Pluck (The Woodswalker Novels)

by Emilia S. Morrow

  “Will your parents be okay with you coming back without a mate?” she asked.

  He blushed a deep crimson. “I can always try again, although honestly I don’t want to for at least a few years. My father stayed in the woods for quite some time until he found my mother.”

  “She let him take her into civilization like that?” Briar asked, interrupting. “I can’t imagine it was an easy transition.”

  “I can’t imagine either. I can’t wait to go back.” He admitted.

  “If you’ve been out here for a few weeks already hunting how have we had trouble getting food?” she said. “No offense.”

  “I packed a bag of food and supplies and hid it off the trail before they let me go here. I never planned on staying long,” he admitted.

  “Would be convenient to have now.” she said, patting her empty stomach.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “So we should start walking again,” she said.

  ***

  As the shadows melt together the pair become more alert. They had hardly made any progress forward that day. Although they weren’t entirely sure where their final destination was, they were certain when they were lagging behind their previous pace. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

  “Hold on.” Briar said, tugging on the back of his dirty sweater. Eric turned around, his thick brows knitted together in confusion. Just on the very edge of her hearing… a soft flutter of wind.

  They slowly returned to their hike, Briar casting glances over her shoulder with every few steps. It was as if she was back on the porch the night Eric was taken, straining her ears for some sort of sign that something was in the forest. She was right that time, what are the chances she was imagining something now?

  The sound continued to pulse in time with her heartbeat. The nervous glances Eric was taking made it clear he was beginning to hear it too. The thick mass of life all around them made it difficult to get a clear view of their surroundings.

  “I think he’s following us,” he whispered.

  “Should I run?” she asked. His copper eyes flickered without a word.

  “Let’s go,” Briar said quickly.

  They took off running blindly. With every passing moment the forest grew darker than before. Trees appeared out of the gloom quickly, with barely enough time to change course beforehand.

  The sounds they tried to escape grew louder. Tree branches whipped at them as they ran out, sneaking tastes of blood from their exposed arms. Briar took another panicked look behind her, but was met with only darkness.

  The fox boy took the lead. As he ran he removed his sweater and threw it back to Briar. She struggled to catch it in motion. He pulled off to the side with a skid to remove his pants. There was no time for modesty here.

  Briar slipped and fell in her panic to not leave him behind. When they both stop moving they could hear the sounds of pursuit grow behind them. He finally took off his pants and threw them at her. She hastily stuffed them in the pack. Her and the fox began running once more. At first they were side by side but eventually the fox outpaced her.

  His true skin was faster than hers by double. He might actually get away. She wondered exactly how he was caught in the first place. When her uncle took her camping with the family he always said ‘Now remember Briar, when you see a bear you don’t have to outrun the bear.’ he would lean in real close with a grin on his face ‘you just have to run faster than Aster.’

  She always hated that joke. She was always slower than her, no matter how much older she got. She tried to outpace the fox but he was gaining speed. The wing beats grew louder behind her. She was sure if she looked over her shoulder he would be right behind.

  Her body was weak, her mind moreso. She was so damn tired of running. She began to get further and further behind, until the fox’s tail melted into the underbrush. Briar knew she could not run much further like this. She was mostly running on will at this point.

  “Eric!” she cried out, more from frustration than anything. Briar was sure he would be fine. Her breath became more labored, her steps clumsier.

  Briar could hear a thump from far behind her, then running. He must have changed to follow on foot. She was terrified, running blindly now. It was clear to her. He was waiting for her to be alone.

  “Briar.” The owl called out, voice desperate. She ran faster.

  “Stop running from me!” His voice was a thunderclap behind her.

  Her foot caught on a stray root and she crashed hard on the ground. Her already damaged leg sent waves of pain through her, but she was all adrenaline now. There was no room for panic. It was time for action.

  Without hesitation she got up and continued running. She did not dare look back to see him. Thinking quickly she cut suddenly off to the right, then back straight so she was heading in the same direction just further away. She took a quick panicked look behind her. She cannot see him anymore.

  A loud cawing cut through the sounds of her breath. Ahead a crow darted to fly in front of her.

  “Hello,” It called out, voice deep and booming. Her heart beat slowed. It was the crow.

  “Hello!” She screamed out, panting for breath.

  The crow turned to dart through the trees. Briar skidded on the soft ground to follow. Wherever they were going was better than blindly running. The crow appeared again in front of her, landing a few feet ahead. It cawed once more, quietly.

  It walked over to a large, gnarled tree. It’s roots broke up the ground around it. The bark held deep gashes as if it was holding some deep treasure. The crow stopped between two large roots. It turned to make sure she was watching before disappearing in the gap between them. Briar followed before she had time to think.

  She landed in a pit no larger than a closet made of smooth stone and twisted roots. In the low light coming from the entrance she could make out the crow picking at a mat of roots at her feet. The crow gives one last “Hello.” before flying off. Briar did not want to be alone.

  She grabbed the mat of roots and used it to plug the hole she came through. It was hardly a door, still letting in some light. It would do little to stop him. She sat on the floor to catch her breath.

