*****
“I’m unarmed,” Tyler said. He lowered his hands slowly to his sides. “I don’t want anything except to leave.”
The man considered Tyler as if he were an insect on a corkboard. His gaunt face was still mostly in shadow and Tyler could barely discern the movement of his jaw when he spoke. “What was your purpose here?” the snarling tone demanded.
Tyler considered lying, but quickly discarded that idea. The truth was simple enough, and if he stuck to it, he could probably leave the man in peace and keep from alerting Grandpa of his transgression as well. “I wanted to see something,” Tyler said. He was pleased that his voice sounded strong and deep. “I had a dream and wanted to see if it was real,” he explained further.
The hunter grunted and curled his lip at Tyler. Would the strange woodsman believe him? Or more importantly, believe him harmless and let him go? Tyler’s stance relaxed a little when he saw the dark figure lower his spear. Sparing one last glare and waving Tyler off with his bound arm, he proceeded to ignore him and go about his business.
Tyler was very still, watching and waiting. He hoped this wasn’t some sort of trick. The guy was probably quick if he’d been catching rabbits with only a spear as his weapon. If Tyler turned his back, it might take only seconds for that spear to pierce his backside. Another few minutes ticked by with Tyler watching the hunter warily.
The man was wearing leather and boots like an extra from a bad Robin Hood film. He stuck the dull end of his spear in the ground and picked up the rabbits where he’d dropped them. Using only his right hand, he added a knife to the bundle and proceeded to sit on a stone in front of the cooking implements Tyler had previously noted.
The hunter tied a limp rabbit body into a wooden frame before picking up the knife and setting to work. His movements were quick and precise as he began to skin it, all one handed. The sound of tearing flesh echoed in the clearing and Tyler couldn’t suppress a cringe watching the easy carnage before him.
Was it safe to leave now? Should he risk it while the stranger was busy? It seemed odd that he’d taken Tyler’s shoddy explanation for truth. Tyler again considered that the disinterest might be pretense and, with internal indecision, stood his ground. He kept his eyes trained to the huntsman and his gruesome work.
Still not looking at Tyler, the fellow finished cleaning his catch with practiced speed and began cutting the meat from the bones plunking it in the pot before him. Tyler heard a faint splash that indicated the container was already filled with liquid. A brief deduction led Tyler to conclude the man was making stew. When the bones were bare, the one handed figure put the lid on the pot, hung it on the iron frame and moved both into the periphery of the flames.
Now, Tyler thought. I should run now. But he did not.
The hunter gestured with his good hand to another stone near the fire without even a glance in Tyler’s direction. A new thought struck Tyler: what if this guy could tell him about his dream? It took mere seconds for curiosity to crowd out apprehension and Tyler went forward to sit on the stone.
“Who are you?” he asked the stranger boldly. The man might be weird, but Tyler had questions for him and suddenly he was possessed with a strong conviction he’d get answers from the hunter.
The man looked at him calmly for the first time since he put down his spear. “I’ve been called Left Paw for many years.” His voice still reminded Tyler vaguely of snarling dogs tinged with a distorting accent Tyler couldn’t identify, but his expression was calm, not fierce, in the firelight.
The illumination gave Tyler a better estimation of the man. He was startled to note that Left Paw, probably so called due to his damaged left arm, was hardly older than Tyler himself. The impression of gaunt age was the result of shadows and scruff. Left Paw was thin, but far from gaunt. He was tall and his sleeveless leather tunic revealed well-muscled forearms. “I’m Tyler,” his returned introduction caused Left Paw to look up at him again.
“What are you doing in my forest, Tyler?”
“Your forest?” Tyler exclaimed. “My Grandfather owns this land. If it’s anyone’s forest, it’s his.”
“Not so,” Left Paw said quietly. “This parcel was gifted to me long ago.”
“That’s a lie!” Tyler ignored the faint outrage on the other man’s face. “You’re barely out of your teens, how long could you have been here? Are you from some sort of survivalist cult? Because you’ve got the crazy-creepy part down.” Tyler spoke with self-assured righteousness. He couldn’t believe this idiot frightened him in the first place. The guy was obviously some nut-job transient trespassing.
“I’m older than you think,” Left Paw replied calmly and, setting aside the lid of the cook-pot, stirred his stew. “Tell me about this dream of yours,” he said. His tone was unruffled.
Tyler was ostensibly being dismissed as a threat. It irked him, but Left Paw’s composure invited confession instead of conflict and Tyler found himself wanting to respond. He questioned the compulsion briefly before adopting a more tranquil demeanor in imitation of the eccentric man before him.
“I dreamed of this place,” he said softly, watching closely for Left Paw’s reaction. “I found the tree and the path that led here from the farm and ended up in this clearing. I saw a vision in the fire. When I found the tree from my dream was real, I followed the path behind it and ended up here.”
