Blood for Wolves

by Taft, Nicole

  With the harpies gone, I’d dragged myself over to sit against the tree’s trunk. I rummaged through my daypack to find the first-aid kit. Luckily the harpy’s talons hadn’t ripped the pack too deeply, only tearing out the outer pocket where I kept small things like sunglasses, my compass, and pocketknife. The first-aid kit was hardly what I needed for my wounds, but I did what I could with the antibacterial ointment and small role of gauze. Duct tape held everything in place. Fortunately my leg wound wasn’t too bad and after a while it finally stopped bleeding. On an afterthought, I kept the scissors from the kit and slipped them into my pocket. Then I closed my eyes and tried to rest.

  I didn’t know how long I sat in the tree. Occasionally the harpies returned, snuffled around me, and then flew off again, dissatisfied. I guessed I wasn’t ripe yet. The thing below had lain down against the trunk, its tail occasionally twitching back and forth. It reminded me of a panther, but it was bigger, much more sinister, and way too eager to get whatever leftovers the harpies dropped. I kept touching the wings on the necklace, wishing I could fly again, but nothing happened.

  Somehow I managed to doze. What little light broke through the polluted clouds eventually faded and the entire forest went black. Normal forests had ribbiting frogs and singing insects at night. This place had things that screamed. A creature squealed, something snapped, and then whatever it was ate its prey, little bones crunching in its teeth. Big snakes—or other horrors—slithered through the underbrush. Suddenly, I was six again, in the woods, in the dark, all alone. I curled my fingers around my skull. Then somewhere, far off in the distance, a wolf howled, and I wanted to cry.

  In the desperate hope that maybe I hadn’t screwed up too much, that maybe the wolf was my Wolf, I howled back.

  “She is stagnating.”

  The rough snarl woke me from what little sleep I’d managed to catch. The harpies were back, staring at me with black, beady eyes.

  “She was too blissful when we caught her,” said the one who’d caught my arm. My blood had dried on her talons. “We will have to wait longer.”

  “But I am hungry,” shrieked the third.

  “Too bad,” the second snapped. “We have gone for twenty years without any, what are a few more days? She will give in eventually. They all do. Hunger and thirst are the best and simplest instruments of despair. Once she lays here wailing and begging, then it will be time for a feast.”

  The other two harrumphed. My throat was dry, though I dared not reach for the bottled water in my pack lest they take it away from me so I’d cave faster. They hung around for a while, watching me. I watched them right back. I hated feeling sad and alone. Pathetic and waiting for rescue that would never come. I didn’t have my pocketknife, but I did have the scissors. I slid my hand into my pocket. The harpies hopped from branch to branch, wrinkling their ugly faces at me. If I was going down, it wouldn’t be without a fight.

  The second one of them jumped near, I lunged forward and jabbed the scissor point into her neck. She shrieked and leaped back, flapping her wings as she tried to get away. I held on, letting her jerking motion do even more damage. Dark blood spurted from the growing wound. The other harpies screamed and darted at me. I ducked away, hoping they wouldn’t use their claws, but knowing they wouldn’t risk knocking me off the branch to feed the dark creature below. The harpy in front of me jumped and tried to scratch at me with her talons, but the angle wasn’t right and she missed. I grabbed at one of her legs and dragged her closer, taking out the scissors and jabbing down again into her chest. The instrument was small but sharp and dug a few inches into her flesh.

  She kicked out with her other leg, the other two harpies yelling and flapping around my head. One of them kicked at my wounded arm. I cried out, and the distraction almost allowed the injured harpy to slash into my face. I released her and she flapped awkwardly back. Watery black blood covered my hand, smelling like rotted meat. I gagged and backed up to the trunk of the tree. The other two hovered nearby, watching as their comrade flopped and stumbled on the branch. Blood dripped over the bark and fell to the ground. I’d punctured something vital in her neck. She coughed and sputtered, finally collapsing on the limb with one last gurgling breath.

  My stomach lurched from the smell of her blood, but I managed to steel myself against the desire to retch. Instead I watched the other two for their retribution. It didn’t come. They landed, looking deeply thoughtful about what they’d witnessed. I guessed they’d never experienced such an event before.

