The Gift

by Bryan M. Litfin

  “No, I’ll get up and see you off. Go on. I’m right behind you.”

  After Teo exited, Ana dressed quickly and followed him out. The men had already dismantled the other tent and saddled the horses. The expedition had brought four mounts and two packhorses, but with the addition of Teo, only one packhorse remained. It was loaded with supplies and the folded tent.

  Bard spoke to Ana from the saddle. “Sorry to leave you, Anastasia. But I’m the tracker on this trip. It’s for moments like this that they brought me along.”

  “Yeah, why else would we, Bardella?” The insult from one of the soldiers brought laughter from his companion. Bard ignored it.

  “I’ll take good care of Trusty,” Ana said. “Or maybe he’ll take care of me.”

  “Let’s move out, men! The sky is already light.” Lieutenant Celso’s voice was all business.

  Ana approached Teo as he began to ride away, putting her hand on his knee. “Come back to me,” she said.

  At those words, Teo caught Ana’s eye. They broke into smiles. There was no need to answer, for each knew what the other was thinking. Long ago Teo had made a promise to Ana on the night he rescued her from the kidnappers’ feasting hall. Fleeing in a driving rain, they had sheltered in an abandoned castle. As Ana lay shivering and exhausted in her bedroll, she had thanked Teo for coming to find her when no one else would. Without thinking, Teo had responded, “I always will.” It was a surprising remark, for at that time he hardly knew her. Even so, Ana had known it was true. And he had proven it ever since.

  Teo winked at Ana, then turned his horse and prodded it into a trot to catch up to the other men. She stood alone in the clearing as Teo disappeared into the mist that shrouded the ancient trees.

  A nose nuzzled Ana’s hand, and she looked down to see Trusty’s soulful eyes staring at her. She knelt and wiggled the bloodhound’s droopy jowls. “It’s just you and me now, Trusty. What do you say we get some breakfast?” As if to answer, Trusty licked her nose.

  Ana grabbed a basket and left camp to forage for wildfowl eggs. By the time the sky was bright, she had located some ground nests. She was picking through them to find the good eggs when she noticed Trusty sniffing at something in the underbrush. Ana went to investigate. As her eyes fell on the round, white object under the hound’s nose, her breath caught, and she stepped back. The object was a human skull.

  “What’ve you got there, boy?” Ana’s heart was beating fast as she knelt and inspected the skull. It seemed small, perhaps that of a woman or child. Tufts of hair and bits of flesh still adhered to its contours, indicating the person had died within the past few months. A few bones from the rest of the skeleton lay scattered about. Wild animals had devoured the body. Ana used a stick to roll the skull over. What she saw made her gasp.

  Twin holes punctured the skull, and deep grooves were gouged into its surface.

  This person was hunted as prey!

  Suddenly wary, Ana glanced around the forest. Birds chirped from the branches. A squirrel ran along a limb. Sunbeams filtered through the leafy canopy. Ana uttered a nervous laugh and shook the fearful thoughts from her head. Whatever had made this kill was long gone. She picked up her basket and returned to camp, where she fried the eggs and washed them down with juniper tea.

  She spent her day in the monotony of the campsite routine. Only Trusty provided any company, and Ana’s conversations with him were decidedly one-sided. She mended some of the soldiers’ torn clothing, wove a basket from dried sweetgrass, foraged for herbs and vegetables, and collected a supply of firewood for the “dining room.” As the sun began to set, she ate a simple meal of bread, cheese, and berries, then lay on the grass and watched the fireflies dance among the trees.

  When it was fully dark, Ana moved inside the comforting walls of the grotto. Crickets chirped nearby, and in the distance a wolf howled at the night sky. Ana stared at the campfire, feeling blue, missing her parents. She pictured her father, a warm and caring man who always smiled at her through his graying beard. Stratetix had often taken Ana on overnight hunting trips, and she could still recall the taste of the squirrel stew he used to cook on those campouts. Ana’s thoughts drifted to her mother, Helena, the more outgoing partner in the marriage. Ana had always been proud to have inherited her mother’s light amber hair and blue-green eyes, as well as her independent spirit.

  Will I ever see them again?

  Though she didn’t know what her future held, Ana knew she couldn’t return to Chiveis—not unless she was willing to deny her God.

