Raven's Wings

by Colin Lindsay

  She kissed him back passionately, her hands rising to hold his face, run through his hair, and pull him closer. She kissed him with need and longing, and his lips moved against hers with strength and conviction. She forgot time and lost herself in that kiss.

  Skye pulled back breathlessly. “You have to get back,” he reminded her, wishing for all the world that it wasn’t so, but recognizing that her survival was paramount. She knew it was true, but she couldn’t escape his gravity and held onto him. He stared intensely into her eyes as though memorizing every detail. “Goodbye, Kala,” he said, hugged her tightly, and reluctantly released her. He turned and walked to the tree line, where he turned and waved, then was gone.

  She just stared at the spot where he’d disappeared, the echo of the kiss reverberating through her. It filled her and emptied her. She stood there yearning for him, while a part of her deep inside screamed that she needed to get moving to make it back before dark.

  She struggled to collect her scattered thoughts and walked the entire way back to her treehouse in a gauzy haze. She barely avoided walking into trees and was lucky not to have stepped off any cliffs. That boy will be the death of me, she thought, the memory of his lips on hers haunting her.

  She lay awake at night missing him. She whiled away the days until their reunion by hunting but found her mind always wandering back to him while she waited for prey, which usually ruined her attention and her chances. When she gave up on a hunt, she’d gather wood for the fire. She had to venture farther and farther as she’d cleaned out the nearest ring of the forest. Some days, she’d pull out the stranger’s dagger and practice throwing it. Kala concluded that she couldn’t rely on it for defense the way she could her bow, but she was getting better with it through sheer practice.

  On the day of their planned rendezvous, she got up early, prepared herself eagerly, and headed out to meet him. She arrived at her usual time, although perhaps a tad later, as the sun was rising slightly later each day. Skye had yet to arrive, so she spent a moment searching for nuts or berries. She never strayed far from the bluff where they met and frequently returned to check if he’d arrived.

  The midday sun started its downward arc, and he hadn’t yet appeared. She grew worried. Had something happened to him? Had she gotten the day wrong? Kala doubted that she had because she meticulously kept a pile of stones to mark the time, and she recalled quite vividly their plan to meet five days after their last meeting. The only explanation was that he’d been waylaid. It could easily just be because his alibi for sneaking away had fallen through – nothing serious.

  She waited past the time when she would have needed to start back to her treehouse, but Kala always packed for uncertainty, so she pulled out some warning line that she’d fashioned from supplies that he’d brought her as well as the sling that Lily had sewn for her. She selected a suitable tree and climbed up, setting her warning lines as she went. She noticed that climbing had become less difficult as her stay in the wild lengthened and her muscles hardened.

  She settled into her sling, gazed a last time at where Skye was to have met her, and fell asleep. Kala awoke in the morning to a snort. Her eyes sprang open, and she surveyed the area around her for the source of the sound. Through the trees and across the clearing, she spotted an enormous stag. It had a crown of antlers that surpassed any story the hunters shared when bragging about their exploits. The stag was leisurely chewing leaves off a bush, utterly unconcerned by its surroundings. It occasionally sniffed the air and snorted.

  “Well, ‘snort’ to you too,” Kala replied. The stag was of such a stature that she doubted it feared even the most ferocious predators. A pack of dire wolves perhaps, but only because of their numbers. Its neck muscles were corded, and its antler tips looked deadly. Kala felt safe high up in her perch, and she watched it.

  Eventually, it wandered away, having to thread through the trees because of its enormous antlers. Kala’s back ached from a night in the sling, so she descended and paced around waiting in case Skye had simply mixed up the days and would come today. He never arrived and the hole in her heart grew. The midday sun eventually signaled that it was time to go. She hadn’t brought much in the way of food, and her water was running out, so she concluded that she couldn’t simply wait around pining over the boy and returned to her treehouse.

  She had enough firewood and food to last her until the third full moon, so she spent much of her time idly. She’d endlessly flip and catch her dagger, and her mind would wander.

