Fear the Wolf

by S. J. Sparrows

  How had she persuaded Aldan to abandon me too? With threats, I imagined, and a menacing flash of her needle-like teeth. What about Nosy? The bushcat barely trusted Illus or Aldan as it was; it would have stayed with me. Anger boiled in me at the thought that Illus might have frightened off Nosy, just for the sake of this ridiculous test. Or perhaps Illus had lured the bushcat away with scraps of meat.

  I gasped. With a sharp twist, my heart quivered. What if this wasn’t about me? What if Illus had taken Aldan and she intended to harm him? He was vulnerable. Easy to manipulate. For a wild, frightening moment, a host of terrible thoughts crossed my mind. I wondered if Tenniacs, with their sharp teeth, had ever been partial to human flesh. Was Illus planning to eat Aldan before coming back for me?

  I scoffed and then forced myself to laugh as I shook the wild thoughts from my head. Illus would have had plenty of opportunities before now to harm Aldan or me, but instead she had protected us and guided us through the forest. Also, why would she train me to fight if she planned to kill me?

  Tired of sitting and waiting, I grabbed my sword and shield and got up. If Illus wouldn’t show herself, then I would have to play along. I had to prove that she’d taught me enough to survive alone. My stomach clenched. Had I learned enough to fend for myself?

  I found my way back to the travelers’ route and began walking in the direction we were headed before, toward the nearest village. I doubted Illus would let me stumble across the village by myself, so at least that put a limit on how long she’d keep this test going. The Tenniac had to be watching from somewhere. Eventually, she’d grow tired of this silly game too. Eventually, she’d reveal herself. Eventually.

  I hoped.

  For hours I walked. Although Illus and Aldan were likely hiding nearby, a sense of loneliness seeped into my bones. Tears prickled my eyes as the flashback came to me again. The Fox. Mother’s death.

  I didn’t fight the tears; instead, I fought my tendency to push them down. I allowed them to ease their way out because, for the first time since my village was attacked, I believed I might just survive this grief. Last night’s sobbing had left me much lighter than before. And now a voice whispered inside me, reassuring me that with time I would heal.

  In a way, I felt most alive when I cried without restraint. Crying reminded me that to live is to experience the joyful highs of love and the despairing lows of loss. There seemed something simple, something sacred, about this journey through grief. Always the hardest part for me was allowing myself to get to the tears.

  Embracing the loneliness, I walked on.

  Toward midday, hunger began to dizzy me. I left the path and went searching for fruits, nuts, seeds, and leaves. I found more food than I was expecting. After glutting my belly, I filled my pockets for later. “See, Illus,” I said to the trees, “I haven’t starved to death yet.”

  When I returned to the travelers’ route, I was still muttering aloud to myself—or to Illus, if she actually was listening from somewhere nearby.

  Absorbed in this self-talk, I was attacked. I never noticed the footsteps crunching up behind me. And I didn’t turn in time to bat away the spike that was plunged into my neck.

  When I did turn, I found three menacing figures trying to surround me. Nomads: two men and one woman. The woman held a small black spike in one of her hands. A paralyzer. She jabbed it toward me, threatening to use it again if I came any closer.

  I grabbed my neck. The flesh stung where the nomad had pricked it. My palm came away dotted with blood. Dumbfounded, I stared at my hand.

  “No,” I mumbled as if I could reverse what had already happened. Even as I said the word, I felt my lips numbing. My tongue bloated into a dead weight in my mouth. Dread swept over me, just as the odd burning sensation I remembered from before spread throughout my limbs. I trembled. Fighting for control, I tried to walk, to keep moving in any way I could, but I slipped to the ground with a thud.

  The nomads snickered at my fall as they gathered around me. I stared at them in horror, unable to even twitch or make a croaking sound. The woman kicked me. I felt nothing. I only knew she had kicked me because I saw her do it.

  When I didn’t react, the woman grinned and gave a satisfied sniff. She looked at one of the men. “She’s all yours, Taker.”

  Taker was a thickset man with white-blond hair. He had a round face with sunken features. His mouth drooped. His cheeks sagged. And his eyes, which held a callous, uncaring glint to them, were half buried under heavy eyelids. His wearied face told the story of a twisted man who cared little for life.

