The rope kept dragging me forward, like an impatient master with his dog. I hurried enough to let a little slack into the rope so I would have room to trip, then slowed.
As the night dragged on, I plodded on. Every chance I got, I allowed my feet to slip from under me, or stumbled on rocks. Every time I did, I felt a hard tug on the rope.
I also managed to step on branches in the path. The knight never noticed the creaks and cracks, but I hoped Panther would.
We had just started up a small hill when I heard it, the crack of a branch that was not me or the knight. The knight heard nothing. I very deliberately stepped on a twig. It made a loud snap which caused even the knight to turn.
I kept my eyes down, hoping to look innocent while scanning the ground for things to trip over. I stumbled over a tree root and nearly pulled the knight down with me. He turned again and slapped me across the face. The cold iron of the gauntlet made my head ring. “Watch where you’re going.” He grabbed the rope and tugged, pulling me up. As I twisted up to my feet, I saw the glint of an eye watching me through the undergrowth.
I blinked back tears and followed the knight deeper into the forest.
Chapter 6
Now that I knew Panther had found me, I had another plan. I followed the knight slowly but without stumbling. While I walked, I made my left hand as small as possible, drawing my thumb toward my little finger, trying to pull my hand through the bindings. Every few minutes, I was distracted by a tug on the rope around my waist, pulling me forward and throwing off my work.
And then I’d done it. I felt my skin scrape on the ropes, but my left hand was free, and then my right slipped out easily. I wrapped the binding loosely around my right hand and used my left to hold the rope in place as the knight pulled me along over the roots and rocks and across a small brook.
When we reached a small clearing, the knight stopped. I backed up against a tree, hoping he wouldn’t check my bindings. I watched him draw out his water-skin and drink. He did not offer me any. “You’re extremely quiet. Plotting escape, are you?” He started gathering my rope leash, slowly walking toward me as he wound the slack around his hand.
I pressed myself harder against the tree, hoping he wouldn’t see the dangling end of the rope.
And then the knight was on the ground. Panther was on top of him, growling, snarling, clawing and batting at the armor covering the knight. I could hear the clang of teeth against the metal helm.
I immediately dropped the rope binding my hands. I grabbed the rope around my waist and pulled, hard. The knight had not had a chance to drop the coil wrapped on his hand and it had gotten tangled around his arm in the fight. As I pulled the rope, it pulled the knight’s arm back, exposing a chink in the armor between the gorget of the helm and the shoulder plate. Panther saw and dove at the spot.
And then the knight was gone. Nothing left but a chilling cackle. Panther landed on the ground, his teeth still ready to tear and bite. I still held the rope. “What happened?”
Panther paused, his claws still bared. “I don’t know.”
“Did you bite him?”
I saw Panther’s tongue move over his teeth. “No.” He shook himself. “I am a fool.” He started pacing around the clearing, swatting at leaves.
I wanted to say something comforting, but everything I thought of sounded like “I told you so.” Instead I reached behind myself and untied the rope from around my waist. As I coiled it around my arm, the knight’s gauntlet fell free. Panther looked over at me, then at the rope.
“Leave that here.”
I was relieved. I knew the rope could be useful to us, but I didn’t want to bring my leash along. I dropped the rope on the ground and picked up the gauntlet instead.
I felt something soft and scratchy against my ankle. Footstool was there, dragging my knitting bag over one leg. I smiled and took the bag. “Thank you.” I put the gauntlet inside and swung the bag over my shoulder as I stood.
Panther had stopped pacing and was standing very near me. “Are you all right?”
I considered the question. I knew my face was bruised, as were my wrists and knees, but nothing more serious. None of my scratches had been bad enough to draw blood. “I will be. But which way do we go?”
Panther cocked his head to the side and looked at me for a few moments before answering, “Northeast. I’ll lead the way.”
I adjusted my bag so it didn’t rest on any bruises and followed him deeper into the forest.
*
Panther continued in silence for the rest of the night. I was in no mood to sleep, so I didn’t mind. At dawn, we rested in the shade of a birch tree. Panther scouted around and found strawberry bushes for my breakfast. I didn’t ask what he was going to eat as he went back into the forest. I didn’t want to know.
After several handfuls of berries, it dawned on me that, if I brought some of the berries with us, it would mean less time looking for food. Anything that would speed up this trip, that would get Panther to the castle and then me back home, seemed like a good thing right then. Getting kidnapped and beaten up had dampened my interest in questing and I was ready to be done with it. I wiped my hands on my skirt and looked through my bag. I found the waxed paper I had saved from my sandwiches and folded the sheet into a pocket that could hold a good number of berries.
I heard branches crackle and knew Panther was returning. I spotted him coming through the trees and watched him slink into the clearing. While adventuring was having a detrimental effect on my appearance, Panther was looking much better. Somehow he had gained weight already, and his fur was sleek and shining. I could see the faintest hint of spots, darker against his black fur, like watered silk. His fur looked soft, but I was not tempted to stroke him, not after the tension I had felt when we’d gone through the mirror together.
“You’re bringing some berries with us? That’s a good idea.”