  The next day, she returned to wait for Skye, and the next, and the next. Twice more, she saw the stag, and it snorted at her mockingly.

  “Go to hell,” she replied.

  Over time, worry gave way to sadness, and sadness gave way to anger. Not at Skye, but the world for taking him away from her. She missed him, not just his company and the way she felt about him, but because he was the only person in the world who truly accepted her as she was. He loved the parts of her that everyone regarded as odd. They feared her; he was awed by her. Every day, she felt his loss more keenly. Her mood darkened.

  The last full moon of her sentence was mere days away, but she still made the daily trek to their meeting spot. She’d long since given up on Skye, but she went out of habit. Besides, she had little else to do, and it kept her mind occupied. Her feelings oscillated between feeling like the village could simply go to hell and remembering that people she cared about still lived in it, and she needed to provide for them. One morning, she grabbed her bow, the axe, and the last of her rope, and headed to the meeting spot.

  Arriving, she scouted around and mapped a trajectory in her mind. She used the axe to cut down some saplings and the rope to string them between trees. Swinging the axe fed her anger, and she chided herself for not being more mindful of her surroundings while she chopped. It was getting late, so she made arrangements to sleep high in her selected tree.

  It was still dark when she woke, but for her plan to work, she had to be on the ground before dawn. She’d have to chance descending and waiting. On the ground, she sat down with her back to the tree, damp from the chilly morning dew. Either she didn’t have long to wait, or the point would soon be moot. The sky lightened, and she flexed her stiff muscles to keep herself alert. She heard movement in the woods and tensed. True to form, the great stag sauntered into view and began chewing on the leaves of the bush that seemed to be his favorite.

  Kala stood quietly and reached into the pouch that she’d tied around her waist for a few stones that she’d brought from the stream near her treehouse. She was careful to remain hidden and placed a stone in a sling she’d fashioned. She spun it and lobbed the rock as far as she could over the stag. Her aim was poor, but it had the desired effect. The stag looked up abruptly from its breakfast and sniffed the wind. It didn’t seem ruffled, just wary, or perhaps annoyed at having its breakfast interrupted.

  Kala lobbed another stone which landed far from the first, but still over the stag. She repeated this process until the stag seemed disquieted. It stood at the ready, sniffing the air. Kala slid into view. The stag eyed her suspiciously. She raised her bow and let an arrow fly at it. It buried itself in its chest, and this incensed it. She had just enough time to notch a second arrow and let fly before the stag bolted. At the last moment, it spotted the sapling that Kala had strung between two trees barring its exit route. It turned slightly, and Kala’s third arrow struck it in the side. It bellowed its rage, and another of her barriers made it alter course again. It was funneled toward her. She had no time to notch a fourth arrow and was frozen with fear regardless as it thundered toward her. The stag lowered its murderous antlers as it charged her. Kala stood rooted. Moments from being trampled, she shrieked with fear and dove sideways, but there was no distance she could dive that its enormous spread of antlers could not reach and skewer her. Turning its head to track her movements, it failed to see the tip of the spear that Kala had anchored in the ground, and it impaled itself upon it.

  Kala d
id not escape injury as she was thrown a great distance. She lay in a heap, feeling broken. She hazarded shifting her weight and cried out from the pain that radiated along the right side of her body. She untucked her shirt, wincing all the while, and examined her body. She was bruised along the length of her side and ribs were probably broken, but there was no blood.

  She struggled to her feet and looked around. The stag remained impaled on the spear that she’d secured in the ground and carefully sharpened. Its front legs were bent beneath it, and its eyes blinked slowly. It struggled weakly to free itself but realized the futility and knelt panting as its life force drained slowly away. It fixed its eyes on Kala, and she felt impaled by its gaze.

  Something snapped in Kala. She limped forward, heedless of caution, and struggled to free the mighty beast. Its momentum had driven the spear deep inside its massive body and Kala struggled in vain. She looked the creature in the eye, but it was glassy, and the stag no longer breathed. She let loose a wretched wail and curled up in a ball on the forest floor.

