over mossy boulders, squinting through the fear-weighted darkness, keeping each other in sight when they could and within easy earshot when they couldn’t. It took an awfully long time to do this and without success, so that Peter was beginning to worry that the soldiers might find them. They covered the ground around them several times, but there was no boot to be found. Then he heard Bo speak from up on the hillside above him.
“I’ve got it,” she said. “It was tucked in under a bush and mostly buried in the dirt we scooped up while we were falling.”
“Lucky that we could find it at all then. Can you get it on?”
“Ick! It’s full of dirt and dead leaves.”
“They can’t hurt you. Scrape it out and try anyway.”
“Oh no! Oh no!” she screamed above him in absolute terror.
“What is it?” Peter cried, already scrambling on all fours, up the loose hillside towards her. His thoughts filled with every imaginable calamity that could have befallen her. “Hold on! I’m coming!”
“There was a snail in it!” Her voice trembled with horror.
“Is that all?” He stopped climbing.
“But I touched it! And not just the shell part. I grabbed the sticky gooey part right in my hand.”
<
br /> “That’s okay, Bo. It can’t harm you. Just put your boot on.”
“Not until I wash it out, and wash my hands too. I can have a wet boot, but not one full of snail goo. Stay there, I’m coming back down.”
He did and she did, and soon she was kneeling by the edge of the stream, thoroughly scrubbing out the inside of her boot. Peter crouched close beside her, trying to visually examine her for any obvious injuries. He thought he could make out a few scrapes and bruises, and one big goose-egg forming on the side of her head, but nothing that seemed to need immediate attention. “Hurry up,” he said. We have to cross the stream.”
“Why?”
“Because we know the camp and the soldiers are somewhere on this side of the stream, so that means they aren’t on the other side. We’ll be safer over there.”
“But can’t we just hide here until the soldiers go away and then go back to the camp?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I think we have to get farther away first, before we try to hide, and I worry that we may not be able to go back to the camp at all. If I were a soldier in the woods, I’d stay there for a long time, waiting for someone to try to sneak back to see if it’s safe again.”
“But my mother and father may be back there,” Bo said. “What if they’re worried about me?”
“They’ll have to miss you for now. I’m not responsible for looking after your mother and father, but I did choose to pull you into the woods with me, so that makes me responsible for you. I have to make certain you’re safe, before going back to look for them, or your sisters, or my family.”
“You’re not the boss who gets to decide things.”
“No, but your father and my father are, and this is what I think they’d do.”
And that was that.
They crossed the stream, crowded with mossy-topped boulders, which the water had to find dozens of ways around. There were so many boulders that they could’ve tried stepping from one to another, and never have to get their feet wet — or more wet in Bo’s case. But the moss and smooth rock was slippery and Peter reasoned that it was better to walk in the stream, where the footing was surer. Better to get all of their feet wet, rather than risk slipping off of a boulder. Another fall might succeed in bashing their heads in this time. In the middle of the stream Bo stopped them and pointed upwards.
“Look,” she said. “Straight up you can see stars.” And it was true. In the very middle of the stream they could see a thin strip of night sky, uncovered by the accustomed shroud of overhead branches. It was filled with bright stars — the very same ones they’d known before they entered this alien world. It was reassuring to be reminded that there was still sky beyond the all-enclosing forest.
They held hands while they crossed, to help each other keep balance, but they didn’t let go on the other side, when their footing was secure again. Hand in hand they started up the other hill forming the gully. It was a large slope and very steep. It took them a long time to climb it, but it became easier once the rocks gave way to trees again and they could rest with their backs against the tree trunks, which kept them from falling back down into the gully. After resting for a few minutes they’d set out again up the embankment.
By the time they reached the top, they were back in the dense wood once more, under a canopy that deepened the shadows and blocked every patch of sky overhead.
That’s when they heard the monster.
First there was a simple coughing sound, which is what great beasts sometimes make when they stalk through the night. But neither Peter nor Bo had ever encountered a great beast before, so at first they simply thought the noise odd. They grew more nervous as the coughs came initially from one direction and then from another, as if something was circling them — something very big.
Peter stopped Bo in a spot about equally distant from four big tree trunks. It wasn’t quite a clearing, but there was scant undergrowth in the place. From here at least they could choose to run in any direction. Peter could feel Bo’s hand trembling in his. With his other hand he slowly reached around behind his back and untied the laces that kept the flute case’s flap closed. Once the flap was freed, gravity took over and Peter felt Frost slide softly out of its case, quiet as a whisper, and into his hand.
Now there was a deep grunting, growling sound from only a few feet in front of them. They could make out nothing in the darkness.
“Bo?” Peter said.
“Yes?”