I forced myself to stop staring and focus on packing. “I thought we’d stop less if I had some food.”
Panther nodded. “The sooner we reach the palace, the better. Are you ready to continue?”
“Just about.”
“Then I’ll scout ahead and be back as quickly as I can.” Panther melted back into the bushes.
I refilled my water bottle from the stream. By the time Panther returned, rustling branches all the way, I had eaten some more berries and had packed everything away.
“Are you ready?”
I scrambled to my feet. “Whenever you are.”
*
Panther kept a steady but slower pace over the next few days. Every night he found me a comfortable place to sleep. As I lay down, I could feel his eyes on me, watching my healing wounds. He asked about them every morning, after I’d eaten some berries from my pack or whatever Panther had found me during his scouting, which became less and less as the forest became denser. More trees seemed to mean less food. I always told Panther I was better, fine, healing well. I would not be the cause of any delays. Even when the land grew harsher, with less to forage, and my berries began to run out, I didn’t tell him, but ate less and tried to ignore any hunger I felt.
*
On the fifth day, I woke up to damp air and a smell of rain that persisted throughout the morning. I assumed Panther noticed it too, but he passed several sheltered places as we walked.
By mid-morning, the rain had started, pouring, pounding rain that drove any sheltering leaves out of the way and churned up the mud on the ground. Water collected in our footprints and splattered up at us with each step, and it took all my concentration to avoid tripping over submerged branches and rocks. Even then I caught my foot on Footstool’s side, nearly falling over, but my shoe did give him just the nudge he needed to break free from the mud and launch himself onto a nearby rock.
As I trudged on, I could feel my boots sink into the mud up to my ankle. It felt like the ground was trying to suck my feet down under the tree roots. I had to stop quickly to avoid tripping over Footstool, who had misjudged the dis
tance to the next branch and was now half-stuck in the mud. He managed to get his front legs on the branch and used them to leverage himself out before I could get to him.
Panther didn’t seem to be paying attention to either of our struggles as he marched onwards, keeping a steady pace. His paws were wide enough to stay at least partly above the mud, despite his weight.
I stopped being annoyed with Panther long enough to think of Footstool. He was walking in Panther’s shadow now, picking his way along, stepping on rocks and fallen branches when he could, slogging along when he couldn’t, the mud weighing down his small legs and catching in the carving on his feet. If the mud got any deeper, and it didn’t look like the rain was stopping any time soon, his narrow legs would easily sink all the way down to the cushion and he would be stuck. I was having enough trouble slogging along myself, so I didn’t stop to ask permission, just swept Footstool up and tucked him under my arm, getting a handful of cold mud at the same time.
Panther noticed that, turning in an instant, his eyes fixed where Footstool had been a moment before, his shoulders tensed like he was going to pounce.
Footstool wiggled in my arms, enough so that I almost dropped him. “Watch it,” I hissed, “I’m losing my grip on you.”
Panther looked at us and the tension left his back.
I trudged on. Twice I had to stop to retrieve a boot from the mud. I did not complain and Panther did not slow down to wait for me.
*
By nightfall the rain had stopped, but that didn’t help me much. My clothes were soaked through with the cold rain and my boots still splattered as I walked. The clearing Panther chose for our camp was sheltered on two sides by a rocky bit of hill, but the ground was still spongy and damp.
Panther paced around the perimeter. “It’s a bit drier by the rocks.”
I carried Footstool over to the drier spot and put him down.
Panther was still examining the area. “There is some dry wood in the shelter of the rocks. You could start a fire.” He didn’t wait for me to answer, but melted into the shadows again.
I found the wood Panther had seen and brought enough to start a fire to the driest spot in the clearing. Deciding my skirt was already wetter than the ground, I sat on the soft earth and pulled my knitting bag into my lap. I found the matches under a small amount of food. A glance at the forest around the clearing showed no sign of Panther returning, so I decided to make an inventory. I spread all of the food out on my lap. It was a depressingly small amount: one sandwich with hard bread, half a chocolate bar, and a couple handfuls of withered berries.
“Did you find the matches?”
I jerked up, startled by Panther’s return. My hand reflexively went around my store of food to stop it from falling.
Panther looked at it too, then he turned and walked to the center of the clearing. “Here’s a good spot for the fire.”
I swept all of the food into my bag and brought the stack of wood over. As I arranged everything, I could feel Panther’s eyes on me, but every time I looked up, Panther had turned away. He did not mention the food. Neither did I as I made a ring of small stones and arranged the wood. I used a piece of paper from my notebook to get the fire started and stayed near it while the heat began to dry out my clothes.
Now that I was starting to feel warm, I was also starting to feel sleepy. I decided to skip a meal altogether tonight. I didn’t want to lie down on the damp ground, afraid I would roll over while I slept and be smothered in the soft mud. I sat by the largest rock, leaning against it. I stuffed my knitting bag behind my lower back, trying to get a bit more comfortable. As I tried curling up on my side, like I did in airplane seats, I saw Panther knocking earth over the fire to put it out before he slept. I had been hoping he’d leave it lit; everything in the area was so wet, there was little danger of anything catching fire. As I drifted to sleep, feeling the cold ground creep into my skin, I knew he was probably right — we still didn’t know where the knight was for starters — but I wished he hadn’t been so sensible.