Left Paw stopped his stirring and returned the lid to its place. He gazed shrewdly at Tyler. His quiet façade was unnerving. Even when he moved, he seemed still. “This is real enough. So is the fire. Did your vision appear to you in the flames?”
“No,” Tyler answered. “I thought it might have something to do with you, though.” Tyler felt stupid saying it, but Left Paw nodded.
“I suspect that, also.” The shaggy head stared balefully into the flames. “What was your vision?”
In for a penny, in for a pound, Tyler thought. “I dreamed of a wolf and a woman who looked kind of like my sister dancing. The wolf turns on her, killing her and then they merge into a larger wolf that attacks me from the fire.” Tyler left out the part about the lake and his own wolfish reflection.
Left Paw snatched his eyes from the fire and studied Tyler intently. “That,” he said slowly, “is very interesting.” Silence descended again when Left Paw returned his attention to the fire.
“So what are you doing here? Poaching from the sanctuary?” Tyler wondered, breaking the intimidating quiet.
“No,” Left Paw said with an ironic smile. “I do not poach,” he asserted. “This territory was given to me after I sought asylum in the sanctuary.”
“Asylum?” Why would some random guy be seeking asylum in a wildlife sanctuary?
“Safety,” Left Paw clarified, though Tyler already knew what the word meant. “The world is unkind to those of us in my position,” continued the hunter, “so, I allowed myself to be bound here after tiring of the violence outside these walls.”
Tyler was extremely confused. This guy sure did sound crazy. “What do you mean your position? And being bound? That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“Not to you, no,” Left Paw agreed. He was silent again. Tyler thought he might not explain further, but after a mute measure of time, he spoke again. “I am bound to this forest. I cannot leave it. I have only a small bit of territory to roam, but it is better than my life before.” Tyler waited for more and his patience was rewarded again after a long pause.
“I was a poacher, once long ago. I killed something sacred and ate it’s flesh. Its master was angry and, unbeknownst to me, very powerful. I was cursed for my crime. I have lived a long time, frozen in this state and running from those that would destroy me. Even the enlightened world fears curses.”
Tyler knew his mouth gaped open, but could not seem to close it. Was this loon serious? At the very least, Tyler thought, the man believes his own fairytale. Even as his mind was condemning Left Paw to insanity, he wondered if the story was true. This guy was
dressed like a renaissance faire reject, he lived like some tribal huntsman, and he spoke with a funny accent that belonged in a bad high school production of Hamlet. But, contrarily, he seemed genuine.
Tyler wondered sharply if he might be the crazy one. This could be another version of his dream, a piece of his subconscious. But he felt the heat of the fire, he could feel the uneven crags of the stone beneath him. He pinched his arm and felt pain. You weren’t supposed to be able to feel pain in dreams, right?
Tyler was unbalanced and shaky, but he addressed Left Paw calmly enough. “Can you tell me about my dream?” If this was real, or even it did turn out to be another nightmare, Tyler wanted answers. If the dream became logical, it might stop. At least Tyler hoped it would stop. He and nightmares didn’t keep good company.
Left Paw was checking his meal again. The flavor wafted into the night air with a fragrant spice. Apparently it was done because Left Paw produced two wooden bowls and tarnished, but hopefully clean, spoons from a large chest Tyler mistook for a rock. He filled each bowl and handed one to Tyler with a spoon. Though it smelled good, it looked murky and slimy with fat. Tyler spooned some into his mouth anyway and was grateful to find it actually tasted pretty good. Left Paw did the same before answering Tyler.
“The vision is strange, I grant you,” he said between mouthfuls of stew. “I’d wonder who the wolf is and if the woman is, indeed, your sister.” He chewed thoughtfully. “Fire is a consuming element. It shows no mercy and devours without consequence.” Another mouthful of stew interrupted the hunter. “Suppose the large wolf is trying to consume you?”
“There is another wolf in my dream and it doesn’t appear in the fire.” Tyler interrupted. He told Left Paw about the gray wolf that pursued him the dream, but still left out his own wolf-headed reflection. Left Paw contemplated the fire again.
Tyler was finished with his stew before the hunter spoke again. “The gray wolf is pushing you, herding you, to a certain place. Perhaps it is forcing a conflict represented by the girl and the wolf.” His look turned grave and his rough voice ominous when he said, “Regardless, it is you who are consumed at the end.”
“Okay,” Tyler said abruptly. “I think that’s plenty of creepy for tonight.” He’d had enough of this place and this weirdo. Everything was giving him the heebie-jeebies. He didn’t like it. He tamped down his fear and stood handing Left Paw back his bowl and spoon. For a second, Tyler thought the hunter wouldn’t take it, but he did. Left Paw was as unruffled as ever. Despite Tyler’s deep suspicion that Left Paw was crazy, he envied the man’s composure.
