The Narrow Gate

by Janean Worth

  The fox gave a tiny yip and swatted the grass shoot with renewed vigor, and Kara smiled, thinking that at least she would have some companionship, even though it was only that of an animal.

  Kara pulled her bag across her lap and opened it, meaning to take stock of what food she had left inside, but no sooner had she opened the bag to peer inside than a large furred beast appeared on the other side of the river, branches snapping and cracking under its massive paws.

  The river was fairly wide, but as the beast’s eyes settled on her and the then flicked to gaze at the fox kit, hunger in its gaze. Kara didn’t feel nearly safe enough with the distance between them. As she watched the beast as it watched them, she realized that she had no idea if the beast could swim.

  Slowly, she reached over toward the fox kit, grateful that the animal did not bolt when it felt her fingers upon its back. She drew the kit closer, then gently put the kit inside her bag, nestling the animal carefully on top of her mother’s soft shawl. The kit made no objection.

  The beast was still watching her from across the river as she tucked the fox inside and slowly stood, letting the bag drape across her front so that she could be sure that the fox did not jump out.

  The beast roared at her as she stood up, its mouth opening wide to show enormous, yellowed teeth.

  The sound of the beast’s roar sent a sizzle of fear shooting up her spine, and made the fox kit mewl in terror from inside her bag.

  Kara began to back away from the river’s edge, watching the beast intently. She remembered suddenly that the beast was called a leob. She’d seen a sketch of the creature in one of her tutor’s old books and now clearly recalled the fierce predatory eyes and the large regal snout of the animal in the sketch. It likeness matched that of the beast across the river. Like all of the beasts of the forest that had suffered mutation caused by the poison clouds after the Fall, this one was said to be extinct by those who lived in GateWide. Kara was realizing that many of the things believed by the people GateWide were simply not true.

  The leob still had not moved closer, and Kara hoped that it was because the animal was afraid of the deep water that flowed quickly down the center of the river. The tutor’s book had stated that the leob had once been what their ancestors had called a lion. The lions had been kept in captivity, in cages, in places called zoos. After the foolish people of the past had released the poison clouds, the few lions that had managed to survive and escape their confinements gave birth to sickly, mutated offspring. Those offspring had given birth to more mutated offspring, and after several generations, the beasts’ form had become fairly stable, and had been named the leob. The leobs were massive beasts, with patchy, shaggy manes of clumped black fur that formed a ruff around a thick neck, much like the lion’s of the past. Their eyes were a strange, colorless white, with a long black elliptical pupil. Huge and predatory, the beasts were said to have been very few in number, and the tutor’s book had stated that they’d become extinct decades ago.

  The leob across the river was bigger than the bear that Kara had seen the night before, its paws were easily each the size of her head. Kara gazed at it as conflicting thoughts flitted through her mind. It was obvious that the leob was not an extinct animal. What other lies had she been taught in GateWide?

  Staring into the beast’s strange white eyes, she wondered how far the leob could leap and if the beast could swim. Could it make it across the river? Could it climb a tree?

  Kara held its gaze as she backed into the thick undergrowth carefully, her heart pounding with terror in her chest. She didn’t want to be eaten, ripped limb from limb as she screamed, much like the mother fox had been by the Fidgets.

  When the tangle of plants obscured the beast’s view of her, Kara turned and ran. Even when she was sure that the beast had not pursued her, for she heard no crashing in the brush behind her and she knew that such a large animal could not travel quietly, she ran on, covering ground quickly in her all-out sprint. Fear drove her on relentlessly, until her breath sawed in and out of her lungs painfully and the muscles in her thighs began to burn with effort. Only then did she stop running, leaning against a massive rock to catch her breath.

  As her breath heaved in and out, she looked again at her surroundings and couldn’t hold back a sob. Was there truly no safe place in this wilderness? So far, the trees had offered the safest resting place during the night but she knew that she could not make any sort of a permanent shelter for herself and the tiny fox in a tree. She didn’t have the skill to build any short of shelter at all, let alone one so high up off of the ground.

  Despair swamped her and she felt another sob build up in her throat. How would she ever survive this place?

  Chapter Ten

  Kara’s lank hair flopped into her eyes as she leaned back against the fallen tree to rest. Her feet ached, but over the last few days, she’d almost learned to ignore that pain. In time, she knew the blisters that had formed would heal and create calluses, and her feet would pain her no more. She was not worried about the pain in her feet. She had other things to worry about.

  For many days now, she’d walked the forest, hiding from the frightening beasts that she encountered and staying near the river, circling the area in ever widening arcs, looking for suitable shelter. She had found none.

  She could have easily sheltered in the fallen tree that she leaned against, for it was enormous and the insects of the forest had long since eaten the tender heart of the wood, leaving a long, hollowed out space behind. However, the log rested on soft loamy soil, which meant that the Fidgets would easily find her hiding place if she rested there during the night, since the vicious little creatures lived in the earth and slept or hid there during the daylight hours.

