by Taylor Leigh
A wheezing, shuffling noise wormed its way into Victoria’s head after a moment of silence. It was almost undetectable, and for a second, Victoria wondered if it was herself breathing so unevenly. She held her breath, and the noise continued to her right. Victoria swallowed and slowly released her grip on the tree to slide round the other side.
She could see nothing. The forest was quiet. Victoria began to wonder if she was hearing things, perhaps going mad from being in the wood so long.
She fanned away a mosquito the size of her hand and then heard the noise again—leaves shuffling. Her eyes darted about the trees, trying to pinpoint the spot.
It was then that the smell came. Something nauseating. Like sick and rot and filth all mixed together. The smell drifted down from somewhere ahead and it followed the noise of shuffling feet. Victoria saw it then, and her heart jumped wildly in her ribcage.
A figure was shambling down the slope in her general direction. Victoria could barely make out the shape of a man, since the figure was so doubled over. His back was hunched and his arms hung low. As the man approached, Victoria noticed in revulsion his appearance. The man’s skin was mutilated and his hair was matted and stringy and stuck to his scalp in odd places.
He was a Blaiden, that much was evident by his height and coppery skin, but he looked off to her. Something was out of place. His skin was broken in many spots and mottled with blackness. And his head was hanging at the end of his rather limp neck so his eyes were trained on the ground. The man muttered incoherently, heaving in awful, whooping breaths, drooling. Victoria didn’t think he could see her. He was high on spores—but much worse than she had ever seen before. She wondered just how great of an amount he would have had to consume to turn into what he was now.
Her fingers closed round the medallion Tollin had given her and she sent of a small silent prayer, hoping it would work like he’d said it would.
Victoria’s eyes flicked back up to the man. He was standing still, head flopping from side to side, breath rasping. The man breathed in deeply, then again, and again, as if unable to satisfy his need for air. He started violently scratching at his skin. Victoria turned away, revolted, and rested her head against the trunk. Her heart thudded in her throat. What was she going to do? Run? He didn’t look to be in that good of condition but she didn’t know how accurate that assessment was. All Victoria knew she couldn’t stay where she was.
She pulled her feet up beneath her, readying herself. In the process she sent a pinecone rolling.
She peeked round the tree again and watched with dread as the man’s limp head swung her direction. The flabby black lips slid away from the teeth in a snarl and the man took a staggering lurch towards her.
Victoria fell away from the tree with a cry of horror and broke into a run, not caring which direction she flew. She raced down the slope, gravity giving her terrifying momentum away from her tree and the man. Her mind became a wild blur. She felt like a hunted animal, except the man behind her seemed more beast than herself.
Before her, the land abruptly disappeared. She realised she was running out of land. Though she’d darted away from the direction she’d come up the slope, she was again faced with the steep incline. She cast about to the left and right, trying to find a path down that wasn’t a straight drop to her death. There weren’t many options open to her. Victoria clenched her teeth to steel her nerve.
She half slid, half ran down the embankment. Dead leaves and wet dirt gave way, taking her with it. The bottom of the valley was right below her. If she didn’t jump, she’d have to climb and she wasn’t sure if she’d survive either. What had taken her an exhausting climb had taken her less than five minutes to slip back down.
She chanced a look behind her and saw with dismay that the man was still coming, and keeping surprisingly good pace, considering his lurching gait. He was slipping down after her with alarming speed. He would be on her in moments.
A horrible, mind-drowning roar shook the forest then. Victoria, out of land, stopped dead still, fixing her eyes on the man, bracing herself for the inevitable. From up above, through the bare trees burst a giant form.
It towered over everything, causing Victoria’s head to yank back just to take it all in. The beast was a blur of grey as it pounded forward, shaking the earth so hard that Victoria could not keep her footing. She watched in dumb fascination as the creature swept down and swung its jaws wide above the Blaiden man. The man stared at her for the briefest of seconds, yellow eyes wide with terror. And then the creature’s jaws snapped shut around him. All Victoria could see in her panic was a giant mouth and huge teeth. The sound of jaws slamming shut was so heavy and final it made Victoria’s mouth ache. She staggered backwards in horror. The man was simply gone!
