The sight of him there, trussed up like a wild animal and completely helpless, at the mercy of these merciless men, made her feel like doing a dozen different things all at once: Cry. Scream. Collapse. But mostly take the cutting stone from where it was belted at her waist and charge into the middle of the clearing and gut them all.
Instead, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had to keep it together in order to have any chance of rescuing him.
When her heart rate had calmed and she could think clearly again, she reopened her eyes and surveyed the scene. She needed to make a plan.
Unfortunately, the trees on this side of the river were no good for climbing. They were short and spindly and barely had any branches at all. Getting above the hunters and pulling off a surprise rescue, as she had done before, was not an option.
What else… ?
While the hunters were in the middle of their intense meeting, she could sneak over and snatch some of the meat, then wade into the brush and try to use it to lure dangerous animals into the camp. She would likely not have to go far to find a willing participant. And Kirra thought the Takers would be much less menacing if there were suddenly a couple of hungry leopards prowling around the middle of their site.
But that was no good. The leopards wouldn’t know they were being used to save Luwan, and the tied-up piece of prey would probably seem like the best option for the big cats.
What if she could stall the men somehow? Make her presence known and then race off into the trees, lead them on a wild-goose chase? When Loba heard the news from Teeha and the others, he would surely come charging down here with his hunting weapons. Would she be able to keep the Takers distracted and Luwan safe until reinforcements arrived?
Or maybe she could—
One of the Takers broke away from the huddled group. He marched over to a cooking fire and pulled out a stick that had been halfway in the flames. The tip glowed an angry red.
This Taker then stalked over to Luwan.
“Tell us…about giant. Other side of river,” he growled.
Luwan lifted his head and stared defiantly at the man. “He protects the forest.”
The Taker took a step closer to Luwan. “How many giants?”
“Hundreds.” Luwan smirked. “Thousands. They are everywhere. You should untie me now before they come to rescue me. They can cross the river in one step.”
Several of the Takers glanced uneasily around the surrounding woods at that.
“Seriously,” Luwan continued. “Leave this place now and never come back. Or they will get you.”
“There are hundreds of giants?” The hunter pointed a long gray finger back in the direction of the Tree Folk community. Luwan nodded confidently.
The hunter took a step even closer. “Then why do they not harm your people?”
The defiant look drained from Luwan’s face. He clearly had not prepared an answer for that question.
Another Taker stepped up beside the first one. “How many like you live in forest? How big is group?”
Kirra watched Luwan’s eyes go wide as he figured out what they were after. He shook his head quickly and his voice became more frantic, shaky. “No big group. Just me and my friends. Passing through. Camping. We’re on a journey.”
The first Taker held up the stick and slowly extended it so that the red-hot ember at the tip was mere inches from Luwan’s face. He turned his head away from it, but the second man stepped forward and grabbed Luwan by the throat to stifle his movement. Those fingers, so dry and dimply that they looked almost reptilian, dug into Luwan’s flesh. Luwan made gagging sounds that curdled Kirra’s blood.
“No lies,” the second Taker snarled. “We know people are living in forest. We can feel them watching. They hide from us.”
“But they do not try to be stopping us. Must be weak,” said the first Taker, spitting the last word. “So tell us—NOW—how do your people protect from giant? Tell us!” the man shouted as he shoved the burning stick at Luwan, jabbing back and forth, nearly skewering him each time.
It was then that Kirra realized the big difference between this interrogation and the first one she’d seen with the Takers. Red Streak had been cruel but confident. Ultimately, he was in control of himself because he knew he was in control of the situation.
But these men? They were scared. It showed in their wide eyes and jittery movements and strained voices.
Scared people were much more dangerous. They were capable of anything.
“Tell us truth!”
Luwan just shook his head. The man bellowed in rage and lunged forward to press the fiery stick against Luwan’s chest while his companion held down the boy. Kirra could hear it sizzle before Luwan’s tortured scream tore through the forest and ripped right through Kirra’s heart.
The stick was jerked away, revealing the angry welt that had been burned into Luwan’s flesh.
“Tell us!”
The Taker lunged again. Another terrible scream. Another ugly welt.
He held the stick up to Luwan’s face in a hand that was trembling with fear. “Next one—take out your eye,” he growled.
That was it. Kirra grabbed the cutting stone from where it was belted at her waist and held it in a death grip. She was not going to lose another brother without a fight.
But as she started to stride into the clearing, come what may, the words flowed from Luwan in a rush.
“Okay, stop. Stop! I will tell you. The giant isn’t real! We made him. My friends and I, we built him to scare you. It’s not real. Please, stop. Just stop.”
The Takers all froze and stared at one another. One of them shook his head in disgust and jerked a thumb at Luwan. “Kill him. We need to pack up before the rain starts.”
“Wait.” The one with the stick leaned in, glaring in Luwan’s face. “The giant…Someone made that? How is that possible?”
“Ha!” one of the hunters from the huddled group cried. He pointed at the man with the stick and laughed cruelly. A stream of that unfamiliar language came pouring from him, and although Kirra could not understand the words, they were being delivered in a mocking tone and the message was obvious: I told you so.
