by Piers Torday
*Yes!* comes a cry from an owl in the treetops. *You cannot save us from that. Only the human magic can!*
The grizzled wolf turns on them all. *Silence! Where is your faith? We have protected you all till now, have we not? The natural order must be maintained, whatever the cost.*
The animals shuffle edgily. Then one voice rings out from the crowd, a high, weak voice – it’s the young she-deer, the first one I saw come down to the lake.
*You only want to keep us for your prey. You do not understand. This plague will kill all of us – and then where will your natural order be?*
There is uproar. An oversized, scruffy cat shouts her down. *Have faith! Our Guardians will protect us!* Some of the birds begin to wail. One of the wolf pack yells at them to be quiet, but they can’t be calmed.
*We are doomed! … What will become of our wild?*
A boar trots up on to the white boulder behind me, his tusks bristling.
*I have taken to the white rock. So hear me.*
The animals slowly shut up.
The boar looks out at them, and continues. *The Guardians are right! This human child cannot and should not help us. I for one do not believe the old dreams about the voice. The humans have been killing us and driving us from their land since they learnt to live apart. Why should they try to find a cure?*
The grizzled wolf gives a condescending smile to the boar.
*But he has the voice!* calls out another creature from the crowd. *The old dreams must be right.*
In among the cries and arguments, I barely hear the stag whispering in my head.
*Jump on my back – now!*
I don’t take in what he says at first. I can’t take my eyes off the wolf, who’s turned his back to us, his hackles raised as far as they will go, trying to calm the animals down. The stag is insistent. His dark eyes flash and he kneels down in front of me.
*Now, Kester!* he says. *Now or never.*
Everything I’ve ever been taught about not touching animals is forgotten in an instant and I haul myself on to his back, grabbing a tuft of fur between my hands. It’s tangled with seeds and dried mud. I can smell the hot sweet tang of blood from his injured leg.
*Hold on!* he warns.
The stag takes a breath and then, with a giant leap, jumps clean over the head of the grizzled wolf, landing with a leafy thump in the ferns on the other side. I half slide off his furred back, only just clinging on. The pigeons flock up from the ground into the sky.
*Cowards!* pipes up a voice from my jacket pocket. I look down, to see two orange antennae curling out of it.
*Stop them!* roars the grizzled wolf from the shore. *Hunt them down!*
And the wolves, all seven of them, begin to run after us, their howls rising up into the air.
I barely have time to pull myself back up before the stag is galloping away through the trees. He runs in big strides, and every time he leaps I rise in the air before coming down hard on his spine. The trees are narrow and close together, and the deer’s horns are so wide I flinch as we scrape through. He weaves and turns, like he’s following an invisible path through the undergrowth, sniffing the way – but all I can see are ferns, and all I can smell is fear.
*Bravo!* yells the General as we narrowly escape being whacked in the chest by a fallen trunk. *The chase is on! Full march ahead!*
*Stay down!* urges the stag. *Get as low as you can.*
There’s a crashing behind us, the sound of breaking wood. I turn around and see the wolves spread out in a line, piling through the trees. The ground rises and falls beneath us. There’s a snarl to my left – the grizzled wolf is running just behind us, not even out of breath – but laughing.
*You know that if you desert your precious animals now, we will never allow you to return.*
The stag ignores him and suddenly veers off to the right, jumping clean down into a huge ditch. Tricked, the wolf tries to do a sharp turn but slips in a pile of leaves and tumbles over before righting himself and pounding hard on our tail.
*Fastest is not always best!* jeers the General after him as we shoot away down the gully.
