The Wildest Woods

by S. K Munt

  But it was hard to tear myself away from that boat, because I’d never seen anything like it in my life, and neither had a lot of the children apparently because they abandoned their sleighs and clustered around me, ‘Oohing’ and ‘Aahing’ and asking questions that I could not answer. I waited there with them until Sam caught up with me, and asked him what a ship like that would have been used for (for all of our benefits) but before Sam could answer, Serif swaggered up and informed us all that it had been the kind of boat that wealthy people would have vacationed on while touring the Canadian Rivers in the time before. ‘A cruise ship’ he called it, though he had no idea how it had gotten there because where we were hadn’t always been this close to the coast.

  That was when Sam pointed to more indistinguishable lumps near the edge of that part of the valley, saying that there must have been an actual harbour in that area once with access to a sizeable river at least, because he’d read someone else’s mind and had seen their memories- of having spotted several twisted and rusted yachts stuck in the snow and the ice there a few years ago when they had made this trip during the summer.

  Of course ‘summer’ in the region meant that it snowed just a little bit less than usual, but that slight rise in temperature permitted just enough of a thaw for those rusted old boats to be able to peek out from the frozen bay around and beneath them. We couldn’t see them now, of course, but kids being kids, they all started trying to convince one another that they could, having a grand old time despite the brutal weather. Like me, I suspected that they’d all been cooped up in dark, dank spaces for too long, and viewed these supposed wastelands as a winter wonderland of sorts- a graveyard from the time before full of wonderful mysteries that were just begging to be uncovered and solved.

  I was amazed that these ancient relics had survived for so long because seventy-five percent of Calliel was devoid of ruins despite how over-populated and developed America had been in the time before, but that was when Martya joined us and started explaining that things had lasted longer in the north because it hadn’t been bombed to smithereens first as America had been and because the ice preserved things as surely as the heat deteriorated things in America’s deserts.

  But the ice would only pardon the objects in its grasp so long as it, and they, remained frozen so now that the thaw had set in, the landscape was destined to flatten out and quickly. Some of the kids looked disappointed to learn that they wouldn’t get to roll the ship over one day and go sailing out to Pacifica on it, but I noticed one or two of the children hanging on to Martya’s every word like I once had, and probably always would. The hunger for knowledge, I supposed, was the only human craving that could never be completely sated.

  That was when a fox came rushing after us, and preservation of our lives became the only thing on our minds. As I cried out and attempted to octopus-arm the kids closer to and behind me without dropping the baby in my stiff arms, the fox whizzed between the legs of a man to our left, and then took a nip at another child’s leg behind him when she screamed in terror and leapt up into her father’s arms. Adrenaline flooded my veins when I saw the fox jump up and gnash its teeth at the girls dangling foot, and I was just calling out to Sam and Martya to come guard the kids so I would be free to throw myself into the fray, when the man with the axe, Windsor, (whom I could only recognize because of the bright red strip of fabric that he’d used to fasten his axe-stone to its handle) raced forward from behind them and managed to land a blow into the fox’s rump that made the animal yip in agony and spurt blood all over that pristine snow before it took off over the hill with an awkward gait. My heart sank at the sight of the blood and the tortured wails of the animal as it yipped its last, but I was human and so I was more upset by the sound of the frightened little girl’s wails.

  ‘That was impressive, wasn’t it?’ Sam asked, indicating to where the people were dusting off Windsor while other members of The Sequestered tended to the father and daughter. I wanted to help but honestly, everything seemed to be taken care of already. ‘You know… for a bunch of Heathens.’

  I sighed a cloud of fog. ‘I never thought that they were Heathens, Sam. I thought briefly yesterday morning that they were acting like them, but I’d already seen them act politely enough to know that wasn’t the closed case- so please, don’t put that in your bloody memoir.’

  ‘I know,’ Sam said nonchalantly. ‘You always try to see the best in people. I, on the other hand, figured them for Heathens straight up. And I thought I should know because I myself have known to act like one from time to time.’

  I hugged myself under my coat and rubbed my arms briskly, trying to get the residual heat from my brief fire to penetrate my icy skin and accelerate my blood circulation, especially inside my elbows. Kids were crying in fright, and I inclined my head to indicate to him that we ought to help Martya comfort them all, even though I knew that I was going to have to palm off the baby-carrying job to someone else for a while. ‘That doesn’t surprise me at all,’ I nudged him with my cloaked elbow and grinned, ‘but these people aren’t so bad. I was expecting sex crazed barbarians-’ Sam choked and started laughing and I looked at him, raising an eyebrow. ‘What?’

  ‘Oh nothing. Just do yourself a favour and sleep near the kids and away from the adults as often as you can, all right?’

  I made a face. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  But Sam pointed down to the small girl he was leaning down to pick up and held a finger to his lips. ‘Nothing that should be repeated in mixed company.’ He now patted the little girl’s head as he picked her up. ‘There there,’ he said flatly, and without a shred of compassion. ‘The mean animal is bleeding to death now- and that will make him too weak to come back and eat you so you’re fine.’

