Fear the Wolf

by S. J. Sparrows

  When I opened my eyes, I saw what had called out to me: a dark shape in the distance. Its shadowy silhouette stood out against the gloomy night sky. The figure grew larger as it flapped toward me. Moonlight shimmered on the giant arcs of its wings, which beat noisily through the air.

  As the enormous bird reached me, I shivered, chilled by the gust it created. It landed beside me, swiveled, and then perched on the edge at my side as though it longed to watch the sunset with me but had arrived too late.

  I looked over my shoulder at the wolflings waiting in the bushes. Their eyes shone with stolen moonlight. The beasts did not react to the giant bird’s arrival, but I sensed their loyalty to me. I knew that with just a thought, I could command them to attack.

  That feeling of power terrified me.

  I turned back to the bird at my side.

  “Fear,” it said in greeting, without opening its orange, dagger-like beak. Unsurprisingly, its voice entered my mind directly.

  “Patience,” I said aloud, acknowledging the Heron by its name. I knew not whether I could communicate mind-to-mind, now that I had unwittingly taken on the Wolf’s purpose, but I did not wish to try.

  Patience stayed still—eerily still. I marveled at its ability to hold the fixed pose while also appearing at ease and entirely in control of its body. In awe, I studied the beautiful creature.

  My eyes followed the curves of its slender S-shaped neck down to its slightly humped back. Bluish-gray wings were tucked at its side, the long feathers coming to a point at its back. The Heron’s legs looked thin in comparison to the rest of its body, but because the Wild Force was much larger than an ordinary heron, its legs were really as thick as mine and as tall as me standing.

  The Heron blinked, and I jumped. Somewhat disturbingly, the bird had four eyes, two on either side of its narrow head. They were vibrant yellow and dark-rimmed, each with a piercing black dot at the center. I remembered the Fox’s forked tongue and the Wolf’s seven tails. Did all Wild Forces have such abnormalities?

  “You have summoned me,” said the Heron. “What do you wish to know?”

  True to its name, the Heron said everything slowly with long … pauses … between … each … word. To listen required great patience.

  I nearly replied, “Everything, tell me everything!” But I knew such an impatient answer would repulse the Heron. I thought carefully before asking, “What else is there?”

  “So much more.” Despite the weight of its words, the Heron remained motionless. My eyes were drawn to a black streak that started above its eyes and led to a thin feather trailing off the back of its head. Fluttering in the breeze, the pointed black feather was the only part of the Heron that did move.

  “Tell me,” I said. “Please.”

  There was a long silence. I thought the Wild Force was about to respond when the ground trembled beneath us. I pushed back from the cliff edge, imagining the rock crumbling and pulling me down with it. The Heron was undisturbed by the tremor. But then, if I had wings, I likely wouldn’t have worried either.

  A resonant crack followed the shaking. My heart raced, and my body broke out in a cold sweat, but I carefully moved forward to peer over the edge of the cliff, intrigued by the sound.

  Around two hundred strides below, off to the right, water gushed out of the flat rock wall. The thick stream fell into the chasm. Water, I thought, falling water ...

  A tiny smile tugged at my face as I remembered Neverdark. “Waterfall,” I mumbled to myself.

  I jerked suddenly to sit up as straight as the Heron’s pole-like legs. Neverdark! If the Wolf’s lair had burst, releasing the floodwater, then had Neverdark been swept out through the cracked wall and into the abyss? Or maybe she had somehow survived down there, and now she could finally escape …

  I had to know. I needed to leave now and search the Wolf’s lair.

  But as I went to rise to my feet, the Heron’s eyes darted and fixed onto me. The message was clear: if I left now, so would the Heron, and all my patience would have been for nothing. I would get no answers.

  With a groan, I clenched my jaw and my fists and every muscle in my body. My mind flitted between staying and going, but I just tensed harder to keep myself in place. After a minute of warring with myself, I sighed and relaxed back into sitting cross-legged. I had to believe that if Neverdark had survived the flood, then she was strong enough to make it out of the cavern alone.

