*****
It took Sarah a moment to catch her breath. The man’s appearance was unexpected to say the least, though it shouldn’t have been. Hadn’t they gone over Left Paw’s curse more than once? Wolf by day, man by night. It seemed counter intuitive at first, to be transformed into a wolf during daylight instead of at night. However, after giving it some thought during their arduous hike, it now seemed clever and cruel.
A wolf, especially a huge red one, was easy to spot in the daytime. It couldn’t hide its nature and would quickly be hunted down. The same went for a man at night. Men, even clothed in black, were not naturally stealthy creatures. Left Paw’s curse made him a hunted beast, an easy target, no matter what form he took. Sarah slowly began to feel sorry for the creature.
She was not sorry at the moment, though. The man illuminated by firelight was not a person that garnered pity. He didn’t appear very old, maybe twenty or so, but Sarah knew that in the past, boys became men at much younger ages than they did now. He was dressed in leathers and his left hand and arm were bound up in a rudimentary sling. His face was thin with prominent cheekbones framed by long, tangled hair a deep russet color that matched his wolf fur. His features were vaguely Slavic, with eyes that tilted slightly at the corners. He looked, Sarah thought, very dangerous.
Left Paw drew near the fire and sat down on the other side without speaking. Sarah kept imagining he was looking at her and the sensation was unnerving. She was already sick with worry and fear. She really didn’t need the attention of a possibly psychotic hunter to add to her problems. When Grandpa came and sat down beside her, Sarah relaxed, grateful for the distraction.
“Can you tell if my grandson has stopped for the night?” he asked Left Paw.
“His scent has not traveled any closer to the mountains for some time,” Left Paw replied. The formal speech between Grandpa and the hunter was beginning to annoy her. It made the atmosphere between even more tense.
Grandpa gave the man a reserved nod before directing his attention to Sarah. He handed her a bag of dried fruit. “It’s not home cooking,” he said, giving her some granola bars as well, “but it will do. I suggest we eat and then try to get some sleep.”
Tyler joined them. “We should get up early,” he suggested. He was notably ignoring Left Paw completely. It was childish to Sarah, especially considering their predicament. They needed Left Paw. Her grandfather and brother might at least pretend to trust him.
Grandpa nodded. “I’ve set the alarm on my watch, but I imagine the Left Paw will wake us with the dawn.” Grandpa didn’t look at the hunter for confirmation, already assuming he heard and would comply. Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw Left Paw nod anyway.
Sarah finished a bottle of water before munching on the granola and fruit. There was little discussion and the sounds of chewing filled the silence. She had a feeling the lack of talking was something to do with the imposing figure on the other side of the fire. Tyler kept glancing at Left Paw warily. He was tense and made sure to sit next to Sarah so that she was flanked by him and Grandpa. She might have thought it was sweet, the two of them being so protective, if it wasn’t so annoying. Sarah doubted Left Paw would jeopardize his newly acquired privileges by attacking any of them.
The tension was getting to her. Part of her wanted to reprimand all three of them for acting so juvenile. Maybe they should just have a good old fashioned brawl so they could all be friends. It seemed like the kind of thing guys would do. Regardless, she felt the active mistrust and vigilance was a waste of energy. Out of mental self-preservation more than actual tiredness, Sarah washed up in the river after eating and crawled into her tent. Not long afterwards, she heard Grandpa and Tyler do the same.
She might have dosed, but not long after lying down, Sarah was awake again. She could hear someone moving about the campsite. It was probably Left Paw. Did she care? The man was a frightening figure and, if what Grandpa told them was even partially true, he was not a man to be taken lightly. However, Sarah wasn’t sleeping and the small confines of her tent were bringing on a sense of claustrophobia. She unraveled herself from the light sleeping bag and crawled out of the tent.