Tyler was nearing the start of the path back to the farm when Left Paw spoke from behind him. “Come again the next night,” he said. “I have very little company and would enjoy the conversation. You will need to prove to yourself this is no dream, so I will look for your return.”
When Tyler looked back, Left Paw had returned to eating his own stew as if he hadn’t spoken at all. He was right. Tyler would have to decide if this was real or a fantasy for his own peace of mind. He determined to return as asked and hurried down the faint track back to the farm. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to check the time (that was all it was good for anyway, as there was never great signal out here). It gave the time as ten past three in the morning. He crept back through the yard and managed to make it to his room without raising any alarms.
Tyler’s clothes were dewy with the night chill and he quickly stripped them off, threw them into the hamper, and hopped into a warm shower. After drying off, he shucked on some warm flannel pants and crawled beneath his covers.
He didn’t really notice the cold until Left Paw’s campfire was well behind him. With his head cradled in a soft pillow, Tyler wondered if it was all made up, just his imagination at work. Part of him hoped it was fiction, and part of him hoped for fact. No not fact, Tyler corrected: truth. Left Paw seemed to speak with truth. That, Tyler rationalized, was why he was drawn to him. That was why he stayed and ate stew with a crazy man in the woods. The need for truth, absent in his life lately, provided a strong compulsion to listen to the strange woodsman.
Before sleep consumed his mind, Tyler had the foresight to hope that he wouldn’t oversleep too much. He was tired, but his illicit journey through the tree line needed to remain a secret. He’d have to be careful.
Tyler felt groggy and drained when he finally woke. It was nearing noon according to his bedside clock. Light poured into the room from his windows. He rubbed his eyes and got dressed with lazy motions. On his way to the kitchen he ran into Sylvie carrying a load of laundry, she tsk-tsked at him, but didn’t stop him. Looking back at her, he didn’t see Grandpa step out of his study and crashed into him.
“Finally up, are you?” Grandpa wasn’t asking a question and didn’t pause for an answer. “I know teenage boys like to sleep in,” said the old man. “I did it when I was young, but half the day is already gone. There are things that must be seen to and you should have enough frame of mind to get up at a reasonable hour.” Grandpa spoke brusquely. “Aunt Rachel and Sylvie have already cleared away breakfast and will be setting out lunch in few minutes. You’ll have to work with Uncle Matt in the heat of the afternoon since you missed morning chores.”
Tyler gaped at Grandpa’s retreating back. Thank whatever gods were up there he hadn’t been caught last night. If this was how he got treated for sleeping late, he’d hate to have to endure the punishment for breaking a sacred rule. Sylvie came back through the hall, this time empty handed.
“You might as well help me with lunch as stand there looking like dead trout,” she said, her accent made the words ‘dead trout’ sound oddly melodic. She never stopped walking, though, and disappeared into the kitchen without waiting for Tyler to respond. He followed after her and helped carry out dishes of cold pasta salad and grilled chicken to the patio table. On his second trip out, Sarah and Kimmy appeared in flurry of giggles and sat at the table.
“Tyler!” Sarah exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you all morning. I thought you might have gone with Uncle Matt to Grand Junction.”
“I didn’t even know Uncle Matt was gone,” Tyler said. If his uncle stayed gone, maybe he wouldn’t actually have to work this afternoon. A chore free day sounded good.
“Did you just get up? You look like you’re still tired.” Tyler muttered in the affirmative. “Have you been sleeping well?” Sarah asked.
Tyler narrowed his eyes at her. It seemed an innocent enough question, but maybe she knew something. Was she having weird dreams too? “Have you?” he returned her question.
She shook her head. “No, but I’ve been doing better lately. I think all the work in the mornings makes it easier for me to fall asleep at night. I don’t have as much trouble as I used to. What about you?”
Tyler scrutinized her face. She hadn’t said anything about dreams or nightmares. It didn’t look as if she was keeping something from him. Nothing seemed to be disturbing her. She was waiting patiently for an answer. Her calm expectancy reminded him a little of Left Paw. “I stayed up finishing a book,” he said. It was as good an excuse as any other, since he did read a lot. He hoped it was believable.
After the table was laid out, everyone but Uncle Matt enjoyed their lunch in the sunshine. It was turning out to be the hottest day Tyler had experienced here and he enjoyed it after the yesterday’s iciness. Uncle Matt was apparently delivering some of Aunt Rachel’s homemade shampoos and soaps to a few stores that sold them in Grand Junction and Durango. Benji was supposed to go with him, but after helping him load up the Range Rover, declined at the last minute. He said he was still working on his room. Tyler wondered if he was building a fort in there or something.