  The Heron rewarded my restraint. “I know of this land. But this land has long since forgotten me. This is not so in all parts of the world. In other lands, people do not live in fear of us Wild Forces. Some humans, together with the Old Ones, are beginning to remember the old ways. They seek balance. They are relearning the value of having diverse beliefs, of embracing the many gifts and traits they are born with, and of directing their minds both outward and inward in search of answers. Our messages, after many cycles of ignorance, are once more being heard.”

  I stared foolishly at the Heron, imagining these other lands—places of knowledge and curiosity, lands in which people did not fear expressing themselves, sharing their skills, and creating new wonders. A buzzing energy rippled through me. I longed to visit these places. And deep in my heart, I felt that I had been born in the wrong land. Perhaps I had always belonged elsewhere—in a place filled with people who appreciated one another’s individuality.

  Stroking my arms, I leaned forward and sighed. I stared into the chasm’s depths. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a flash of white. A sparkle. Something very far down.

  “What about the white sickness?” I asked the Heron.

  “Where I have flown from, the people have discovered methods of treatment. There is no cure, but the effects of the white sickness can be slowed. The violence can be controlled. With proper treatment, those who are infected live much longer before succumbing to rage and bloodshed.”

  “But where does it come from?”

  “No one knows. It did not exist before the Tearing. But all who have ventured into the deepest, darkest parts of the world have never returned.”

  Gazing into the shadowy depths, I cringed and wriggled my shoulders to shake off the uncomfortable fear creeping over me. Perhaps, one day, someone might find the source of the sickness. And with that knowledge, they would discover a cure.

  I began to fidget, rubbing at my neck. So many lives could have been spared if the white sickness had never been released from the belly of the world. Or if only the Wolf had been able to share her message freely. But what about the other Wild Forces?

  The Heron couldn’t have visited this land before now. My people lived in so much fear of the Wolf—and of themselves—that they had no time or energy left to learn the value of patience. And nomads—well, they weren’t known for their patience either. The people of this land were unworthy of the Heron’s message. And the Heron could not teach them what they hadn’t already begun to know.

  It seemed that rule no longer applied to me. In this short conversation, the Heron had provided more answers than Illus had given me during our whole journey through the forest.

  “You are one of us now,” said the Heron, somehow reading my thoughts. “The Wolf chose you to take her place.”

  I scoffed, unable to comprehend the weight of this responsibility. Was I a Wild Force? Was it my duty to spread the Wolf’s true message? I shrugged, not knowing what to say.

  It was too dark to see anything but stars ahead of me, but I peered into the distance anyway, across the void, as if expecting to spot some far off land. Just the idea of seeing a different land made my stomach flutter with pleasure. My body felt so warm and light I thought it might float away in the breeze.

  “I can take you with me,” said the Heron. “There is so much to see.”

  I considered the offer for a long while. I even pictured myself riding atop the Heron, sitting in the crook of its neck as it flew me to lands so extraordinary I couldn’t even imagine them. But in the end, I shook my hea
d softly and dipped my chin.

  “I will give you more time to think.” After being utterly still for so long, the Heron made me jump when it shook itself and stretched out its neck and wings. Before springing into the air with a loud thwump, the Heron said, “I can be patient.”

  As I watched the Wild Force disappear between the stars, I sat alone and laughed almost manically at its terrible pun. Below me, the waterfall stopped gushing.

  55

  Straining to peer through the dark, I ran alongside the big soggy ditch that had been a lake just earlier today. The entire well must have been sucked through the cracked walls of the Wolf’s lair before draining into the chasm.

  The pack was at my heels. When I looked back, I saw wolflings in the bushes, their eyes trained on me as they kept pace without effort. I felt an odd comfort in being part of a pack—odd because, only this morning, the same beasts would have torn me into lumps of bloody flesh.

  Now I was their master.

  I wondered, for just a heartbeat, if the wolflings would scour the forest to find Neverdark for me? A rumble of soft, affirmative grunts answered, reaching the back of my ears. Yes. All I had to do was think it—give the command—and my pack would obey.