  In response, the child went bright red and threw back her head in a wail that made my arm hairs stand on end. I lost my footing in a patch of mushy snow as a stiff breeze swooped over the side of the valley and right through me, but I managed to get the terrified child out of Sam’s indifferent arms. ‘You have a way with children,’ I said wryly, jogging the little girl on my hip while I looked around for her parents. ‘It’s not a good way, mind you-’

  ‘No soul, remember?’ Sam was rubbing his head and looking agitated. ‘Besides, children are vexatious for me, especially ones that are too young to articulate their thoughts. It’s like having a very loud thunderstorm in my head whenever there’s more than one around.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, and I meant it. ‘You go on, I’ll be along soon.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sam turned away from the children, a pained expression contorting his features, and I watched him go, rubbing the little girl’s back vigorously. Like Sam, I didn’t have the slightest idea about how to handle children, but Kohén had always enjoyed having his back rubbed when he was upset and-

  My thoughts were ripped off that particular track when suddenly, the feeling of being watched came over me so intensely that I actually spun around, half-expecting to find someone standing on my heels. But there was nothing there- just a little boy helping another little girl off the snow and paying me no mind, the ship and the white-washed landscape. I frowned as that feeling intensified and scanned the snowy lip of the valley, terrified for one moment that maybe we were being followed by someone, maybe even by a few of the Banished or worse- someone from Arcadia- and that was when I saw it; a tiny, lone, white-grey wolf. It was barely distinguishable from the blanket of white slush behind it, but it was sitting on top of one of the unidentified lumps that we had just passed and staring at me.

  Wow… I thought, holding the little girl more tightly. That kind of looks like the one that attacked Sam the other day…

  I opened my mouth to sound the alarm because the wolf was certainly close enough to us to pose a threat, but that was when I saw it look from me, to the blood on the slushy, scarlet ground and then back at me again. Its face was unreadable, but I could feel fear emoting off it, even from where I stood. Had the fox
been a friend of his? Wasn’t the best company to keep, but I’d had worse friends so I could empathise. Now my skin was crawling from the feel of the bearskin around my shoulders and arms, and my stomach was whirling from the guilt pooling inside it.

  I’m sorry, I thought, biting my lip and trying not to cry for how lonely that wolf looked. Honestly… if I can do something about the rift between my kind and yours, I will. But how about for now, you don’t attack me, and I won’t attack you, hmm?

  In response, the Wolf’s ears twitched and then just as suddenly as it had appeared, it turned and left. Deciding to keep the creature’s appearance to myself, but keep a watchful eye out for it, I turned to face north again, and forged on.

  13.

  The Factory

  Larkin

  We arrived at the third sequestered camp just as the valley was beginning to get too dark and cold to fathom, and I was somewhat shocked to see that this one was man-made as well. Except instead of turning a tunnel or an old railway station into a home, the people that had founded the third camp had actually built themselves a home, which they now referred to as ‘The Factory.’ We should have been excited to see it, but by that point all seventy of us were staggering around like zombies and could barely speak through our clenched jaws, and a few of the children and adults were actually weeping due to their lethargy, so the best we could do to demonstrate our relief was to lift our feet over the three-inch threshold without falling down and dying on the spot.

  It wasn’t a pretty building, nor did it resemble any structure that I had ever seen before, but it was certainly functional and when we were welcomed in and down a staircase- all seventy of us- I was gobsmacked to see that it was about the size of the harem, but two floors high! As Bastien helped me out of my cloak and hung it over a rail near a gigantic fire in a hearth so the snow would melt off it, he explained to me that he had helped build this place eleven years before when he and a few of the older members of The Sequestered had discovered the ruins of an old factory there. Its walls had been crumbling and it had been filled with snow and ice thanks to the fact that there had not been a roof left on top of it then, but they had gradually begun to restore it after realizing that what was left seemed structurally sound, as they had in Hope Station.

  So, using debris that they scavenged from the wastelands, they’d slowly patched up the gaps in the bricks with more bricks and stones and handmade mortar (none of the scavenged bricks matched, so it had an odd, patchwork look to it from the outside) and once that was done, they’d started using old trees to build roof trusses, and finally rusted sheets of iron as a new sharply slanted roof that had to be repaired constantly so that it wouldn’t cave in from the snow that fell on it every day. The building was ugly, but it was not as cold inside as it should have been, and when I looked closely at the interior walls, I realised that was because they had been insulated using fabric! Like a crazy quilt from some faded hell place, scraps and scraps of mismatched, torn and stained fabric had been glued to the insides of the bricks in a pastiche without rhyme but with plenty of reason and as a result, the entire place seemed a lot more comfortable than it had a right to be in that hostile and frosty region.

  I wonder what creative genius came up with that idea? I wondered as I yawned for the third time in as many minutes. Or is that just one more basic survival tip that has escaped my notice thanks to my sheltered upbringing?

