Fear the Wolf

by S. J. Sparrows

  Fear the Wolf. Despite my hatred for the Wolf, I agreed with my people’s beliefs that killing animals for meat was wrong. It was unnecessary. It was a clear case of presuming too much, of declaring yourself more worthy of living than other creatures in this land.

  I wanted to scream. But it would change nothing. These barbarous traps probably littered the forest, regularly supplying fresh meat for nomads at the price of countless animals endlessly suffering.

  I closed my eyes and took steady breaths until the shock and anger passed.

  Aldan was intrigued by the trap and began asking questions.

  “Aldan,” I whispered, “I told you. We have to be quiet. This trap was made by bad people. That means they could be nearby. It means they’ll probably come back—”

  “I don’t want to be quiet! I don’t care about bad people! I’m not going anywhere ever again until my father comes to get me!” At Aldan’s shouting, the forest burst to life. Birds shook the treetops, flapping away in wild fear. Bushes rattled as frightened animals darted through them. A tense moment passed before quiet returned, but in the silence, my worries were louder.

  “Aldan,” I said, struggling to keep my voice a whisper. “This is serious. You’ll get us both—”

  “I’m not moving until my father gets here!”

  “Your father’s dead, Aldan. You know he’s dead.”

  He twisted away. When he turned back, his eyes glinted with malice for the space of a heartbeat, before turning watery. “I don’t care. I’m staying here.” He folded his arms and plonked himself down with a thud.

  All I could do for some time was watch him while I took one exaggerated breath after another. My tense chest rose and fell.

  If I pushed him too far, he would lash out against his own will. In some ways, I understood giving in to that destructive desire. But unlike other people, Aldan had little control over his impulses. There was something simple and savage lurking inside of him. If he began to see me as a source of frustration—as the thing between him and his daily tasks, between him and his dead father, between him and his sense of order—then this efficient darkness inside him would take over and seek to destroy me.

  As my thoughts turned to the Wolf, rage churned in the pit of my stomach. What if I had no way of forcing this anger down? What if every time this anger swelled, it forced me to attack those around me?

  My breaths became calmer, more controlled. As I watched Aldan now, a sad warmth spread through my chest, surrounding my heart. Aldan didn’t want his anger. He didn’t want his pain. Like everyone, he only wished to feel safe and loved, and to avoid suffering.

  Slowly, I walked to him with my arms out and palms turned skyward. “I’m sorry your feet hurt, Aldan. We’ll stay here as long as you like.”

  His folded arms squeezed tighter. He tucked his chin into his neck and ignored me.

  I knelt in front of him. “Aldan … I’m …” He still wouldn’t look at me. “I’m sorry I got angry at you.”

  Chin still tucked, he rolled his head from side to side, mumbling something I couldn’t understand.

  “Huh?”

  His head shot up. “Are you my friend?”

  “I am.”

  “Father says I don’t need friends, he’s the only friend I need. But you’re my friend, aren’t you?”

  “We’re friends.”

  “We’re friends?”

  “You’re the only friend I have right now.” I stroked the side of his arm. He unfolded them, and his shoulders relaxed.

  Aldan stared at me cautiously for a while, before smiling.

  I smiled back. “We’ll stay here until you feel like walking again. I know you don’t want to go anywhere, but it’s the only way we’ll reach a village, and … make more friends. All right?”

  Reluctantly, he nodded.

  “Thank you, Aldan. We need to hide somewhere here, though. A bit like a game.”

  He straightened up, and his smile stretched into a grin. For a moment, I didn’t see him as a big man almost ten cycles older than I was. I saw him as a child who wanted to have fun playing the types of games we were allowed to play before we knew better.

  “Will someone come find us?” Aldan asked, jiggling on the spot.

  I hope not. “Perhaps. But let’s just find a hiding place first. When you’re ready to walk again, we’ll leave.”

  We hid among bushes not far from the pit. I wanted to have a view of the trap while staying out of sight, in case nomads regularly visited it to see what they had caught. It made sense that any nomads would come from the path, so we hid in the opposite direction.

