She sensed something hidden deeper within her brother, buried behind layer upon layer of self-preservation. He never ignored a direct challenge to his motivations from her. So why was he now? Was it because he could not face something? What was he hiding from her? She decided that now was the time to continue digging, and she was not going to stop until she reached the source of his discontent.
Emphatically she answered his rhetoric question, "No! We cannot go, Rony! We will go no further in this journey until you tell me why you do not have time."
Escalating the discussion into an argument, his voice reflected his rising fury, "Are you serious? Are you that selfish that you can only think of yourself in this moment and what you want when we are faced with a task that carries the weight of our futures?"
"What I want? Selfish? Is that what you think I am? You think I am doing this because I am only thinking of myself?"
"Of course that is why you are doing this! You have tried to stand against everything I have tried to do for you ever since," he trailed off at the end his statement which resulted in the dissolving of his fury.
She saw that his previously held demeanor was slowly deflating. This was her opportunity to press, "Since what, Rony?
"Never mind. It does not matter anymore. The only thing that matters is we get to The Hill before nightfall," and he turned to walk away expecting his sister to follow.
"No! This is happening now and I will not take another step until you tell me what you are afraid of!" she shouted as she sat down to further emphasize her insistence. With arms and legs crossed, she watched her brother from behind as he stopped, looked up to the clouds and slowly turned to face her.
Raising his arms with palms up as a sign of resignation, he calmly asked her, "What is it you want, Zyndalia?"
"I want you to tell me what is going on with you and why you have been acting like this for the better part of my life. I want to know why my brother turned into such a serious person that not even the happiness of his little sister matters to him."
"Is that what you think? You think that you do not matter? How could you possibly think that when everything I have done is because you do matter?" he placed his hand on his forehead and rubbed it with his fingertips the way he always did when she would resist his instructions. He continued, "I have had enough of this, Zyn! Sit, stay, walk, talk, I do not care anymore. I have something to do, and I am going to do it whether you come or not."
"You would leave me abandoned in the woods then?"
"Zyn,"
"No, it is clear to me that there is something that means more to you than your younger sister."
"Zyn, do not do this!"
"What? What am I doing? It seems to me that you are the one who is doing and I am the one who has to suffer through your doings."
"Zyndalia!"
"What? What Ronialdin?” she stated with an intense tone.
"I have had enough of this!" he yelled in return
"Then tell me why it does not matter! Why do I not matter?"
"Will you just please stop!"
"Why, Rony! Why!"
"Stop!"
"No! Tell me why!"
And then he broke and she saw it. Reaching into the years upon years of feeling inadequately equipped to help mold his younger sister into the woman she could become as his father would have, he found a strength within him to confront himself and admit to her what he had done. "Because he is dead and I killed him! I am the reason he is dead, Zyn! I am the reason why he was killed by the bear! I missed and he died because of it! And all these years I have tried to be like him, tried to be as good as him, and for all these years I have failed. Look at us now, Zyn! We have to leave our home because I could not hunt, trap, and track well enough! And every day since that awful day I have had to look both you and mother in the eyes and pretend I was not the cause of losing him! Well I am! I am, Zyn! I lived and he is dead! And nothing else matters except trying to be everything he was for us! I have tried so hard, Zyn! But in the end, it did not matter how hard I tried because it was never enough! I was never enough! And I have this one last chance to be enough! One last chance to be like him! To be as good as him! To be as good as him for you! So no Zyn, sister of mine, nothing else matters except being everything he could have been for you!"
She sat in shocked silence as he wiped tears from his reddened and raw eyes. They glistened a brilliant light shade of green in the sunlight, but there was a distinctly golden aspect to them brought about by his crying. Yet in spite of the vibrant colors they boasted, she could see behind them a sorrow and resignation held for much longer than it was ever meant to be held. She had never seen her brother cry before and its effect struck her deeply. What a weight he had carried these long years. She could not possibly understand the burden he accepted as his own; yet she could see how its awful weight had contributed in her brother's evolution into whom he had become.
She reached out her vibrational sense and felt raw truth. His intentional vibrational signature reflected only that which he was, and nothing he was not. She was never so appreciative of him more than she was in this moment. She felt sorrow, a deep sorrow resting in his bones. She also felt a great amount of love for their mother, and in spite of their recent conversation, she felt love for her. But there was also another emotion she could feel that she did not expect. He was not just proud of her, but he had admiration for her. Yet beyond these, she saw his softness, covered by layers and layers, and years and years, of fighting off thoughts of being inadequate until they became such a part of him, he closed them off out of a necessity to simply breathe.
As she was still sitting in front of her broken brother, hearing him sniffle in an attempt to regain his composure, she saw him set his pack on the ground and retrieve his kerchief. He slowly unfolded it, but before blowing his nose, he looked up to her and allowed her to see the remnants of his anguished face. Tears, now gone, still left a trail on his cheeks. Mucous still traced a line from his nostrils to his chin. Eyes, still horribly red, yet brilliantly gold were set against his vibrations that were growing more calm with each passing moment. She stood up and walked over to him as he blew his nose. "Come, Brother, let us get to the other side of The Hill," she said as she placed her hand on his shoulder trying to offer what comfort she could.
