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by Shayna Krishnasamy

  “At first I’d forgotten, stupidly I’d forgotten. And then … I didn’t want to trouble you further.” She couldn’t explain that she’d held back because he’d been cold towards her – it was far too humiliating.

  “You shouldn’t try to shield me,” he replied, and his tone told Shallah that the old Petyr had returned. She nearly sighed with relief.

  “And you?” she asked, suddenly emboldened. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling so poorly? We might have rested more often, kept a slower pace. Or didn’t you think I could handle the truth?”

  Petyr shook his head. “Shallah,” he said, and it seemed to her that he’d never said her name quite like that before. “I couldn’t bear to tell you,” he murmured.

  Comprehension dawned on her all at once. “Is that why you were so distant all day? You were afraid I would find you out?”

  “What good am I to you without my strength?” Petyr asked. “What am I then, a dead weight for you to carry?”

  “I would carry you,” Shallah said softly, “if I had to.”

  Neither knew how to continue after this, though Petyr placed his hand on Shallah’s knee, the only part of her he could reach.

  “But how did you know we were being followed?” she inquired, after a time.

  “You might have thought me distant all day, but I wasn’t entirely absent. I watched you hearing them, always listening. And now, I hear them too. What do they want with us?”

  “I didn’t tell you of the third prophecy,” Shallah said.

  “Tell me now,” said Petyr, and Shallah could hear him fighting to put strength in his voice, to convince her he could stand anything she might say. It was a feeble attempt, and not at all successful.

  She told him all the same.

  “The third prophecy was delivered to the wolf chief of the western valley. Like that of the oaks, it can only be known to us if passed on by a willing member of the race. But as they’ve pursued us for days, I can only assume their desires are the same as our current enemies.”

  “How close do they come?” Petyr asked.

  “Close,” she replied.

  Petyr stared pensively at the earth for a time, digesting this news. Then he turned to face Shallah, and his eyes, though she couldn’t seem them, were full of fear.

  “I feel as though the very air closes in on us,” he whispered. “Shallah, we’re doomed. Trallee languishes and we will perish here, far from home. How can you bare it? How can you rest with this weight? I try with all my might to lose it, but it will not give. I long to be rid of it. I long for sleep.”

  Petyr began to weep, his body shaking with each shuddering breath. Shallah took him in her arms and wiped his cheeks, her tears mixing with his. Liam cradled Petyr’s good arm and held quite still until finally, in a quiet burst, he began to sob as well. Shallah put her arm about him and the three of them became one huddled, weeping being, their heads locked together, their limbs interwoven.

  When all were spent, they fell back on the forest floor, Petyr on his back, Shallah and Liam curled into his good side. Shallah thought idly of a time when she’d adored sleeping out of doors and had lain for hours like this, feeling the cool night air on her skin. She recalled the feeling of her father’s broad chest behind her as he kept watch over the dark. In Petyr’s chest she felt the same wakeful tension. Even his tears hadn’t brought him rest.

  “Let it come,” she said, encircling his chest with her arm.

  The wood was still. The trees, so roughly thrashing throughout the day, were taking their due reprieve. The dark silence was lulling, making for easy confusions of place and time. Petyr closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them couldn’t be sure how much time had passed. It might have been the middle of the night when Liam sat up at his side.

  Only later did he realize that the darkness hadn’t been disturbed, which meant Liam had kept his eyes shut. The child sat motionless for a moment, his head cocked to the side, facing his companions. Then, quite naturally, he began to hum.

  Neither Petyr nor Shallah tried to stop him. The day had taught them this lesson. The oaks wouldn’t be attacking them this night. They’d already passed through these parts, destroying all in their path, and now they collected somewhere and waited.

  His tune rose up through the trees. It was a lullaby like no other, lilting and coloured with sadness. Petyr allowed the song to wind its way around his mind until his thoughts were wrapped in the notes. Slowly he felt himself drifting into that sweet drowsy state that comes just before sleep.

  Take me, he pleaded. Take me now.