The hunter with the stick did not appreciate being laughed at. He strode over, flung the burning stick at the other man, and then got close enough to take a great swing with his meaty fist, connecting with the man’s jaw with a crunch. And then the entire group was at one another, punching and kicking and swinging and gouging. Including the man who had been holding down Luwan.
This was Kirra’s chance. She angled around thickets of brush, keeping herself concealed but working her way to a bush behind Luwan.
She was nearly there when one of the men—the leader who had emerged in the confrontation with the puppet—drew his weapon, held it over his head, and shouted a single word: “STOP!”
Kirra crouched behind a too-skinny tree and froze. At first, she thought he was talking to her, but then she realized he was bringing order back to his troop.
The leader spat angry words at the group of bruised and bleeding men, who grumbled and hung their heads but separated.
Then the man in charge approached Luwan. Kirra was close enough to see tears in Luwan’s eyes, and she knew they were as much about shame as they were about pain.
When the leader was in front of his captive he said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, “We will destroy your giant. Then destroy your people.”
He withdrew a blade from his belt. Kirra braced herself to leap out swinging with her cutting stone, when the first fat raindrop fell with a splash on her nose.
More raindrops quickly followed, pattering the dry leaves on the ground. The hunters looked to the sky, then ducked their heads and covered themselves with blankets. In an instant, it became a downpour the likes of which Kirra had never seen, never even heard tales of. A great clap of thunder announced its arrival, and the storm built with astonishing speed. Soon it was like she was standing underneath a waterfall.
Kirra raced to Luwan, gripped the soaking-wet rope, and hacked away at the knots that bound him. He simply sat there, stunned, and studied her through the sheets of rain.
Finally the ropes gave away and he was free. She tugged at his arm and he followed, stumbling at first but quickly regaining his agility. As they dashed away from the camp, they heard the hunters yelling at them. Screaming in rage. Kirra charged ahead, wading straight through the brush instead of taking the time to try and find a path, thorns tearing at her skin.
Kirra glanced behind them and saw they were being pursued by all six of the Takers, the big men slashing at the thicket with their long weapons as they trudged toward them.
She pulled Luwan and they hurried onward, twisting this way and that around trees and thick patches of underbrush, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to find stable ground, their feet being sucked into muddy patches and deep puddles.
Finally they made it to the riverbank. Although visibility was murky, Kirra could instantly tell that wading across the river was no longer an option. The deluge, as forceful as a bucket of water dumped on a flat rock, had already made the river swell with churning whitewater, and all manner of logs and driftwood were smashing against one another as they raced down the raging current.
“Oh no!” Luwan cried.
They could hear, even over the chaos of the boiling river, the Takers crashing and hacking through the brush behind them. Close.
Kirra scanned the riverbank. They could not be caught on this side with the Takers.
And that’s when she got her idea. She pulled fiercely on Luwan’s arm. “Follow me!”
They raced along the river’s edge together. After a few moments, the Takers burst through the brush and screamed bloody oaths at them in that strange tongue.
Kirra did not even look back. She had eyes only for her destination.
When they reached the ferry post, Luwan shouted, “Do you know how to work the raft?”
“No time!” Kirra yelled back. She doubted the raft-pulley system would function under these conditions anyway. Instead, she leaped from the shore as far as she could and grabbed on to the rope with both hands. Her body swung forward, and she lunged with her legs to hook her ankles over the line.
Hanging upside down now, the raging river just a few feet below her head, she worked the rope hand over hand, sliding her feet down its length, and started to inch her way across the water to the other side. Luwan followed.
Their skill in tree-climbing helped tremendously, all those years of trusting grip and balance and lithe muscles to get them around. But their progress still seemed agonizingly slow, especially with the Takers racing along the shore at them, bellowing war cries.
“Kirra, look out!” Luwan screamed.
She turned her head and looked upriver. Rushing right toward them was an enormous log, the sharp ends of broken branches jutting out at odd angles along its length. It was going to smash right into them.
Kirra pulled with tired arms and legs, lifting her body and arching her back so that she was as flush with the rope as she could get. The log blasted by underneath with inches to spare. One of the jagged branch edges scraped a line of white-hot pain across her calf.
When it had passed, she tilted her head to look behind. Good news: Luwan had survived the rampaging log. Bad news: The Takers had reached the ferry post.
Kirra looked forward again and redoubled her efforts to pull herself across the line. She was roughly halfway across the river.
The rope sagged as a Taker jumped on the line and started to make his way toward them.
As the line drooped, Kirra sank dangerously close to the water. Another runaway log would kill her.
Something whistled past her ear. When it clattered among the river stones on the opposite shore, she realized it was an arrow.
She closed her eyes, knew she couldn’t control any of that. Blocking out the bloodthirsty screams of the Takers and the roar of the whitewater frothing below her, she breathed in and out as she worked the rope: hand over hand, slide feet down, repeat.
