“What I want is for you to stop bothering me.”
His eyes were in the shadow of his heavy brow when he stepped away from her, but the downward set of his mouth was plain to see.
“Fine. Consider yourself unbothered.”
He turned away.
“It’s your fault David left.”
She threw the words at his back, each one a dagger, then opened the door and fled for the woods where the river coursed.
She wanted distance between herself and Einstein, not because she hated him, but because she didn’t want to witness the damage she’d done. Why had she said those words? Why had she hurt him this way?
It wasn’t his fault, none of it was his fault, but who else was there to blame?
By the time she reached the tree line, her wrist was throbbing, the pain she’d been so eager to feel all too evident now. She sat down on a hummock and inspected the damage she’d wrought on herself as though she’d never seen it before.
Dark specs of grit and flakes of bark floated on the raw, pink wound, but when she tried to pick them off she succeeded only in embedding them in her flesh. She tried flicking them out with a leaf but instead buried them deeper.
Her skinned wrist pulsed as if her heart was beating within it. From such wounds death could occur. Einstein was right – she had to cleanse it before the dirt was absorbed into her body.
As she studied the results of her labour, the mist Sorrel had been lost in since Eli’s rejection began to clear. As it did so, what she saw did not please her. She’d done a stupid thing to herself and for no good reason, but worse than that, she’d hurt Einstein and deliberately so. Her cheeks flushed with shame at the realisation. The pain she’d suffered, great though it was, wasn’t enough of a reason to inflict misery on her friend. Back in Amat, she’d known who she was, but out here, after everything that had happened, she wondered if she’d ever know herself again.
She stood up and walked to the river. She would clean the wound then gather some herbs to take back to Einstein and make peace with him.
Her quest reminded her of that last day in Amat when she’d argued with her mother and run off to the hill in anger. She’d had plans then to make it up, but before she could do so, the mutants had attacked. She’d never talked to her mother again.
She was still thinking about Amat when she arrived at the river. The one there had been little more than a stream, lazy and steady for the most part. This one was wide and fast, surging, rolling and spiralling over itself in long, green ligaments. The watery tendons eddied around rocks, splashing and dashing into foamy pools before flowing relentlessly on.
Sorrel knelt on a large, flat rock and plunged her hand into the water, gasping as the graze sang. She held it there for several moments until the cold stung more than her wrist. By the time she could take no more the wound had been flushed clean, but to be sure it healed well she would make a poultice of starweed.
She’d left the river’s edge and was back in the forest foraging for herbs when the rustle of leaves and the snap of twigs told of something moving in the undergrowth. Still crouching, she quietly retreated, realising as she did so that she had stormed out of the bothy without thinking to arm herself. She hadn’t cared about her own safety then, but with an unknown something rooting around in her vicinity, she certainly cared now.
When she’d put a little distance between herself and it, she slowly stood up. Stems cracked, branches trembled, and leaves fluttered as the thing jumped around. Not a badger then, unless it was a cub. But even young badgers tended to amble and trot rather than jump. This thing was frisky. Maybe it was a young boar.
She thought of the red-eyed beast they’d killed in the Wild Woods and looked around for something she could use to defend herself – a decent stick, a sharp rock, even a handful of gravel to throw in its eyes – but before she could find anything, the creature, the likes of which she’d never seen before, emerged.
It was a powerful looking animal, standing about waist high, with long legs, a thick, brown pelt and bright, tawny eyes that looked at her with unnerving intelligence. Sorrel’s relief that the creature was not a boar was short-lived. After sizing her up for a moment, it hurtled towards her, a blur of teeth and fur. It was fight or flight. Sorrel ran.
Roots and briars laid traps for her and thin branches whipped her face as she dashed through the forest. She leapt over and dodged around them, but the beast stayed with her, crashing through the woods behind her. Any second she expected to feel its weight on her back and its breath on her neck. All thoughts she’d had of welcoming death were long gone. Sorrel wanted to live.
She’d run on instinct and without thought of direction. Before long, the lack of thought brought her to the edge of the coursing river. She stopped short and turned around to face the creature. It too stopped, and she wondered what kind of game was on its mind. It stared at her intently, drool hanging from its mouth.
She took a couple of tentative paces sideways. The creature followed suit. It stopped when she did, but the gap between them had lessened. If she made a break for the forest, the beast would be upon her before she’d taken two steps. Another move sideways, and the result would be the same.
Sorrel glanced at the fast-flowing river then looked back and caught the creature skulking towards her. She shook her head.
“No.”
As soon as she uttered the word, the creature came at her, its jaws open, teeth flashing. Sorrel stepped back and plunged into the river.
The shock of the cold knocked the breath out of her. She struggled not to inhale water while the mighty flow of the river tumbled her like a leaf in the wind. Panic and you’re dead. Panic and you’re dead. The words repeated themselves over and over in her mind, a mantra for survival.
She forced her body to relax, allowing herself to be carried with the stream while she rolled in the water, seeking the surface. Swim to the light. She was sucking in, even as her head broke through, water inhaled along with air. She coughed and spluttered, still flowing downstream, the roar of the river filling her ears. She thrashed in the water, trying to keep her head above the splash and foam. Her hands were going numb, her body beginning to tremble with the cold. She had to get to the shore.