Then the beast turned, lifting its gaze to her, and in Victoria’s panic all she could see were two beady, malevolent yellow eyes, as they locked with hers.
Victoria gasped as the monster took another earth trembling step towards her. She backed up wildly, painfully aware she was nearing the edge. She bumped against a tree, spun into a thorny branch and her boot caught on a rotting log beneath her.
Victoria cried in alarm as her body tipped forward, towards the rocky edge of the slope. For one spinning instant all Victoria could see was the wet, debris-strewn ground, three metres beneath her. Then the sky and leaves shown above, framing those two yellow eyes peering down at her above a grinning jaw.
Her stomach dropped as she fell. Victoria’s skull hit something then, and the bright forest dimmed away to a sleepy blackness.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Flynn winced as he listened to the great roar shake the forest. The Guardian was out again, hunting, most likely. Fortunately, it sounded far away, still on Blaiden land. With any luck, that was where it would stay. They didn’t need that abomination scaring away the prey. Prey was getting scarce enough as it was with the Blaiden overrunning the place. The Wolves were too noisy, hunted too much and had no regard for the laws of the forest.
Flynn shook his head and tried to remind himself that their occupation of Druid land was for the better. The Tartans had not ventured far into the forest since the Blaiden had arrived. Well, at least not until today. There was that dark-skinned girl, and he wasn’t sure if he should count her as one of them or not. She was too different, like the Traveller. Of course, to the Blaiden, they were all the enemy, and Flynn knew that soon he too was going to have to give up and accept their beliefs on that as well.
He had, admittedly, been resisting up until now. Yes, he’d been drinking their strange potion—not much liking it for the most part—and going along with what they said, but it felt so wrong at times. He could tell by the way Story watched him with disappointment in her eyes. She never said a word, but when their eyes met he knew that she didn’t approve. Still, loyal as always, she said nothing and followed his lead.
It was rather aggravating. She was part of his clan, so technically, she should be obeying his every word, but she was also his friend. And she was probably one of the wisest in the clan. Far wiser than he. If there was anyone he knew he should be turning to for advice, it was Story. Not to mention he always felt a flutter in his stomach when she was near. He wasn’t even trying to ignore his feelings anymore. Technically it didn’t matter; due to their status they should be bound, but he’d been putting it off. Something about actually sealing the deal, as it were, felt like it would destroy what they had. He always got a queasy feeling in his stomach when he thought of it. He knew he’d have to do it soon; the other clan members were already beginning to talk and eye Story for themselves—and they were growing bolder than normal, thanks to the spores. She’d be gone soon, if he didn’t move fast. She was certainly a catch: head healer, best hunter and honestly, the prettiest girl in the clan. Still, he hated to think of what she would say to the prospect of becoming exclusively his, and vice-versa. The nagging feeling that she would hate him for it kept him from bringing it up. The desire and realit
y of the situation made him ill.
So now here he was, at least five years older than the proper age, still unbound and still fighting down ideas that would make the older generations balk. It was shameful. Flynn was glad his father could not see him now, full of confusion and strange emotions unfitting of a clan leader. Perhaps the elders were right. Perhaps he was too young. Perhaps the Blaiden should simply take over and make his life easier.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lost in his dreary thoughts when a familiar voice shook him out.
‘You’re wandering about like a lonely elk calf without its mother!’
To his relief it was Story.
Flynn grinned and turned round to face her. She was leaning against her longbow, watching him with amused grey eyes. ‘Maybe that’s what I am,’ he sighed. ‘Can’t seem to find a place for myself in the forest today.’
‘Well,’ Story shrugged, shouldering her bow. ‘You can keep me company. I’m trailing a deer and I’ll need help getting it back to camp.’