But with a triumphant snarl, the grizzled wolf skids to a halt, and calls after us –
*It does not matter. You cannot escape now.*
We soon see why. The gully ahead is blocked by a wall of boulders covered in twisting creepers, looking like they’ve just been thrown there on top of one another. Six very hungry wolves are bearing down on us from behind. I can see the young cub yapping at their tails, his lips pulled back in rage. If I could just talk to him, perhaps I could …
But before I can say anything the stag has begun to clamber up over the boulders, scraping his hoofs against the stones. He slips, he slides, his horns bash the side of the rocks, but with an extra kick we stumble to the top. He immediately trips over a knotted root crossing the rocks, hung with dead leaves, and I bang into his horns with a jolt.
We’re right in the middle of the forest now. The Ring of Trees.
The wolves can’t climb up the boulders so easily. They keep leaping up and skidding off. I can hear them arguing about the best way up. Beneath me, the stag heaves for breath. Everything around us is silvery and soft, the light coming through the leaves in patches. Ahead of us are rows and rows of trees, like streets, all leading in different directions. I look at them, hoping to see the bright light of the outside world shining at the end of one, but they all seem to go on for miles.
*Do you know the way out?* I ask the stag as he stands surveying the corridors of green in front of us. There are more snarls and howls from below.
*Our old deer walk-upons finish here. We have not been this close to the edge of the Ring since we arrived.* He turns his head towards me and I notice how deep and brown his eyes are. *No one has. Do you think your magic instrument could tell you?*
I have no idea what he’s on about.
*The coloured device you wear around your paw.*
He must mean my watch. Pressing the various buttons, I’m hoping a magic map of the forest will just appear. It doesn’t. Only all the photos I’ve taken – of the General, the sick animals, the wolves.
*Let us stand our ground and fight to the death!* declares the cockroach from my pocket.
There’s a sound of scrabbling very close behind us, followed by a husky howl.
*Or, er, on second thoughts – perhaps you should use the magic green device, soldier,* says the General, turning a paler shade of orange. *And that’s an order. You gave your word you would help us.*
I look at the watch, look at the photo of Mum, pretend to study it closely and then … the strangest thing happens. The screen starts to shudder and shimmer, like a signal is being interrupted, and the photo I took of the General in the lift, perched on my hand and staring at me, reappears. Then the picture flickers and disappears again. I must have knocked the watch in the tunnel or somewhere and sent it haywire.
But it reminds me that the General is right. I said I would help them. They’re looking to me. All I can think is – what would Dad do? What would Dad want me to do? Not let them down.
*This way!* I point straight ahead. Without another word the stag gallops straight on down the wide avenue of trees.
*Faster! Faster!* whoops the General.
I look over my shoulder. The line of trampled bushes behind us is empty. The stag leaps on.
*Are you sure this is the way?* he calls.
*Yes, yes!* I shout, caught up in the moment, the air rushing past my face.
In fact, the dark green of the tunnel of trees does seem to be lightening up ahead. The thorns and brambles criss-crossing our path like ropes seem to be curling back. Maybe I was actually right. Maybe I guessed our way out.
‘Just say something,’ Dad used to say, ‘even if you don’t know the answer … have a guess.’
The air is getting lighter. I can feel a warm breeze. The trees begin to fall away. And then with a short, sharp shout, the stag rears back, lifting his hoofs
in the air like a bucking horse. I grab on to tufts of fur where I can, squeezing as tight as I can with my knees so I don’t fall off.
He staggers and crashes back down to the ground. Pulling myself up, I can see why. The alleyway of trees has ended. But so has the ground. Behind us, a tangled mess of fallen trees and mangled undergrowth. In front of us, a leafy, thorny fringe marking a slab of sheer rock, falling hundreds of metres down to where a river roars over a bed of stones.
A twig snaps. Slowly I twist around.
There, approaching us through the shadows, is the semicircle of wolves. Slouched down low, the hunters approach us, balanced on the very edge of their world.
For a moment the only thing I can hear is the rush of water from far below, along with the blood rushing in my head. The leader of the wolves breaks the line and steps forward. There is still a growl to his voice, but his tone is softer.
