The Redwoods

by Ross Turner

  And with that, his tired and fierce eyes piercing, the Grey turned and walked away, leaving the three men stood waist deep in fear looking after him, the sound of his icy footsteps ringing in their ears.

  Despite the fearful and desperate scramble for power that followed Dorian and Miranda’s murder, and of course Vivian’s disappearance, after a few months things settled themselves back down, as they usually do, and at least some form of order was restored. Even if that semblance of order stemmed from organised chaos. Fear had always wormed its way up and down the hierarchy of power that was the Greystone bloodline, and now tensions were greater than ever, hanging delicately in the balance.

  Though of course they pursued Vivian, the Greystones had always found themselves second to her superior bloodline. The Featherstones had forever been their betters, and now they seized their opportunity to take the seat of power with both groping hands.

  And just as it was the driving force behind the Greystone heritage, it was fear too that drove the other families to follow. They all knew that what had happened to Dorian and Miranda had been the Greystone’s doing, even if none of them admitted it. And so now without them, there would be nothing in the way or recompense for the terrible deed, and terror spread its evil tendrils out in every direction.

  Immediately things began to change, and driven into motion once again were many discouraged and even outlawed practices.

  Poaching began almost immediately, and all manner of creatures were affected by it. Some human lives were lost, because of course the creatures of the woodlands, and those too of the mountains, could be expected to defend their homes and their families. But that didn’t make much of a difference, and more and more men hunted by the day.

  The great lakes to the north of Virtus that fed down from the northern ranges and down into the oceans, far out of view amidst the plains, were heavily fished once again, diminishing the populations there too.

  Boar and bison and deer and elk were felled in countless numbers, and predators too, any who strayed too close to the human hunters, either out of curiosity, or simply desperation, were killed also.

  The hunters’ ranges spread further and further day by day, week by week, until after not very long at all, the vast numbers of wildlife began to dwindle dangerously low. Over the years to follow, the once lush and lavishly populated woodlands and mountains and plains were diminished to bare minimums, scraping by on what little there was to be had.

  Times were indeed, just as Clover had predicted, very hard.

  Famine, hunger and poverty ensued for the creatures of the forests and plains and mountains, and even the most adaptive and successful amongst them struggled.

  Clover protected and provided for Red and Vivian as best she could, and as they both grew and learned, the three of them worked well together. But hunting was only becoming more and more difficult, and very soon it would be near impossible for them to survive.

  As always adapting and adjusting their tactics and approach, they were often forced to move their hunting grounds, searching for new game. Their relocation took them further and further from Virtus and closer to the mountain ranges to the south with every passing week.

  This continued for years to come, and the Greystone’s power grew and grew, and with it their lust for evermore control only increased. This pattern repeated itself continually, as sadly is often the way with such things, and the more power and control and fear the Greystones possessed, the less satisfied they were. Always before long it seemed as if they had too little once again, though of course they had more than they would ever need, but nonetheless, this forced them to strike out yet even further, even faster, and even harsher, continually widening their ever extending reach.

  Red grew into a powerful young bear, a colossal and mighty adversary to any opponent. As he grew and aged his voice deepened into a low, throaty, gruff growl, his coat thickened and his frame broadened massively until he was a monster of a creature, and as wise as they come. He soon towered above even his own mother, who with time was growing a little slower and a little weaker and a little more exhausted with each passing year.

  Vivian, on the other hand, like Red, was blossoming into a beautiful young woman, and she too, though she did not learn from the Redwoods themselves like the great red bears did, gained much knowledge and insight from her two companions.

  Clover was as loving and protective a mother as Vivian could ever have asked for. And Red, despite his terrifying appearance, was the kindest, sweetest and most caring friend that Vivian could possibly have dreamt of, and the bond between them was truly unbreakable.

  And so, the three of them endured the hard times together. They evaded huge and numerous poaching patrols, which with their superior senses proved to not be too difficult, they hunted what they could when they could, relocated, and starved, all as one.

  But over time, though they had hoped that the humans would realise the error in their ways, and that things would improve, they were wrong, and the situation only worsened. Perhaps, after all, that would be too much to expect of the Greystones, or of mankind in general.

  However, regardless, even that was not enough to drive young Vivian back to her own kind, to attempt to right all the wrongs that had been done in her absence, as Clover had always known would happen eventually.

  No, what happened to set in motion that particular chain of events was infinitely worse, and had been many malicious years in the making.

  8

  Red raised his enormous head to the air and sniffed, trying to catch even the faintest scent of potential prey on the weak breeze blowing in from the east, but there was nothing. He was not one to be easily frustrated, for the red bears, amongst all the other creates in the forest, were of the most patient.

  The Redwoods had taught them well of this priceless virtue.

  Vivian stood close beside him. They had left Clover back at their den, for it had only been a few days since they had moved here and she was very tired from travel. Moving ever further south, they were once again searching for fresh game, and yet already there was nothing to be had.