  The oddest thing about The Factory was the fact that when you entered from the outside, you actually found yourself standing on the landing on the topmost level. The giant upper room had been partitioned up into tiny stalls for sleeping in, like a barn, and a flight of steel stairs led down to the first level, which made it feel like you were descending into a basement. Bastien yawned (proving that yes, even he had physical limits!) as he explained that the first level had been boxed in by snowdrifts over the years and so they had decided to fit a door into the top floor when it had become obvious that they were never going to be able to dig the main one out. Now they’d gotten so used to using the top floor as the entry that they rarely gave the old, snow-covered door beneath the snow a second thought. Bastien joked that if the snow ever piled high enough to cover the second floor too, they might consider turning the cramped attic into a third.

  The bottom floor still had its original pillars from the time before in place to help support the entire structure to show that it had once been just the one, open room, but The Sequestered that had restored it had divided that space up into three specific rooms: a common room, a kitchen and a washroom, which made it feel cluttered. There was no plumbing or electricity to speak of and barely any furniture, but snow was brought in and melted for cooking, drinking and washing with and kerosene lamps and brick fire pits used for heating and light, and Bastien swore to me that it was a lot more comfortable than it looked even though he’d never been very comfortable staying there due to how isolated it was, and how peculiar its permanent residents were. The whole place stank of smoke and mildew and sweaty, wet humans, and things like bags of flour, rice and weapons were stored right up against the walls, giving that gigantic space a grubby, crowded feel, but the colossal wood fire kept some of the more unpleasant odours at bay and delighted the children, who crowded around it like little tribal warriors, warming their hands.

  I also warmed myself by it gratefully, but I was somewhat unnerved by the boarded up windows and the cracks in the floor- not to mention that steel staircase, which rattled under the weight of a handful of people, and distinctly sagged as the seventy of us had filed down them. Was this building truly safe? The mildewed ceiling said otherwise, and made me reflect on how much safer I’d felt at Hope Station despite the fact that there had been the weight of a mountain’s peak pressing down on us. To add to my unease, the few people that had greeted us had seemed more guarded than welcoming as they’d ushered us in, and then when they announced that we were to eat straight away, it seemed more like an order than an invitation. Bastien had been right to refer to them as being peculiar!

  We ate sitting on the floor and nursing our plates on our laps because there was almost no furniture around, save for a scattering of cushions and burlap sacks full of unidentifiable stuffing, but we ate greedily and quietly while that massive fire warmed us from behind and the delicious stew warmed us from within. I was bunched together with Martya, Sam and Serif (who I feared was regarding the dining situation as a date) but Siria, Gabby and Bastien sat over in the furthest, most isolated corner of the room and spoke with a few of The Factory’s residents quietly and fervently the whole time, arousing my curiosity. It struck me as odd that Bastien wasn’t sitting with me because he’d made a habit of hovering around me every time he wasn’t needed elsewhere, and then when I realised that they were looking over at me a lot, I started to wonder if I was the one sitting in the wrong spot. These were our hosts, after all, so should I have excused myself from my friends to go sit with the people that were considered to be in charge of things in these parts, seeing as how I was supposed to be the one taking charge of everything the next day?

  I didn’t know, but they certainly hadn’t jumped up and down with excitement the way the last two groups of camp residents had when I’d arrived, so I was still in two minds about whether or not to go over there when I felt the pains that preceded Sam’s invasion of my mind begin to poke at the inside of my skull, making me groan and sit back down, cross-legged and grounded.

  No, you shouldn’t go over there. Bastien’s trying to talk them into following you, and I think that’s going to be easier to do if you stay far away.

  I bristled with offence. What’s that supposed to mean? And where’s my bracelet?

  I slipped it off your wrist while you were hanging up your cloak and talking to your father-

  Bastien!

  Right, Bastien...because I knew we’d need to communicate quietly.

  Why didn’t I feel it?!

  Thief, remember? Anyway, back on topic, Satan told them she was sendin
g a warrior to lead the way north, but as far as they’re concerned, Bastien’s delivered them a pretty little princess instead. He’s trying to convince that you’re tougher than you look but they’re not buying it.

  I am NOT a princess!

  Maybe not, but you look like one. So if you go over there all smiles and politeness, like you were just planning to do, you’re gonna act like one as well and the chances of them following us anywhere after that will evaporate.

  If they’re that easy to scare off, then we shouldn’t want them anyway!

  We don’t, of that I can assure you. But Satan does, and she’s been pretty insistent that Bastien coax them into going along with us. If he fails, she’s going to be unimpressed- and I don’t like it when she’s in a bad mood.

  Why does she want them so bad? Are they Nephilim?

  Nope. But they have skill sets or something that she needs. He toyed with his little ear studs- something I’d noticed that he did when he started feeling self-conscious. They were distrustful of this grand plan enough as it was, but now that they know there’s a mind-reader with you too, they’re tempted to just beat us both to death so Satan has no choice but to send someone else.

  Charming. What have they got to hide that makes them fear you so?

  Nothing… now. Sam smirked at me. No, the skeletons in their closets are nothing that I haven’t seen the likes of before, but they each seem to have a lifetime’s worth of misdeeds to their credit- too many for even me to ever conceive of sorting through.

  So… they’re like you?