‘As long as I won’t slow you down!’ Flynn smiled, grateful for something to do, and glad they were alone; the clan probably wouldn’t take to well to him helping her hunt.
Story cast him a look over her shoulder. ‘I think we’ll be able to manage.’
They started off. The forest was growing darker and Story moved fast, obviously wanting to shoot something before the sun went down. They didn’t speak, but it was a comfortable silence that Flynn found relaxing. It felt good being at her side, working together to get something done. Like old times.
After a while of walking, Story signalled him to slow. Flynn crouched with her in the bracken.
‘I think I saw something,’ she said in a whisper. ‘Not many deer left on our territory. We had better hope I get this one!’
‘It’s not only our territory now. We have to learn to share with the Blaiden. We’re allies now, remember?’ Flynn reminded gently.
She cast him a long, irritated look, and then notched an arrow. ‘Don’t lecture me with your politics now,’ her voice came through clenched teeth. She took aim at something Flynn couldn’t see in the brush. He held his breath, body tensed, ready for anything. Predators tended to descend rather quickly on dead animals. They could be facing a pack of hungry raptors in less time than it took to shoot the deer down. Story beside him was completely calm. He hardly realised she let an arrow loose. It flew from the bow as easily as exhaling a breath.
Flynn watched the doe fall mid-jump. He nodded to Story appreciatively. He was sure he would never get over his awe at her hunting skills. They pushed through the vines and ferns and found the deer, dead. Story bent down and pulled the arrow from the animal’s heart.
‘I’m sorry. I’m not questioning your decision. It’s just things don’t seem to be getting any better; they seem to be getting worse. I wouldn’t be so against it if they were more like us, but the way they are…Their ceremonies…it just scares me,’ she said, picking up where they’d left off.
Flynn kept his mouth shut. It scared him as well. The ceremonies he had been a part of…His stomach flipped slightly.
‘They’re like animals.’ Story growled, pulling out a knife to gut the deer.
Flynn bent down next to her. He took the knife from her and pressed it to the skin of the animal. ‘I’m sorry. Once we get the Tartans out, we’ll make the Blaiden leave.’
Story gazed at him with her big eyes. ‘I’m afraid it might be too late by then.’
A branch snapped in front of them. Flynn and Story both looked up, muscles tensed to spring. Flynn was prepared for a hungry grunt or tiger. Unfortunately, that was not what was facing them. They were staring up at two huge Blaiden men. Bare red skin gleamed in the fading light. Their sharp teeth were visible through their stained black lips, which were pulled up into nasty smiles.
Flynn and Story stood slowly. Flynn was always surprised by just how big the Blaiden were. Both men were at least four heads taller than he was.
‘Don’t you know the hierarchy of wolf packs, Flynn?’ one of the men asked in a growl.
‘I’m sorry?’ Flynn asked stiffly. He tried to move himself between Story and the men as nonchalantly as possible.
‘The alphas always eat first!’ snarled the other man, spewing spittle.
Flynn couldn’t get over how hypnotic their yellow eyes were.
One of the men reached down and grabbed the deer carcass by its back legs. He lifted it up high and gave it a slight jerk. A loud pop came as several of the deer’s joints separated. The body flopped loosely as the man tossed it over his shoulder.
‘Hey!’ Story barked, jumping forward before Flynn could stop her. ‘That’s my kill!’
The other man pushed her down to the ground with one hand, teeth bared in a snarl. ‘Get one thing straight, girl! We’re at the top here, you hunt for us, you gather for us, you serve us in any way we see fit! And for that, we protect your land from the Tartans, is that understood?’
Story glowered but said nothing.
The men turned.
The man who had just spoken turned round and eyed her hatefully. ‘Just be glad we’re only hungry,’ he spat.
They melted into the forest as easily as they’d come. Story kicked the mud angrily, swearing elaborately.
Flynn felt a little ill. ‘I wonder how long they’ve been trailing us. They couldn’t have just been there on coincidence.’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ Story said venomously, arms crossed tightly. ‘They’ve no doubt heard what they needed to.’
