The Untold Forest

by Elisa Menz

  The pack cut through the Forest. The receding darkness gave way to a myriad of wonders. Their discussion in the clearing ended hours ago, and Maeve fought against exhaustion, nestled in the arms of the half-breed. She was still scared, but didn’t know what to expect anymore.

  “W-where are we going?” The look in the half-breed eyes was inscrutable. He ignored her question, too focused on dodging branches and skipping boulders. Their speed was dizzying.

  They must have been several kilometers inside the Forest because she had never seen such magnificent trees.

  The trunks were the size of a house near the roots, and the leafy canopies covered an inconceivable space. Overgrown with thick foliage and bestrewn with lichens of every imaginable color. The aroma of the dark and damp earth was intoxicating, intensified because of the fine dew that glazed the surface and cooled the air.

  Maeve wore only a slim nightgown, and her boots and coat were not warm enough to protect her from the crisp air of the morning. She shivered when goosebumps took over her body. The half-breed tightened his embrace and brought his lips to rest over her forehead. His warmth was pleasant, but this proximity made her feel uneasy.

  Her cheek rested over the furs covering him, and Maeve dozed off while wrapped in his body heat. It was such a strange situation, and she wasn’t sure how to react. Could she trust him? Then again, the plans he had for her were still unknown.

  Stifling a yawn, she asked. “What is your name?”

  If he refused to give her the important information, at least she could distract herself from her dire plight. A smirk from his tight lips was the only answer, and Maeve frowned. Nothing bothered her more than being ignored. She looked away from him, pouting and feeling a little ridiculous, considering she didn’t know if she would live until the end of the day.

  A growl from her stomach interrupted her thoughts. It was mid-morning, and she had nothing to eat since last night. A little self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her body and startled when his chest vibrated with laughter.

  Through the corner of her eye, she spotted him snagging an apple from his vest before offering it to her. The same apple she gave him one night ago. Maeve hesitated before accepting it, curiosity stinging in her mind. “You don’t like apples?” she asked.

  The half-breed laughed with mirth, throwing his head back. His face—only a few inches away—showed her every detail of the sharp fangs that stood out in his smile.

  Maeve flinched. Well, that answers one stupid question. She thought to herself, realizing this denture could only mean his diet consisted mostly of meat. While she accepted the apple and gave it a nibble, she couldn’t help asking herself the other question at the back of her head. If those same fangs would end her life.

  Hakken

  They were getting close to the village, so he took several deep breaths to calm himself, aware that if he lost his patience in front of the matriarch, the chances of keeping Maeve would diminish. While she ate, he couldn’t help thinking about what he would have to do if he couldn’t convince the old hag.

  Would it be better to kill her now, without giving her time to understand her life would end? Would he be the one to do it?

  Hakken wouldn’t allow anyone to take her from him.

  Keeping his pace and taking advantage of Maeve being absorbed in her surroundings, he studied her. Daylight allowed him to see details he hadn’t noticed during the night or in the cell. The shocking blue of her eyes reminded him of the sky on a sunny day.

  Being this close, her delicious scent filled his nostrils—fresh flowers and sandalwood.

  Guilt overwhelmed him; now, he was almost certain he led her to her death. Would he take her life by tearing that delicate neck? Would he hold her in his arms while the light left her eyes?

  Hakken imagined sinking his fangs into Maeve’s skin, and the thought made him nauseous. At least now he knew he couldn’t end her life or let anyone else do it.

  All his stubbornness arose. The painful sensation pressing on his chest vanished. He decided that—whatever happened—he would protect Maeve. She was his, and he didn’t want to lose her.

  “My name is Hakken. No one will hurt you.”

  CHAPTER XII

  MOUNTAIN SECRETS

  Regn

  Freezing water slipped through his fingers when he—for the millionth time—wiped his face. Not that it made much difference. Relentless rain had been falling for days, and tonight was no exception. The weather in the mountains remained as dreadful as ever. At least the snow gave way to rain, and not being able to light a fire no longer made him feel miserable. Yeah... keep telling yourself that.

