I held my breath.
It was a tree, one unlike any tree I knew to exist. Its branches twisted in all directions. Leaves and flowers floated impossibly upward. It was the tree: the same tree I had drawn here a few days ago while alone. But … but I had stamped it out before leaving.
Forcing myself to breathe again, I thought frantically. Had someone been watching me? Had someone crept out here after I left and then copied my drawing? Or perhaps the wind had blown the dirt away, revealing the etched earth underneath.
I shook my head. “That … I didn’t draw that.”
“Yeahhh,” said Reni, “and let me guess, it wasn’t you the last time I caught you drawing here, either?” She laughed, but not in a cruel way.
I laughed back, distractedly. “That was me that time.”
I stared at the drawing, trying to recognize my own hand in it. It was so familiar I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t mine. Frustrated, I stamped it out again, this time so thoroughly it could never re-emerge, no matter how hard the wind blew.
“Well,” I said, “it’s gone now.”
“Fear the Wolf,” Reni said half seriously, half jokingly, “fear the Wolf.”
“I know, I know!”
“You’re dangerous.” She gave me a flash of that look I loved. I shivered pleasantly.
“Let’s find out how dangerous.” I raised my fighting stick, and my training commenced.
Reni had been secretly training me out here, once a week, for almost a full cycle. She knew how much I wanted to be a guardian like her. I had suggested the idea of her training me after we’d become somewhat distanced from each other. Reni had baulked at first, afraid I was presuming too much. After that, we barely spoke for a whole season. But in the end, she reconsidered my request, and she approached me.
Sometimes it felt as though these private meetings were my foundation. Without them, without this chance to glimpse the Reni I used to know, I would crumble. We had been so close when we were younger, but as we began to learn our places, responsibilities took over. The worst moment for me came when the elders approved a partner for Reni. My future fell away that day. Then as if to stamp all over my dead fantasy, Reni didn’t tell me about the coupling herself. I’d found out from him.
Training me now, Reni attacked, and I blocked and beat back until we were both too tired to go on. We slumped down next to each other. Laughing at our exhaustion, I rolled toward Reni and locked eyes with her. She let the moment linger, smiling at me lovingly.
She coughed and looked away.
Every piece of me screamed to just kiss her like I had done once before. My first kiss. At the remembrance of it, my lips buzzed. Back then, we had both believed the same future was possible. But that was before a band of nomads had attacked, killing not just my neighbors, but also my dreams.
The fluttering in my stomach turned into a hard rock, which quickly sank. To keep hoping like this was torture. Still, I had to know if there was any chance …
“How’s Yarrun?” I asked, hating the taste of his name in my mouth. He used to be my friend too, but the thought of him living the life I still wanted had ended that friendship.
Reni sighed and shifted away. “Senla … no.”
We said nothing for a long while.
When our eyes met again, she gave me the look, briefly, then spread out on her back and chuckled.
I didn’t understand. She said no, but surely she realized what that look did to me: how terribly it made me want her. The growing tension in my body urged me to turn away. I felt a frown on my face, but I didn’t want Reni to see my anger.
I stared at the forest.
When my eyes focused, I gasped.
Reni shot up beside me. “What’s the matter?”
I pointed. “Someone’s out there.” I squinted to get a better look. “Or something.”
The thing was tall, thin, and human-like in form; except, its forearms appeared too large. From this distance, I couldn’t tell exactly what was different about its arms. The being stood to the side of a tree, staring our way. A yellow glint flashed from its eyes. Its skin shone white, glistening each time the thing moved.
“I think it’s one of the Old Ones,” said Reni. “A Tenniac. You remember what Old Fendra said about them? White scaly skin, with a greenish tint to it. Bright yellow eyes. And … I don’t remember. Something about their freaky arms … Four forearms. Four hands. Something like that …”
I stood too. “I thought the Wolf had wiped them out.”