  She thought back to him and her heart hurt. Much earlier, before everything went wrong he told her of ancient shelters hidden in the forest to protect the Woodswalkers from danger. She wondered if it would save her too.

  Very faintly she could hear him running through the woods. She held her breath as the sound grew louder. Her face twisted up in a silent sob as his footsteps slowed. He knew. He was definitely coming this way. Small flecks of dirt fall to coat her as he stepped directly over her shelter. The vibrations of it rattled through her hands, bump bump bump. It set her teeth on edge.

  She could feel him now in front of the entrance. His hands clawed at the door. It was nothing but a mat of roots and stems. And yet, as he attempted to lift it, it held. She could even faintly see him through the weave, but he was kept at bay.

  After enough silence she felt brave enough to breathe and sit down comfortably. There he was, above her now. He did not speak, neither to beg nor to threaten. She heard him take a few steps back. Although she could not hear him anymore, she knew he was still up there.

  Where was the fox? What if they could not find each other after this? She hoped that whatever happened to her, that he could get back to his family and tell their families that her and Aster were dead. If everyone knew they could find their peace.

  Would Briar find her peace?

  She fumbled in her pack in the dark until she found her hunting knife. She found it with her fingers, receiving a cut all the way along her thumb. At least she knew it was sharp enough to get the job done. She could feel the blood drip onto her as she brought it up to her mouth to suck. Blood and dirt mixed on her dirty hand.

  She curled up deep within herself. For once she dreamed of gnawing teeth and fetal rats.

  Boiling

  The world was still and silent outsid
e of her shelter. Briar felt no better rested than before. If anything, she felt more broken. She rubbed her eyes of sleep. Her hand smelled of old blood. Through the weave in the door she attempted to see if she was alone. She could see blurry shapes, but nothing definitive enough.

  But it was daytime at least, he could be sleeping. Maybe she had a shot. She kneeled back down to put on her pack, trying to be as quiet as possible. Whatever advantage she had was a slim, delicate creature. She did not want to spook it.

  She carefully lifted the tangled mat of roots to peer outside. Everything seemed clear. She quietly put it back inside. Her heart was pounding loud enough for her to hear. She hoped he couldn’t. Briar glanced up to the branches of the tree that saved her. He was sleeping in a branch directly above her, just like he had the first time they met.

  Briar scrambled out of the hole with some difficulty. Her pack scraped loudly against the bark of the tree. A shiver went through his feathers, rippling rapidly through him like a wave of consciousness. She watched, frozen for a moment as his eyes opened to slits of light. It struck her just how horrible everything was.

  She started to run as fast as she could through the dense clutterings of trees and rocks. For a moment she thought he would not follow. The air stirred in a frenzy behind her.

  Briar panicked, running blindly. The sound was getting closer and closer. With each wingbeat her despair grew. She clutched the hunting knife tightly to her chest.

  She could feel his wings stirring the air around her. Her hair began to whip around her face. His claws reached out to catch her like the rat she was. She could feel his sharp talons burrow into her flesh just above her pack. Her clothes provided no protection against him. She stopped running, thrashing about to try and dislodge him from her.

  Each movement sent a shockwave through her. The pain was hot, angry on her back. She could feel his claws lose their purchase. She turned around quickly with the hunting knife clutched tightly in her fist, keeping her eyes closed. She felt him release her and thud to the floor.

  An angry screech turned to a pained groan.

  She opened her eyes. Her freshly emptied hands were damp with freshly made blood. The stench of it was strong, stronger than the human blood she had encountered before. Briar hastily wiped her hands down her front. She slowly turned to face him.

  Laying in front of her was a twitching… thing. He was stuck between his two skins. He was mostly a man, except where he wasn’t. Hair mingled with feathers on his confused face. His arms were mostly wing still, but shimmering and moving beneath the surface as if the flesh was still trying in vain to form arms.

  The knife had connected in his chest, carving a line from his collar bone to his belly button. As his chest had grown the wound had grown with it. The edges did not line up right, as if the two sides had grown independently as he had shifted. The feathers that had not fallen off around the edges were stained a dark red.

  Briar turned to vomit at her feet, but there was nothing inside but bile. She took a moment to collect herself. Fight or flight kicked in in unison. She wanted to run away from the situation. She wanted to finish the job. When she turned back around he was trying to stop his bleeding with his almost arms.

  She leaned down next to him, peeling off her sweater to press into the wound she had created. It was not very deep, but it bled fiercely. Although her own back continued to bleed she focused on his gash. She would survive her wounds, probably.

  He blinked at her slowly. His eyes were mostly human, but shimmering at their depths like a pot of boiling water. The glow of his eyes was flickering. She had a sudden fear of it extinguishing altogether.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered at her. “I probably deserved that.”

  This made Briar sob harder, heavier. She was not upset that she had stabbed him. She was upset that she was trying to save him now. This was the man who imprisoned someone in his basement, who fed her friend to her, who killed her best friend.