Left Paw was sitting by the fire adding wood to it. He didn’t look up at her commotion, but she felt sure he knew she was there. She walked to the fire and sat down about a yard away from him. For a while, she just stared into the flames. She thought about Benji and hoped he was safe. She hoped he wasn’t scared or lonely or hurt. She knew Benji’s quest was stupid and reckless, but she envied his hope. He wanted things to be the way they were before Mom died. He wanted his old life back. Hadn’t she wanted that, too? Still did sometimes.
She felt eyes on her and looked up to find Left Paw staring at her. Both the fear it caused and the rudeness of it brought out her earlier annoyance. “So you have been staring at me,” she accused softly. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look away either. “I suppose I should get used to it,” she said wearily. “A mære, a former leprechaun, and the centaurs find me irresistible, so why shouldn’t you?” She swept her hair out of her face. It had long since fallen out of the short ponytail she tried to cram it in. The tangled blond mess felt greasy and she suddenly wished she had a hairbrush.
“Others have seen you?” Left Paw suddenly asked. She found it peculiar that his growling voice didn’t change when he switched forms. It sounded the same human as it did when he was a wolf.
“That’s an odd question,” she responded. “Of course others have seen me. I live here. It’s not as if I can help it.” He didn’t ask her anything else, so she decided to ask him a question instead. “What happened to your left hand?” The hunter’s face remained stoic. Sarah sighed. It didn’t appear he was going to answer, which was irritating. “I’m sure you’ve spent the last few centuries of your life getting the strong silent type down pat,” she said flippantly, “but it’s really not that impressive and, after the creepiness fades, it becomes annoying.” She wasn’t really sure why his refusal to talk bothered her so much except that it perpetuated the tension. Sarah was getting tired of the macho acts surrounding her. “So,” she continued softly, persistently, “why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with your hand?”
Left Paw regarded her curiously. “It is easier to see than to tell,” he said finally. He motioned her closer.
Sarah hesitated, anxious. “You promise you won’t do anything to hurt me?” she asked presently. It paid to be careful.
“I swear no harm will come to you,” he said. She didn’t know if she believed that, but shifted closer anyway. Her curiosity was piqued. When she was less than a foot away, the hunter took his arm out of its sling and began unwrapping his left hand. Sarah couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. There was no hand attached to his arm. Instead, there was a large black wolf’s paw growing out of his wrist. Her wide eyes stared at him questioningly.
He began to cover the paw again. “It is part of my punishment,” he told her. “I can never be accepted as fully human, nor as fully bestial. It serves to keep me in solitude.”
“That’s where the name comes from?” she asked. He nodded. “But that means Left Paw isn’t your real name?” He nodded again. “What’s your real name?” She was curious to know. This time he shook his head. If she hadn’t already heard him speak, she might think he was mute. Talkative, he certainly wasn’t. “You know my name,” she pointed out reasonably, “can’t you tell me yours?”
“Names,” he said shortly, “have power.”
Sarah shook her head at the answer. Did everyone in this crazy place have a compulsion to talk in riddles and half-truths? “They do,” she agreed, “but is it really fair that you have my name and I don’t have yours?” Sarah didn’t really expect an answer and scooted away, putting distance between herself and the hunter.
He surprised her a moment later when he spoke. “Galen,” he said quietly, “my name is Galen.”
“Galen,” she repeated. Sarah scrutinized his face. His
eyes were a deep forest green; they were almost black in the darkness. “It suits you,” she told him.
“As does your name,” he replied. He was still looking at her intently
“Why do you keep staring at me?” she asked, exasperated.
“You are,” he paused as if trying to find the right word, “unusual.”
Sarah sighed again. “I get that a lot.” She wasn’t sure what it meant either and didn’t really want to find out. “You’re not exactly normal yourself,” she countered.
“Why can’t you sleep?” he asked her abruptly.
“Sometimes I just don’t,” she answered with a shrug. “It’s better than it used to be, since Eryx helped, but I still have trouble.”
“Eryx?”
