Thrown to the Wolves (The Faith in Peril Trilogy)

by Holly Newcastle

  “I will.” A think layer of mud coated the bottom of my dress. “Oh, drat.” A whistling sound cut through the air. “That’s Jacob.”

  “I wonder where Molly went?”

  “I’ve given up on that animal,” I said irritably. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s not helpful in the least.”

  “She thinks this is a game.”

  “Wouldn’t she be hungry by now? She’d want to go home.”

  “She could’ve eaten something in the woods, or maybe she did go home. Maybe she abandoned us.”

  I sat on my heels. “That’s likely. She’s been gone ever since she ran after that rabbit.”

  “I doubt she caught it. They’re far too fast.”

  “We need something to eat. Then we can rest for a while.”

  “Why are we continuing on? There’s no reason to. We’re hopelessly lost, Rebekah. It seems the more we walk, the worse it is.”

  “We have to emerge at some point. The forest doesn't go on forever.”

  “This one seems to.”

  I got to my feet. “I’ll find Jacob, and have him make a fire, then I’m looking for food. I need to eat.” My belly grumbled, reminding me of two missed meals.

  After the fire had been made and water boiled, Anna and I foraged, aimlessly wandering around, searching for anything edible. I managed to find a small bushel of onions, tearing them from the ground, while Anna discovered blueberries, but there were only a few left on the plant. We brought our meager spoils back to the temporary camp, where Jacob sat with his back to a tree.

  “What did you find?” he asked.

  “A handful of berries and some onions,” said Anna.

  “I’m not eating that.” He scrambled to his feet. “Where’s the water?”

  “That way.” I pointed. “Don’t eat the mushrooms. They’re bad.”

  “All right.” He took the stick, gripping it in his dirty fingers. “I’m off.”

  “Have you seen Molly?” asked Anna.

  “Nope.” He disappeared behind the trees.

  I glanced at the onions, which were coated in dirt. “I … gosh, I suppose I’m going to eat these.”

  “Wouldn’t they be better cooked?”

  “They can be eaten raw. It’s better than nothing.”

  “Or dangle them over the fire.”

  “I’ll do that. Roasted onions are rather tasty.”

  “Yes, they are.” She glanced at the berries. “Let’s eat these and search for more. We’ll cook the onions and find more for supper.” My expression must have spoken volumes. “Oh, goodness, look at you. You’d scare Bishop Graber with that look.”

  My belly rumbled noisily. “I’m hungry.”

  “I know. Me too.”

  “All right.” There were only five to eat a piece, and they tasted slightly tart. I hung the onions over the flames for several minutes, the aroma swirling around us. The meager offering tasted delicious, but the food ran out far too soon. “I’m searching for more. We need more. That wasn’t sufficient at all.”

  “I know.” Anna pulled on the bark of the tree. “I wonder if we can eat this?”

  “I’m going to eat dirt, if I’m out here another night.” I glanced into the distance, wishing with all my heart that my father would appear. “Why haven’t they shot again? Why is this happening to us? What did we do to deserve this? I can’t help thinking God must be angry with me. This feels like a punishment.”

  “There’s a reason for everything, but it’s not all that clear right now. It’s part of God’s plan in some way.”

  “I’m not happy with His plan.”

  “Rebekah!” Anna looked scandalized. “You shouldn’t say that.”

  “What are we to learn from starving to death? What use are we dead?” Although I had felt stronger earlier, panic bubbled to the surface again. My emotions seemed to swing wildly. “I’m sorry, but … I hate this. I just want to go home.”

  Anna’s arms went around me. “There, there. Don’t fret, Rebekah. We have to be strong for each other.”

  “You were weak earlier.”

  “And you were strong. Now you need my help. Let’s just pray that we’re never weak at the same time.”

  “I can’t imagine being out here another night. The Gmay has to be searching for us. They must have dogs with them and weapons. Someone will find us.”

  “Yes! Exactly. And until then, we must be strong. Let’s look for food while we can and then rest.”

  “Very well. I’m sorry about that.”