“I don’t know. Maybe some survived. Maybe Fendra was wrong. I don’t much care.” And then Reni was done talking. Her guardian instincts kicked in. She picked up her sword and brandished it toward the forest. “Oi. Get away. If you come any closer, I’ll kill you. Go on, go!”
The thing simply stared for a while, and then eased backward before turning and slinking slowly out of sight.
A guilty pang hit me in the chest. “Why’d you do that? It might have been friendly. It might have just wanted to trade.”
Reni lowered her sword proudly, then raised an eyebrow at me. “Senla. The Wolf didn’t kill them all for no reason. They didn’t fear her enough. They’re dangerous. If we let it into the village, the Wolf might come wipe us out too.”
“Well, the Wolf clearly didn’t kill all the Tenniacs.”
“I don’t care. It’s my duty to protect everyone. I’m not risking it.”
“Are you going to tell your father about it, then?”
Reni raised both brows now, her eyes as hard as stone. “If the Tenniac comes back, I’ll tell him. But then he’ll ask what I was doing this far out. And then …”
“You won’t be able to train me anymore,” I finished, backing down.
We watched the forest a little longer to be sure the thing had left. Hanging over the treetops, dark, turbid clouds roiled in the distance. A chill wind crept up my spine.
Being so close to the border reminded me of the first time I saw a man dead, his corpse mangled and scratched, his eyes lazily locked on nothing in particular. He was killed near the trees, mauled by the Wolf’s creatures, it was said—and now he lived on in my occasional nightmares.
I shook away the memory. After a while, my stomach groaned. I had forgotten to bring food with me, and I had drained my water pouch while training. I didn’t want this time with Reni to end, though, so I said nothing.
When Reni suggested we leave, I asked, “Shall we do this again later?”
She tilted her head, staring at me thoughtfully. “Maybe.”
She strolled away. When she peered over her shoulder, flashing me one quick smile, I realized she knew how much I enjoyed watching her body move as she walked.
And she liked that I liked it.
I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt.
7
At home, my mother screamed at me. Mother went on and on until my head ached, and I suspected every villager could hear; I imagined them creeping closer to listen in. Although Mother knew I was hungry, she withheld the lunch she had prepared for me, guarding it behind her as though it would be my reward for accepting her scolding.
If I accepted her scolding.
So far I’d said nothing. I hadn’t moved—I’d barely breathed, I felt so tense—but my arms and legs began to shake. I sucked in my lips and bit down on them to stop myself from talking back.
Mother screamed, “You’ll have the whole village whispering about me, about how I raised you wrong. Do you want that?”
I tried to reply, but—
“How embarrassing, Senla, how embarrassing! You should have seen the look Markus Bennan gave me. And before that, I had to sit here listening to Melina go on about coupling you and Bandurk, getting the elders involved when I’ve already told ’em that I’ll pick someone for you! All the while, I’m just trying to get on with this”—she gestured at the piles of cloth and half-finished pieces around the room—“You just can’t make it any easier for me, can you? Oh, and—”
“Shut
up,” I shrieked, “just shut up, shut up, shut up!”
For a moment, everything blurred. I wasn’t sure if I’d really spoken aloud or if I’d imagined it. The immense sense of relief I felt told me I had said it aloud.
But fear swiftly replaced my relief.
Mother’s arms and shoulders dropped in shock, but her back straightened. A look of mixed horror and terror spread over her face. I knew what I had to do. I ran for the door.
Mother scrambled after me. “Get here, now! It’s your fault he’s dead. You know that? It’s your fault!”
After yanking the door open, I felt Mother’s long fingernails scrape my back as I dashed outside. My mind went blank. I rushed as fast as my legs would take me, ignoring my neighbors’ stares. I felt their eyes on me as if their eyes were bugs roving all over my skin.
Mother’s voice dwindled, but even from a great distance, I heard her shout, “Fear the Wolf, Senla!”