  O Deu! It’s such a hard road you ask of me! I’m going to need your strength to walk it!

  Tears gathered in her eyes, and she began to cry softly. Trusty’s head swung around. He ambled over, laying his jowls in Ana’s lap. For a long time they sat together in the stone circle, two lonely creatures in a wilderness neither called home. At last, when the sticks had burned down to embers, Ana stood up, arched the stiffness from her back, and retired to the tent.

  By the light of a candle Ana undressed and set aside her amethyst earrings, then used her little comb to clear the tangles in her hair. Teo’s rucksack sat in the corner. She stared at it, biting her lip, frustrated that it contained the book whose holy words she desperately wanted right now but could not have. Ana lifted the flap of the rucksack and laid the Sacred Writing on the tent floor. She wished Teo could somehow return from his mission to stretch out on his bedroll and read aloud the scriptures of Deu. It had become their bedtime ritual since they had joined the expedition: Teo would read, they would discuss the text, then say prayers before blowing out the light. Tonight, however, Ana knew there would be only silence.

  The final third of the Sacred Writing had been destroyed by water, leaving the ending a mystery. Even so, plenty was left to read for anyone who knew the language. Ana thumbed the brittle pages, wishing she could decipher the words. The book was written in the Ancients’ forgotten tongue. Only Teo, a part-time university scholar, could still read the archaic speech. Before leaving Chiveis he had translated several chapters of the Sacred Writing’s first book, called Beginning, as well as many of the Hymns and the sweet story of Ruth. Through these newfound words of ancient scripture, Ana and Teo had discovered Deu, the Creator God.

  Unfortunately, despite Teo’s hard work, only one brief translation had made it with him into exile: Hymn 27. Ana slid the worn parchment from inside the book’s cover, along with the red ribbon that had once bound it as a scroll. The hymn was the only portion of the Sacred Writing available in her language. Holding it toward the light, the opening lines caught her eye, and she knew they were meant for her at this very moment: “The Eternal One is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear? The Eternal One is the support of my life. Whom shall I dread?” Ana read the entire hymn, meditating on its message. As she reached the end, she let the final stanza become the cry of her soul:

  Oh! What if I weren’t certain to see the Eternal One’s goodness in the land of the living?

  Hope in the Eternal One!

  Fortify yourself, and strengthen your heart!

  Hope in the Eternal One!

  It was a hymn to sleep on. Ana blew out the candle, and before long a deep slumber took her.

  A horrible sound jolted Ana awake. Where am I? She sat up in her bedroll, trying to climb out of her stupor. Danger was at hand, but sleep refused to release its hold. Blackness surrounded her. Outside, fierce snarling filled the air. Barking . . . growling . . . fighting—ferocious animals battling to the death.

  A yelp pierced the night. Forlorn and desperate, it was the sound of a creature who knew its end had come. The other snarls intensified in bloodlust, and then abruptly the yelping ceased.

  Trusty’s gone.

  I’m alone.

  Fear gripped Ana’s gut, but she beat it back and reached for the box of matches. With trembling fingers she withdrew a matchstick and struck it against the side of the box. The flame burst to life like a tiny warrior ready to do battle against the
night. She lit the candle and threw aside the tent flap, holding the candle aloft as she peered outside. Shadows flitted among the trees but made no sound. Then she saw it: a pair of yellow eyes gleamed at her from the forest.

  Wolves!

  Ana’s entire body shuddered, and she dropped the candle. Its light winked out. Frantic, she snatched the candle and ducked into the tent, striking another match. When she thrust the candle outside again, she was horrified to see that a huge black wolf had crossed half the distance from the trees to the tent. At the sight of the flame, the predator jumped back into the bushes.

  A thought crystallized in Ana’s mind: Fire is my only defense.

  She glanced at the rock grotto. A dim glow illuminated its recesses, cast by the few surviving coals from her evening campfire. Nearby an extra hunting spear lay on a pile of supplies. There was no time to wait. Ana threw Teo’s bearskin cloak around her shoulders and stepped from the tent. Holding the candle and matchbox in one hand and shielding the flame with the other, she began to ease across the clearing. The grass was wet under her bare feet. Beyond the candle’s circle of light, several shadows slipped into the campsite, slinking low to the ground. A breeze stirred Ana’s loose shift, and the candle’s flame wavered.