  “There’s no reason to be sorry.”

  “This was my fault.”

  She gave me a look. “You know that’s not true. If you want someone to blame, it’s Jacob and that stupid dog, but blaming is useless at this point. It doesn’t matter. We’ve all made poor choices.”

  “Dat and Mam must be besides themselves with worry. We’ve caused them such trouble.”

  “I imagine they are, but it was an accident. We didn’t mean to do this.”

  We resumed our wandering, examining bushes. “I wish we would magically turn in the right direction.” Then an idea struck me. “Our house is northerly, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then if we follow the sun, isn’t is possible to find north? It’s going to set in the west.”

  “That would work normally, Rebekah, but we’re in the forest. I can’t even see the sun.”

  “Then we should look for a meadow or some open space.”

  She bent to examine a bush. “That would be marvelous, if only we were able to do that. I found more berries!”

  Hurrying over, I knelt beside her. “Oh, how wonderful!” An enormous bush of blackberries, ripe for the picking, met my gaze. “Jacob! Wait until he’s here, and then we can eat them all.”

  “This will keep us.”

  Tears swam in my eyes, because we would not starve now. “Yes, it will. We’ll feel nice and full after this meal.” Several bees buzzed, the insects hovering, but I ignored them. I’d brave a sting in order to eat well. “They look so plump and perfect.”

  “It’s a gift from God.”

  “I hope He bestows lot of gifts, Anna.”

  “And He will. We’ll be taken care of. He’ll provide for us.”

  After Jacob returned, we said our prayers and ate, picking each and every berry from the bush, until our lips and fingers turned purple. They tasted slightly sour, but delicious. The mood became jovial, with laughter and teasing, our spirits lifted by the meal. To add to this, I found another bushel of onions, which we would eat later, if we had to, unless a rescue came sooner.

  “I’m going to wash my hands.” I got to my feet. My belly no longer protested out of hunger.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Me too,” said Jacob. “Then we should walk again.”

  I glanced at him. “We don’t know where we’re going. That’s the problem. I can’t help thinking we’ve gotten even more lost wandering around.”

  Jacob strode ahead, his feet crunching over leaves. “It’s too late now. We gotta keep walking. We need to find a way out.”

  “He’s right,” said Anna. “We’ll find a road or a field sooner or later.”

  “I wish we could get a better look at the sun. I want to know what direction we’re going in.” We arrived at the creek, kneeling upon the rocks to wash our hands.

  “We’ve many hours ahead of us,” said Anna. “I’m hopeful we’ll find a way out.”

  “I didn’t know the woods were this deep.”

  “Dat knows,” said Jacob. “That’s why the hunters mark where they’ve been with bright ribbons.”

  I gave him a look. “Then why did you go so far? If you knew how dangerous it was, why did you do that?” I hated the bitterness in my voice, but Jacob and Molly were the reason we became stranded in such a manner. I had been holding my frustration and anger in check, trying not to lash out at anyone, but it seemed impossible.

  “It’s no use to lay blame,” said
Anna. “It does little good. What’s done is done.”

  “But will you do something this foolish again?” Had he even realized the peril he had placed us in?

  “No.” Jacob washed his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think we’d get lost. We’ve been in these woods so often, I didn’t think twice about it. Once it got dark, that’s when I knew we were in trouble, but it was too late then.” He smiled contritely. “I’m sorry, Rebekah. I know you hate it here. I know it’s my fault.”

  He had apologized. I couldn’t ask for more. “Very well, Jacob. At least you know how reckless you were.”

  He got to his feet. “Let’s get walking—”

  A noise sounded in the distance; the crack of gunfire.

  “Oh, my goodness!” exclaimed Anna. “There it is again!”

  “Where did it come from?” The muted echo sounded as if the weapon had been discharged many miles off. “Listen!” Another shot rang out. “They sound so far away.”

  Anna’s smile had fallen. “They do, don’t they?”

  “This way!” Jacob grinned. “They’re that way.”

  “We came from that direction,” I said, pointing.

  “Then we gotta go back.”

