by L. S. O'Dea
Her face heated with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I’m usually up very early.” She never slept late. She was a hard worker and that meant an early riser. “What time is it?” The inside of the tree allowed no sunlight.
He ignored her question. “Mirra wants to keep you.”
“I’m not...”
He held up his hand. “I don’t. Mirra has a tendency to wander off.”
Mirra tipped her ear toward him and a low growl rumbled through her chest.
“Which means that I’ll be the one stuck taking care of you, and I don’t want the job.”
She stiffened. “I can take care of myself.” If he didn’t want her around, that was fine. She didn’t want to be here.
He grunted. “Years ago, maybe, but not now. There are things out here, unnatural things.”
Her eyes widened. Had the Almightys been telling the truth? She wrinkled her brow. “You’re just trying to scare me. I don’t believe the stories that the Almightys feed us about the dangers in the woods. I’ve been coming into the forest for years and I’ve never seen anything.”
“Until this time.” He spooned some of the food from the pot into the bowl.
She’d seen Mirra and the River-Man this trip. Why had she never encountered anything before? Had she just been lucky? She tossed a couple of nuts in her mouth and dug in her backpack for her bread. There wasn’t much left, but she should contribute to the meal. She tore it in two and offered a chunk to him.
“I have bread.” He walked over to a small alcove.
She put the pieces back in her pack, glad he’d refused. If she convinced them to let her go, she’d need it in the next few days.
He came back to the fire carrying a large brown stone. Her jaw dropped open as he broke off a hunk and handed it to her. This was his bread? She politely took it, her arm dropping a bit from the unexpected weight. How was she supposed to eat this without breaking a tooth? He snapped off a small chunk and put it in his bowl to soak up the juice from the rabbit stew. He smiled at her as she tried to rip off a piece but it was like trying to tear into a rock. She ended up gnawing on an edge just to be polite.
He began eating. Around mouthfuls he continued. “As I was saying, the forest is no longer safe. If you’re going to stay with us, you’re going to have to practice your survival skills.”
What survival skills? She shook her head. It didn’t’ matter. “I don’t mean to be impolite, but I have to go home.”
“You no go. You see. You stay.”
He glanced at the Tracker and then back at her, frowning. “Mirra wants to show you what happens to your kind when you are taken. She’s sure you’ll change your mind about going back to the camp.”
She sat up straighter. This was great. They were going to help her. “Thank you.”
“Don’t get too excited. I agreed to take you to the Finishing Camp not to the Warehouse District. It’s outside of the forest and we will not go there.”
“I thought you said that they take us to the Finishing Camp? What’s in the Warehouse District?”
He glanced at Mirra who watched them expectantly. He shook his head. Mirra’s eyes narrowed. They were hiding something from her.
“A Producer’s journey usually has two stops. We will show you the first one.”
“Mirra take you...”
“No. You will not leave the forest. The first stop should be enough to change her mind.”
Mirra glared at him and started batting a rabbit skull between her paws. Her stomach churned and she turned back toward Gaar.
“I won’t change my mind. I can’t. I have to go home.”
“We’ll see,” he said.
The dour expression on his face caused her mouth to dry. She took a sip of water. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? They were just trying to scare her, or maybe it only seemed bad to them. After living free in the woods their whole lives, they’d consider being locked in a camp torture. No matter what, she had to finish this and go home. “When do we leave?”
“After breakfast. Where are the Handler and Tracker camps?”
She drew a map in the dirt and used some of the nuts from her plate for large landmarks.
Gaar studied the drawing. “First, we’ll get supplies and then we’ll go to the Tracker camp.”
“Mirra no need supplies. Mirra go now.” She tossed the rabbit skull off to the side.
“Mirra, you know as well as I do that once we free the Trackers and the Handlers, the Almightys will be after us.”
“Mirra no care about Almightys. Mirra kill them all.”
He sighed. “We can’t and you know it. We’ll have to go into hiding and in order to do that we need supplies.”
Mirra huffed and headed for the door.
“Don’t go looking for the Tracker camp. We’ll go together. Promise me.” His voice was stern, commanding.
Mirra shot him a dirty look. “Promise.” She stormed out of the room.
It probably wasn’t wise to bring this up right now, but she’d wasted so much time already. “How long should this take? I only have five more days.”
“Why? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. We can have you home in four, but you’ll change your mind and then I’ll be saddled with you while Mirra gallivants all over the forest. Just like the other times.”
She took a deep breath. “What happened to Mirra’s...the others?” She refused to call herself a pet.
He frowned. “You definitely have House Servant in you. Curiosity is not always a good thing.”
She shrugged and offered him a small smile. This was not the first time that she’d annoyed someone with her questions.
His black eyes focused on her. “They all died.”
The words were like a punch in the gut, knocking the air out of her lungs. Did Mirra get tired of them and kill them? Or maybe, Gaar did while Mirra was away.
“Don’t go imagining all sorts of things. They were too young to be away from their mothers.”
She exhaled. That was good news. Well, not for the others, but definitely for her.