  He slept.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Petyr slept the sleep of the dead that night. He didn’t move a muscle until Shallah woke him in the morning. The air was cold on his face as he opened his eyes.

  “Wake up, Petyr,” she said.

  She was sitting just next to him and there was a leaf stuck to the back of her cloak. Petyr reached up to pull it off, running his palm down her back affectionately. Shallah turned to him. Her face was grave.

  “They’ve come,” she said.

  As he sat up, Petyr felt the warm comfort of rest fall away like a blanket falling from his shoulders. Before them, sitting in a horseshoe formation, were eleven large grey wolves. Their yellow eyes were trained unfailingly on himself and Shallah.

  Petyr reached for his axe, knowing full well that it gave him little advantage over such a pack.

  At the top of the ring, directly in front of them, one of the wolves was on his feet. He was larger than the rest, each of his paws the size of Petyr’s hand. His gaze was fierce, a gaze that commanded attention. Petyr stared intently at his face, watching for the bared fangs, the wrinkled snout, the tell-tale signs of threat. A movement above the animal’s head caught his attention.

  A face emerged out of the dark.

  Petyr froze, entirely disarmed.

  Liam sat upon the wolf’s back.

  The silence stretched on without any hint of action. Petyr became restless. He gazed at the ridged orange bark of the redwoods, the colour so vibrant that he wondered how he’d never noticed it before. The trunks were positively glowing. Suddenly, he realized what he was seeing. It wasn’t the trunks that were glowing at all.

  It was the eyes of the wolves.

  Petyr glanced from one wolven face to the next. Each pair of eyes glowed back at him, their combined brightness lighting the clearing. Liam’s own light, so much dwindled the day before, had regained its former brilliance. He seemed at home, sitting amongst the wolves.

  Petyr wondered, Have we found his people? Have we finally brought him home?

  “What do they do?” Shallah asked.

  “They sit watching us, a dozen of them,” he replied.

  “Liam is with them.”

  “He sits on the back of the leader.”

  “He’s met them before,” she said.

  Petyr’s exhaustion began to plague him as the expected threat failed to present itself. The wolven light gave off a drowsy warmth, like a roomful of candles. He began to have trouble focusing his eyes, and felt his head fall forward in a doze. How embarrassing to be caught napping when the charge finally comes, he thought to himself. Though, in truth, he’d begun to doubt the charge would be coming at all.

  Some time later, a disturbance in the light awoke Petyr from a light sleep. The wolves had gotten to their feet, and the two sitting at the far ends of the ring were approaching their leader. The wolf chief stepped forward and they flanked him, one on either side. They began to advance, Liam still astride the back of the chief, like a child king.

  Petyr explained what he saw to Shallah in hurried whispers. He broke off when the three beasts stood before them, not a foot away. His heart hammered in his chest and out of the corner of his eye he saw Shallah stiffen. Would they attack now, in such a dignified fashion? He took his axe into his lap.

  But the attack didn’t come. The three animals stared ahead as though awaiting approval.
Their bright eyes were near blinding at this distance, but Petyr didn’t have to shield his face.

  Their gaze focused on Shallah alone.

  Petyr saw a bead of sweat roll down her cheek as the heat of their eyes burned into her. He took her hand and pressed it in his own. She gave a grateful squeeze in return.

  The two flanking wolves bowed, extending their necks until their snouts brushed the earth. Upon rising, they returned to their respective places in the ring without an upward glance, their paws crunching on the carpet of fir needles. When they’d rejoined the ring, all the wolves sat down, and the light in the small clearing dimmed perceptibly as the lot of them closed their eyes. The lead wolf alone remained on his feet.

  Petyr could smell his fur. He smelled of the air, of the wood and of travel, and of something simmering beneath: ferocity. He was large, but thin and taut as a muscle. His fur was luxurious, but hung on his body like a coat too large for the child that wears it.

  He starves just as we do, Petyr thought. He would devour us if he could.