After taking a moment to recover by wiping his face and ridding himself of the tear produced remnants by blowing his nose, he took a deep breath and said, in a voice much stronger than she expected following his moment of vulnerability, "Yes. We have a long way to travel and not much sunlight left. It is going to be much safer for us beyond The Hill. The Goblins do not venture that far."
"Then let us leave without further delay," she replied in support.
The better portion of the first week had progressed as Rony had expected it to. Hunting was scarce. Yet now they were beginning to enter lands which neither of them had previously visited. While the majority of their hope had been placed upon this new land, the minority of it, for Zyn, had remained in the possibility that their current lands would suddenly produce what it had on their last hunting trip the day before they left. But this was not the case as she quickly learned that their homeland had turned harsh and hesitant to relinquish the bountiful provisions it once contained. But crossing into uncharted lands offered her a glimpse of hope and quickened her step. She caught up to her brother who had been several paces ahead of her, "Rony, I do not recognize these trees. They are not part of our land are they?"
"No, Zyn, they are not. From here on, we are in lands neither of us know. But I doubt there will be much change until we venture further into them. The trees do look fresh and vibrant; the undergrowth looks lush and full. Perhaps we will find or new home sooner than we first thought," he said the last statement to offer both himself and his sister some much needed hope.
"I miss mother," she said. Thus far, neither of them had made mention of their mother although they each dwelt upon her wi
th much of their time when not directly focused on a specific task. But Rony's statement of encouragement had reintroduced enough hope to their mission that it brought voice to what neither of them could before. "Do you think she is ok, Rony?" she asked.
"I am sure that she is. There are not many people like her. If there is one person who can exist in our homelands by herself, she is it," he offered truthfully. He based this truth about his mother on how she had raised them for years on her own after their father passed. Yes, he was sure of it. She would be, and is currently, ok.
"What are these?" asked Zyn as she stopped and bent down to one knee.
Drawing Rony's attention, he joined her to examine what she was looking at, "What are what?"
"These tracks, Rony. I do not think I have ever seen something quite like them before. And I thought I knew the tracks of every animal in these woods. But these, they look different, almost unnatural," she said as she more closely examined the disturbing tracks.
"What do you mean, unnatural?" he asked. And when he bent down to examine them as well, he saw exactly what she was speaking about. Almost identical to that of a wolf's, they had the same basic shape and size ratio, but with an additional small marking on either side of the back paw pad. This shape was more hooked and appeared to dig much deeper into the ground than the other claws of the front. This presented the track as clearly belonging to a predator, and though wolf in nature, it was clearly different. And then there was the size. Almost half again larger than the largest wolf track either of them had seen, it portrayed an animal of formidable size, perhaps that of a large bear.
"Should we follow them?" asked Zyn as she reached her hand to touch the tracks and compare the size of them to her outstretched fingers. "There are two different sets."
"Of course we should follow them. If there are animals neither of us have encountered before, we should find out what they are if we are going to make a potential home in their territory."
When they had followed the tracks for several minutes, they began to notice that the distance between each track had altered from that of a normal gait pattern to that of a predatory prowl. These animals had caught the scent of something they were intent upon stalking. A few minutes more of following them and they saw two more sets of tracks appear. Much smaller, they were that of two wolf pups. Judging by their layout, the smaller wolf pups were running. After finding the wolf pup tracks, they heard a faint, yet close whimper. They followed the sound until it led them to witness the final breaths of what they deduced as the mother wolf. When they bent down to examine her, they realized just how badly she had been injured. There were three large gashes, still very fresh, open on her side draining into a pool of blood.
“She is badly injured and will not likely survive much longer,” said Ronialdin as he knelt down and stroked the mother wolf’s neck.
"What about the wolf pups? We must save them!" Zyndalia said as she stood up much more quickly than Rony had seen her before.
"Slow down, Zyn. We do not even know what those beasts are," he said, still stroking her neck and trying to offer her a last reprieve into comfort. Not waiting for him to finish his sentence, she darted off in the direction of the large tracks. "Zyn! Zyn!" he called after her, but she was gone. He had one choice. He unshouldered his bow and bounded off in the woods after her.
He knew she was fast, but he also knew he was faster. As the trees, brush, and very ground raced in his wake, he gained a speed he had a vague sense of, but could not remember having before. Still focused upon the direction of his sister, but becoming increasingly aware of his unfamiliar speed, he knew he should have overtaken her steps by the calculation of her head start and his remembered speeds of the two of them, but he had not. He could hear her steps and see the vibrating plants left in her wake, so he knew he was on her trail, but he did not see her yet. Jumping over a large fallen trunk and nearly slamming his head into a particularly low and heavy tree branch, he had to slide to the ground to prevent himself from colliding with his now motionless sister. He noticed, surprisingly, how full of breath he was and how absent of sweat his brow had remained. They had been running, full speed, through uneven ground while dodging branches, trees, and other undergrowth for nearly twenty seconds, and he was not laboring for breath. He looked to his sister, and neither was she.