“The centaur,” she clarified. She went on hesitantly. “We can speak telepathically. I shared his emotions.”
“Do you have dreams like Tyler?” Galen asked her.
“What are you talking about?” she replied, puzzled by the question.
“Your brother dreamed of me before he sought me out,” Galen explained. “I wondered if you also had dreams.”
Sarah shook her head. “That’s part of my problem,” she said. “I rarely dream. Sometimes I do, but never of anything exciting. Mostly, I dream of the beach.”
“The coastline?” he inquired. She nodded. “Why do you dream of oceans?”
She shrugged. “My favorite place is the beach,” she told him, folding her arms on her knees and resting her chin on top of them. “I grew up near the coast. It makes me feel safe and calm and strong, so I dream about it.”
“You seem strong enough outside of dreams,” Galen said.
She shook her head and turned the conversation around. “What do you dream about?”
Galen studied her in the firelight. “I do not dream,” he said, “because I do not sleep. When I become a wolf, I feel as if I slept a full night,” he explained solemnly. “The same is true for when I am a man again.”
Sarah gazed into the little campfire thoughtfully. “That makes sense,” Sarah said finally.
“It does?” The dark eyed hunter asked, taken aback by her response.
“Yes,” she answered, lifting her head to address him, “it does.” She gathered her thoughts before explaining. “My grandfather told me you have a wolf’s mind when you’re a wolf and a human mind as a human, is that right?” He gave her a curt nod. He was looking at her so warily it made her want to laugh, but she didn’t. “Then you change bodies as well as mind,” she pointed out. “You go a whole night resting your wolf body and brain and a whole day resting the human parts. I think you’re probably both things all the time, human and wolf,” she said, meditatively gazing back into the fire, “but while one part is awake the other sleeps, letting you rest without realizing it.”
Galen was, as expected, silent. When he spoke again, he said slowly, “I have never considered this. I think you are correct. It is intelligent thinking,” he added as if he was surprised she possessed a brain. She almost snorted at the backwards compliment.
Instead, Sarah nodded graciously. “You really were a bad person, weren’t you?” she asked suddenly.
“I was and still am,” the hunter replied bluntly. “At least,” he clarified gruffly, “I am not a good person. But I have had much time to learn the art of regret.”
“Regret, Galen,” Sarah told him softly, “is not the same as repentance.”
Galen shook his head. “I am aware,” he said. “It is strange to hear that name again.”
“Does no one use your real name?”
“Hardly anyone knows it anymore,” he said. “Even I sometimes forget.”
“Seems a shame to throw away a perfectly good name,” she quipped, “but I guess Left Paw is fitting enough if you’d rather I didn’t call you Galen.”
“It is fine,” he assured her. “It is necessary to remember.”
“Why? So you can wreak vengeance upon your enemies once the curse is lifted?” It seemed like something the hunter would do.
“You think I am wrathful?” he inquired.
“I think you’ve done terrible things,” she answered. “I think you’re probably brave and fierce, but cruel and relentless, too.” She regarded him unflinchingly, fully aware he was now glaring at her. “Grandpa is probably right,” she continued. “You haven’t learned the lesson you were meant to. You’ve learned many others instead.”
“What am I meant to learn then? Are you to be my teacher?” Galen questioned her with cynicism heavy in his voice.
Sarah didn’t falter though. She felt like she was baiting a . . . well, a wolf. But she couldn’t stop herself. “You were meant to feel remorse and guilt,” she told him. “From that, you were meant to learn compassion, selflessness, maybe even heroism,” she added. “And no,” she answered his question, “I am not going to be your teacher. You’ll have to learn it yourself, no matter how many millennia it takes you.” She shook her head as she spoke, her pity for him returning abruptly.
His eyes tightened at the corners and his mouth turned down grimly, but that was the only evidence of his anger. “You are blunt, but I cannot claim what you say is false.” He dropped his head briefly and, when he looked up again, his eyes relaxed. “Would that you could teach me, Sarah,” he said softly. That was a creepy statement. She shuddered. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apologized, obviously taking note of her reaction.