  “Of course it’s okay. You tried to kill me,” Briar said, her voice wavering.

  “I just wanted you to stop running away from me,” he said.

  She pulled away, hands shaking. Blood began to seep from beneath the sweater. She struggled with the decision as she looked down at him. Even though he had just chased her through the forest and openly attacked her, his eyes still looked at her with such admiration.

  “God I’m so fucked up,” Briar groaned.

  She placed her hands back on the sweater, holding it down firmly. He grunted, closing his eyes. If she regretted it she could always stab him again, she rationalized. She probably wouldn’t be able to bring herself to, but it was an option. Briar wanted closure. And no matter what she felt, she could not get closure from a dead man.

  “Why?” Briar asked.

  She hastily wiped away her tears, only succeeding in adding blood to her face. The pungent smell of it so close to her nose made her lightheaded. His copper eyes opened slowly.

  “Why what?” he asked. His voice was not quite right, like his vocal cords did not finish changing. It was all at once raspy and higher pitched.

  “Why did you lie about the council?” she asked.

  “Would you have let yourself stay otherwise?” he asked in return.

  “It does not matter what I would have done if you had given me a choice,” she said. “I didn’t have one.”

  He did not respond.

  “You were the voice in the forest leading me away, weren’t you?” she prompted. His silence continued. “You were the reason I was injured in the first place, right?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said slowly.

  “Stop lying to me.” Briar growled, shifting her weight to press harder on his wound. “It’s over. I’m leaving these damn mountains and I’m not coming back. So please just be honest with me.”

  He opened and closed his mouth a few times as if to speak. “It was me.” He croaked.

  “Why did you take Aster too?” she asked.

  “I… I didn’t know if you were going to make it,” he said. She was glad he did not pretend he did not know her. Aster deserved better than that.

  “She was your spare?” she asked. “Just in case I died or didn’t fall for you?”

  Briar was disgusted. A whole life, wasted just in case. A small part of her wondered if she herself was the spare.

  “We didn’t do anything,” he said. “I promise we didn’t.”

  “That isn’t the point.” She felt like she was going to be sick again. “I don’t care if she fell for you too, or didn’t. She’s dead because of you.”

  “She tripped,” he whispered.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said. “But if I did, she tripped because she was running from you.”

  She wanted to ask about Pepper, but the thought of his answer made her reconsider. Would it make her feel better to know he fed her Pepper on purpose? She didn’t know for sure. Either way, there would be no justice for Pepper.

  “What do you want from me?” He groaned heavily.

  “I just want to go home.” She said, but as it left her tongue she could feel it’s falsehood. There was nothing for her at home. She wanted to feel the same excitement and love she felt before the doubt began to creep in. What she really wanted was to stay.

  “Please don’t go,” he wheezed. “I love you.”

  Briar felt her heart break for him. But it wasn’t her he wanted to stay, it was the idea of her. A mate, a mother to his children. Not Briar. Aster would have been fine for the role. She was just the one who went along with it.

  “I don’t feel the same way.” She whispered. She hoped that one day she would believe that.

  He seemed to solidify between his two states, his flesh quiet beneath his feathers and skin. Even his breathing had stopped rustling his chest. She could feel it in the air, he was dying.

  “There is magic,” he wheezed one final time.“I don’t want you to leave without knowing.” His eyes opened t
o slits as he gave an uneasy smile. New tears bud in her tired eyes.

  “Someone help!” she screamed before she knew what her mouth was saying. Her eyes scanned the surrounding forest in a panic. Nothing answered her call. She thought of the crow and hoped he was still nearby.

  She looked down at him for a moment before standing up. Her body was shaking heavily. She ran back over to the shelter as quickly as she could. The backs of her legs were covered in small streams of thick blood.

  “Hello? Crow?” Briar called out, looking amongst the branches. She held her breath, hoping for a miracle.

  The crow flew back, a question in it’s eyes as it landed on her shoulder. It’s talons gripped her painfully. She reached up a shaky hand to stroke it’s soft downy feathers. She ran over to him, stumbling in the mud. He had told her that crows had their own magic. Although she did not know what it was, she was hoping whatever power would help her now.

  “I need him to get better,” she said, her voice straining higher than she would like.

  The crow flew down from her shoulder and next to his. He looked up at her before pecking at the feathers on his shoulder angrily. His lip quivered, but he did not open his eyes again.

  “Hello,” The crow croaked, offended.

  “I know. But please.” she begged, not knowing what else to say.

  As she spoke she was uncertain he was understanding her. The crow lifted it’s deep eyes to stare into hers. She thought there was a moment when she thought she felt an understanding, but then the moment was over when the crow suddenly took to the sky.

  Briar watched her last remaining friend disappear into the shroud of leaves above her. She kneeled down beside him once more, her hand going down to hold the sweater in place. She pressed as hard as she could. He did not respond.

  ***

  From the distance a pair of deer arrive, running fast on their hooves. The male stopped first in front of the pair, eyes white and glowing and nostrils steaming. Riding his large rack of antlers was the crow. Briar smiled gratefully.