  “Hmm,” one of them said. “I suppose…I suppose that just means that there’s more for the two of us.”

  They cackled as though they’d just heard the funniest thing in the world. Then they left their perches. One snatched up the carcass and they flew off, probably to eat their so-called friend and then find some other poor creature to torment. I pulled out my water and drank down half the bottle.

  Around mid-day, the evil panther below me got up and trotted into the forest. I laughed to myself. I’d beaten the evil panther. Then I froze. With it gone, I could try to climb down the tree.

  I shifted around to hug the wide expanse of trunk. The bark split apart into thick pieces I could grab and was surprisingly stable for a dead tree. Slowly, methodically, I wrapped my legs around it and inched my way down, sliding a few heart-stopping inches from time to time. I’d been rock climbing before, but hiking boots were far from ideal, and my wounds throbbed painfully. I’d only made it six-inches below the main tree branch when vicious snarls emitted from the spot where the evil panther had exited. I froze in place, muscles slowly cramping as I stared at the spot. Whatever had attacked the panther sure as hell was giving it a run for its money. I moved down a few more inches, deciding that if the two things were fighting, it made for a good distraction and a potentially safer getaway.

  The fight lasted a few more minutes, time enough for me to manage several more feet. Then the forest went quiet. I stopped again, gauged the distance. Still too far to jump. The brush where the evil panther left rustled. Panic gripped me. I couldn’t climb back up, my arm was bleeding through the gauze, I had new scratches from the tree, and if I jumped I’d survive but probably break something. Just go. Go, go, go. I kept my downward strategy, scraping my bare legs and hands raw, and made it several more feet before the thing behind the bushes emerged.

  “Wolf!”

  He staggered into the dank clearing, one hand held to his abdomen. He looked up at the tree, a grimace on his face.

  “You, my heart, are such a heap of trouble.”

  “Wolf, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened—”

  “Later. For now you need to come down.”

  I nodded and kept moving. Maybe twenty feet to go.

  A pair of shrieks tore through the air. I peeked around the tree. The harpies were quickly closing the distance between us.

  “Let go, Caroline!” Wolf shouted.

  “It’s too far!”

  “I’ll catch you.”

  I slipped a few inches and squealed. “That is a bad idea!” My muscles shook from the effort of holding onto the tree.

  “Do it, woman!”

  I shut my eyes and let go of the tree. Miraculously, Wolf caught me. It almost knocked him over, but he managed to keep me from slamming into the ground at least. The harpies went ballistic, their screams filling the air. They raised their talons and dove at us.

  “Run,” Wolf yelled. “I’ll be right behind you!”

  I darted into the dark forest the way I’d seen him arrive. Behind me, Wolf snarled amidst the wild flapping of wings. The harpies shrieked and cried, and then one of them screamed louder than the other. I kept my eyes at the ground as I ran, trying to see in the dark forest. I spotted a black mass to my left, realizing as I passed that it was the evil panther beast, a pike jutting through its neck.

  I ran until all I could do was jog, and I jogged until all I could do was walk as fast as my aching legs allowed. But finally, finally, I saw sunligh
t ahead. Sunlight on green ferns and yellow wildflowers and trees that actually swayed in the wind. And then I was out. Out in the clean air and clear sky and trees full of life. I shuddered violently for a moment before recovering enough to turn, expecting Wolf to be right behind me.

  Nothing but sinister forest.

  My heart dropped. “Wolf? Wolf?”

  Suddenly he swung around the side of a black tree, gasping for breath, a dark liquid running down the side of his face.

  “Go, keep going. They might follow us and sometimes things like to reach out. They don’t last long in the sunlight though.”

  We staggered on through the forest until we’d gone a good fifty feet. Looking back, the dark part was like a decayed piece of forest, an infection that had dug deep roots. Its outline was as clear as day. No wonder the harpies hadn’t eaten anyone in twenty years.

  Wolf flopped onto his back on the leaves, groaning in pain.