  When her wracking sobs subsided, she rose to her feet. She looked about for kindling and set to preparing a fire. She used hair from the stag’s tail to start it. She stoked it as it burned and cast about for grasses. She gathered an armful and threw them on the fire. A cloud of smoke rose into the sky. She looked for more grasses and repeated the process in the pattern that she’d seen the hunters use to signal each other.

  Satisfied that the smoke had likely been visible, she recovered her axe. The stag looked bent in prayer, and this somehow enraged her. I won’t let you become someone’s trophy, she thought. She swung the axe to sever the animal’s head from its body. Pain exploded from her side, but she embraced it, feeling that she deserved it. She had to wait for her vision to clear before she could swing again. She repeated the process until she’d severed the animal’s head, and with a final swing, broke the spear that impaled its body. It slumped over, and Kala had to jump so as not to be crushed beneath it. She cut down two of the sapling barriers that she’d erected to funnel the animal and used the rope to fashion them into a make-shift sled. Kala dragged the stag’s head to her sled, struggling against the pain, and secured it in place. She strapped the axe to her back and strained to drag the sled away.

  Once the sled was far enough away in her estimation, she crept back toward the stag’s body. No one from the village had arrived yet, but crows had, and they were picking at the stag. This angered her, and she limped forward, shouting at them. They played keep-away from her but refused to give up their prize. Kala used up the last of the rocks in her pouch trying to scare them off.

  Finally, she heard voices approaching. She froze at first, then bolted in the opposite direction from the sound. She made it a good distance before she lay down panting and struggled for a clear view of the stag. She couldn’t see well at that distance, but she could tell that hunters had arrived, and they were surveying the stag. They would harvest the meat, and it should be sufficient to ensure that the village survived the winter. Lily, Cera, Meadow, Calix, and her grandfather would survive the winter – that’s all she cared about.

  Kala crawled back to her sled. She needed to drag it a little farther, but likely not much more. Even though its trail would be evident to anyone, the villagers’ inherent fear of the forest would most likely dissuade them from following it. Hunters ventured into the woods for game but never because of curiosity.

  It was a struggle to drag the sled, so she gave up trying before long. She was spent and could not make the trek back to her treehouse before dark in her condition. She probably couldn’t make it anywhere before dark. She needed to climb a tree. Pain shot through her when she even raised her arms. She looked longingly at a bush and debated hiding in it overnight, but the head of the dead stag would attract scavengers, and she wouldn’t be far enough away from it. Already, crows eyed her warily from nearby branches, daring her to attempt a night on the ground.

  She made up her mind to survive the night, so she attempted to climb a tree. She chose one that was easier to climb than she deemed prudent, but she was in no state to be choosy. She dragged herself from branch to branch and almost blacked out several times. Once she was debatably high enough to be out of reach of any predator that couldn’t climb, she stopped and tied herself to the nearest branch with her belt. It was too dark to see, but she felt as though the stag’s empty eyes were fixed on her. She curled against the branch and passed out.

  A dull, pervasive ache woke her. The moon shone overhead, nearly full. Soon, she could go home. Darkness took her once more.

  Kala woke in the blinding light of day. She’d slept through dawn. She noticed that she wasn’t far off the ground, but she was still alive, so she wouldn’t question her luck. In the night, scavengers had made thorough work of the stag’s skull. It was picked clean. A crow sat on a branch of an opposing tree, considering her as its possible next meal. Kala dug around in her pouch and finding an overlooked stone, she threw it at the offensive bird. She threw wide, and her shoulder exploded in pain. Stars danced in her vision, but when they cleared, the bird was gone. Good riddance, she thought.

  Kala untied the belt that kept her in the tree, and half descended / half crashed to the forest floor. She lay on her back on a bed of pine needles laughing hysterically and wincing from the pain of laughing. Kala dragged herself to her feet and examined the sled. It was either terribly designed, terribly built, or had fallen to ruin as she pulled it, or all three. She took the time to fashion it better and hefted the stag’s skull and antlers onto it. It felt equal to her weight, but all-in-all much lighter after the feasting of the scavengers.