  After hiding in the mountains for months, alone and under the inclement weather, Regn wondered if the matriarch hated him. The wise woman had sent him away with a mission. It made sense the task fell on him since he was smaller and stealthier than most hunters. His past years as a nomad paid off. Yes, it made sense he spied on the mountain half-breed tribe.

  Years ago, after losing his family, the elves took him to the village of the Children of the River. They welcomed Regn as one of their own. After so much death, destruction, and pain, all half-breed tribes worked together to heal their wounds.

  Helping a young orphan became part of that healing.

  No matter how much kindness the tribe showed him, he carried his family’s loss in an angry place of his heart. He cared about his new people. He joined the community and took part in the village dealings. But he yearned for something else.

  He was a man now, and the years pushed his feelings aside. To protect the village and the Forest became his prime goal. But he never forgot his promise of revenge.

  In recent months he had been too busy to entertain the idea. A growing rumor that mountain half-breeds were behaving suspiciously led him there. Ever since the war, they had been under scrutiny. Neighboring villages expressed concern, demanding actions to prevent a second war.

  Mountain half-breeds brewing a new war sounded a little far-fetched. The few survivors had returned to the mountains with their tails between their legs and spent all these years hidden in the deep caverns.

  The slope of the mountain held a few scattered cabins. For days now, Regn only saw a handful of women and children gathering roots and carrying firewood. From his hiding place, Regn studied their comings and goings with no evidence of suspicious activity, but it was a waste of time.

  If he wanted to return to his village with the certainty the mountain half-breeds were not planning a new attack, he had to go into the caverns where they lived.

  Once decided, it took him a few hours to find unused access. Fighting a great deal of trepidation, he entered the darkness. The inside of the mountain—drier and warmer—did little to appease his uneasiness.

  Regn stalked the surrounding corridors like a ghost. He didn’t sense many people around, but he needed to be careful. When the last corridor opened into a spacious cavern, he crouched to analyze the scene. Most of the villagers meandered in there. Elder women gathered around bonfires, preparing a large meal.

  Others took care of the youngest, the remaining space occupied by sickly looking teens tanning leather or repairing tools.

  No activity appeared out of the ordinary, but for Regn’s sharp eye, it became obvious something was wrong. Half the tribe seemed to be missing, and they couldn’t be hunting at this late hour. The ones around looked too young or too weak to be hunters or warriors.

  Hidden in the shadows, he swept the area until he spotted women carrying bowls with food, disappearing into a narrow corridor, deeper into the mountain. Regn slipped past the tribe and followed the women down the winding hall. He descended for several minutes, and the temperature rose until it was unbearable.

  How can they live here? When he turned a corner, the stench of blood and feces came from the depths. The thick atmosphere sickened him. He heard a permanent murmur in the distance, raising into a deafening pandemonium.

  So this is where they hide. He st
ill couldn’t see anyone, but the noises were unmistakable. Battle cries. Clash of weapons. The savage growls of men fighting hand to hand. Regn turned away from the hallway, finding a discreet place to observe from the heights.

  Gathered in the cave, hundreds of men engaged in violent combat throughout the arena. Blood covered the muddy ground, and the air was unbreathable. They had embedded iron bars in the cave walls to contain dozens of ferocious beasts. Bears and werewolves roared and clawed in their confinement. He gaped as several men opened one cage. With spears and whips, they led a colossal-sized bear to the middle of a fighting pit.

  There stood a somber man. Scars, mud, and dried blood covered his bulky body. Facing on his own a threatening bear, he didn’t flinch. He is not planning to fight with his bare hands, isn’t he? The half-breed people were sturdy, but fighting an animal of that size, all alone and without weapons, was foolish.