  “Oh my God!” I cried, getting my first look at him.

  Four long claw marks marred his torso, neatly slicing through his clothing to the soft flesh underneath. His hands were covered with blood, smudges of it on his face. A few dark feathers clung to the wet places. I dropped to my knees beside him, uncertain what to do first.

  “Such a heap of trouble,” he grunted.

  “Be quiet and take off your shirt, I need to see how bad this is.”

  “It shouldn’t be that bad.” I helped him sit up to remove his coat, vest, and shirt. “Kehmet claws just burn, that’s all.”

  He fell back again, wincing. I used the back of his torn shirt to dab away at the blood. I let out a shaky breath when I discovered he was right. The gashes were bad, but they weren’t life-threatening. At least, not yet. I folded his shirt and vest as best I could and laid them over the marks, gently pressing down. Wolf howled.

  “Shh.” I wiped at his face with the edge of my shirt, clearing it of harpy blood and feathers. “Wolf, can I put lavawort on this? What do lavawort and gum leaf look like?”

  He sucked in air through his teeth. “Lavawort looks like a wolf’s paw. It’s a ground plant. Gum leaf looks like a seven-point star. It’s a tree.”

  “Okay. Okay, I’m going to go find some. Breathe deep. Keep pressure on this and try not to move around too much.”

  I stood up way too fast. I wobbled for a bit before running off to search for leaves that looked like wolf paws and stars. I’d had plenty of food and water while being stuck with the harpies but sleep was another matter entirely. My adrenaline would only be able to push me so far. It felt like forever to find the two, and I picked every leaf I saw before rushing back to where Wolf lay. He’d gone relatively quiet, groaning softly as he breathed. His vest was already red, so I couldn’t tell how much blood it had absorbed, but the shirt on underneath was almost completely soaked through.

  I gently ran my hand over his forehead. “All right, I’ve got it. Now what do I do?”

  “You have to chew the lavawort to make it soft. Then just put it on and cover it with the gum leaf.” He paused for a moment, his brow knitted together in pain. “Make sure the furry side of the gum leaf is down.”

  “Okay.”

  I was not excited about the idea of chewing on a medicinal plant, but I shoved a bunch of leaves in my mouth anyway, fully expecting them to taste awful. Instead, I now understood Wolf’s secret to minty breath. Chewing lavawort tasted like wintergreen gum.

  I ground them in my teeth just long enough for them to get pulpy and then spat them into my hand and removed the shirt from Wolf’s injuries. Ignoring the part of my brain shouting that this was so far from sanitary, I spread the lavawort on one of the slash marks. Wolf let out a sigh. I wasn’t sure if it was a relaxed one or a pained one. I kept working anyway, chewing up lavawort, putting it on the wounds, and then covering both with gum leaves, fuzzy side down.

  Finally, the whole area was covered in gum leaves, and Wolf appeared to be resting more comfortably. I chewed up a few more leaves and spread them over the cut on my leg before covering it with gum leaves as well. I used the only unbloodied side of his once impeccable vest to clean away the rest of the blood—Wolf and harpy alike—from his face, body, and hands. I smoothed back his hair and examined him. He had done so much for me in such a short span of time—far more than anyone ever had in my lifetime. He had injured himself twice in coming to my aid, and what had I done in return? Nothing worthwhile so far.

  I bent over, intending to tell him how sorry I was, but instead I kissed him. It was an I’m sorry and thank you and more. He took hold of my arms and held me there as his surprise gave way to desire. Like before, he tasted delicious—like berries and mint—and he knew how to kiss. Except that wasn’t quite right. He didn’t just know how to kiss—he knew how to kiss me.

  When we broke apart we were both breathless. Wolf smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

  “Apology accepted,” he said.

  I smiled in return and sat back. I felt a little giddy and lightheaded from our kiss. Still, with the adrenaline gone, as much as I wanted to slather on some lavawort to the scrapes on my hands and thighs from climbing down the tree, I really just wanted sleep. A yawn escaped me. I started to drift off, and then forced my eyes open again. We were both injured outside of a wicked patch of forest. What if something crawled out of it when the sun went down? What if thieves came by while we were asleep? What if some other creature hungry for a snack smelled all the blood and came running?