“When I start to play, you run. Don’t go before that, or the thing might get you. But once I begin, run as fast as you can.” He released her hand.
“But I can’t leave you here.”
“Yes you can. You have to. I need to stay here to keep the beast away from you, and you need to run and get help. Find your father or mine and bring them back here. I’m counting on you to run fast and find them and save me.” Peter was lying. He knew that she couldn’t possibly find anyone out there in the dark and then lead them back here in time to save him. But he needed to make sure she’d run as far and as fast as she could to get away, and this seemed the best way to convince her to do it. He’d hold the beast as long as he could, but he didn’t know how long that might be, so he wanted her as far away from him as she could manage.
“That’s a grand idea, little girl,” a voice said from out of the concealing blackness. “Run fast and lead me a merry chase. You’ll have as much head start as it takes me to gobble down your friend. Give me enough good sport and, even though I can’t promise to spare you, I’ll at least make sure you don’t suffer overmuch.” The creature’s voice was deep and growling, like huge stones scraping against each other. With the muffled squishing of dead leaves underfoot, it approached closer, on heavy paws. It stepped between two trees and Peter could see just enough to make out the great black shadow of a giant wolf. This close its breath sounded like a blacksmith’s bellows.
Even though he was no longer in contact with her, Peter could feel Bo beside him, shaking like a leaf — or like a scared deer who, cornered and exhausted, surrenders to the idea that its only remaining purpose is to be food for another. Peter was shaking, too, so much so that he wondered if he could successfully play a note.
“We don’t mean you any harm,” Peter said.
“Gracious of you,” the giant wolf said. “But I can’t say the same. I absolutely mean you harm. But there’s the matter of the proper scoring to determine. You’re both so small, you’d barely number one whole person added together. However, I’m so far behind on my daily tally, perhaps I should count you as two.
“Then again, I smell others nearby, and I hear them crashing about in the woods, wailing and moaning for someone to come along and end their suffering. Maybe I’ll end up with my full complement for the day after all.
“What do you two think? Would you like to go down as one or two? I’m generously inclined to let you decide.”
“I think you should pass us by and go far away,” Peter said.
“I’ve already been far away,” the wolf said. “That’s where I came from. Now I’m here. I was following a great army, reducing their numbers every night, sowing fear into their ranks. But those clever goblins stole a march on me while I napped, and then wandered off to get my supper. They don’t taste right to me, so, though I’ll kill them gladly, I don’t get the well-deserved feast afterwards. In any case I lost track of them.”
“I know where they are,” Peter said. “They’re the ones who chased us into the woods. If you’re their enemy like we are, then we should be friends.”
“I’ve neither friends nor enemies, and desire none,” the wolf replied. “I only have food and sport, both of which involve killing.”
“But I can direct you where to find the army you seek.”
“Then do it.”
“And in return you’ll let us go?”
“No.”
Beside him, Bo seemed on the edge of panic. He had to act now or not at all.
“Remember what I
told you, Bo,” Peter said. Then he raised Frost to his lips and started to play. It was a simple tune he knew well. He didn’t want to risk any mistake now. And as he played he thought over and over in his mind: Pass us by and go far away.
“Pretty music,” the wolf said. “Possibly the only good thing your miserable race has ever done for the world.”
Bo turned all of a sudden and ran. The giant wolf immediately sprang after her, but before he’d even gotten a full stride away from Peter, he was suddenly and violently brought up short, like a dog that had reached the end of his tether. Peter never stopped playing. The wolf stood where he’d become frozen in place and shook in rage.
“What have you done to me, boy?” There was fury in his voice and it rattled Peter and all of the trees around them. But Peter played on, not missing a note. Pass us by and go far away, he thought. Far behind him he could hear Bo still running away, scrambling back down the embankment they’d just climbed, splashing through the stream, and running farther away on the other side, until she’d run far away, entirely out of his hearing and possibly forever out of his life.
“Seven times seven times the ridiculous men of your race have tried to collar and chain me, coming on me when I slept or just when I felt like an interesting challenge. I snapped every rope and shattered every chain in no more time than it took to shrug them off. Now you bind me with an insipid little tune?”
Pass us by and go far away.
Pass us by and go far away.
Clearly against his will, struggling against every step, the wolf turned and began stalking off the way he’d come. Peter played on.
Pass us by and go far away.
Pass us by and go far away.
“I’ve got the scent of you, boy and I’ll never forget it. No matter how far you send me, one day I’ll track you down again and grease my chin with you and your sweetheart. Oh yes, I can smell your love for her. Maybe I’ll make you watch me devour her, before I get to you. All of this I vow.”
Peter & Max: A Fables Novel Page 10