When my feet stopped running, I sank to the ground and wept. My legs had brought me back to the little spot behind the hills.
Now, my mind ran instead.
It was my fault? Mother had told me that once before, when she was angry at me, but she had quickly taken it back. My tears fell to the dirt. Was it true? Had I somehow been such a rotten, unruly child that I’d driven my father away? Had I frightened him so badly he chose to leave my mother, leave the village, and go into the forest? Never to return.
But I was so young then. I barely remembered my father’s face, let alone how I had behaved at that age. Was there really something so wrong with me?
My heart clenched. I twisted onto my back and looked up at the sky, thinking, crying. The dark clouds I’d seen earlier had edged closer to the village. Any moment now, they would block out the sun.
I watched their progress, shedding my own droplets of water, as I suspected the clouds would soon do themselves.
I hated indulging in self-pity, but I liked one thing about crying: it seemed to pull up all the things I should have cried over before but hadn’t allowed myself to. The sad memories were like raindrops pooling on a leaf, filling and filling until everything spilled at once. All it had taken was this final, heavy drop—It’s your fault he’s dead—to shift the balance.
But another memory fell hard too: Reni had kissed me back. How many times had I told myself that?
It was true, though. Before the nomad attack on our village, she had wanted me as much as I still wanted her. We had never told anyone about us, but we had planned to. In more peaceful times, when the population was higher, the elders had approved most same-gender couplings. My people respected that a woman could love a woman, a man a man, that either could love both.
But after the small band of nomads came pillaging, the elders’ priorities changed.
I recalled the horrific day now. Mother had barred the door to keep me inside. She locked me in her arms while the sounds outside haunted us: weapons clashing, nomads shouting threats, laughing and cheering as they murdered. Screaming, so much screaming. But what I saw was worse. Through a slit on our shuttered window, I watched Markus Bennan’s partner get cut down by a grisly nomad. She thudded to the ground with a deep red slash across her back. Moments too late, Reni’s father had shoved a sword through the traveler’s chest.
Killing the attackers had taken too long, though. Dozens of villagers died that day. And without his partner, Markus was left to care for Aldan by himself.
After the massacre, Reni and I knew the elders would refuse our request to be coupled. So we never asked. Since then, the elders had pressured everyone into having more children. Almost every friend I’d grown up with had been partnered already, at a younger age than usual. Half those couples had borne their first child. Some were on their second or third.
The thought of Reni coming to me one day with a swollen belly, carrying Yarrun’s child, unleashed more tears.
I lay in the dirt for a long while, until my face was dry and my thoughts began to brighten. I laughed to myself almost deliriously; I had no intention of visiting Bandurk today, despite telling his mother I would. More laughs erupted from deep in my stomach. I wondered if it would be warm enough for me to sleep out here under the stars tonight. Anything would be better than going home and facing my mother again.
Time passed as I fidgeted on the ground, trying to muster the courage to get up and face reality.
Someone approached.
I pushed to my feet, then smiled. “You came back.”
Reni pressed her lips together and overturned her hands as if to say, Maybe I shouldn’t have. Instead, she said, “I heard your mother told you off. Well, actually, I heard your mother telling you off. I think everyone did.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about it. Just start training me already.”
For a moment Reni was motionless, tacitly giving me a chance to change my mind and discuss my problems. I appreciated that more than she could know. But it was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Come on,” I said, “let’s fight already.”
So we fought.
I let go of everything. Later, I would pay for my behavior—I was sure of that—but right now all I wanted was this moment with Reni, just the two of us. We clashed weapons and dived and dodged until we were panting and soaked with sweat. My wild mood set off Reni’s laughter. We began to fool around more than we practiced. We discarded our weapons and started prodding and pushing each other, wrestling to see who could bring the other down first. Of course, with her training, Reni won again and again, and again, pinning me under her each time. But eventually, I flung her onto the ground and landed on top of her. We cackled happily, our eyes locked in a sense of excitement and adventure. There she was: the Reni I had known was still in there.