  The bear attacked first, throwing its heavy body towards the unprotected man. With impressive speed, he got out of his way and avoided damage before striking its side. Roaring in pain, the bear charged and clawed at the man before he pulled away.

  The attack tore through the flesh of his forearm, forcing him to step back. Deep gashes marred his skin. The man grimaced, but the fight carried on. A crowd surrounded the contestants, void eyes watching.

  This was madness. If the mountain half-breeds thought about making war again, dying in their caves, fighting bears did not seem to be the best idea. Something else was happening, and Regn forced his sight to understand what he was witnessing. A red cloud of dust rose from the ground, sinuous and unnatural. It was not dirt; that much was clear. This dust moved strangely, wrapping itself around the fighter’s limbs.

  Regn watched in awe as the dust converged on the open wounds. The man shivered, bulging veins protruding on his face. Regn was so entranced by the dust; he flinched when the man let out a heart-wrenching scream. He must have been in awful pain.

  The bear also sensed the strange aura surrounding the man. It kept its distance, growling. After a few agonizing seconds, the man stopped shivering and shook his arms, dust falling to the ground. It healed his wounds, leaving no trace of scars.

  What the hell? A beastly roar echoed in the cave, startling Regn. He hardly followed the movement with his eyes. In a flash, the man crossed the fighting pit and stuck his hands around the bear’s enormous neck. The sound was sickening. With one powerful movement, he tore off the beast’s head.

  He held the severed head high, claiming victory while bathing in its blood. Around him, the roaring cries of the mountain tribe became deafening. No... no, no, no! Heart hammering in his chest, Regn wanted nothing more than to leave this awful place. He had never seen anything so horrifying, and the dense air of the cave only helped to increase his fear.

  The mountain half-breeds were planning a new attack. The weapons, the war painting on their faces. It was the same as years ago; only now they had powers beyond belief. Whatever it was, the dust healed that man’s wounds and gave him amazing speed and strength.

  The same reddish dust rose all over the base of the cave, covering each of the deranged men and women. Violent fights resumed in the hall, but the beasts now cowered in fear.

  He had to warn the matriarch and the other tribes.

  Regn scurried out of the darkness of the caves with haste. He left the rain behind, along with the mountains. Despite the growing distance, in his mind, he still heard the echo of the voices chanting the name of the man who was, without a doubt, their new leader.

  A new conflict would shatter the tribes. It was unthinkable to go through war and death all over again. The task was up to him now, to spread the word and allow the villages to prepare.

  He traveled for days, resting only for a few hours to arrive as soon as possible. With the last lights, people gathered around the fires, sharing dinner as usual. Regn took a deep breath, exhaustion weighing his limbs, and headed to the matriarch’s hut.

  The cheerful voices of the tribe sounded hushed and nervous. He soon realized something strange was happening.

  An atmosphere of excitement covered the village.

  Around the matriarch’s hut, an unusually sizable group gathered, pretending to eat while eavesdropping. The matriarch’s voice reached him, conversing with someone he could not see. Everyone else, sitting farther away, kept their attention fixed on them.

  Some stranger must be visiting. That explained their odd attitude. Regn smiled at them. He was so close, but no one noticed him, mesmerized as they were with their visitor. Unfortunately, his news could not wait. The crowd dispersed, and his eyes landed on the matriarch. But when he saw the person sitting next to her, he froze.

  Hakken sat on the ground, legs crossed. Sitting on one of his knees, a human girl talked with the matriarch.

  The air escaped from his lungs as the temperature of his paralyzed body rose. His vision clouded when an overwhelming rage invaded him, seeing one of those murdering monsters among his own.

  Clenching his fists, he bared his fangs in a menacing growl, feeling sick with anger.

  Before he could take one step, a strong arm dragged him into the shadows and gripped him by the neck. In his blindness, he had not seen Kniv approach him, and now he had him imprisoned against a rocky wall.

