In Wilder Lands

by Jim Galford

  He knew that Feanne had not been directly trying to insult or attack him—at least not this time. She had meant well, trying to shield him from his social mistakes. Though he fully understood the gravity in her view of what he had done, Estin wanted to learn for himself. He wanted to walk fully into the error and find a way out, if only to better himself. He would never learn how these people—his people—lived with someone sheltering him. No one here seemed to grasp that he had never been around wildlings since he was little more than palm-sized and had to learn everything from scratch.

  Angrily kicking a small stone across the woods, where it smacked loudly against a tree, he turned and headed back into camp towards his tent. The whole way, he ranted in his own mind at Feanne’s pompous attitude, treating him like he was helpless, when he had fought to save her and had the scars to prove it.

  He hopped the supporting rope of another person’s tent and came around a turn to face where his tent was…or should have been. Where it had stood just an hour ago, there was a disturbed section of dirt, where it appeared that someone had torn down and dragged off his tent.

  Estin followed the not-too-subtle drag marks—and the many hoof prints—around through the southern part of the camp, looping around the western edge and up to the start of the northern section. There, his canvas tent had been tossed between two of the wolves’ tents. Sitting alongside the jumbled pile of cloth and supporting poles, Feanne had two bowls of stew and a small pile of bread, as well as several partially-crushed apples.

  “I am sorry,” she said gently, motioning to the ground beside her.

  “What happened?”

  “Alafa got her family involved. The deer are remarkably aggressive while demurely avoiding any physical conflict, not wanting to face any threat directly, even among their own. I doubt they will ever face you over this little…scuffle. While she yelled at me over by the stew-lines, some other deer were here tossing your tent.

  “They consider you a traitor to your breed. Some garbage about me making you into a monster.”

  Estin knelt at the edge of his battered tent, poking through the remains until he found the middle of the cloth. The small clay sun was still there, but smashed beyond recognition. He picked up the pieces and arranged them in the palm of his hand, trying to see the original shape Ulra had intended, but there were too many lost pieces.

  “Have some stew,” Feanne offered, holding out a bowl towards him. She also motioned to a stack of dark bread pieces she had set on the ground in front of her. “We will go train when you are done. The gathering can go on without us. I don’t think either of us was looking to find a friend there tonight, anyway.”

  Estin nodded and tossed the clay into the woods, then sat down beside Feanne. Taking the bowl, he hesitated as he realized that the thick broth was filled with chunks of cooked meats, as well as some herbs and vegetables, though they appeared to be mostly for color.

  “Thank you,” he told her, poking at the stew with a chunk of dense bread. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

  She watched him from the corner of her eye, then sighed and set down her own bowl and closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to put her thoughts together.

  “No, Estin. Do not apologize to me. I am the one who owes you. Back there, if I had stood up for you, none of this would have happened. I could have diffused the whole situation by explaining that you eat both and did not know how wildlings raised outside the city might act, but I froze up. It would have been enough to get you through the night without conflict.”

  “It’s not your fault…”

  “Yes, it is. No one in this camp will stand up to me. That is both a blessing and a curse, but in this situation, I could have saved you much heartache by simply defending your actions. The deer would have considered the entire affair my fault and gone about speaking ill of me for weeks, which is fairly normal. They would have never thought to lash out at you.

  “The carnivores…they would have been an issue, but would not act behind my back. Any intent they had to attack or harm you would have been something I could address directly. They either would walk away, or would attack me right then.

  “Estin, we all have our ways and I must admit mine are not the best. I am a warrior who often avoids direct confrontation in battle. I always want to be seen as strong, but we foxes tend to strike from the shadows, then run if things go badly so that we can kill our opponent later. Sometimes that comes to the forefront, as it did today. My hesitation to confront something, based solely on my initial thought that it was someone else’s problem, has cost you dearly. I swear this will not happen again.”

  Estin pulled a bite of venison, stew, and bread into his mouth as he thought of how to reply to Feanne, who simply sat with her own dinner on her lap, growing cold.

  “Feanne…,” he started, setting down his own bowl.

  “Yes?”

  “You didn’t say how your fight with Alafa ended…please assure me that I’m not eating her.”

  Feanne laughed herself nearly to tears, shaking her head.

  “No. Not today. Though if I had caught her relatives smashing your tent, they might have been cooked. If you had not noticed, I have a touch of temper at times.”

  Estin smiled at her and resumed eating and this time she joined him.

  “You will stay with me out in the woods for a day or two…maybe more,” she said between bites. “That will give everyone time to cool off and give us more time for your training.”

  “That isn’t…”

  “It’s not a request,” she said sternly. “It actually makes things easier for me to teach you. The more you come back among others, the easier it will be for you to forget some of the lessons. You need to be distant from other prey-breeds, at least until I teach you how to rise above your instincts.”

  They drifted from that topic quickly, the banter rather aimless and distracted as they finished eating. It was clear, at least to Estin, that they were both in no mood for any further serious talk and what they did talk of, he barely remembered later that night. What did matter to him was that while the rest of the pack went and celebrated—and whatever else wildlings did amongst themselves—the female who had been the most cruel and uncivil was now treating him like a true male, if not an equal. It made his head hurt, but in a good way.