  I closed my eyes, while a feeling of hopelessness crept over me. Meeting Anna’s gaze, we commiserated silently, knowing we had wandered even further from help.

  She reached out to touch my hand. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll walk back the way we came and continue on. There’s nothing else for us to do.”

  A deep, steadying breath entered my lungs. I hated the thought of spending another night in the forest, but it seemed a very real possibility. “We need to look for food while we walk. Onions, nuts, mushrooms, whatever we can find.”

  “Come on, girls. We can do this. We’ll be home in an hour or two. It’s this way.”

  Those words brought me little comfort. I knew the truth. We were not going to be home by evening, not by the sound of that gunfire. “Yes, Jacob,” I said tonelessly.

  We trudged back the way we came, following the incline again, where my legs ached and my lungs protested, but I forced myself to go on. The decline brought us through moss-covered boulders, while the aroma of pine and earth filled my lungs. I felt blessed that the weather had held out, because rain would have made our journey even more challenging.

  “Why won’t they shoot more?” asked Anna.

  “I don’t know.” As if answering my plea, another bang rang out, but this one lay in an entirely different direction. We stopped to listen.

  “I’m stumped,” said Jacob. “That came from that way.” He pointed left.

  “Oh, rotten gravy!” Anna kicked a stone with her boot, stomping around. “I … hate … this!”

  “Shush!” I said, as another noise caught my attention. “I hear something.” We stood together amidst the trees, a collection of younger and older hardwoods, some whose branches hung lower than others. “Do you hear that?”

  “There wasn’t another shot,” said Anna.

  “No, it wasn’t that. I thought I heard something.” It had sounded like a growl or the whimpering of an animal, but I couldn’t be sure. “Listen.” The quiet that surrounded us unnerved me, because there had been birdcalls only minutes ago, yet those were silent now. And then I perceived it. “It feels like the earth is moving,” I whispered.

  Anna glanced at me. “Something’s running. It’s coming this way.”

  “More than one something.” Jacob craned his neck. “What is that?”

  A low growl reverberated, lifting the hair on the nape of my neck. More howls rang out, like a rallying cry, a call to arms. Before I my mind constructed another thought, an animal burst from the bushes, its tan-colored fur matted with blood.

  “Molly!” screamed Anna, a look of horror upon her face.

  But the dog was not alone. The pounding of the earth had come from the combined forces of dozens of feet, enormous paws that spanned the size of a man’s hand. Wolves.

  Chapter Eight

  There was nothing we could do for Molly, and we knew it. Our dog had been wounded, desperately bleeding from what looked like a laceration around her neck. She whelped piteously, limping, but it was too late. It might even be too late for us. They surrounded us within seconds; the growls had reached a fever pitch, the noise deafening. Several grayish colored animals emerged from the foliage, one-by-one, forming an orderly circle, a display of solidarity, but it was laced with aggression. Two white wolves appeared from amongst the trees, their noses lifted high, while their yellow eyes blazed.

  “Oh, gracious!” cried Anna. “Oh, help us, Jesus!” Tears were in her eyes, her chest heaving.

  “The trees!” shouted Jacob. “Climb! NOW!” He grasped a branch, hauling himself up and throwing a leg over to balance in a straddle. Then he brought his feet up and stood. “Higher ground! Get off the ground!”

  I hadn’t waited to see if Anna did the same, reaching for the nearest tree and climbing. My hands trembled with the force of the emotions rushing through me. Anna had done the same, standing on a branch, although being on a young tree, the boughs looked weak.

  “Will we be safe now?” she asked, her eyes flashing. “Are we high enough? Do wolves climb?”

  “They don't want anything to do with humans,” said Jacob. “Dat told me so. We just better get out of their way, is all I know.”

  “Poor Molly.” A wave of grief and sympathy washed over me, knowing our pet would pay the ultimate price for our freedom. The wolves had been distracted, focused on their prey, and not interested in us, or so I hoped. “Poor girl. I’m so sorry.”