I kissed her.
The moment was bliss. Then the moment was over.
Reni shoved me off of her. My hip thudded hard against the ground. “What are you doing, Senla?”
My vision span for a second. “I thought—”
“You thought wrong!” She wiped the dirt from her tunic and began to rise, shaking her head. “You’ve ruined it.”
“Ruined what? I just want to be with you, Reni. You know that. I don’t know why you’re settling down with Yarrun, pretending he’s what you want!”
Still straightening up, she ignored me. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Reni,” I said.
She finally looked at me. “This was enough for me. It was enough. And you’ve ruined it!”
I stared right back at her, hoping the pain in my heart didn’t show in my eyes. “Well, it wasn’t enough for me. It never will be.” The corners of my eyes itched, burning hotter by the second.
Reni tutted. “This was stupid. I should never have started meeting you out here. I thought … I thought you knew what this was.”
“What do you mean?”
Reni threw her hands out. “Why couldn’t you just let it go like I did? We need to stop this. I’m not coming here again.”
“What?” I said numbly. As it sank in, I began to shake. “This is all I have, Reni. Please …”
“I’m leaving now,” she said flatly. “I heard Bandurk has requested to be coupled with you. You should ask your mother to accept.”
My heart stung at that more than anything that had come before. A soreness flooded it, bubbling up, reaching my eyes as tears. Reni had already turned and was walking away.
I yelled, “If you leave, I’ll have nothing left. I’ll run away! I’ll run into the forest. I don’t care anymore!” I walked backward, in the direction of the trees, to demonstrate my resolve.
Reni glanced over her shoulder. Hesitation quivered on her face before vanishing altogether. “Do it.” She kept on marching.
Desperation conquered my senses. I turned and ran for the forest. Reni was as stubborn as I was; I feared she wouldn’t look back and see what I was doing, but I hoped more than anything she would.
I dashed across th
e village border, imagining Reni chasing after me, grabbing me and spinning me around as she realized just how much I loved her. She would say she loved me too—that she had merely been too afraid to admit it. And then she would kiss me, and it would all work out somehow … somehow.
I ran, and I ran. Barely aware of my surroundings, I went on until I couldn’t. I fell to my knees in a small clearing in the forest, then stared up. The sky peeked through a gap in the canopy, its stormy clouds rippling.
When I turned to look behind myself, the desperate fantasy of Reni and me reconciling was shattered.
I was alone. In the forest.
Reni and I would never be together; I understood that now.
I raised my fists and thumped them into the ground, trying to let go of all my anger and sadness. Instead, my mind raced with wishes. I wished my father had never left. I wished I had a different mother. I wished the elders didn’t decide everything for everyone. I wished the Wolf didn’t exist! And in my rage, I wished for one destructive second that everything would just go away.
Then I realized what I had done.
My thoughts cleared. It struck me fully this time. I was alone—in the forest.
The realization paralyzed me. I half expected to die from just being here, being where I shouldn’t be. This was forbidden.
My skin tightened with fear, and for a while, I forgot to breathe. I dragged some air into my chest. Breathe, I told myself, breathe.
As my fear settled, something unexpected happened: a glimpse of immense beauty fell upon me. I watched the gentle swaying of the trees, heard the soft rustling sounds, and yet I sensed the stillness lying beneath it all. I knew that beasts and other dangers dwelt amongst the trees, but it seemed there was something so harmonious about the forest itself—something so natural and right.
Or maybe I was getting ahead of myself.
The rustling grew louder. I sensed movement all around me. I managed to stand and look about. I saw shadows. They dashed behind trees and bushes and boulders, vanishing and reappearing.
The eerie disturbances took me back to my night of the telling, the tense moment before my mother had slapped me. Except now the commotion didn’t fade away. It intensified.
Fear the Wolf Page 3