  The need for a shelter had become her all-consuming thought during the day, and also during the sleepless hours she spent high in the branches of a different tree each night. So far, she’d managed to find small supplies of berries and nuts that she used to supplement the meager food still remaining in her bag. The fox kit seemed happy enough with whatever food she provided, but she knew that gathering food must become her primary focus soon, and so she must find a shelter to use as a central location to hunt and forage from.

  She sighed and fingered the strap of her bag, wishing heartily for her mother’s guidance, and also for the woman herself. Her mother would have known what to do. Quickly, she pushed the thoughts of her mother aside, for they were like a sharp gouging pain in her heart when she let herself dwell upon them. The loss was just too great to contemplate, so she would not let herself think about it at all. One small solace was that she trusted Maude’s word in the matter. She knew that her mother was truly gone from the world. It hadn’t been so when her father had died. He’d disappeared in the wilderness first, sent out on an errand for the Sovereign, and he had never returned. The Enforcers had informed Kara’s mother of his death, but Kara had always wondered about it. At the time, she hadn’t been able to believe that her hearty and healthy father would never return to for them, and had held out hope that he would for a long, long time. At least she had no such confusion about her mother’s death.

  Forcing her thoughts back to the moment at hand, she opened her bag and removed the drowsy fox kit. The small kit blinked sleepy eyes and yawned, and Kara smiled at the sight of its tiny milk teeth and the sound of the soft mewled sigh that the animal made.

  The fox was very well behaved for an animal. It did not urinate or defecate in her bag or chew her things while hidden away as they travelled during the day, and when Kara let the animal out for exercise and to relieve its bodily functions, the kit always stayed near to her side, never wandering far. At night, the animal was silent, lying against her stomach inside her bag as they both waited for the daylight hours to come again so that she could resume her search for a temporary home for them both. The kit was the perfect animal companion, and Kara had quickly come to love the little creature.

  Kara placed the kit upon the ground and wa
ited for it to relieve itself before resuming her walk through the forest.

  “You need a name,” she said to the little animal as it toddled along at her side. The sound of her voice startled the fox a bit and it looked up at her with wide, unblinking eyes. She realized then that it had been several days since she’d said any words aloud.

  “I think I’ll call you Jax,” she told the animal, mentally vowing to speak to the kit more so that it would know the sound of her voice. “Let’s go, shall we? Perhaps today we will have more luck.”

  The day passed quickly, and the sunlight was beginning to wane when Kara stumbled upon the rocky outcropping. At first, she thought nothing of it, since she’d seen many rocky areas while she’d been wandering the forest, but then she noticed the dark, round hole that faced out upon a shelf-like structure of solid rock.

  Intrigued, yet cautious, she ventured closer. The hole turned out to be the entrance to a small cave. Kara could not see the back of the cave, and stood at the entrance in indecision. One of the many frightening creatures of the forest could already be using the cave as a home. The creature could be inside at that very moment, waiting to pounce upon her if she ventured near.

  However, the cave was as close to a good shelter as she’d seen so far in her searchings. She hated to abandon the chance to claim it as her own. The mouth of the cave opened onto solid rock, and if the interior of the cave was made of the same, then the place would be safe from the unexpected intrusion of burrowing Fidgets.

  She needed to go inside to find that out if it was occupied. Bolstering her courage, she searched about for a long branch that she could use to make a modified torch. She needed to be able to see if there was something inside the cave, and perhaps a burning stick would keep anything inside away from her long enough so that she could escape if needed.

  She had no spare cloth or fuel to make a proper torch, so she had to resort to building a small fire using her flint, and then lighting the branch she’d found afire. Hoping that the flame would last for as long as she needed, she tucked her bag, where Jax lay sheltered, close to her side, and entered the cave quickly, before she could change her mind.

  The cave entrance was small, so she was forced to stoop over as she entered. Thrusting the flaming branch ahead of her, she glanced about quickly, looking for lurking animals. To her relief and surprise, none were present.

  The cave was small, so it took only moments for Kara to crawl inside to view the whole of it, but what she saw delighted her. The entire cave was solid rock, with a smooth, mostly flat floor and, to her amazement, a tiny hole in the top near the back that would act as a vent for smoke, allowing her to build a fire. The hole seemed to be an unnatural feature, and Kara wondered momentarily if it had perhaps been someone’s home many years ago.

  The cave was just what she’d been looking for.

  Bits of forest debris had blown inside the cave, drifting at the sloped sides where the rocky floor flowed easily into the domed walls of the cave. Kara cautiously poked at the drifts with her toe, letting out a quickly stifled cry when several large snakes slithered from the debris.