She reached for an overhanging branch but didn’t come close to catching hold. She tried to grab onto a boulder, but it was smooth and slick, with nothing to grasp hold of, and she was swept around it. The cold was seeping deeper inside her, eating her strength. Soon, her hands would not be able to grasp hold of anything.
The weight of her clothes was dragging her down and she was tiring. It was getting harder to keep her head above water. She dipped beneath the surface and desperately kicked upwards, only to be sucked under again. The current whirled her round and round, the cold spiralling into her core as she spun in the water. She couldn’t hold her breath for much longer. She was desperate for air. Just as she was about to suck in a lungful of water, the river delivered her into a calm side pool.
As Sorrel threshed in the water, she kicked the river bed. She planted her feet on it and stood up, her head only just breaking through. She gulped short breaths. Though the surface of the pool was calm, the currents below were strong. She had to get out before she was swept off her feet again.
She waded towards the river bank, her teeth chittering as she clambered onto the shingle shore. She collapsed onto her hands and knees, her body shaking as she threw up a bellyful of river water. When she was done coughing and spluttering, she lay down, exhausted.
She knew she couldn’t lie here for long. She had to get out of her wet clothes. She had to get warm. But not yet. First, she had to lie down, just for a few moments, and catch her breath.
Sorrel lay on her back, one arm across her face, shielding her eyes from the bright sky. She wished for the warmth of the summer sun, but summer was behind them, the chill of the winter to come already in the air.
Her breathing was beginning to steady when she heard claws scratching
against rock. She sat up on her elbows and saw the creature standing on a boulder, watching her with its intense tawny eyes.
The thing had followed her downstream. It was relentless. Her struggle with the river had been for nothing. She should have taken her chances with the beast before, for she had no strength left to fight it now.
She gasped as it leapt down from the boulder and ran towards her. She scrabbled backwards on the gravel shore, but it kept coming, jaws gaping, its long tongue lolling out of its mouth and a hungry look in its eyes.
She had no strength left in her. She could barely pull herself along the ground, let alone stand and fight. If this was to be her fate, Sorrel didn’t want to see it coming. She closed her eyes and braced herself for a violent end.
Pebbles crunched under the creature’s paws as it bounded towards her. She heard it panting, felt the threat of it closing in on her. At the last second, the will to survive exploded inside her. She clenched her fist and opened her eyes, but too late, she could already feel its hot breath on her skin. She swung her arm to punch it anyway, but instead of plunging its fangs into her throat, the creature licked her face.
Caught by surprise, Sorrel dropped her arm. The beast stood its front paws on her legs and licked her again. Sorrel pushed it away, but it came right back at her, panting its rancid breath in her face as it licked her over and over.
“Stop it.”
She pushed it away again. The creature bounded around her, its long tail sweeping back and fore. It looked happy, almost as if it was smiling.
“What are you?”
The animal leaped around her again, but Sorrel was no wiser. She shivered, and the animal pushed up beside her and sat down. At first, she was going to push it away again, but the warmth of its body was too much to resist.
“Do you know what I’m thinking?” she whispered as she huddled into it.
Its tail thumped the ground in reply.
“You don’t look scary. Not now, anyway, but you gave me a real fright when you came at me.”
It panted in her face, but though its fangs were long, and the beast was strong, her fear of it faded. After a short while of leaning against it, Sorrel tentatively put her arm around the animal and stroked its fur. There was a strange comfort to be had in its presence.
“Whatever kind of beast you are, your breath’s not so sweet. A few mint leaves would help cure that.” The animal’s tail thumped as though in reply.
Warm though it was, the animal was not going to dry her out. After a few more moments of its comfort, Sorrel took her boots off and emptied them of water, then stood up. The way it stared at her made her feel obliged to give it an explanation.
“I have to wring my clothes out. It’s a long walk back to Einstein and I don’t want to catch a chill.”
The animal’s tail thumped the ground.
She started to undress, but the animal’s stare unnerved her, so she turned her back on it. The air was cold on her skin and made prickles of it. She wrung out her clothes as best she could then spread them out over rocks while she swung her arms, trying to generate some heat inside her. The movement excited the animal, it came leaping around her looking for all the world as though it wanted to play.
The damp clothes were unpleasant to put on, and even more uncomfortable to wear, but it was better than being naked. She sat on a rock to put on her boots. The animal sat before her, watching.
“I’ve got to get back to Einstein. I – er – I wasn’t very nice before and I have to say sorry.”
There she went again, talking to it. Its eyes gleamed with understanding.
“Thanks for not eating me.”
The river had swept her downstream, and so she figured the best way back was to walk upstream to where she’d fallen in, and then find her way back to the bothy from there.
“Well, goodbye then.”
She felt kind of stupid bidding farewell to an animal, but at the same time the animal looked at her as if everything she said made perfect sense.
“You are an odd one,” she said before finally turning away.