  Taker glared at the woman until she ducked her head in submission. “I know she’s mine, Hogslayer, you addle-headed bitch. Now pick her up.”

  Hogslayer scurried to do as told, awkwardly grabbing at my legs in a failed attempt to lift me.

  “Well, go on then, Treeclimb, give her a hand!” Taker barked at the other man, smacking the back of his head.

  Treeclimb wasn’t as broad or vicious-looking as Taker. He was a rangy, sniveling man with eyes that kept darting about. After Taker hit him, he cowered away for a second.

  “Wait,” said Taker. “Gimme her sword. And her shield.”

  Treeclimb hurried to follow his orders. Soon I was staring up at Treeclimb’s gaunt face and the back of Hogslayer’s head as they carried me through the forest. Hogslayer held me by the legs, leading the way, while Treeclimb’s arms were hooked under my shoulders.

  Small, intricately carved, wooden earrings dangled from Hogslayer’s ears, swaying as she stomped ahead. The woman looked filthy. A thin layer of dirt coated the back of her arms, and, I assumed, the rest of her. If she were to rinse the mud and grease out of her clumpy dark hair, a naturally fairer color would probably be revealed.

  With the absence of physical sensations, my emotions and worries screamed louder than usual. Now would be the time to show yourself, Illus. I was right. I’m not yet strong enough to kill the Fox alone. I can’t defend myself for even a day!

  I continued down this line of self-pity because I didn’t want to think about what I actually feared most. I didn’t want to wonder where the nomads were taking me, or what they planned to do to me. What had Taker meant when he called me his?

  No. I needed to think of a plan instead—a plan for when I could move again. I couldn’t depend on Illus coming to my rescue. For all I knew, something might have happened to her and Aldan. Perhaps these nomads had taken them in the night, and I somehow slept through it. Was it possible they paralyzed me in my sleep so I wouldn’t rouse? The paralysis could have worn off before I woke. My screaming mind slipped back into panic. Had these nomads already done to Illus and Aldan whatever it was they planned to do to me?

  With all my will, I tried to wriggle and kick and shout, to break free, but my body remained motionless in the nomads’ arms.

  What could I do? I was utterly powerless. The nomads could slit my throat without me offering the slightest resistance. I just hoped to live long enough to regain control of my body.

  The nomads carried me for a long time. Sunlight twinkled above me like bright gems where it pierced through the gaps in the treetops. The canopy was a shimmering blanket of light and dark, ever-changing as the nomads marched on. Normally, the light would have hurt my sensitive eyes, but now I felt no pain.

  One sense I hadn’t lost was smell. Unfortunately. Treeclimb’s sour breath became worse as he labored to carry me. Each puff of bitter air swept up my nostrils. I couldn’t even wince at the smell or turn away. All I could do was endure it.

  Eventually, Treeclimb and Hogslayer slowed, and then dumped me on the ground. My head fell to one side, eyes still open.

  We were in a makeshift camp. From all I could see, the ground had been cleared of branches, leaves, and rocks. A neat layer of sifted dirt acted as a kind of floor in the clearing. The only leaves in the camp were large fronds and other foliage that had been crammed together, tied up, and padded even more to create beds. The camp was surprisingly tidy.


  What drew my attention next were the wooden stakes that formed a perimeter around the camp. Spaced evenly apart, the long poles stood about the height of an average person. Their tips were covered in black spikes. Somehow these nomads had managed to attach up to ten paralyzers to the top of every stake.

  Why create such a perimeter? Was it to defend against rival clans? Perhaps, on their way into the camp, an intruder would accidentally prick themselves on a paralyzer. But no. Other nomads had to be aware of the paralyzing trees. They wouldn’t fall for such traps.

  But if the spiky perimeter wasn’t for defending against people, then it was for warding off something else.

  Night-apes.

  Thuds came from behind me. Footsteps. I couldn’t see where Hogslayer or Treeclimb had gone after dumping me on the ground, but I saw Taker casually step over me now, as though I were just an exposed tree root in his way. He threw my sword and shield out of sight behind a big, half-rotted log that lay on its side.