  Do it, said a desperation in me. Find Neverdark. Find her now, please, before it’s too late. But the pack was smart enough to sense my self-deception. They ignored the order and kept following me. They knew—because I knew—that if Neverdark had survived the Wolf’s lair, the last thing she’d want would be a pack of wolflings trying to subdue her.

  Determined to find her myself, I tore away from the empty lake and burst through the trees toward the lair. I stumbled across uneven ground. Gnarled roots and defiant saplings tried to trip me—bashing my toes, slicing my feet, grabbing at my sandals—but I kept moving.

  At night, the forest belonged to insects. Spiders worked at their webs, which I carelessly walked through, leaving their hard work clinging to my face and arms. Crickets chirped in the bushes, some falling silent as I neared their hiding places. But on a summer night like this, there were always other crickets to keep the chorus going. Most bothersome of all insects were the bloodgnats. The little pests buzzed about me, occasionally getting close enough to fill my ears with a startling hum. They bit me. And each time I felt the quick pinch of blood-theft, I swatted at the area and shook my limbs.

  I tried hard to ignore these nuisances, the same way I pushed the pains of my injured body out of mind. Until Neverdark was in my arms, nothing else mattered.

  But I was lost. During the day, I’d found my way from the lair to the lake to the edge of the cliff, traversing the forest as needed. At night, the forest looked the same in all directions. I staggered through a never-ending world of black trunks dimly outlined by the icy glow of moonlight.

  Then finally, another dark figure emerged.

  Weaponless, I jammed my feet into the earth to stop running and then slipped behind a tree. An awareness crept into my mind. An instant knowing. Without words, without sounds or even movement, my pack let me know that they were my weapon.

  I stepped out from cover and moved toward the figure. It looked human-shaped, except there was a bulge next to its head. Creeping closer, my heart drumming louder than heavy rain on a broad leaf, I waited for the moonlight to reveal the figure’s face.

  “Neverdark?” I said.

  Her instant sigh reached me. “Bloody great shit, Senla! Creep up on me, why don’t ya?”

  “You’re alive.” I closed the gap between us and slammed my lips against hers. Her face was sticky with wet grit, and her mouth tasted of dirt. But I cared not one bit. After grabbing at her to confirm she was real, my hands came back damp from her wet hair and clothes. Within seconds my face was drenched, covered in my streaming tears.

  Unable to face it, I hadn’t let myself believe Neverdark was most likely dead. But now she was here in my embrace, the relief was too much. I sobbed and trembled, and I struggled to stay standing as my knees lost strength.

  Neverdark held me until I composed myself, my chin resting on her shoulder. A disgruntled purr came from the other side of her head.

  “Oh, yeah,” said the nomad. “Look who I found.”

  I pulled back. Moonlight danced over the ball of fur bulging from Neverdark’s shoulder.

  The nomad grinned in the dark. “Told you she’d make it.”

  My chest expanded, feeling lighter than before. I reached for Nosy. When I stroked her, the bushcat made another indignant sound and curled up tighter against Neverdark’s neck.

  “She’s worn out,” said Neverdark. “Let her rest.” Then the nomad’s eyes widened, flashing brightly against the black of night. She gripped my left arm, painfully tight, and retrieved her dagger with the other hand. In an urgent whisper, she said, “Senla, behind you. Wolflings in the trees.”

  “I know,” I said calmly.

  Neverdark frowned, the white of her eyes disappearing. I struggled to see, but I imagined her squinting at me in confusion. She looked over my shoulders a few times. Her fingers still dug into my arm, but she gradually loosened her grip.

  “Why are they just sitting there, watching us?” Neverdark sounded disgusted, as if the wolflings had no right to be so nosy.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “They won’t attack.”

  Neverdark was quiet for a moment, then gasped loud enough to stir Nosy. Briefly. “You killed her! The Wolf is dead.”

  I didn’t know what to say. No, the Wolf killed herself. Or perhaps: No, the Wolf is not dead, for I am the Wolf now. Nothing that came to mind seemed adequate. So I responded with a question.

  “How did you survive? I searched for you. I searched for hours, praying you’d found another way out … but … but I …” Tears stung my eyes, the overwhelming sense of relief threatening to undo me again. “You are alive, aren’t you?” I asked quite foolishly.