  My guess was right. Not long after we settled into our hiding place, I was startled by the sound of someone humming. Their confident footsteps crunched through the forest.

  “Oh,” said Aldan, with a huff and a frown. “We’ve been found.”

  I put a finger to my lips to shush him, hoping the stranger in the trees hadn’t heard Aldan over their own humming. Softly, silently, I spread the branches of the bush to peer through.

  Striding toward the pit was a young woman. When she saw that the roof of the trap had fallen through, she stopped humming. “Looks like someone’s bringing home the meat tonight,” she sang to herself, putting her hands on her hips and walking tall. She didn’t turn or look around, so I figured she was alone.

  When she reached the pit, she came to an abrupt stop. “Ah, shit.” After shaking her head, she spat into the big hole in the ground. “Looks like someone’s spending the next hour resetting her trap.”

  My heart twitched, then paced. We couldn’t wait in hiding for an hour. I doubted we could stay unnoticed that long, even if I managed to keep Aldan quiet.

  I chewed my lip and let ideas rush about my mind. The nomad was alone, and there were two of us. I wasn’t a skilled fighter, but the stranger didn’t know that. If I could catch her by surprise, I would have the upper hand. And then I could … kill her? No, that was wrong. I had no cause to kill her. Not yet.

  The paralyzer. Yes, that might work. If I could sneak close enough to prick her, she might not even see me before the needle drops her to the ground.

  I waited for her to start gathering branches and leaves for the roof of her trap. Then I whispered to Aldan, “Stay here. Get your sword and shield ready, but don’t come out from these bushes unless I shout your name.”

  I reached into my satchel to get the paralyzer and put it in my pocket. Sword in right hand, shield strapped over left arm, I eased out of the bushes and crept toward the stranger.

  She was humming again, which helped to cover the sounds of my gentle footsteps. It was stupid and dangerous, but I was so tired of walking through the forest that I had already changed my mind. I wouldn’t paralyze the woman without giving her a chance to help me first.

  I wanted to talk to her.

  Her yellowish-brown clothes were made of animal skin, by the look of it. Definitely a nomad.

  As I got closer, my nerves took over caution. I ran the last few steps toward her, not caring about the noise, and leveled my sword at her neck. When she spun around, I pressed the blade to her throat.

  We stared at each other, both in shock.

  “Well, hello to you too,” she said flatly. She dropped the branches she had gathered, raising her open hands in surrender.

  I couldn’t speak. I was stunned by her appearance. For a second she had looked like Reni. I’d almost dropped my weapon and thrown my arms around her. But the illusion passed.

  She was similar to Reni in many ways, but everything about her was darker and more accentuated. Her hair was closer to brown than Reni’s muddy blond had been, and it was half braided on the sides to pull it back from her ears while still hanging freely behind them. In the place of pale gray eyes were eyes as dark as wet slate. Her body was lean but more muscular than Reni’s, and she had a face of sharp lines and angles. She also looked a few cycles older.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” My words came out fast and sh
aky.

  “Always a good start.” The woman sniffed a laugh. Her movement pressed my sword tip against her skin. She winced.

  “How do I get to the nearest village?”

  “I did think you looked a little out of place.”

  “Tell me! Please … and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “Oh, how kind. Let me just think about that.”

  It happened so fast. The nomad slapped my sword aside and spun as she crouched. With the force of her spin, she kicked my legs out from underneath me. I smacked to the ground. Pain spread over my back, and my head stung where it had struck the earth.

  Winded, I wheezed and tried to see through the bright white splotches in my vision. When my sight cleared, I found the nomad standing over me with a smug smile. She had my sword—Reni’s sword—and she pressed it to my throat.

  “Now, what was I trying to remember?” she said, pulling a mock thinking face. “Ah, the way to the nearest village. Let me see. It’s …”—with her free hand, she loosely pointed all around and then abruptly dropped it to her side—“oh yeah, I don’t care.”