  Taker didn’t even glance at me as he did all this; he didn’t care that I’d seen where he put my weapon. He didn’t view me as a threat. Either that, or he planned to kill me before the paralysis would wear off. At least now I knew the first step of my plan for when I could move again—if I survived that long.

  Taker walked back out of sight, still ignoring my presence. The nomads were quiet for a long time. They didn’t speak. All I heard was rustling, and footsteps, as if they were moving things around. The quiet seemed wrong in some way. An oppressive silence. I wondered if perhaps Treeclimb and Hogslayer were afraid to say anything. Were they waiting for Taker to speak first?

  I wasn’t sure how much time passed before Hogslayer came and sat on the log. Although she was shorter and looked less hostile than the other two, Hogslayer disturbed me the most. A serene energy radiated from her, but it was spoiled by the unnaturally still expression on her face. Her thin lips were frozen in a calm, close-mouthed smile, which pushed everything else up; forced higher by her tense cheeks, her narrow eyes lifted at the outer edges toward her temples.

  She watched me for a while. Tilting her head slightly, she looked at me the way I’d seen mothers in my village stare at their sleeping babies. Lovingly, almost. Admiringly, maybe. Protectively, perhaps. Except everything about Hogslayer felt tainted.

  When she spoke, my intuition about her was confirmed.

  “Well,” she said, looking off to the side, “are you gonna do it, then? You should take her while she’s like this. While she’s still.”

  A pause. Then Taker’s deep voice replied, “No … I like the struggle.”

  Hogslayer quickly turned back toward me. Her speed suggested she was trying to avoid Taker’s glare, but because he was behind me, I couldn’t see him to be sure.

  Take me? Foolishly I tried to rush to my feet, but, of course, nothing happened. The fear inside me told me to run. I had to get away from here. Now. Before Taker could … before he would force himself upon me.

  As I watched Hogslayer, I wondered if she could see the terror in my eyes. And if she could, did she care? Her serene, unwavering smile told me she didn’t. If anything, it said she enjoyed my suffering. I tried to twist my fear into hate, and to fire that hatred through my stare into Hogslayer’s eyes.

  Treeclimb appeared. The skinny man scurried over to sit next to Hogslayer on the log. Chewing his lower lip, he eyed me hungrily. His eyes flicked over in Taker’s direction, then back to me. He sniffed, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly as if searching for the courage to speak up.

  In his own time, he said, “Um … uh … if you ain’t gonna have her now, then can I … can I have a go? I don’t think I can w-wait.”

  Hogslayer added, “Anyhows, Taker, I thought you liked young boys the most.”

  Taker stormed into view. He smacked Treeclimb over the head, and Hogslayer shied away slightly. Despite her apparent fear, her smile never left her face.

  “She’s mine,” said Taker. Now he shoved Treeclimb off of the log, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Dirt puffed into the air, forming a small cloud around him. “You two can have her when I’m done with her.”

  As Treeclimb timidly scrambled to his feet, Hogslayer spat on the ground and said, “I don’t wanna touch her … but I’ll watch you two have her.” Her smile finally shifted; it changed to a toothy grin. “I like watching.”

  I felt something physical then: my heart drumming. And in that moment, a fleeting hope that the paralysis was wearing off. But that couldn’t be true. When I was paralyzed by the tree before, it had taken hours to pass. The only thing my thumping heart indicated was how terrified I was.

  Taker casually pivoted toward me. He stepped closer.

  One.

  Slow.

  Step.

  At a time.

  “Anyhow,” he said, looking deep into my eyes, “this one looks kinda boyish to me. I’ll have her from behind.”

  My frightened mind tried to imagine what that meant, but I just didn’t know. How could I? I had never been coupled with anyone. I hadn’t even seen a naked body. All I knew was that the first time partners undressed together and joined their bodies in love, it was supposed to be intimate. It was supposed to mean something. And if that joining of love happened to be between a man and a woman, sometimes it was powerful enough to create new life. A baby.

  That unity should never be forced.