  “There’s nothing we can do, Rebekah,” said Jacob gently. “It’s best not to watch.”

  Bile rose in my throat, while I gripped the branch with sweaty palms. I stood above the ground with my brother and sister, the three of us having found safety, but the same could not be said for Molly. The animal had run off earlier, and, by the looks of it, she had drawn the attention of the wolves.

  “You’ll meet God in heaven, Molly,” murmured Anna. “Please let this be quick and painless. Please take care of our dog …” she breathed, while crying. “We love you, Molly.”

  Seeing my sister in this state had affected me deeply. How I wished we had climbed the same tree. She was across the way, with a dozen or more wolves between us. The animals yapped and howled in a circle around Molly. Our dog knew her death was imminent, because her posture had fallen, the shoulders hunched, and her head remained down. The tail that had always wagged happily now lay between her hind legs. Even her ears drooped. She whimpered and whined, cowering before her attackers, her black eyes nearly opaque, the light all but gone in them.

  “There, there, girl,” said Jacob softly. “You’ve no reason to be scared. You’re in God’s hands now. He’ll take care of you.”

  I counted at least twelve wolves, the pack growling and whining, whipping their tails back and forth in anticipation of the kill. They had chased Molly to this place, our dog leading them straight to us. There was little we could do, but stay above ground and watch the unfolding horror, which seemed to unravel with deliberate slowness. The pack waited for a sign, their yellow eyes glinting predatorily.

  I knew nothing about wolf behavior, but perhaps Jacob could explain things. “What are they doing?”

  “I think that one’s the alpha.” He pointed to the larger of the white wolves. “He’s the first to howl, and then the others follow.”

  The animals barely glanced in our direction, their focus on Molly, who had lowered herself to the ground, her head bent obsequiously. Each wolf howled then, the sound swelling, while Molly cowered even further, pressing her nose into the dirt.

  A loud crack drew my attention to Jacob, who had torn a small branch from the tree. “You go!” he shouted, throwing the stick at the offending wolves, although they sidestepped it easily. “Shoo! Go away!”

  Seeing this, Anna grasped a limb over her head, bringing it down with a loud
snap. “Go away! Go eat something else!” She balanced on a thicker branch, her boots a foot apart, the knees slightly bent. “Go away!” She hurled the wood, although she missed and it landed on the ground less than a meter away.

  The animals took note of this, especially the white wolf, who sneered, baring sharp-looking teeth. This brought forth a declaration of solidarity, as the other wolves yelped and whined, their tails wagging vigorously.

  Jacob broke off another branch, hurling it at the wolf. He stepped aside, but the end caught him on the rump, and the animal growled. “Go away! Leave our dog alone!”

  Hope suddenly flared within me. Could we save Molly? I reached for a branch, tugging on it, until it snapped. I was about to throw it when a kerfuffle occurred. The animals became even more frenzied than before, with the alpha howling heartily, although the tone sounded higher in pitch. Before I could throw the stick, Molly jumped to her feet, darting into the foliage, and disappearing from sight. The white wolf gave chase, as the others followed. Their sounds carried in the forest, like cries of ecstasy, while Molly shrieked, the sound cut off abruptly.

  I glanced at Jacob. “We did everything we could for her. Throwing that stick was a brilliant idea.”

  “But it wasn’t enough,” he said softly, sitting on the branch with his shoulders concave. “Wish we could’ve done more.”

  “She fought bravely,” said Anna. “We fought bravely as well.”

  “It was God’s will.” The howling and yelping continued, and I surmised the wolves were greedily devouring our pet. “We’ll see Molly again in heaven.” I wanted to weep, feeling the prick of tears, but I forced them away. I needed to remain strong.

  My parents handled death with acceptance and pragmatism, because they knew it as a part of the evolving cycle of life. We would all die one day too, yet having to bear witness to such tragedy remained difficult. Knowing Molly died, and hearing the commotion in the distance, I hung my head, desperately holding back the tears.

  “When can we go down?” asked Anna. “I’m scared. I don’t want them to attack me.” She sat on a branch, her feet dangling below.