It wasn’t a comfortable walk. Her damp clothes chafed her skin and her boots squidged with every step, but each step taken was one less to go and so she put her mind to getting on with it.
She concentrated on the way ahead, staying as close to the river as she could, venturing into the forest when she had to. It was on one of these detours, away from the immediate roar of the river, that a small sound gave her cause to turn around.
Behind her, maybe twenty paces away, was the animal. It lowered its head as though ashamed to be caught in the act of following her.
Sorrel smiled. “Come on then if you’re coming.”
The animal bounded towards her and this time there was no fear in Sorrel’s heart.
It was almost nightfall when she came into sight of the bothy. Einstein was standing at the door looking out and Sorrel immediately understood that he’d been there all day, torn between going out to look for her and waiting for her to come back. When he saw her emerge from the forest, he ran towards her, but before he reached her, the animal put itself between the two of them and stood there, its hackles raised.
“It’s okay.” Sorrel went to its side and smoothed its fur. “This is Einstein – he’s a friend.”
The animal stood down but kept a wary eye on Einstein. Einstein regarded it with equal wariness.
“Where did it come from?”
“The forest. Do you know what it is?”
Einstein nodded. “It is a dog.”
Sorrel scratched the animal’s ears. “There we go – we know what you are now. You’re a dog.”
She looked back at Einstein and seeing the queer expression on his face, thought he was still mad at her.
“Einstein – about this morning – about everything – I’m sorry.”
She went to him and put her arms around him. When Einstein hugged her back, the dog jumped up.
Sorrel pushed it away. “Get down, dog.”
“You are wet,” Einstein said, ignoring the dog.
“Long story,” she said. Though he’d hugged her back, Sorrel’s apology had made no change to Einstein’s expression. “I truly am sorry.”
“I know. That is not the problem.”
“Well what is?”
Einstein looked at the dog. “That is the problem.”
“You don’t understand – it’s not a wild animal.”
“You are right – it is not a wild animal, and that is the problem. Dogs are Before animals. Until now, I have only ever seen them in books and paintings, but what I do know is that they belong to people. The question is, who owns this one?”
7.
The Betwixt
Sorrel discovered a game she could play with the dog. If she threw a stick, the dog would run after it and bring it back.
Einstein emerged from the bothy while they were playing.
“Watch this.” Sorrel demonstrated the game, laughing when the dog retrieved the stick, but wouldn’t give it up. After a short tussle, she pulled the stick from the dog’s mouth and patted its head. The dog wagged its tail.
“That’s it,” Sorrel said, “I’m going to call you Tailwagger.” Pleased with herself, she smiled at Einstein.
“It likes you,” Einstein said. He didn’t return her smile.
“What’s wrong?” Sorrel asked.
“The question remains – where did it come from?”
Sorrel shrugged. Being with the dog made her feel better. The animal had even slept curled up beside her, sharing its warmth with her. Sorrel didn’t want to think about the difficult questions, not yet. For now, she just wanted to enjoy the strange feeling of kinship she had with the animal.
“I don’t know, maybe it’s been living here all this time, maybe there’s a whole family of dogs in the forest, and Tailwagger got lost.”
“You know that is not true. She is clearly used to being with people. She belongs to someone – but who?”
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“I don’t know.” Sorrel waved the stick, teasing the dog before throwing it again.
Einstein watched Tailwagger run after the stick then turned his attention away from the dog and looked over the surrounding landscape. Behind them was the hilly moorland they’d traversed to get here. In front of them was the forest.
“What lies beyond?” he murmured.
“Don’t you know?” Sorrel asked.
Einstein shrugged. “I have heard tales of dead rivers and scorched earth, but this is the furthest south I have travelled.”
“Scorched earth?” Sorrel’s skin prickled. “Doesn’t sound like a place people could live.”
“No, it does not,” Einstein agreed.
“So, Tailwagger didn’t come from there.”
“Perhaps not, but the dog came from somewhere.” Einstein eyed Tailwagger when she returned with the stick. “Where did you come from?”
The dog wagged its tail. Einstein knelt and petted her. He had been wary around the animal and this was the first sign of affection Sorrel had seen him show towards the dog.
“Tailwagger likes you,” she said, relaying Einstein’s words back to him. She’d meant it with humour, but the words were hollow in her mouth, the phrase scorched earth still playing on her mind.
“It is a pleasing animal to be with. I can see why the Before people kept them.”
He stood up and looked towards the forest again.
“I am sure she did not come from the north. If there were dogs there, I would have heard something about them – I would have seen them. You too – for surely they would have been brought to Dinawl and kept there.”
“You think she came from the south – from the place of dead rivers and scorched earth?”
Einstein looked at her. “She did not drop from the sky. Sorrel – you have turned very pale. What is wrong?”
“Drop from the sky – you said, she did not drop from the sky.”
“I know what I said, why are you repeating it?”
“Because that’s what I thought about the Monitors – they looked so different to us – with their smooth, pale skin, and the way they seemed to glide – I thought that perhaps they had come from the stars – that they had dropped from the sky. But they didn’t. They came –”
The New Day Page 7