  “Release me!” Regn struggled to get rid of the grip, but Kniv did not move an inch. The old man pinned him with an impassive stare.

  “Calm yourself, boy.” His voice sounded gentle, but his grip said otherwise.

  “No. What is this? Sharing food with one of those monsters!” His strained shouts merged with rash growls. “You know what they did. Let me have my revenge!”

  Kniv had always been kind to him. Ever since the day he arrived in the village, Regn respected him. Kniv mourned his own loss, but he took the time to care for a young, damaged boy.

  They knew each other well, but to this day, Regn was still testing the limits of his patience. Kniv slammed him once against the hard rocks, knocking some sense into him. “You are always blinded by your hate, boy! Look at her!”

  His eyes opened wide. He gawked at Kniv, the memory of a long-forgotten conversation coming back to him. Regn turned towards the girl, keeping his murderous emotions in check.

  She looked nervous but unscathed. Around her, everyone seemed friendly or mildly annoyed. It dumbfounded him.

  “Look at him!” Kniv wouldn’t let him off the hook.

  What? Who does he mean? His eyes landed on Hakken. The taciturn, lonely hunter, who would usually be gone, or wallowing in his own despair. Regn had to blink several times.

  When he didn’t try to feed the girl roasted meat, he would wrap his huge arms around her, leaning to bury his face in her hooded head or her thin neck. She would push him away, staring at Hakken with either confusion or shyness. Regn could not believe his eyes. “What is happening here?”

  Kniv released him, a playful smile on his face. “I can tell you if you promise to behave.”

  Regn shrugged while staring at the ground. “I don’t give a damn. I have news for the matriarch.”

  Kniv will never let him approach the girl. That much he knew. He would have to feign composure until his chance to kill her arrived. Regn stood straight and looked at him in the eyes. “The rumors are true. The mountain half-breeds are preparing for war, and they have a new leader. His name is Dröm.”

  CHAPTER XIII

  PILLOW TALK

  Maeve

  No logical explanation applied to what she was experiencing. Her life changed in so many ways, trying to find a reason for everything seemed pointless. The night before, Maeve lived through the last adventure of her life. At least that’s what she thought at the time. Her upcoming marriage and the dreadful life in front of her were her biggest problems. With Kieran dead, and the Callums gone, her new reality turned less grim but beyond unexpected. Hakken took her deep into the Forest. Away from everyone and everything she knew. Trapped in the place she feared the most.
r />   By all accounts, she should be dead by now.

  Instead, Maeve was wrapped in the arms of a half-breed. Safe, warm, and fed, all after spending an entire day with his pack. They jumped over every emotion about her presence among them. They had been angry, distressed, worried, curious, and excited. After hours of explaining, and by the look of things, Hakken had won the argument. The pack’s leader accepted her staying with them.

  To find out a woman acted as leader of the half-breeds turned out to be one of the most shocking revelations so far. Human women never held positions of power. They were in charge of domestic affairs and caring for children. Providing heirs counted as a vital task.

  It amazed her to discover female hunters and warriors. Even more astonishing was to realize some men cared for the pack’s children. Whatever judgment they used to assign tasks to each member of the pack, gender didn’t play a role. Maeve would have found this refreshing if not for her constant uneasiness.

  It also came as a surprise to learn the old matriarch spoke her language. She asked about her family and advised her to ask Hakken for anything she might need. The kind lady also explained that, for her safety, she should stay close to him at all times. To conclude deliberations, the matriarch announced she would live as a pack member from now on.

  After a terrifying, well-intended dinner, which consisted of roasted meat and a few odd-looking roots, Hakken said his goodbyes to the others. He took her away from the crowd, and Maeve turned to find all eyes on them.

  Unsure of how to behave around him, she remained quiet. He apparently enjoyed carrying her around and sniffing her. He nuzzled her over and over, even after Maeve kept pushing him away. He promised to keep her safe, but she didn’t understand his sudden interest and wondered what he expected in return.