  “Caroline.”

  I looked, bleary-eyed, down at Wolf. He stretched out one arm.

  “Rest.”

  I managed to shake my head twice. “What if something tries to eat us? One of us has to stand guard…”

  He actually chuckled a little. “I hate to offend you my lovely, but you wouldn’t be my first pick. Lie down. Sleep. It’s the middle of the day. No one will bother us here.”

  After a few more moments I gave in and lay down, careful of my injured arm. I rested my head on his shoulder. His arm went around me and I was dead to the world.

  Chapter 8

  When I awoke, Wolf was already up and poking at a fire. He had his coat back on, but beneath it was bare skin. The gum leaves had fallen off and four pale pink scars dragged across his midsection. I blinked, vaguely wondering how I could see so well. The sun was still out. In fact, it didn’t look like it had moved. I groaned, stiff from another night lying on the ground, and pushed myself up.

  “How long were we asleep?”

  “The rest of yesterday, all night, and most of this morning. I’ve only just been up long enough to start this fire.” He dumped the stick into the flames and hopped over to me.

  “We were out for that long?”

  “Oh yes. You because, well, I doubt you slept at all in that place, and me…. I didn’t sleep because I didn’t stop looking for you.”

  I looked at him sheepishly. “You didn’t?”

  “Of course not, Caroline.” He brushed his fingers along my jaw. “You’re my mate. And I promised you. I panicked for a while, of course,” he glanced down, his cheeks growing slightly red, “but eventually I caught the air currents and did what I could. But when you started bleeding,” he huffed, “I wasn’t sure if I should be glad for the extra scent or worried that you were dying. I think it was a lot of both.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “I can’t believe you came after me. I thought you would go straight after Marianne.”

  “I may be bound but I am not owned. Besides, I already told you that a wolf never breaks his vow.”

  “Yeah.” I shook my head. “It’s just that, when I started flying…”

  “Oh yes, that witch did something to you with that necklace. I’m so glad to see you’re not wearing it anymore.”

  “Yeah.” My hand went to the place where the wings had touched my skin. They were no longer there.

  Wolf started sniffing around me. He touched the scrapes along my inner thighs, and I smacked his hand.


  “Excuse me, what are you doing?”

  “Checking for poisons and other dangerous things. The last thing you want is a splinter from one of those trees stuck in you for too long.”

  “Well, I feel fine. I’m just a little scratched up, that’s all.”

  Wolf ignored me and took a close look at my hands, smelling each one very carefully. He licked at one of my palms.

  “Okay, getting weird again.”

  “Stop fussing.”

  I shut my mouth and let him do his wolf thing. I shivered when his fingers touched the inside of my thighs again. He inspected me from top to bottom. His nose winkled at a spot by my ankle, and for a second my breath hitched in my throat, but he moved on. I breathed easy again.

  “Why didn’t you put any lavawort on these?” He asked when he came to my arm wounds.

  I looked at him like he was insane. “Babe, I have duct tape over all this gauze. That’s just going to open them up again. Do you know how much that would hurt to take off?”

  He gave me a sympathetic smile and picked up a stick. “Bite down.”

  I let my head drop and slowly shook it. “Oh, Wolf…”

  “Just do it. It’s better to suffer a little now so that all the pain will be gone by tomorrow.”

  I knew he was right. Just by my experience and seeing his, lavawort would heal my arm in no time. Finally I stomped my foot like a petulant five-year old and put the stick in my mouth. There were puncture wounds on each side of my arm and four pieces of duct tape. I bit down hard, anticipating the pain.

  “Try to think about nice things,” he said softly, moving closer so that my forehead rested on his shoulder.

  Brown paper packages, tied up with string…

  He tore off one of the pieces.

  I half-shouted through the stick, pressing my forehead against his shoulder. I reached up to grab the back of his neck. The sharp movement had indeed reopened the barely closed wound. Warm blood trickled down my arm.