Though Uncle Matt had yet to return, Tyler didn’t get out of chores. David had Tyler help him plant sunflowers in a small section of the northwest field that afternoon. The temperature rose even higher and Tyler was wiping sweat from his eyes within minutes of beginning the work.
He could
n’t help glancing westward every few minutes. The bent tree was still there like a primitive doorway, though the path was hidden from this distance. Seeing the tree made Tyler feel chilled, despite the heat.
He worked with David until the Englishman called a halt three hours later. There would be a forested square of sunflowers by summer’s end, he told Tyler. David had scolded Tyler earlier, but the man had kept a smile on his face and a chuckle in his voice when he did it. It didn’t make Tyler feel the least bit remorseful, but he suddenly appreciated David’s congenial manner. Tyler preferred it to Grandpa’s abruptness.
After David released him from duty, Tyler decided a swim was in order. Hopefully, it would cool his sweaty muscles.
Adam, Sarah, and Kimmy were playing Marco Polo in the shallow end of the pool when Tyler arrived. Jessie was sunning in a lounge chair. Tyler reflected that he was always seeing Sarah with Kimmy these days. Actually, it had been that way since they arrived. He couldn’t fathom why his sister hung out with the boisterous kid. Originally, he thought she would end up bosom buddies with Jessie, since they were barely a month apart in age. Instead, it seemed Sarah’s new best friend was a precocious eight year old.
Tyler announced his presence by diving into the cool water at the deep end of the pool, having only removed his shoes and socks. The water muffled the sounds of surprise from the trio at the shallow end and Tyler surfaced to find them all staring at him before they broke into laughter. He grinned and was content to float for awhile before stroking lazily to the side and pulling himself up on the lip of the pool.
Jessie turned up her sunglasses at him as he reached for a towel on the chair next to her lounger. “Needed to cool off, I see,” she said before lowering the sunglasses again.
“Sure,” Tyler answered. “It was hot work out in the field. I’m sure Adam’s glad he missed it.” She made a noncommittal hum. “Why aren’t you playing Marco Polo with the rest of the Scooby Gang?” he asked studying her curiously. She was wearing a sporty yellow two piece swimsuit and had a book open beside her that she wasn’t reading. She looked like an Olympian taking a break from training more than a simple teenager soaking up sun on a warm day.
“Marco Polo’s really not my kind of game,” she said. “We had a few races earlier, but that’s only interesting for so long.” She lowered the back of the lounger and turned over, snatching her book, and proceeded to read ignoring Tyler.
Tyler shrugged at her back. He wondered if she was jealous of Sarah. Sure Jessie would probably win if it were a beauty contest, probably in any sports contest, too, since she was so fit, but people were always drawn to Sarah. In Mobile, she was always voted most popular girl for the yearbook, except for last year, of course. Tyler thought she was getting some of her mojo back when he looked at her chasing a giggling Kimmy through the shallows. She was looking better, too. He felt the protective instinct rising in him and struggled to quash it.
Tyler turned his back on the swimmers. Jessie and Sarah would work it out eventually. Tyler just hoped this wasn’t all about Adam. He’d hate to be in a house with two teenage girls fighting over a boy.
Tyler went up to his room and changed clothes. He turned on his iPod and lay on his bed staring at the ceiling with music blasting through his earbuds. Daylight brought on more rational thoughts. He was eighty percent certain that he dreamed up last night’s episode beside the fire. Maybe the tree was real, maybe the path was real, but there was no way Left Paw was real.
Tyler could prove it to himself. He could go out again tonight, see for certain if it was real or not. Honestly, though, he didn’t want to. The man in the woods, dream or not, left Tyler feeling acutely uncomfortable. He didn’t want to meet up with him again even if he could somehow explain away the nightmares.
Looking at Sarah today, Tyler thought he might be able understand the dreams without any help. His family had been through a lot in the past year, especially Sarah. Tyler was aware she kept her emotions bottled up and he wasn’t oblivious to all the responsibilities she took on after Mom died. A month ago, she looked crushed and broken. Today, she laughed. Tyler felt guilty about that. Not the laughter, the other.
For months on end, he saw her struggling. And Benji, too. He didn’t do anything to help either of them, though. Tyler wanted to forget the bad stuff, focus on what made him feel good. It wasn’t a very brotherly thing to do. Maybe that was why, at the end of his dream when he looked at his reflection, he saw a wolf’s face. Maybe the dream was a retelling of his own guilt. If he wanted it to go away, Tyler thought, he’d have to make it up to his siblings.
That night, Tyler resolved not to return to the forest. His dreams were manifestations of his conscience, that was all. If he started looking after his siblings more and stopped hiding out from the realty of their new lives, Tyler figured the nightmares would stop eventually. They had to.
*****
Chapter 14: Night Lights
Sanctuary Page 21