  Neverdark rubbed my arm where she’d gripped it tightly. “Well, I think I am. Either that or you’ve had a few too many dippy shrooms. And in my experience, just one bite of a dippy shroom is a few too many.”

  I sniffed, trying to control my emotions. “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “Well, there you go then. I’m alive! You’re not talking to a tree.”

  We laughed at the same time. My feelings tamed, I asked again, “How did you get out?”

  Neverdark inhaled loudly and then puffed it out, as though she thought explaining her escape would be a waste of time. But I needed to know. I needed to know, if only to assuage my guilt. I’d given up on searching for her too soon.

  “After we split up,” she began, “the wolflings chased me through the tunnel. I killed some, of course, but there were too many. I just ran. The tunnel led down, then back up.” She scoffed angrily. “And when you’ve got wolflings nipping at your ankles, running uphill isn’t ideal. I thought I was going to find a way out, but it just led to a dead end—some little room. There were more torches, as if someone lived down there, except the room was empty. But anyhow, the wolflings had me cornered.”

  Neverdark stopped for breath. I patted her shoulder, then rubbed it soothingly. I was getting better at telling when she was struggling, even if she acted confident and tried to cover up her pain with jokes and distractions.

  She continued. “I thought, if I’m going to die in this hole, then I’ll kill as many of them as I can. That’d give you the best chance of killing the Wolf. But then I saw these little holes on the wall, evenly spaced like someone had put them there. At the top was a … I dunno, a ledge of sorts. It was high up, tucked below the ceiling.”

  “I think I know what you mean,” I said, imagining a big nook that could only be reached by climbing. My mind drifted into fancy. Perhaps more than a thousand cycles ago, the hard-to-reach alcove had been a safe sleeping area for Tenniacs, or a place to store valuables.

  “Right,” said Neverdark, “well, I’m glad you know what I’m talking about. ’Cause I don’t!”

  Sh
e fell silent, and I sensed she was hoping I would let her end the story there, unfinished.

  “Then what?” I prompted.

  “Pfft. I used the grips in the wall to climb up there. Wolflings can’t jump that high. Their back legs are too scrawny. And these wolflings weren’t clever enough to use the holes to climb up. From on the ledge, I threw rocks at them to keep them focused on me, so they wouldn’t go back to find you. I’m guessing you know what happened next …”

  I shook my head, then realized Neverdark probably couldn’t see the gesture. “The room flooded?” I said tentatively.

  “Mm-hmm. Well, actually, there was a lot of shaking and cracking sounds first, which I figured was you and the Wolf. Then the air changed. The wolflings whimpered and put their tails between their legs. Water rushed into the room. It slammed some of the wolflings against the back wall hard enough to kill them; I saw this all in the blink of an eye before the torches went out. I held onto the ledge as the water rose and filled the room. I thought I was going to drown or be swept back into the tunnel and die trapped in there instead. But after a minute, the water went down a bit. The room was still flooded. I was still trapped. But the water came up to just below the ledge. The wolflings that weren’t killed instantly tried to get on the ledge with me. I heard them swimming in the dark, and I stabbed at … well, I stabbed anything that made a sound, until it was silent in there. It was … horrible. I couldn’t see a thing.”

  I rubbed Neverdark’s shoulder more forcefully, then said, “Go on.”

  “I just waited after that. I was cold and soaked at first. Then it got humid, and I got too warm. The air became harder to breathe. Even when I took deep breaths, it just never felt like it was enough. Instead of drowning in the bloody water, I was drowning in the air! I don’t know if I fell asleep or something, but the next thing I remember was the cave shaking again and another loud crack. I heard the water leaving, and then real air rushed back in, and I could breathe again. I waited until I felt less tired and dizzy. Then I climbed back down. I tried to find you in the tunnels. I called your name, but it was too dark to see. I didn’t know if you’d made it out or if you … well, anyhow, I just stumbled about until I saw the slightest hint of light. I didn’t know dark had fallen until I reached the entrance and saw the moon. And now here I am. Unless you did eat some shrooms; in which case, here I’m not. You’re imagining me, you lucky cropgirl.”