He went back to eating his breakfast. “I may not like babysitting Mirra’s pets but I wouldn’t hurt them.”
“Oh.” The food that she’d eaten sat heavy in her stomach. She didn’t understand why it bothered her so much that he disliked her. She should be used to it by now. “If you don’t want me around why don’t you let me go?”
“Mirra wants you.”
She should shut up, but she couldn’t. Not while he was answering her questions. “Why didn’t she kill me?”
He raised his head, eyes boring into her. “Who knows? Maybe, she wasn’t hungry.”
She shook her head. It was more than that. “Then why does she still want me around? She was hungry this morning. She could have killed me instead of the rabbits.” Sweat trickled down her back. Mirra could have easily slaughtered her while she slept. Then she’d be hacked up in tiny chunks and simmering in the pot. She set her plate aside, no longer hungry.
“You aren’t going to let up are you?” There was a smile in his tone.
“Probably not. Even my father says I ask too many questions.”
He chuckled. “That’s rich coming from a House Servant. The most annoyingly curious creatures I’ve ever met.”
He grew silent. Was he done talking? She needed to know the answer to this question. It could mean life or death for her.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Mirra is getting old,” he said.
“No, I hadn’t. I’m not that familiar with Trackers.” Mirra looked fine to her. The Tracker was still strong and there was no gray in her fur.
“Well, she is. Her breeding days are ending.”
“Then it’s a good thing that we met. Maybe, she can meet another Tracker in the camp and they can have babies.” The idea of Mirra as a mother made her smile.
“Yes. That’s a possibility. However, I think that she considers you her adopted child. I’ve heard of it happening to females that
have never had young.”
She wrinkled her nose. She was nothing like Mirra. “Maybe.”
“You asked what I thought.” He sounded offended.
“I’m sure you’re right.” She wasn’t sure about it at all but it was the polite thing to say. She had asked his opinion. “Maybe, once she meets the other Trackers she’ll be more willing to let me go.”
He grunted. “You can hope.”
“I have to go home. No matter what. I can’t let my mom be punished because I left.”
He glanced at her but remained silent for the rest of the meal.
After breakfast, she followed him out of the tree. He carried a pack similar to hers and a quiver full of spears.
As she expected, the sun didn’t shine too bright in this part of the forest, but from its location in the sky it was still early morning.
Mirra dropped from a tree right in front of them. She gasped and stumbled backward. She hadn’t realized the Tracker was up there. Gaar didn’t even flinch.
“We go now?” asked Mirra.
He nodded. “To the Lake of Sins, and we need to move fast. Little One has a schedule to keep.”
She frowned as she crawled on Mirra’s back. He was making fun of her but it was the truth.
CHAPTER 6
IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON WHEN Trinity slid off Mirra’s back. The trip had been fun. They’d stopped several times so Gaar could point out interesting landmarks and tell her the legends behind them.
“Mirra hunt now.” The Tracker disappeared into the brush.
“Is this it?” They were still deep in the woods and there was no water in sight, but she wouldn’t be surprised if the Lake of Sins was as dry as wheat chaff. Many of the landmarks that Gaar had pointed out had names that didn’t make sense, such as the rock wall that she’d bumped into when she was running from the Guards. It was called Harbor Point. It wasn’t near water and it certainly wasn’t pointy.
“No, but we’re close. We’ll travel the rest of the way at a slower pace. I don’t want to bump into any Guards.” He winked at her. “I’d hate to have to kill them.”
For a moment she’d forgotten that he was a predator, one who didn’t want her around. “Aren’t we going to wait for Mirra?”
He dug in his pack. “Nah. She’ll catch up later.”
It was just like he’d said last night. Mirra wanted to keep her, but he was stuck taking care of her. She’d prove to him that she wasn’t a problem. Not because she wanted to stay with him, but because she didn’t want to listen to him grumbling about what a burden she was.
He handed her a wad of cloth.
“Thanks.” She turned it over in her hands, trying to figure out what she was supposed to do with it.
“Hook one end around your shoulder and the other one around your waist.” He snatched it from her when she got it tangled. “You’re right handed, so lift your left arm.”
He looped it over her shoulder and then tied part around her waist. He reached in his pack and pulled out a knife inside a sheath. He slipped the cloth through a loop on the sheath, tightening the contraption. When he was done, the knife was secured firmly under her left arm, with easy access to the handle.
She touched the cloth that was wrapped around her shoulder. It was soft and newly stitched. It fit her perfectly. She ducked her head to hide her tears. No one, besides her parents, had ever given her anything. Maybe, he didn’t really dislike her. “Thank you.”
He flung his pack over his shoulders and readjusted the quiver on his back. “It’s more for me than you. Mirra is always a pain to manage after something happens to one of her pets and I can’t watch you every minute.” He turned and headed into the brush.
That took some of the joy out of the gift, but it was still kind of cool. She gripped the knife handle and caught up with him. “I don’t know how to use this. We aren’t allowed to have any type of weapon.”
“Lessons start now.” He spun around and grabbed her by the throat. “Don’t just gawk at me, defend yourself. Use the knife.”