*
The next morning, I was stiff from sleeping sitting up with my back to the rock. I stretched forward, then twisted my spine, looking over my right shoulder first, then my left, trying to get the kinks out. Remembering how grim my food inventory had looked, I rationed it more strictly, eating only a handful of berries before telling Panther I was ready to go on.
As we entered the trees, I could feel Panther’s eyes on me again. I hoped it wasn’t because he could hear my stomach growling. I tried counting my steps or remembering song lyrics, but neither of those did anything to distract me from the fact that I was still wet, muddy, hungry and miserable.
*
After several hours of walking through the pine trees, brushing against blunted needles and sticky sap, something did distract me. A sound. I focused on that, trying to keep my mind from noticing how empty my stomach was. Earlier that morning, Panther had found a dirt track through the woods that seemed to go the way he wanted to, and we were following it. There was a thicket of dense bushes almost as tall as the trees on one side of the track, and the wild forest on the other. Now that I was paying attention to something other than my stomach, I saw that Panther had heard the sound too. His eyes were scanning the bushes, his ears twitching and following the noise.
So there definitely was something in the thicket. I listened more closely, even closing my eyes for a few seconds to block out any distractions. It didn’t sound like Panther when he crashed through the brush ,or when he was moving silently. Certainly it was larger than Footstool. As I closed my eyes to listen a second time, I realized what it sounded like. Me.
So someone was in the forest. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. It depended whether the mysterious someone were friend or foe.
As the sound grew more distinct, Panther looked over at me. I had the feeling he wanted to speak but wasn’t sure if he should. I suspected he didn’t want to frighten me. I wanted him to know I had already figured it out, so I asked, “You heard it too?”
“Yes, there is a human in the woods.”
“Do we want to find them?”
“I’d rather see who it is than let them sneak up on us in our sleep.”
I nodded and watched Panther. He studied the bushes beside the path, but they were too dense to see through, let alone enter. Panther followed the edge of the thicket, his ears turning every time I stepped on a twig or brushed against a branch, trying to separate my sounds from those of the stranger. As we continued along the path, we could hear the other person moving, knocking against branches, tearing at leaves, feet crunching on gravel, but there was no visible way to get to them.
I tried to figure out what the mysterious person was doing, hoping it was some nice, friendly task, but nothing I thought of made sense. The person did not sound clumsy, but I heard a lot of branches breaking and leaves tearing. There didn’t seem to be much logic to their movement, unless there was a twisting sort of path inside the bushes. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
As we wandered around a bend, the path became more defined. It was still dirt, but the edges were lined with small stones and the roots and tree branches had been cleared from it. I glanced at Panther, wanting to ask who he thought built the path and why, but the fur on the back of his neck was standing up again. He must have thought of possibilities, and they scared him.
Chapter 7
The new path seemed straighter than the track we’d been following, with a wide, gentle curve that brought it around the dense bushes. I wondered if we were going to circle the whole area like the hedges, or if there was a destination at the end of the path. As we went further along the new path, the sound of the unknown person became fainter. I knew that should have suggested something to me about the shape of what was inside, but I had no idea what. Besides, I had learned that very little here was what it seemed, and what was inside the bushes probably looked nothing like what I would expect from what I could see out here. Afte
r all, this forest was inside a hedge maze. Panther didn’t seem bothered by the fact that we were moving away from the other human, so I didn’t let it worry me too much. I supposed we’d run back into them eventually. Panther was watching for a way in again, concentrating on the trees and bushes. Footstool seemed to be keeping out of his way, so I stayed quiet.
After a few minutes of walking, the path turned sharply around the thicket, blocking our view. I followed Panther around the bend, watching him so closely that I stumbled into another hedge blocking our way.
“Ouch,” I muttered as I stuck my finger in my mouth, a very helpful gesture I’m sure since my whole hand had been scratched up. These were not the blunted pine needles that I’d been brushing against all morning, but sharp points that could draw blood.
Panther rushed back. “Are you all right?”
I nodded. “They’re just a little sharp.”
Panther looked closely at my hand, then at the hedge. Footstool crowded in to look too. I pushed aside the evergreen branches near the spot where I’d been hurt. There were other thorns behind.
“Rose bushes,” Panther whispered. “There must be a way in. Come on.” He bounded away, studying the hedges with renewed interest.
It didn’t take long to find the entrance. Unlike our first entry into the woods, the entrance to the rose bushes had a clear way in, a gate of wrought iron made to look like the vines and leaves of the bushes. The gate itself seemed normal, even quite pretty, like something I’d seen in a museum garden, but it was attached directly to the hedges around it with no visible hinges. It could have grown right out of bushes like any of the other twisted branches.
I tried to look through to the other side while staying well away, just in case there was something dangerous waiting for us, but I could only see the few feet right in front of the gate. “Do we go in?” I asked.
Panther walked up to the gate and tried to look through to the other side himself, pushing his nose through holes in the pattern.
Ella and the Panther's Quest Page 5