  There were only two pairs of eyes to see by now, Liam’s and the wolf’s. As Petyr watched, the chief raised his head and howled into the dark three times. The other wolves showed no recognition, but Liam bowed his head as though listening, and when the last howl was done, the boy got down from the animal’s back. Petyr immediately pulled him away from the great beast, wrapping his good arm about him protectively. He found to his surprise that he was panting, though Liam remained quite calm. He looked up at Petyr in puzzlement.

  The wolf chief flicked his tail once and bowed before Shallah as his attendants had done. However, unlike them, he didn’t rise, but kept himself prostrated. Shallah frowned in confusion.

  “He bows before you,” Petyr said. Glancing from the ring of wolves sitting at attention, to their leader with his snout on his paws, he suddenly understood.

  “It’s a ceremony,” he whispered. “Of course!”

  Unsure of how to react, Shallah remained seated before the humbled chief. She’d pulled her hair back from her face, and looked awfully pale and serious. All of a sudden, Petyr felt very protective of her.

  What do they want with her? he asked himself. What happens next?

  For a few long moments nothing happened at all. Then Liam got to his feet and stepped towards the two. Petyr reached forward to pull him back, grasping him by the arm, but the boy knew his duty. He paused in his step and put his hand over Petyr’s, turning to look at him. His eyes glittered golden. Don’t you see? the child seemed to be saying. Don’t you understand?

  Petyr let go of him.

  Leaning forward, Liam gently took hold of Shallah’s hand and placed it on the wolf’s head, just above his eyes, where the fur was short and smooth. Comprehension dawned on her face. Petyr caught on a moment later.

  Here were the wolves of the west come to deliver their message. The third prophecy would soon by known.

  What followed was an occurrence so peculiar they were never able to agree on what had taken place.

  Petyr claimed the earth shook as Shallah touched the wolf’s fur. Shallah’s hand then began to glow white and Petyr, fearing she would be burned, tried to pull her away, but could not. Each time he reached for her he was pushed back, as though invisible arms barred the way. Unable to intervene, he sat on his haunches and watched as her hair was blown free from its tie and her eyes snapped wide open, a look of astonishment on her face.

  Liam saw something quite different. He felt no tremor, but noticed a warmth emanating from Shallah and the wolf. It got hotter and hotter until he could actually warm his hands by it, then it got hotter still. He took a step back. Then he heard a sound like the rushing of wind, and the heat vanished in a flash. Shallah and the wolf fell apart. The wolf returned to his place in the ring. Shallah lay for some moments with her arms flung over her head, unable to speak. When he touched her hand, she wasn’t hot at all.

  Shallah’s own account was the least complete. She spoke of feeling as if her head had been shoved into a water trough, and of a great pressure on her ears. Images flashed through her mind: a wolf looking back through the trees; a multitude of caves with gaping mouths; jaws pulling at a rabbit’s flesh; a view of the forest from atop a high cliff. There was a woman’s voice in her ear, though she couldn’t make out what she said. And finally there was a wrenching feeling in her arms and her fingers began to tingle. She drew them away. When she came to she was panting roughly, her head on Petyr’s shoulder.

  The wolves broke their formation, circling around their chief. In the same way, Petyr and Liam huddled around Shallah as she fought to catch her breath.

  “Did he harm you?” Petyr asked as Shallah pressed a hand to her chest. “Are you not well?” He was holding her by the shoulders as though afraid she couldn’t support herself, his fingers tightening their grip with every word.

  “I’m fine, Petyr,” she replied, loosening his fingers. “I’ve had the wind knocked out of me, that’s all.”

  “I should never have allowed it,” Petyr said fiercely. Sweat stood out on Shallah’s brow and her eyes were feverishly bright. “I should have intervened.”

  “Please Petyr, be calm,” she said as she put her arm about Liam. “It seems you’re the one who’s had the fright.”

  “I won’t deny it,” he said. He realized his hands were shaking. “I feared … I don’t know what I feared. Only for a moment there, I thought you were lost.”

  “Not lost,” Shallah said, “but found.” She raised her head. “He’s given me the third prophecy.”

  Petyr nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said. He saw Liam watching him. “Perhaps Liam should –” he began, thinking the boy ought not to hear of such things.