*Noble Wildness – my quarrel is not with you. Give up the human child and we shall let you return in peace.*
The stag doesn’t reply at first. He stares straight ahead. His nostrils quiver. Puffy breaths curl out of them into the sky.
*Guardian, you know that I am the last of my kind.*
*Yes, Wildness, this is why we shall let you live. Our duty is only to protect the last wild, to preserve the natural order.*
The stag neatly turns so he is facing the dripping jaws of the wolf pack. Even the half-size cub looks like he could take a big chunk out of him. There is a new emotion in the stag’s voice when he speaks though – anger.
*Yes – a natural order that suits you the most – to have us all at your disposal as your prey. But we now all face a far greater danger than you. That is why we have joined forces, and sought human help.*
The grizzled wolf shakes his muzzle gruffly.
*We will survive this as we have other threats in the past. Why do you not have faith in the way of the wild?*
*You know as well as I that this danger is different to any that we have faced before. It will be the end of all of us unless we get help from the humans.*
*I do not want to destroy such a good and wise creature as yourself –* the wolf braces his legs, as if getting ready to pounce – *but you give me no choice. Throw the child off and we shall let you go in peace.*
The stag takes half a step back towards the valley edge. His feet dislodge a couple of loose stones, which tumble noisily into the chasm below, their clatter echoing all around.
The wolf tries one last time. He sounds as if he is losing patience.
*I will not tell you again, Wildness. Let beasts be beasts and men be men. That has always been our way. That is how we have survived until now.*
*And that time has passed,* replies the stag, glancing up at the sky. He is about to say something else when there is a noisy scuffle in the trees above. We all look up. The grey pigeons burst through the branches in an explosion of leaves.
*A way out!* they sing excitedly. *We have found the way out beyond the trees.*
*These trees are way out!* says the white pigeon, arriving late behind them. *Beyond way out!*
They weren’t cowards at all. They were looking.
Then everything happens quickly. The grizzled wolf leaps at us with a blasting roar. The stag leaps too. As he does, he tilts his head. With a sickening crunch, we collide in mid-air. Gored in his side by the stag’s horns, the wolf yelps with pain. Too late to stop, he falls over the edge, slithering down the slope, flecking the white stones with bright red blood.
The stag doesn’t pause. He leaps in a single move over the other wolves and ploughs on once again into the forest. I twist on his back and see the cub peering over the edge of the chasm, his tail between his legs.
*Follow us, follow us,* trill the birds, soaring on ahead.
The stag never falters, never tires, but keeps running, his breathing loud and strong. The pigeons keep on calling, occasionally looking back to check on us. The wolves don’t give up either, panting and sweating with the effort, but always close behind.
*Trust pigeons to lead us the long way out,* grumbles the General from my pocket.
The light starts to change, just up ahead. It slips from grey to white. Cool air blows on my face. The last few trees are in sight, but I can feel the stag beginning to slow down. His back and sides are slippery with sweat, and even from on top I can sense his heart, hammering away like a steam engine. Then with one final leap we break through the last line of trees.
Before us stands the wire fence that runs round the whole Ring, a jagged hole torn right through it, and beyond that – the edge of a moor.
I duck and the stag plunges through the hole. Then, heaving for breath, he skids to a halt immediately.
*But the Guardians?* I’m convinced we’re finally about to become their lunch.
*See … for … yourself,* he says between gulps of air.
I look back.
The wolves are standing on the edge of the forest, only a leap behind, howling to the sky. They paw the ground and swipe chunks out of the earth with their claws – but they don’t follow us.
*Why?*
*They are the Guardians. Animals who have sworn an oath to protect the wild against all intruders. They cannot pass beyond the Ring of Trees while the others still live within.*
I look at them quickly, their green eyes flashing and tongues hanging out. The cub is there too, standing between the bigger ones. He catches my eye and holds it – but I look away. I’m not going to feel guilty about the grizzled wolf. He wanted me dead.