  It would be a full moon tonight, which meant that she could return home tomorrow. She was ‘welcome’ to return, she thought sourly. There were things she wanted from her treehouse, so she decided to return and fetch them. She concluded that there was no point dragging the stag’s head all the way to her treehouse, only to drag it back, so she simply pulled it to a hollow that she felt she could find again easily enough and left it. She propped the axe against it as well.

  She hobbled to her treehouse, mindful that if even crows were sizing her up for a meal, almost anything could likely turn her into one. She doubted she could even pull back her bow, so she relied solely on stealth to protect her. She made it ‘home’ to her treehouse late. She felt more vulnerable than usual, so while she had only one more night, she rebuilt the fire. She sat and stared into it. At some point, she mustered the courage to attempt the climb up the rope to her platform. Using the last of the strength in her legs and only her left arm, she succeeded. She lay panting on her platform and was barely able to remove her bow, quiver, and pack before sleep took her.

  She woke filled with adrenaline at the prospect of her return to the village. She looked about her treehouse and decided which items she wished to bring with her and which she would leave behind. She eased the cat’s pelt to the ground. Having kept her warm so many nights had elevated it to one of her dearest possessions. She stared hard at the rope that held the platform together. The rope was a useful commodity, but she could not bring herself to dismantle her treehouse just to recover it. She peered down at the warning wires and thought about tripping the traps to retrieve them, but that would destroy the traps that she’d so carefully constructed. She doubted that anything would trip them in her absence as there would be nothing to entice them up the tree. She debated trying to extricate the warning lines without tripping the traps, but in her present state, doubted her ability to do so unscathed. The village would just have to live without them. It served them right for banishing her.

  She lowered herself to the ground with the rest of her possessions. She added a few things to the cache in the recess of the cliff. She packed everything that she could carry in her pack and slung it with her quiver and then her bow. She looked at the stranger’s dagger, decided that she was done shielding the village from the wider world, and stuck it in her belt.

  Kala knew that
she couldn’t carry everything, so she built herself another sled to drag to the sled on which she’d left the stag’s skull. She found this humorous for no explicable reason. It took her far longer to prepare to leave than she’d planned, especially in her injured state. She thought she’d have time to prepare the night before leaving, so she hadn’t done any preparation in advance. She decided that she needed to make haste.

  She hiked through the woods to the spot where she’d left the sled with the stag’s skull. She sat on the ground to catch her breath. The sun was well past midday, and it was looking increasingly doubtful that she’d make it back before dark, so she struggled to her feet and transferred her load from the one sled to the other. She began dragging it toward the village. The leopard pelt fell off a few times, and she had to backtrack to recover it. Finally, she gave up placing it on the sled and just tied it around her body. She placed her pack, bow, and quiver on the sled instead and secured the axe to her back to help hold the pelt in place.

  It wasn’t far to the village, but the enormous width of the stag’s antlers forced her to take a meandering route through the trees. It took her three times longer than it should have. The closer she got to the village, the angrier she became. She’d lost so much to it, and she was done with that. She fumed as she trudged on.

  She broke through the tree line just as the sun was leaving the sky. She could see a guard near the gate by the light of a fire that he’d lit to keep warm and bolster his courage. He was getting ready to close the gate but spotted her once she’d made it half-way across the field. With the antlers behind her, her silhouette didn’t appear human, and the guard gripped his spear anxiously while peering at her in the low light.

  She marched straight to him, past his fire, and through the gate, looking the very picture of wrath. He shied away from her and hurriedly closed the gate behind her. She dragged the sled through the streets. Word of her return spread like wildfire and the townspeople peeked out their windows and doors. She snarled at them, and they retreated. She pulled the sled to the village square and turned toward the Council hall, pulling it right up to its steps. The Council emerged and stared at her uncomprehendingly. Claudius recovered quickest and dug about in his pocket. “Your bracelet,” he said, offering it to her as a symbol of his permission to return to the community.