  It was a wonder the forest was still surviving at all, Vivian thought to herself as they stalked silently through the undergrowth together, though admittedly as the years had passed even the trees seemed less energetic, as if their life was being slowly drained from them.

  Vivian had learned many things during her time in the Redwood Forest. Yes, of course, she had learned how to track animals, how to hunt and how to survive; which fruits she could eat and those she could not. But she had also picked up some other, perhaps more surprising traits.

  She had learned how to steal, for as she had grown and matured she had needed clothes, and so every now and then she had stolen off into the night, with Red in tow of course, and swindled the nearest village or encampment they could find. They never dared to go near Virtus, or any of the other families’ Keeps, for that was far too risky, but she soon found she could loot enough to get by.

  Perhaps most interestingly of all though, above all the other knowledge she had gained, young Vivian Featherstone had learned of how every living thing in the world relies so heavily upon everything else. It was almost as if without one small part of that chain, all else would fail. And so, she supposed, only naturally, the Greystone’s hunting activities were not only diminishing the number of animals in the woodlands, but they were affecting the very forest itself.

  Seeds could not be carried and dispersed, grounds could not be fertilised: life was truly struggling. Vivian could see that struggle ensuing before her very eyes. It was ongoing and, certainly to her at least, it had a definite ominous and endless feel about it.

  The forests were growing quieter. They felt as if they were dying, ever so slowly, but ever so surely.

  After another hour they stopped once more and Red strained his senses, listening and smelling for even the faintest trace or glimmer of a meal. But Vivian could all too easily see the disappointment on her dear fr
iend’s face, for neither of them wanted to return to Clover empty handed. They’d had enough frustrations over the past few weeks, with only a few meagre meals between them.

  Vivian noted critically that the plant life really seemed to be struggling now too, seemingly more so every day, and the leaves and flowers and ferns and trees drooped wearily, the entire wilderness straining and fatigued, the life seeping from it with every heavy, laboured breath.

  “Anything, Red?” Vivian asked quietly, her soft voice breaking the relative silence all about them, though her gaze still scanned their wilting home.

  She knew the answer to her question, as it was painfully obvious by Red’s eyes, but she asked all the same.

  “Nothing.” He growled, the sound gruff and rumbling from the back of his throat.

  “We’re going to need to move again…” Vivian began, but Red abruptly shook his head.

  “We can’t move again.” He stated. “Our mother needs to eat.”

  Vivian opened her mouth to argue, but silenced herself before the words left her tongue. She knew he was right. If Clover didn’t eat before she moved again, she might never make it. But if there was no food to be had, they might all never make it anyway.

  She was starving too. Having eaten barely anything for the best part of two weeks now, Vivian dreaded to think how hungry Red must be, for he needed a lot more food than she did.

  He raised his nose again to the breeze and inhaled deeply.

  As was often the case, Vivian desperately wished she could help her dear friend, but regardless of how much she had learned over the past five years and more, probably six now, it was difficult to keep count when all the days blurred into one, she still could nowhere near match her dear friend’s incredible senses.

  If there was prey to be had anywhere for ten leagues in any direction, Red would find it. Vivian didn’t know if all bears’ senses were so acute, or if it was just the red bears’, but it didn’t really matter at that point. All it meant was that, since Red was struggling to find any prey whatsoever, they would have to go an awfully long way to find something to eat, again.

  Red shook his head in frustration once more.

  “Still nothing.” He said absently.

  “Why don’t we try south again?” Vivian suggested, glancing in that direction once more, though it made little difference, for she couldn’t see anything besides lifeless pine trees and drooping ferns with her useless eyes.

  Her friend thought for a moment and cast his sharp gaze that way also, his eyes narrowing shrewdly, but what he was thinking, Vivian couldn’t tell.

  “What makes you say that Viv?” He asked, his scrutiny settling on her for a moment.

  It wasn’t that Red’s stare made Vivian feel uncomfortable, she was closer to him than she had ever been to anyone, likely more so than she ever could have been to one of her own kind. But in that moment, for some reason, she felt like he was looking right through her, as if she wasn’t only being examined by her friend, but by the Redwoods themselves.

  “I don’t know…” She started, wondering why all of a sudden he was taking such an interest in her suggestion. It was simply a feeling that she’d had. “Just a hunch I guess…”

  “Well, let’s see shall we?” Red concluded, seemingly without a second thought, and he set off immediately, moving swiftly, though somehow almost silently, making incredibly less noise than Vivian was, through the undergrowth once more.

  Less than half an hour later, as the afternoon sun began to dip in the sky and the faint breeze had begun to turn into more of a chill wind, Red halted. His eyes and ears were forwards and not a single muscle in his body was relaxed. He was perfectly still, moving not even an inch.

  Vivian froze too, for she knew that stance all too well. He could either hear something, or smell something. It didn’t matter if it was a wolf or a sheep, nothing Vivian had ever seen in this forest had ever been a match for her Red.