Finally her feet knocked up against the ferry pole. She had made it.
Kirra dropped to the ground. Her arms and legs were shaky and weak from exertion, but she managed to reach up to help Luwan do the same. They were both shivering, soaked from the downpour as well as the spray of the raging river.
One of the Takers was still working his way across the rope, merely a few yards away. Four others had hopped onto the raft and were starting across, trying to keep their balance as the rough water rocked it back and forth. Only the leader stood on the opposite shore, that curious bow in his hands.
Kirra and Luwan clasped hands and turned to run for the forest. If they could just make it into the trees, they would have the advantage. No way would the Takers be able to find them among the branches.
But after only a few steps, Kirra’s leg cramped and she tumbled to the ground, slamming her knee into a rock. Luwan pulled her to her feet but she was limping now, and even though he was strong enough to help drag her, they still had so much ground to cover.
She looked back at the raft. The Takers would be on the riverbank in just moments. She and Luwan weren’t going to make it.
“AAARRRGGGHHH!”
Another war cry, but this one came from their side of the river.
Loba burst out from the forest, holding his largest cutting stone overhead with both hands, running full speed toward them, his long hair and beard streaming out behind him, mouth open in an enraged scream and eyes wild.
It was a terrifying sight, and the most beautiful thing that Kirra had ever seen.
He rushed right past them and brought the cutting stone down on the ferry post with a great clunk. The rope snapped in two cleanly, and the Taker who’d been shimmying across it was dumped into the roiling whitewater. Without the rope to anchor them, the men on the raft were swept away and out of sight in an instant.
The leader on the other side of the river looked downstream, stunned. The bow hung uselessly from his grip at his side.
Finally the Taker turned and regarded the trio at the opposite ferry post. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted over the roar of the river.
“I will return!” he bellowed. He took a deep breath and added, “WE will return!” Then he stalked across the riverbank and disappeared into the brush.
KIRRA AND LUWAN sat in front of the hut’s cook fire, wrapped in blankets and holding warm cups of tea.
Maham brought them hot strips of meat. Kirra was so achy and tender that her body felt like one big bruise. But a full belly and the safety of home were helping her feel like herself again.
“Thank you so much,” she said as Maham placed two more strips of meat on her plate.
“You’re welcome, dear.” Maham leaned in and whispered to both of them, “I kept him at bay as long as I could. Said you needed to heal up and rest. But I’m afraid he will be back soon, with some serious questions.”
Luwan nodded. “We know. It’s okay. Thanks, Mother.”
She gave them both a kiss on the forehead, tears in her eyes, then stood up as Loba entered the hut, all business. “We need to discuss this further.”
Kirra and Luwan nodded. Loba knew the basics—they had shown him the giant puppet on the way home, while Teeha and the others had told him about the initial attack and Luwan’s abduction. But Kirra knew he would want more.
Loba removed his cloak and hung it up. He sighed heavily and sat down in front of the kids.
He held their gaze for several unnerving minutes before finally speaking. “We will go over your punishments later. This meeting is to discuss what we are going to do now.”
“Punishments?” Luwan said. His finger gingerly circled the
burns on his chest, perhaps a visual reminder that he’d been punished plenty already.
Loba wasn’t having it. “Going to the river. Going across the river. Sneaking off with your friends to work on secret projects. Bringing unwanted attention to our forest home. Attacking an armed group of men, unprovoked.” He shook his head wearily. “Were you trying to break every rule you could possibly think of?”
“But, Father! I was only trying to help—”
“This is my fault, Loba,” Kirra said. “The punishments should be entirely mine.”
Loba shifted his hard stare toward her.
“But before that, I need you to listen to me,” she said. “Really listen. We need to prepare for what’s coming.”
“Children do not tell their elders to listen.” His voice had gone quiet and calm again, which Kirra found deeply unsettling. She was shaking inside but pressed on.
“I’m sorry, Loba. I mean no disrespect. But you heard what that hunter said before he left. He will be back. They will be back.”
“It’s the same thing he told me when I was captured,” Luwan added. “He said they were going to bring more men back here.”
“I can confirm that it’s true,” Kirra said quietly. She studied the floor.
Loba looked back and forth between the two of them before settling his gaze on Kirra. “And how do you know that?”
She took a deep breath. “Because…” Her voice faltered. It was one thing to remember, to admit it to herself. But it was quite another to say it out loud. Luwan slipped his hand into hers, gave it an encouraging squeeze. “Because these are the same people who took over my first home. Before I came here. I escaped, but they…” A tear spilled down her cheek. “No one else made it out.”
Maham slipped over and put her arms around Kirra’s shoulders. Luwan continued to squeeze her hand. Even Loba reached out and patted her affectionately.
They all sat that way for a while, holding Kirra and letting her cry it out before she was able to collect herself.
Finally, she shook her head and spoke again. “We can’t let that happen to anyone here. We should leave immediately, and try to convince the rest of the Tree Folk to do the same. I know it won’t be easy, but we can do our best.”
If We Were Giants Page 14