‘Now what does that mean?’ Flynn asked. ‘You think they’re spying on us?’
‘Of course!’ Story snapped. ‘They don’t trust me. I’ve probably been marked for dead since they saw my first outburst.’
Flynn felt like beetles were crawling under his skin. ‘Don’t talk like that!’ he choked.
Story rolled her eyes in his direction. ‘Calm down, will you? I can watch myself. And I’ve got you.’ She gave him a slight nudge and a playful smile. ‘Let’s find something to eat! Now that they’ve stolen my deer we must resort to other measures. Maybe my snares have a few rabbits.’
Flynn stood still for a moment in the ferns, watching her go. Then swallowed and gripped the knife at his hip. She was right. He hadn’t really decided it until just then, but now he knew without a doubt. After this scare with the Blaiden he saw that he had no other choice. He didn’t want another choice; he was going to protect Story at whatever cost. Without her, he was lost.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
She was in a dark fog and Andrew was there. Staring. He wouldn’t speak despite Victoria’s desperate pleading for him to acknowledge her. She gazed into his eyes. Cold, unfeeling. Sharp. Cutting. Cunning. Detached. Her body jerked as if he’d rammed a knife through her chest.
Andrew, please, you have to prove you’re not the heartless man everyone says you are! You’re not, you can’t be! She was gasping silently, fighting through the gripping fog to reach him.
Tollin’s words echoed back to her. ‘He can’t love, Victoria. I’m sorry, I really am, but that’s just the way his mind works. He only sees prospects and prey. To him, you’re nothing more than an object that will help him reach a goal.’
Andrew’s eyes shifted down to hers. They were steady and uncaring. She reached for him. Her fingers curled round his hand. It was freezing. Grey began to spread up his arm from where their flesh touched. He was turning to stone. The stone raced up his arm and covered his whole body and with a loud crack! the ground gave way underneath her. She could feel her heart shattering, upsetting her stomach. She was falling. Her head was pounding.
‘Ow,’ Victoria groaned, closing her eyes as tightly as she could. Her hand fluttered up to the back of her head and she felt wetness. Great. Yet another head injury. Her right arm screamed in pain beneath her and Victoria lifted herself up enough to slide it out from under her back. Wet mud and leaves came with her hand. Her eyes snapped open.
S
he was lying at the foot of at least three metres of wet, dripping boulders. She realised she must have tripped while she was running from the monster and toppled down. Her head had hit a rotting log. It was rather lucky where she’d landed. A few metres away were boulders buried deep in mud that must have fallen down from the slope, but Victoria had managed to land in a pile of soggy leaves and thick mud.
She looked up the rocks. A large brown spider, about the size of her head, was staring down at her. Suddenly all of the leaves felt like they were moving, her skin crawled and Victoria, panicky, backpedalled out of the mess and away from the rock-face. She gasped for breath. Her head was pounding unmercifully with enough brutal strength to bring a cry of pain to her lips.
She felt something heavy in her pocket and pulled out the timepiece Tollin had given her. She flipped it open and stared miserably at the cracked glass. The small hand pointed several hours after when they were supposed to meet. She had never been good with time management, but this was ridiculous! Still, she figuring getting knocked unconscious was a good excuse for running late.
She picked herself up dizzily and glanced around. She was immediately filled with dismay. Though Victoria was terrible with landmarks and directions she could easily tell that this was not where she’d climbed up the slope to the Blaiden’s land. There was a streambed a few metres away from her, but she knew that this definitely wasn’t the one she’d followed. This one was bone dry.
Slowly, like oil trickling down a jar, fear began to settle in her. A cold wind, much more drastic than a few hours earlier, cut through her like a knife. The deep freeze was coming, maybe it was already here. The leaves were crunching beneath her feet, already frosted.
Now the snow was coming and she was lost in the forest. Hardly ideal. Not to mention that the sun had set and the last glow of pale light was reflecting off of the growing clouds. It looked like rain. Perfect.