  Liam pulled at the ragged edge of Shallah’s cloak, looking at Petyr with that same curious expression. Don’t you understand?

  “No, let him stay,” she said. “I think he’s known all along.” She held the boy close. “He’s known it all.”

  Although it was early morning, the wolves had settled down to sleep. It occurred to Petyr that they may have been sitting in formation for hours, waiting for he and his companions to wake. The chief lay curled a few feet away from the rest, watching over them. His eyes met Petyr’s.

  He folded his hands in his lap to stop their shaking.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  Shallah needed little more encouragement.

  “The third prophecy speaks of a time of great suffering for wolven kind,” she said. “The race will be threatened with death. Their only hope is a boy. The prophecy is this: shield the boy from harm and we shall be shielded. Protect him and our kind will continue.”

  Petyr looked down at Liam.

  “They wanted only to protect him, all along.”

  “How wrong I was,” she said, shaking her head. “Though they’re by no means gentle creatures, these wolves would never harm us. They need Liam too greatly to take such a risk. I know that now, for the wolf chief gave me more than just the prophecy. When I touched him, he opened a door in his mind and allowed me to wander through the rooms of his memories. I’ve seen all they’ve suffered these past months. I’ve seen ourselves though his eyes. I’ve seen their homeland in the mountainous forest to the west.” Shallah held tightly to Liam’s hand. He looked up at her. “I’ve seen their first meeting with Liam.”

  Petyr watched Liam curiously. As though against his will, the boy’s gaze slipped to the pack of wolves, his eyes illuminating their flicking tails, their drowsing faces. There his gaze remained, as though he couldn’t look away.

  What are you holding back? Petyr wondered. What have you seen?

  Petyr insisted that Shallah take some rest, for the exchange with the chief had left dark circles under her eyes. She was asleep within moments of laying down her head. Petyr played quiet games with Liam to pass the time, often nearly forgetting that others slept all around them. Liam’s eyes alone lit the wood, just as they had when the three of them were traveling alone, believi
ng themselves followed.

  But we’re still being followed, Petyr reminded himself. The threats of this wood don’t cease when you cease to think of them.

  They have a mind of their own.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Shallah awoke to the sound of laughter.

  Petyr had tried to stop Liam from waking the wolves, but he’d scampered out of his grasp and tumbled into the pack.

  “Let him be,” Shallah said as she stretched. She heard the scrambling of legs and playful growls. “He’s charmed them.”

  It had been a long while since Liam had had a day of fun.

  “Eat this,” Petyr said. He handed her a battered apple. “How do you feel?”

  “My head feels full,” she replied between bites.

  She began to tell Petyr of all she’d learned from the wolf chief, all that Liam had known and never told.

  “Was he raised among them?” Petyr asked, getting ahead of the tale. “Is he of the wolf clan?”

  Shallah wished with all her heart that it were so. She shook her head.

  “Listen,” she said.

  Liam’s first encounter with the wolves had taken place the day before he’d been discovered in Trallee. The lands to the west were deteriorating, the trees losing their leaves earlier each year. Lead by the chief, a small band of wolves had set off in search of a new home for their clan. They travelled a long way, for everywhere they went it was the same. The wolf chief pressed his band on, snapping at their heels when they slowed, for the future of his people hung on this quest. In desperation, he led his band into the black wood, though their legends warned against the place.

  When they came upon the small boy sitting alone in the wood, a ray of light falling on his shoulders, the younger wolves circled him, wild with hunger. They’d not seen fresh meat in days. They would surely have torn him limb from limb if the chief hadn’t intervened. Though much weakened by hunger himself, the chief recognized Liam for what he was: a sign he’d been waiting for all his life.

  Later, Liam explained to the chief how he’d come into the wood looking for someone. He wouldn’t reveal who this person was, and the chief understood that some tragedy had occurred of which the boy didn’t want to speak. Once beneath the trees, Liam had sat down on a log, waiting for the person to appear. He’d been aware that the trees had closed in behind him, barring his escape, but it hadn’t worried him. He’d felt sure that everything would be all right when he and the person were together again.