Instead I get my first proper look at the Ring from the outside.
The wolves stand on the edge of the forest, which is fenced in by rusting barbed wire, curving all the way round, as tall as the grey and whippy trees. Between the concrete posts that hold the fence up hangs a series of old white wooden signs, with red words painted on them. Half of the signs have rotted away with wind or rain, but there are enough of them left for me to make out a few letters:
ILITARY IRING RANGE EP OUT
Somehow I don’t think it was just the Guardians keeping humans out of the Ring of Trees.
*And you – as their Wildness – will you be allowed to return?*
We look behind us. The wolves have melted away and we are on our own once again. The shadows of the wood stretch out along the ground like crooked black fingers.
*Certainly not. The wolves would tear me apart. You must lead us all to your father’s magic.* And then, spoken in a way which is impossible to argue with – *We must go on alone. We will form our own wild to save those we left behind.* He digs his hoofs into the ground. *They must be saved.*
I look out over the moors, shading my eyes. Inside the Ring everything looked all soft and blurry, but out here in the open the light is so clear, the edges so sharp, it kind of burns your eyes. We can’t go back. Yet at the same time … I turn to the stag. *You have no idea. There are other humans out there, humans who will want you dead. They send out patrols. They kill anything that moves.*
Cullers. Former soldiers sent in the early days to try and stop the virus by slaughtering contaminated herds or packs. When that failed, their orders changed. They were told to kill anything non-human that moved – and they did.
I jump off the stag. *Stay here with your wild – let me go. I will make my own way home to my city and find you your cure.*
Even though I’ve no idea how to get there. The stag doesn’t reply at first. Instead he straightens his long neck and gazes at the horizon. All I can see are miles and miles of empty moor stretching ahead, and then just beyond them, through a blue haze, the rocky tips of a mountain range – so much outdoors, like I’ve never seen before.
He looks like he’s seeing something else, something far away, inside his mind.
*The Great Open,* he says at last. *We lost so many on this land as we made our way here. Some from the plague, others at the hands of those you describe. I made a promise in their memory. That I would keep those who survived the journe
y safe, as long as I had breath in my body.* He wheels about to face me. *And if that means I must carry you all the way into the heart of the human land itself – then so be it.*
The pigeons dance about in the sky like crazy, while the General clambers out of my pocket and with a flutter of his little wings buzzes on to the stag’s horns.
*That’s the spirit, Stag!* he chirps. *Let’s see what you’re really made of – stag or mouse!*
The deer growls angrily and shakes his head from side to side, trying to tip him off, but the General clings on.
They’re both missing the point. I try one last time.
*Stag, the Quarantine Zone – it’s too dangerous. I’m not even allowed to be out here. I know it’s a long way, but I’m small, I can hide, I’ll find help—*
*I made a promise,* says the stag bluntly, and lowers his horns at me. I’m not going to disagree with them. So I climb back on to him.
The General gives a cheer and scuttles up to the very highest tip of the horns, shouting, in such a deep voice that the pigeons nearly fall out of the sky in surprise, *So be it – let the journey begin!*
*Now then,* says the stag to me, warmer than before, *where is this famous city of yours?*
Once again I realize I have no answer to his question. I don’t even know where we are. But this time I’m not going to make the same mistake as in the Ring of Trees and just guess. I think of where we lived and what Dad taught me – before I got taken away.
*On the tip of a map – in the south, I think.*
*Can you guide us south, birds?* he calls out to the pigeons.
I doubt it’s going to be that easy.
But they yell out, *It is enough!* before speeding off over the moors. Correction: the grey pigeons speed off over the moors away from the Ring; the white pigeon flaps up into the air and heads straight back towards the forest.
He realizes his mistake in time and wheels around, going as fast as he can to catch up with the others, muttering to himself, *You say north, I’ll fly north, you say south, I’ll fly—*
*North?* suggests the stag as the little bird passes overhead.