His grip wasn’t tight, but her heart thumped in her ears. She reached for the knife and he grabbed her arm.
“You’re dead.” He dropped his hold and started walking again. “You’re going to have to be a lot quicker if you want to survive.”
She stared after him, eyes narrowing. He was such a jerk. She didn’t know anything about this stuff. What did he expect from her? “If you hate having me around, just point me in the right direction. I’ll be happy to leave.”
He stopped and faced her. “I told you, Mirra wants you.”
“I thought you were the Handler.”
He laughed. “I learned a long time ago that to be a good Handler, you have to let most things go. Only fight for the important stuff.”
It was clear; she was not one of those. What was so wrong with her that no one liked her? Well, Mirra liked her but not enough to stick around just like her father. Some of her thoughts must have shown on her face because he sighed and walked over to her.
He stood behind her and wrapped his arm around her right one. “Like this.” His hand clasped over hers as he pulled out the knife in one fluid movement. He did it several more times, adjusting it in their grasp and making different stabbing motions. Some were up with a twist, some down and some straight ahead. “It needs to be an extension of your arm. Now, you try.” He stepped back. “As we walk.”
She stayed close behind him, practicing the entire time. She wasn’t an expert, but she was getting the feel for it and she liked it.
They’d traveled until late afternoon and then Gaar had ordered her to practice her survival skills, while he prepared the food and fire. She’d gotten pretty good with the knife, but these lessons included training in agility, speed and climbing along with the ability to expand and contract her claws at a moment’s notice.
She wiped her hands on her pants, leaving a trail of dirt and grime. She groaned as she sat across from him at the campfire. Every muscle in her body ached. She used to watch her father sneak into the encampment by leaping onto a tree, climbing up it and then dropping to the ground. It looked exciting, fun, but it wasn’t. It was torture.
“How high did you make it?” He finished whittling another stick and placed it in the quiver. Then he picked up a chunk of bread but didn’t offer it to her.
She was so hungry that even the thick, hard, brown lump of bread looked delicious. She licked her lips. “To the third branch.”
“Jump or climb?” He took a bite of his own sandwich, exaggerating the pleasure of the taste.
He was being such a jerk. He had been ever since Mirra left. She’d tried to make casual conversation but he’d refused to answer her with anything but a grunt. Well, she’d had enough. “What difference does it make? I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can.” She glanced around. “Mirra’s not here. Why don’t I go now? I can give you the directions from here to the Handler and Tracker camps and you can tell me how to get to the Finishing Camp. Mirra will forget all about me once she’s with the other Trackers.”
He took a bite out of her chunk of bread. Her shoulders sagged. They’d eaten the rest of her bread and fruit at lunch. At the time she was glad since it made her backpack weigh less, but it was obvious why he’d suggested it. Now, he controlled all the food.
Her stomach rumbled. “Fine. I jumped to the first branch and then climbed to the next two.”
“Good. Here’s your dinner.” He tossed her the bread.
She caught it, dumped water on it to soften it and tore off a chunk, cramming it into her mouth. She washed it down with water. “I was serious about leaving. It would be the best for both of us.” She glanced around again. Night was approaching fast. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be out here alone. Gaar seemed serious about there being other predators around. Several times during the day they’d stopped and he’d listened intently or sometimes even climbed a tree to get a better view. She’d never seen a thing, but he said that didn’t mea
n the predators weren’t there. “If you think Mirra will still be gone, I could leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t want to be alone out here at night, huh?” He smirked.
“No. That’s not it. I was alone out here the first night.” Sure it had been very close to camp but she didn’t have to tell him that.
“Doesn’t matter. You can’t go. Mirra will find you and bring you back.” He tossed the last of his sandwich in his mouth. “You’re going to have to convince her to let you go.” He chuckled. “I don’t envy you. She’s really taking a liking to you.”
Her shoulders slumped. How was she going to get away from these two? She was glad Mirra liked her, otherwise she would have been dinner, but enough was enough.
“Tonight we sleep in the trees.” He glanced up at the one behind him as he wiped his hands on his shirt.
“What?” She coughed, choking on a chunk of bread. The tree was huge. “I can’t.”
He stared hard at her. “You can and you will. Do you think the forest floor is safe at night? It’s barely safe during the day. The trees are better. Not everything can climb.”
It was a long way to the ground and her balance wasn’t that good. “I’ll fall,” she whispered.
“Probably,” he said.
Did he think this was funny? She glared at him.
He smirked. “We’ll start low.”
His definition of low obviously differed from hers since the closest branch was about twenty feet from the ground. “I’ll break my neck.” She stuffed another bite of bread into her mouth and chewed.
“You should land on your feet. Your kind usually does.”
She jumped up, one hand still clutching her food and the other fisted at her side. “My kind! My kind! That’s all I hear from you. I’m also part Producer or have you forgotten that! I can’t do all these things. I can’t.” Her eyes began to water. She clenched her jaw. She would not cry in front of him.
He picked up a stick and began whittling. “Sit down and stop your belly-aching. You can do them and you will. More importantly, you have done them. You are more than a Producer.”