  Please, Deu! Don’t let it go out!

  She reached the spear, keeping her eyes on the dark forms creeping toward her. The black wolf grew bold, darting ahead, its ears erect, its tail thrust out. The thick fur on its neck stood up in a ruff.

  Ana sucked in her breath as a wave of terror convulsed her. She dropped the matchbox. The top flipped open, spilling the contents on the ground. No! Ana crouched, staring at the black wolf as it stalked her. She could hear the low rumbling in its chest. Only the burning candle kept it from pouncing. Other stealthy shadows closed in behind the leader of the pack. Ana desperately patted the ground, feeling for a match. Her fingers found one. She thrust it into the candle’s flame, then flicked the match toward the wolf. The flare-up halted the creature’s advance, and Ana used the moment to grab the spear and dash inside the circle of rocks.

  Flinging herself onto her belly, Ana blew into the embers of the campfire. The orange glow intensified, then a tiny tongue of flame curled up. Ana fed it pine twigs to increase the blaze. She added larger sticks and was about to add a few more but then glanced at the pile of firewood. Not much was left. If she used the supply conservatively, it might last until sunrise.

  Ana could hear the wolves prowling around the campsite outside the grotto. One of them found a sack of provisions and tore it open with a ripping sound. The creatures yapped and barked as they fought over the supplies of dried venison and hard bread. No matter—let them have it. They’re not going to have me! Ana put her back against a boulder and held the spear in her lap as she gazed across the tiny campfire. She studied the sky, trying to estimate when dawn would come.

  As Ana was staring upward, the black wolf appeared in the grotto’s entrance. Ana shrieked and recoiled. The fierce beast stood across from her, its nose wrinkled, its fangs bared. Ana grabbed a firebrand and thrust it toward her enemy, waving it and yelling. The creature retreated into the darkness. Ana panted as she fought to control her terror. If wolves could smell fear, she was rank with it.

  Far away, a lone wolf bayed at the sky. The pack in the clearing responded with excited calls of their own. Soon the boisterous campsite grew silent. Ana no longer saw the shadowy forms pacing back and forth. She crept to the grotto’s opening and held up her candle. No yellow eyes glowed from the trees. Relieved, she returned to her place next to the small pile of firewood, resolving to feed the flames until the sun came up. She drew her knees close and hunched into the bearskin cloak. Only her face and bare feet protruded into the night. On the ground next to her, the hunting spear lay close at hand.

  The hours slipped by as the stars rolled through the heavens. Twig by twig, stick by stick, Ana kept the campfire going. Its coals glowed orange-white, seething in their innermost depths like worms writhing in the heat. The effect was mesmerizing as Ana stared at it. Her head drooped. She longed to close her eyelids.

  No! Wake up!

  Ana inhaled lungfuls of the cool night air, then slapped her face hard enough to sting. Though the wolves were gone, they might come back. She forced herself to remain alert.

  A chill settled on the grotto. Ana’s toes had grown cold, so she lowered herself against the boulder and stretched out her legs. Crossing her arms over her chest beneath the cloak, she extended her feet until they almost touched the flames. The warmth felt good as she wiggled her toes. Her chin nestled into the thick bearskin around her neck. Dawn was about an hour away.

  It was the smell that awakened her—something wild and damp and reeking of carrion. Ana’s eyes popped open. She froze. Across the firepit stood the black wolf, its lips curled in a snarl like an evil grin. Fresh blood stained its muzzle. The campfire had died to ashes.

  The creature leaped across the grotto and slammed into Ana, its weight pinning her against the hard ground. She thrashed and fought as the wolf snapped at her neck. The bearskin cloak prevented the bites from finding their mark, offering mouthfuls of fur instead.

  Ana reached for the spear, but her hand could find only a jagged stone, so she smashed it against the wolf’s muzzle. The beast yowled and rolled away. Ana scrambled upright as the wolf regained its footing. Furious, it bared its bloody teeth, then sprang at its prey with unbelievable speed. Once again the bites found the loose fur cloak instead of flesh, but the creature was strong, and Ana felt herself being dragged down. She wriggled out of the cloak and hurled it over the wolf’s head.