  Once they had finished eating, Feanne waited as he gathered some supplies from the ruins of his tent. Most had vanished in the relocation, but he found a small pack of dried food and his belt pouches, which thankfully still contained an assortment of tools and utensils taken from the wagons as well as Varra’s goblet, tied to one of the bags.

  It did not take long for Estin to gather all that he might bring with him, then they were off.

  Pulling her bear skin over her regular outfit, Feanne led the way through the woods, making his ability to track nearly worthless with the amount of backtracking and detours that she seemed to perform out of habit. She kept them traveling until nearly dawn, as the air became its coldest and the moon drifted near the mountain peaks.

  Stopping in a rocky and desolate area, Feanne lowered her head and said softly, “This is home.”

  Estin looked about confusedly, seeing nothing but rocks, dirt, and the ever-present dense tree coverage. There was no tent, no belongings, not even water nearby, though he could hear some running water not too far off.

  “Where do you stay?” he asked, double-checking the trees.

  “I sleep on the ground,” Feanne answered, sitting down on the rocks and laying out the bearskin rug. She then curled up, as though for emphasis. “My ancestors slept beneath the stars, warmed only by their own fur. Why should I shelter myself?”

  “Because they had no choice. You choose to sleep in the open.”

  “I do.” She finished settling into a tight ball, then flipped her tail over her face. “Sleep now. We’ll train in the afternoon.”

  Estin turned about, trying to find anywhere he could possibly sleep with any degree of
comfort. He finally decided on the base of a large old pine, where he settled against it in a seated position. The rough ground made his tail ache almost immediately and he knew he was going to be sore in the morning, but he had little other option without going back to camp.

  Closing his eyes, he found himself unable to sleep, or even relax, as the sounds of the woods came upon him swiftly. Howls of wolves—real wolves, rather than wildlings—as well as coyote echoed off the mountains. Even closer, he heard the frequent patter of feet, but when he would open his eyes and look around, the area was clear.

  It was not until the sun had risen that he finally drifted off to sleep, though it was still restless and fitful.

  *

  When Estin did wake, the sun was just past its peak and the air was warm. His limbs trembled with remembered chill as he tried to sit up and his tail was completely numb, both from the night’s cold and the way he had lain.

  Groaning, he stood up slowly, working kinks out of every muscle in his body. As he stretched, he looked around for Feanne, but she had vanished in the night. Somehow that did not surprise him.

  Estin paced around the area they had bedded down in, trying to find anything to eat. He was unsure how, but Feanne had managed to choose the most remote and lifeless area he could think of. There was no indication of any animals passing, no berries, no fruit trees, nothing at all. It was just pines and rocks as far as he could see. At first he thought that maybe she had bedded here long enough that she might have scared off the resident wildlife, but after some time patrolling the region he decided that it was unlikely anything much lived near here.

  As he hunted for fruit or other edibles, he soon recognized at least vaguely where he was. Feanne had actually led him well up into the mountains, and he now stood far above the altitude where most plants grew. Had they gone much farther up, even the trees would be sparse or gone.

  “This,” he said, mostly to himself as he looked around at the barren landscape. He did not even know what direction camp was from his location. “This is not good.”

  He paced for an hour, finally resorting to eating the one pack of dried fruits he had brought to settle his stomach. Still, Feanne was nowhere to be seen.

  Long after the fruit was gone, Estin sat in the rocky area, waiting for anything. Hours passed, leaving him lying on his back staring in boredom at the sky. The sun had already drifted near the mountains, making him start to wonder if Feanne was alright, wherever she was. He could not smell any trail, so tracking her was out of the question.

  At length, Estin got up and began evaluating what to do next.

  From the peak he stood on, Estin guessed that Feanne had brought him largely northwest of the camp. That left him with about half a day’s trip back towards Altis’ lands, not exactly knowing where he was going. His best bet was to aim for the northern roadway, which he could use to get his bearings and come back south. Unfortunately, that put him two to three days from the camp, once all the detours had been figured in.

  Grumbling to himself, even as he fought a mild case of worries over whether Feanne was alright, Estin set out towards the northeast, where he had heard the stream earlier. He needed a drink badly and was willing to risk Feanne’s wrath to get one.

  Traveling through the woods, Estin made good time, finding the edge of the stream while the sun still hung about a half hour above the mountains. He strode happily towards the water, licking his chops in victory at having fended for himself for the day.

  A sharp howl made Estin come to a dead halt about ten feet from the water.

  He looked around frantically, trying to find the source of the howl. If he had to hazard a guess, it was a wolf, though it was louder than he would have expected of the local wolves. Though they rarely got up the nerve to attack a wildling, he had no desire to be mauled. If food were scarce, they very well might attack him.

  Estin rushed to the water and scooped a handful of water into his mouth. As he reached for a second, a different type of call cut through the mountains, echoing off the trees.

  This was one Estin recognized. He had heard it as he lay dying from wounds received back in Altis. Even Ghohar had said the call was truly unique. That left him with no doubt.