  I coughed, still struggling to breathe. My chest burned with each breath scratching in and out.

  “I see,” the woman said, “out of demands, are you? I thought you village folk loved telling people what to do.”

  “Don’t kill me,” I said at last. The image of Aldan cowering in the bushes filled my mind. What would he do if I died here? Would this nomad find him and kill him too? Or would Aldan wander the forest until he gets killed by vicious beasts or dies of hunger and thirst?

  The nomad raised a brow. “You do have another demand.”

  “It’s not a demand. Please. Don’t kill me. I … I’ll make a deal.”

  “A deal? What could you have to offer, little, lost cropgirl?”

  “I don’t work in the fields. I’m a weaver.”

  “Ah, so you want to weave me an ugly village dress in exchange for your life. Hmm … no, thanks.”

  “I want to give you a whole village.”

  That silenced the nomad. Her eyes widened, then narrowed to a squint. She kept opening her mouth to speak, before closing it each time. Eventually, she said, “What do you mean?”

  My body relaxed, the tiniest amount. “My village was attacked. Everyone’s dead. If you find it before anyone else does, everything will be yours for the taking. Weapons. Tools. Clothes. Clean water. Food. Everything.”

  “What if you’re lying?”

  My throat locked.

  “Cropgirl, answer me. Are you lying? Who attacked this village of yours?”

  With great effort and pain, I squeezed out the words. “The Wolf.”

  The nomad’s eyes stretched even wider than before. She tilted her head. “The Wolf,” she repeated as if she had misheard me. “The Wolf. As in the Wolf. The beast you strange village folk live in fear of? No, you’re not fooling me. My clan has slain countless of her wolflings. I’ve killed dozens of them. They’re pests! They hunt the same animals we do. But you village people—you don’t kill anything. Why would the Wolf care to attack your village?”

  “Because …”

  “Come on, find your tongue.”

  “It was my fault!” I screamed. “I presumed too much. I got everyone killed. Everyone. She killed … everyone.”

  It was the first time I’d said it aloud. Tears rushed to my eyes. I turned my head, hiding my face as it crumpled.

  There was a pause. The nomad said, “You speak the truth.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my tears to stop.

  “Look at me, village girl.”

  I turned back. My lips trembled, so I tried hard to tense my face—to be stronger.

  The nomad’s closed lips pushed up, then to the side. “A deal, then. You tell me how to get to your village, and I’ll let you live.”

  “No.” I found my voice. And this time, there was no shakiness. “I’ll tell you how to get to my old village, but you need to tell me how to get to a different one. The nearest one with the most people. A safe place.”

  “Ooo, the demands again. Fine. We’ll trade information.”

  She eased the sword on my throat, but as she did, something stole my attention. Raised lines, paler than the rest of her skin, covered her wrist, leading up to the inside of her forearm.

  The nomad followed my eyes. At once, she stepped back from me, removing the sword from my neck. As she did, she twisted her arm inward to hide the thin scars striping her flesh.

  She said nothing about what I’d seen. Red crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She spoke with fresh anger. “Start talking then. How do I get there?”

  I stood and shuffled back a few steps to get a safer distance from her. I opened my mouth before it hit me: I had no idea how to get back to my village. Why had I thought I could possibly tell her the way?

  My jaw hanging open, my heartbeat growing louder, I searched for something to say. I had visions of myself dashing to the bushes; I could take Aldan’s sword and try to fight the nomad, or perhaps grab Aldan and run.

  The nomad rolled her eyes, tilting her head back with a huff. “You don’t know the way, do you?”

  “I …”

  “You’re lost.” Still holding my sword, she strode toward me and brandished the weapon.

  “Wait! I can describe the village to you.”

  “Yeah, wonderful. I can describe the moon to you. Doesn’t mean you can get there.”

  “You might have been to my village before, or someone from your band of nomads—”

  “Clan.”