“I don’t think you can help it,” Sarah flippantly informed him, going back to her fire gazing. She thought he might have smiled at her, but she couldn’t be sure.
“You are a being,” he told her, “who is learning to be strong when you’ve only been weak in the past. I don’t mind being the object of your newfound ferocity.” There was a definite smile in his voice, Sarah thought.
His statement was rather quizzical, but Sarah decided not to address it. She yawned instead keeping her eyes trained on the campfire. Galen put another branch on the flames. Sparks flew into the air spreading heat and light. Sarah didn’t mind the excessive warmth. It was hot tonight, but there was still a chill in the air. She should have asked Kimmy about rain before they left the farm. Clouds were rapidly covering the night sky and hiding the moon. They might dissipate by morning, but Sarah suspected they’d stay and produce rain by tomorrow.
The flames danced before her eyes. She hoped Benji had a fire. Sarah knew this was some fool’s errand he was on, but she had a hard time being mad at him. Not yet, at any rate. He was young and idealistic and, mostly, he was her little brother. She wanted to help him and keep him safe. But she thought this would have happened, or something like it, no matter what. Benji needed to try something, anything, to make the world go back to the way it was before Mom died. Maybe he wouldn’t let himself be happy again until he exhausted all other possibilities. Or maybe she was tired and philosophizing too much, Sarah thought with another yawn.
“You should try to sleep,” Galen interrupted her thoughts. “We moved fast today, but we may have to move faster tomorrow. Your young brother is closer to his destination than we are.”
Sarah nodded, rising and walking back to her tent. “Goodnight, Galen,” she called softly. He gazed at her strangely, but didn’t wish her a good night in return. She crawled back into her tent and zipped the flap behind her. That was one very odd, very cursed individual, Sarah thought sleepily. In his own way, he was just as creepy as San, but at least he didn’t insist on trying to cultivate a lasting friendship. She felt stiff, both mentally and physically, after their conversation and was grateful to be lying down.
She prayed Benji was lying somewhere comfortably. Despite her waxing philosophical, she was still very afraid for him. He didn’t realize how dangerous an undertaking he was on. How did he expect to deal with something as powerful and crazy as Thana? Surely he wouldn’t come all this way without some kind of confidence in his plan, but it was more than likely a false confidence. Still thinking of her little brother, Sarah
fell into an uneasy sleep.
She woke up to the sound of raindrops on canvas. She changed her under-things while the tent protected her privacy and sponged off some of yesterday’s dirt with water from her canteen. When she felt relatively clean, she repacked her gear and rolled up the thin sleeping bag before exiting the tent.
The morning was dark, almost as dark as the night had been. Sarah saw immediately it was due to the heavy cloud cover rather than the early hour. There was a gray sheet of rain falling from the sky in an unsteady drizzle, plastering Sarah’s hair to her face. She dug out a blue and white bandana and tied it around her head to keep her hair off her face. The water wasn’t too chilly and she thought it wouldn’t be too hard to hike in. She gave a brief mental thanks to Jessie for making sure Sarah brought plenty of dry socks.
She looked around the campsite and saw Galen lying opposite her tent on the other side of the dying fire. He was a wolf again, and his red fur glistened wetly in the gray morning. He watched her, which she had to admit was creepy, but Sarah ignored him and went about disassembling her tent. The noise woke Grandpa and Tyler.
They scrambled with some difficulty out of their small tent. Grandpa grumbled a little before washing up in the shallows of the river. Tyler went after Grandpa got back and once everything was mostly packed up again, the three of them sat and ate a breakfast of dried fruit and peanut butter crackers. Despite the rain, they got going fairly quickly with Galen scouting around them as he did the day before.
*****
Chapter 28: On the Move
Sanctuary Page 40