  “Feanne!” he whispered, leaping to his feet.

  Acting purely on a guess, he set out at a dash to the south, hoping he had picked the correct direction the sound had come from. Seconds later, another cry helped him adjust his path, turning slightly more southwest. He ran as hard as he could, rapidly tiring as the high altitude sapped his strength.

  Just as the sun was fading behind the mountains and the woods began to darken, Estin leapt over a large rock, then took a hard tumble as he tried to stop.

  Ahead of him in a rock-strewn clearing lay Feanne, facing away from him, with blood spattered in a fan away from her body. Standing over her was the largest wolf Estin had ever seen. It turned as he entered the area, its eyes almost level with his own.

  Estin’s instincts kicked in hard. He scrambled away, checking the trees for escape routes. After a second, he regained his senses and pulled himself to his feet, drawing his sword.

  “This is not going to end well,” he muttered, drawing the second blade as the wolf paced off to one side, forcing him to turn with it, or else allow it behind him. “Good boy. Sit!”

  The wolf’s golden eyes flashed angrily and it snarled, revealing fangs that looked to Estin like thin white daggers.

  Estin turned with the wolf, allowing it to clear Feanne’s body. Once his path was open, he backed towards her, though he never took his eyes off the wolf. He moved slowly away from it, bringing him nearer to Feanne with each step.

  “Feanne, can you hear me?” he asked, but heard no reply. He had been hoping at least for a groan.

  Using his tail as guidance, Estin continued retreating until the tip touched Feanne. Still the wolf moved around him, watching for an opening.

  His tail brushed against warm blood and Estin flinched.

  The wolf reacted immediately, leaping across the distance at him. Fist-sized paws slammed into his chest, knocking him over Feanne’s body and dazing him as his head thumped into the rocky ground. He rolled away, somehow managing to keep his weapons, despite how badly his head was spinning.

  Coming up as swiftly as he could, Estin found that the wolf was once again over Feanne, apparently protecting its kill.

  “Not yours, boy. Give her up or we’re going to have to have a little fight…and I’ll be soiling myself.”

  As though replying to him, the wolf growled loudly and bared its teeth again.

  More howls cut through the woods, letting Estin know more wolves were coming to aid this one. He did not have much time left before he would need to run, or he would be on the ground in the same condition as Feanne.

  “We’re done here,” he announced, leaping at the wolf, swinging both swords.

  The wolf dodged the first blade easily, but snarled and fell as the second caught its shoulder. It scooted away and regained its footing, limping only very slightly.

  Estin flipped his left-hand weapon point-down as he approached again. This time he was able to get atop Feanne and take a quick glance down at her.

  Though her fur covered any wounds, Estin could see blood everywhere. From what he could see, the majority had run from her neck. The fur on her neck and upper chest was completely covered with blood and all of it was sticky and only barely warm.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” he swore, returning his attention to the wolf.

  This time, the beast cocked its head and snarled, as though acknowledging what he had just found in his companion.

  “No way am I letting you have her!” Estin shouted, doing his best to snarl back at the wolf, though it appeared unimpressed.

  The wolf leapt again, but Estin threw himself backwards to absorb the creature’s weight, while driving his primary weapon into its chest. When he rolled away, he used his inverted weapon to slice open its bowels.

  With
a shriek, the wolf stumbled a short distance and collapsed, though it was still panting for breath.

  “Well done,” offered Feanne, sitting up. She looked over at the wolf, then back to Estin. “I doubted you had that in you.”

  Estin was breathing hard and fast, trying to regain his senses as he backed away from Feanne.

  “Estin, relax right now.”

  “No! What is going on?”

  Feanne took to her feet and motioned towards the wolf. Instantly, the massive creature fell apart into smoke and sparks. Though it went away, the blood covering Feanne remained.

  “This was part of your test,” she explained, trying to approach him.

  Estin took a quick step away.

  “Stop this, Estin.”

  He backed away once again.

  “I am not dead, Estin.”

  “How do I know that?”

  Feanne appeared to reconsider and frowned. She stopped where she was.

  “I had given that part no thought. I do not suppose you will trust me?”

  Estin shook his head rapidly.

  Sighing deeply, Feanne checked her claws and looked back up at Estin.

  “I suppose this works. I just had not expected us to move to this stage just yet. I had hoped to give you a break for rest before you had to fight me. As you wish…”

  She leapt at him, slapping aside his sword with her claws, as her other hand’s claws came dangerously near his throat. She kept pushing the attack as he attempted to parry, but each time she advanced, Estin lost ground and was slower on his defenses.

  Exhaustion was rapidly overtaking Estin. He had not realized just how badly the wolf had worn him down, nor had he initially felt the scratches from its claws, but now he was feeling everything. Feanne had not yet caught him with her own claws, but it was only a matter of time and she was fresh, whereas he was nearing collapse. He could barely breathe, which he guessed was mostly from the altitude taking its toll on him.

  “Stop using the tools of your oppressors!” she snapped, her claws screeching against the blade of his sword. “Fight me on your own terms!”