  Hogslayer said, “You should at least tie her up so she won’t try nothing when she’s back to normal.”

  “No,” said Taker, still looking at me with his creepy, sunken eyes. “I told you, woman, I like the struggle. I want the … chase.”

  “What if she puts up a fight?”

  Taker snorted. “If I can have any boy I want, then I think I can handle this girl. Been a while since I had me a village girl. Hasn’t it, girlie?” He raised his eyebrows at me as if he seriously expected me to reply.

  A sudden lust appeared to shiver through him. He swept up to me until his face blocked most of my view. Opening his hands wide, he paused with them hovering above my breasts. His fingers trembled. I feared for a moment that he had lost control of himself, that he would touch me wherever he wanted and suffocate me under his thick, clammy body. Tiny balls of sweat clung to his forehead; they trembled too, threatening to leap from his skin and splash onto me. My stomach pitched at the thought. Was it possible to vomit while paralyzed all over?

  Taker quickly gathered himself, curled his fingers into fists, and backed away without touching me. “Later,” he whispered. “I’ll claim my treasure later.”

  32

  Much later, I began to feel more sensations in my body. The brightness of midday had gradually dimmed to the gloom of early evening. I lay still the whole time, of course, but now I sensed blood rushing to the tips of my fingers and toes, tingling my hands and feet. I itched to move. But for my plan to work, I had to be patient.

  My one advantage was that these nomads didn’t know I had experienced the paralysis before. They were likely expecting me to jerk awake the instant the stillness wore off. Or perhaps Taker wanted to force himself upon me while I was still half-paralyzed. I would be easy prey for him. Maybe he liked a struggle, but not too much of a struggle. Maybe ‘the chase’ he so craved was really the effortless hunting of a wounded animal—me.

  But I had no intentions of being an easy target.

  I waited until I was as sure as I could be that the nomads weren’t looking. Then I twitched a finger. It moved. The joints were creaky, the muscles stiff, but it moved. When I was paralyzed before, it had taken around an hour after that first twitch to feel completely back to normal. So now all I had to do was wait. And play dead.

  While waiting earlier, I had listened intently to every conversation between the three nomads, determined to use whatever I discovered to my advantage. At one point, Taker sent the other two to gather firewood. While they were gone, Taker stood near me, watching me. Over the fabric of his animal-skin trousers, he had touched
himself between his legs, rubbing at whatever he had down there. A mixture of shock, curiosity, and fear coursed through me when I noticed a thick shape growing under the material. After gazing at me a long while, he walked away with a fierce peak stretching his trousers.

  As terrified as I was in that moment, I couldn’t help thinking about the shape and size of whatever Taker had between his legs. I couldn’t help comparing the pole-like outline to what I had under my tunic. I couldn’t help wondering how it was all supposed to … interact. But I knew one thing for sure. I did not want to find out from Taker.

  As I lay here now, I overheard Taker and Hogslayer talking to each other. They’d sent Treeclimb to collect more firewood alone, despite his protests that full dark was fast approaching.

  “You sure you wanna keep waiting?” said Hogslayer. “What if she gets away?”

  “She won’t,” said Taker. “Anyhow, it’ll be dark soon. If she does, the night-apes’ll have her.”

  “Yeah, but then who will you have?”

  Taker grunted. “Treeclimb will have to do.”

  A small giggle erupted from Hogslayer, followed by a satisfied sniff. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that again. I hate that idiot.”

  Soon the idiot returned to the camp. The sound of branches clattering to the ground almost scared me into moving. It almost gave me away.

  “Th-that’s it,” said Treeclimb. “I ain’t getting no more!”

  Taker threw a glare toward Treeclimb. He bared his crooked orange teeth in a snarl but said nothing.

  Treeclimb stammered, “S-sorry, Taker. It should be enough wood for the … for the night. I’ll start it now before it gets too dark.”

  Ignoring him, Taker strolled to the log and sat down. He glanced briefly at the murky sky before grinning at me. “It’ll be wearing off soon.”

  I tensed my face to stop my rage and disgust from showing. The slightest movement, the tiniest expression, and it would be too late.