“Zyn, what is going on?” he said through an unusually steady voice for having exerted himself as much as he recently did.
“Shhh. Quiet Rony. Can you not hear that?” she asked in a voice hushed yet steady as well.
“Hear what? I do not hear anything except for our voices.” But when he concentrated upon his hearing, though nothing out of the ordinary was additionally brought to his ears, he did begin to notice a distinctly different odor presenting itself to his sense of smell. It was dark and musty, pungent and strong; but laced with a rotten aspect, unlike anything he had breathed before. It seemed to solidify within the deepest reaches of his gut and turn it over and over, inside to outside. He knew it was not natural, but he also knew, somehow, the precise location of its origin. “Zyn, I do not hear anything, but I can smell something awful. It is not natural or right. It makes me want to vomit. It is not far off. We need to go there.”
Just when he finished speaking, they both heard a very low, very faint growl hidden by the trees. They instantly knocked arrows, but while Ronialdin just drew it and pointed, Zyndalia loosed it. Again she drew an arrow let it fly. A third time the arrow flew and just as she let it go, bounding out of the cover of the trees came a huge black mass of fangs, hair, malice and dark intent. Two arrows protruded from its thick hide located just below the left shoulder, the third landed squarely between the beast’s eyes and should have rendered it instantaneously motionless. Though it thudded to the ground before reaching either of them, its jaws continued to snap and struggle to dive into their flesh.
As the now dying beast’s jaws continued to hold their attention in disgusted amazement, from the other side of the trees burst a second beast. Having not been slowed with two arrow strikes as Zyn had done with the first beast; it was too fast and slammed into Ronialdin, but not before he was able to raise his arm to prevent a fatal bite to his neck. Lancing pain shot through his forearm where the beast drove its fangs deep into his musculature. Shaking violently, the beast sought to tear Rony’s shoulder from the rest of his body. Acting from pure instinct, he took his other hand, reached into his boot, and grabbed his dagger. Just then, the beast surged forward causing it to drop. Pushing him along the ground until he was pinned against the base of a tree, the beast displayed its sheer might by lifting him off the ground and continued to shake him violently.
Fearing she would hit her brother instead of the beast, Zyn was forced stay her arrow and simply witness the horrific event. She had one knocked and fully drawn, but she was having difficulty finding the vibrational link between her arrow and the beast. It was almost as if it lacked any living vibrational sense altogether. She could feel her brother’s, but with the rapid melee between the two, she could not, with any certainty, loose her arrow and guarantee her brother’s safety.
With a particularly violent shake, the beast threw Rony ten feet to the right, landing him squarely against the truck of a tree and dropping him to the ground with a breath releasing thud. Though not motionless, Rony was definitely slowed and unable to engage in any movement that would provide him with the defensive abilities required to thwart the attack of this beast. She was her brother’s only chance of survival.
Sensing its target was wounded beyond the ability to fight back, the beast slowly turned to face his fallen meal. Again, growling from a guttural, gut induced hunger, the beast lowered its posture and prepared to strike. Having turned its back to Zyndalia, seemingly too involved in the potential feast, it gave her the opportunity she needed. But as with most opportunities, it came with a problem. The only target she had to aim for was the beast’s hind quarters because in turning toward Rony, it turned aw
ay from her. She needed to move, and quickly. She looked to her left and saw her only opportunity. She took three quick steps to the left side of the beast and lept toward a small tree. Using her left foot, she pushed off the tree and gained elevation slightly above the stalking wolf. Spinning in the air, she drew her bow fully, and let fly an arrow. Noticing movement to its left, the beast turned its head just in time to see a leaping Zyndalia miss. As she landed, she stumbled and lost her balance. The beast lunged. Right before impacting the stumbling girl, Rony came crashing into the side of the beast with his dagger drawn and flashing against a ray of sunlight penetrating the forest shelf. Blood burst from the beast’s neck; however, its momentum carried it into Zyn, its jaws still seeking a fleshy return to its raging hunger. Rony continued to frantically stab the beast three more times in the soft tissue of its neck.
Zyn, thrown off balance by the impact of the beast, dropped her bow and tumbled against a tree. Expecting it to instantly be upon her, she prepared herself by drawing her dagger and spinning to meet her foe. But just as she turned, she saw her brother slowly stand, with a mix of black and red blood covering his arm. Seeing that she was mostly unharmed, he inhaled deeply and loosened his grip on his dagger. Her brother’s relaxation had an echoed effect upon her. But as she did, she noticed that her brother’s faint smile had vanished and his steady posture began to waiver. He looked down to the ground, dropped his dagger and fell.
She came rushing over to him, fearing his melee with the beast had proven too much and yelling in a panic, "Rony! Rony! Are you ok?"
Obviously weakened by his altercation and subsequent loss of blood, his reply reflected this through a breathless, half whisper, "Yes, I am fine. Just tired and in pain from this bite wound. That was larger and stronger than any wolf I have ever seen. And they had such a foul smell," He grimaced as he cradled his wounded arm close to his body instinctively for protection. "Can you go into my pack and grab a bandage? I think I dropped it right after I started chasing you as you foolishly went darting off into the woods."
Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1) Page 25