  While the animal was entangled in the folds, Ana snatched the spear from the ground. She whirled to see her enemy rid itself of the encumbering cloak. Ana held the spear in two hands, feeling vulnerable in her thin chemise. She circled around the grotto as the wolf mirrored her every move. It lunged at her, but Ana’s spear thrust forced it to dodge.

  Before she could react, the beast came at her again, and this time its hungry bite found the flesh it sought. Strong jaws latched onto Ana’s left hip. Searing agony exploded down her leg as the wolf’s fangs ground into her pelvis. She started to fall. Off balance, she swung the spear as hard as she could, ramming the oaken shaft into the wolf’s haunches. The animal let out a yelp and retreated.

  Ana fell backward, landing on her rear with her legs splayed out. Her hip blazed, and her thigh was awash in blood.

  The wolf rolled its malicious eyes, then bunched its muscles and pounced.

  Ana saw the creature hurtling through the air—its black fur erect on its neck, its canines long and red, its paws stretching toward her. Screaming with a fury of her own, Ana stabbed the spear at the oncoming horror.

  The blade took her enemy in the shoulder. Instead of receiving the impact of the charge, Ana collapsed backward, using the wolf’s momentum to pitch it over her shoulder into the craggy wall of the grotto. She rolled onto her stomach. The spearhead had disappeared into the animal’s thick ruff, but the shaft quivered as the wolf thrashed on the ground. Lying prone, Ana watched the fierce beast struggle and gnash as its life ebbed away. Its movements grew weaker. At last it lay still.

  For a long time Anastasia rested on the ground, trying to recover her composure. The bite wound sent pain throbbing up her ribs and down her leg. She feared to look at it but finally realized that overcoming the wolf’s attack was only the first step toward her survival. Wincing as she sat up, she lifted the hem of her shift and examined her injury in the morning twilight.

  The wolf had latched onto the widest place in the curve of her left hip. Ana gasped as she saw the ragged laceration. Flesh was missing, and red muscle was visible in the wound. Her whole leg was smeared with sticky blood and bits of debris. Ana groaned and looked to the sky. Help me, Deu!

  Swallowing and shaking her head, Ana cleared the despair from her mind and made a plan. Fire. Water. Food. Clothing. Her needs were reduced to the simplest elements of surv
ival.

  She wondered if she could stand up. Carefully she tried and found she could. Hobbling over to the dead wolf, she yanked the spear from its carcass, then leaned on it like a staff. As long as she kept her leg straight, she discovered she could limp around with a shuffling gait. Yet she knew her strength would not last. Time was running out.

  Ana staggered out to the campsite, heading to the stream to fill a canteen and wash her wound. The water against the raw flesh was like a hot poker thrust into her side. She gasped and bit her lip hard, fighting off the dizziness that threatened to make her black out. Finally she caught her breath as the pain subsided. She pressed a wad of moss into the cut until the bleeding stopped.

  Walking awkwardly, Ana went to the supply cache to collect the items she needed: a loaf of bread, more matches, and a spare soldier’s jerkin to wear over her chemise. The outfit would look ridiculous, but it would protect her from the elements. The leather jerkin came to the middle of her thighs, which would allow her to raise it up to care for her injury. Ana shook her head with a rueful smile. The arrangement was immodest, but survival, not propriety, was her main concern right now.

  Ana let out a long breath as she leaned on her spear shaft in the grotto. The exertion of the morning and the loss of blood had taken their toll. All she wanted to do was sit still, but she knew she needed one more thing. A campfire was essential in case the other wolves came back. Ana felt her leg beginning to stiffen. She dreaded the effort that would be required to obtain a sufficient amount of fuel, but the wood wasn’t going to collect itself, so she struggled to her feet and limped to the forest.

  The day had warmed. Sweat ran down her face as she hobbled around, gathering the easiest sticks. A soldier’s belt enabled her to bind the wood so she could carry it over her shoulder. By the time she returned to her shelter and collapsed on the ground, she was exhausted. A warm, ticklish sensation on her leg told her the laceration had started oozing again, but she ignored it as she panted for breath. A fever was starting to cloud her mind, and a different kind of ache had begun to radiate from her hip. She gulped water from a canteen, then closed her eyes.