  “Clan. Clan. Someone from your clan might have been there, or might know about it. If I describe it to you, you can figure out which village it is.”

  She shook her head but lowered the sword. “I’m beginning to regret making this deal with you.”

  “You won’t, I promise. When you find my old village, you won’t.”

  “Promises, promises! Promises are just empty words until the proof lay before me. So, come on, start describing already.”

  Frantically I detailed the layout of my village. I described the few things that had stood out to me—the village hall, the well in the center, and the small hills on the outskirts—but I struggled to say much about the rest. The mud-and-stone houses were so bland, nearly identical to one another. A twinge of nausea hit my stomach; I had hated the look of the village. Hated it. Truly hated it. The queasiness passed, replaced by a sort of … satisfaction. I had never admitted that with such clarity. But now that everyone I had cared about was dead, did it matter if I presumed too much by wanting some beauty in my life?

  “Daydreamer,” the nomad said, snapping her fingers at me. “Why did you stop and stare off into the trees like a frightened fawn?” She laughed and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I know the village you speak of. Refused to trade with us once, because my cousin took with him a wolfling pup he’d found and wanted to raise to hunt with us. You know, if you take one young and treat it well, a wolfling will show you more loyalty than any human. It’ll even kill its own kind for you. Anyway, you should have seen the look on your villagers’ faces when they saw the pup in his arms. Perhaps you were there, but I don’t remember you. Your people whittled, ‘Fear the Wolf, fear the Wolf.’ Huh! Threatened us to leave before the almighty Wolfy-wolf came a-killing—”

  “Well, they’re dead now,” I snapped, “so stop speaking ill of them.”

  Frustration crawled through my bones. I didn’t believe her lies about wolfling pups, nor what she had said earlier about slaying dozens of the beasts. Her people were meat eaters and skin wearers, I knew that, but the Wolf would never dismiss an insult as deep as capturing and taming a wolfling. Would she?

  The nomad glared at me for interrupting her, but her face slowly softened. “It’s … rough that your people died.”

  I felt a stab in my chest. Holding back my tears again, I nodded to accept her condolence.

  She added, “And it’s rough that your side of
deal ain’t as pretty as mine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The nearest village … Well, the nearest village that isn’t the one you came from …”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s a long way from here.”

  “How many days’ walk?”

  “Days! It’ll take you weeks. No less than two.”

  Weeks … My breathing stopped for a moment. I didn’t have enough food and water for another few days, let alone weeks—and that was ignoring the dangers of the forest. We had barely survived one night without Illus protecting us while we slept.

  The nomad continued. “But if you want to go on, then just over there is a path. Follow it that way. Whenever it branches off, follow the thickest, muddiest track. It’s a trading route; it’s the quickest way from the village you came from to the one you want to get to. Plenty of detours along the way, so, like I said, just take the widest path each time. Ah, and a warning—my clan is set up not far from here. I’ll be taking them with me. You should stay out of our way until we’re gone. I can’t protect you if you get yourself caught. Besides that, you’re sure to come across other clans along that path. Keep your distance, sneak around them, run—I don’t care. I’ve told you what I can. Now I’m leaving.”

  Instinctively, I reached toward her, staring at Reni’s sword.

  The nomad gave a sly smile. “I’m keeping this.”

  “No! I mean … please. It belonged to someone I …”

  She tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. “Cared about?”

  I didn’t answer.

  She dropped her jaw as if about to say, Ahhh. “Loved,” she said.

  We were silent for a while. She gave a sharp nod, then threw the sword onto the ground in front of me. “It’s blunt, anyway.”

  I knew that, and I didn’t care. A warm rush of relief swept through me as I scrambled to pick it up. Before leaving my village, I could have taken any sword; I could have picked a strong, sharp, newly forged blade from Markus’s smithy. But I had wanted Reni’s. It would be her sword that would end the Wolf’s long life.

  With the weapon back in my hand, I regained some confidence. “That trap,” I said to the nomad, flicking my head toward the pit. “It’s cruel. It’s … wrong.”