  Hope surged through her veins. Hope of a hunt. Hope of success. Hope of a meal. Hope of reviving Clover’s strength, for Vivian worried greatly for Red’s dear mother. In fact, she was a mother to her too, and she hated to see her starve, especially after all the years that she had provided for the two of them.

  “What is it Red?” Vivian asked, her words barely even as loud as a breath. Again, this was one of those questions that she asked regardless of the fact that she already knew the answer.

  “Boar.” Came Red’s response, just as quietly as Vivian’s voice.

  She had already known it was wild pig, just a hundred metres or so ahead of them. Such mammals used to be abundant in the forest, especially here, so far from Virtus, but hunting parties had diminished their numbers greatly. Here they had stumbled across only two. But how in the world Vivian knew that, she had no idea.

  “Two.” Came Red’s next whisper, mirroring Vivian’s own thoughts. “We need to move.” He whispered urgently. “The wind’s changing.”

  Vivian nodded, but did not speak to respond. Instead, she led the way, circling around the two boar, and Red followed her every move, his eyes and ears trained expertly towards their prey.

  A faint smile cast across his furred snout, but the grin was nothing to do with the pigs they now so silently encircled.

  He and his mother had waited an awfully long time for this. The Redwoods had told them of Vivian, and of what was to come of her, and only finally now was it coming to be so.

  The young girl, now seventeen years of age, leading the enormous red bear behind her, halted their approach barely a stone’s throw from the two wild pigs, snuffling about through the dying vegetation, totally unaware of the danger they were in.

  Vivian and Red had taken, as always, great care to keep their scents from reaching their prey. It was one of the most basic, but most vital keys to hunting, and Clover had taught them well.

  It was a meagre meal in all respects, and barely enough to feed a cub, let alone two fully grown red bears and a human. But then, it was better than nothing. Vivian and Red were simply grateful to have found anything at all.

  Vivian crouched low for a moment, the tension seeming to rise, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She looked to Red, who seemed for some reason to be waiting for her signal.

  He’d never done that before.

  “The wind’s about to change again.” Vivian whispered, cupping her hand to his enormous ear to catch any sound that might betray them. “Go now.”

  He didn’t speak to reply. He only nodded, and crept silently forwards through the thick foliage, his red coat disguising him amongst the red trees all around. Only twice did the two pigs look up from their grazing, and neither time did they see Red’s approach.

  Their senses, though they were better than Vivian’s, in comparison to Red’s, were still dulled, inferior, and he was easily able to manoeuvre himself so that his movements were all but invisible to his prey. Then, when he was but mere metres from them, his stealth unmatched, he struck, bounding from his concealment with a deathly and explosive pounce, striking both pigs at once, pinning one beneath each enormously powerful front paw.

  His prey were only small, and already weak, and the strike alone was enough to knock the life from them. He felt their ribs creak and groan and break under his weight and blood sputtered from their mouths as their struggles and alarmed squeals ceased. They did not need finishing, which was just as well, for with Red’s enormous size they would barely have provided more than a mouthful each.

  Instead, Vivian appeared from the bushes.

  “Well done Red.” She congratulated him, rubbing her hand along his enormous side, feeling his ribs protruding beneath his thick fur. He was rather underweight, and his ribs were thick as branches.

  “You should really mention your hunches more often…” He noted in response, casting her a fleeting smile, if a bear is able to do so.

  They began making their way back towards their den immediately. Red picked one of the pigs up carefully in his enormous j
aws, and left the slightly smaller one for Vivian to carry.

  “It was just a lucky guess, Red…” She replied, unsure what her great, powerful friend was making all the fuss about. “But if you say so…”

  Nonetheless, Vivian had another hunch: a sneaking suspicions that, as Clover often did, Red was not quite revealing the whole truth. The Redwoods had told him something, perhaps in the past few days, or perhaps years ago, which was very important.

  Vivian knew that he wouldn’t tell her what it was, and neither would Clover, but she gathered that over time, and probably quite soon, it would come to light regardless.

  9

  “Well done, both of you.” Clover said warmly as her children returned, carrying their prize with them. “Thank you.”

  Even as her mother spoke Vivian felt Clover’s eyes keenly upon her, her gaze inescapable. Clearly the Redwoods had spoken to her whilst they had been gone.

  “There’s no need for thanks.” Red replied as he dropped his catch to the floor with a dull thud, stirring leaves that had begun to fall about here and there. Vivian too deposited her pig, before immediately setting about preparing a fire.

  Of course, annoyingly, being human meant that she was unable to eat meat raw, so whenever a catch had been made over the past six years, Red and Clover always allowed her to make a fire and cut off her portion, before going about devouring their own.

  Over time Vivian had fashioned flints and spearheads and makeshift cutting implements from stone, and she set to work with these immediately. Just as hungry as the rest of her family, she carved off her fair portion of meat and set it beside her catching fire ready for cooking.

  As Red and Clover immediately began on their fair shares, Vivian expected at any moment for her dear friend to begin informing their mother of her ‘hunch’, for he had made such a fuss of it during their hunt.