  Snakes had been a problem in GateWide as well, and, in this instance, Kara knew just what to do. She’d done it many times for Mrs. Malmont. Waving the flaming torch near the closest snake, Kara watched as the reptile’s eyes focused on the closest threat. Then, while it was distracted, Kara quickly reached out with her free hand and caught hold of the snake’s tail. With a quick flip of her wrist, she snapped the snake’s body like a whip, stunning the creature. Then, as fast as she could, she flung it to the ground and stomped upon the head. There was a nasty crunch as she killed the snake, but Kara was too frightened to pay much attention. Several more snakes had slithered free, and they held her full attention now.

  If not for the flaming branch, she knew that she’d have been bitten. The snakes were afraid of the fire, and did not get within striking distance of her. She quickly killed the remaining three snakes, tossing them out of the entrance to the cave onto the flat rock shelf, and then lit the remaining debris on fire.

  She backed out of the cave swiftly as the dry tinder caught, flames growing quickly, and took several long gulps of air to calm her frayed nerves.

  The fire would burn any insects or remaining snakes, cleansing the cave of any other vermin.

  She tossed the burnt branch into the small fire that she’d left burning on the rocky shelf in front of the entrance to the cave, and then she skinned and gutted the snakes with her mother’s metal knife. After the task was done, she skewered the snake meat on a green branch before propping them up over the fire, using a good-sized heavy rock as a bolster to keep them out of the flames. Eyeing her work with satisfaction, she wiped her grimy hands on her pants and then she set out to find the nastiest, sharpest brambles that she could get.

  If she was going to sleep inside the cave that night, and she did, she knew that having a thick covering of brambles over the mouth of the cave and a nice, hot fire near the entrance would discourage any visitors that may come during the night.

  With a smile on her face for the first time in days, Kara set off with a purpose, out into the quickly fading light of an approaching dusk, with something like hope filling her heart and the promise of a substantial supper to fill her stomach later.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kara leaned against her mother’s warm side as they both lay in front of the cozy fire that was lit in the stone fireplace. It was warm in front of the fire, but the heat often didn’t reach into the sleeping rooms of their small cabin, so, on the coldest nights of the season, they often brought their threadbare blankets and worn pillows out to lay upon the comfortable braided rag rug that lay in front of the fireplace.

  Kara enjoyed these infrequent, quiet times, for they were often the highlight of her week. She didn’t often get to spend time with her mother, because her mother’s duties at the House kept her away far more than they should have, so times like these were even more special and precious to Kara than she’d ever let her mother know.

  She was deeply aware that her mother felt guilty for spending so much time away, and for the fact that Kara, too, had to work to earn money, and Kara didn’t want to heap any more guilt upon her mother’s head. If she’d known how lonely Kara was, or how Kara longed for her mother’s company – for any companionship, really - then her mother would have been even more miserable. There was nothing that her mother could do that would make it possible to spend more time at home with Kara, for once the Sovereign decreed that a person must work in the House, that was where they worked until he released them from their duties. Even if her mother was brave, or foolish, enough to try to stop working there without his permission, no one else in GateWide would hire her to do a job, or sell her the goods and food that they needed to survive, for fear of risking the Sovereign’s displeasure.

  Kara knew this, so, she said nothing about her loneliness, her hunger because of their lack of food, her desire to have a tutor to teach her things that she desperately wanted to know or even her wish at a chance to attend the tutored gatherings that sometimes were held in the market square.

  She knew that there was no solution that her mother could provide, and so she kept her misery to herself, much as she was sure her mother did.

  “Tell me something about Father again,” Kara asked as she lay next to her mother, enjoying the flickering blaze of light and heat that emanated from the fireplace and the way that her mother’s fingers played lazily through her curls. Both relaxed her, but she was not yet ready to give into the peace of sleep. She wasn’t ready for these moments to end, for sleep would bring morning, and morning would mean the beginning of another harsh, hard, lonely day for Kara.

  Her mother’s fingers paused in their stroking of Kara’s long hair, and for a moment, Kara wondered if she should perhaps refrain from asking for shared memories of her father, in case the memories of him made her mother sad. It had not been that very long ago that the Captain of the Enfo
rcers had come to their door and informed them that her father had died while out on an assignment for the Sovereign. A complete cycle of seasons had passed, but Kara could still remember the moment with horrible clarity, as if it had happened only that very day and all of the days since had only been a nightmarish lull, a few frozen moments in time.

  Her mother’s fingers resumed their absent stroking, and Kara held her breath in anticipation. Which memory would her mother share this time? Would it be some story about his extreme intelligence? Or a tale about his bravery? Or his kindness?

  Her father had been an extraordinary man, and Kara was glad that she had the fortune of being his daughter, even though he had left them way too soon. She missed him with a deep aching fierceness that she constantly had to shove down inside herself, for if she dwelled on the feeling too long, she would become despondent and her already hard life would only seem that much harder.

  “Do you remember how things were before your father passed on?” her mother’s voice was gentle and calm, but Kara clearly heard the intertwined threads of wistfulness, longing and sadness that her words did not convey.

  “Yes,” Kara answered simply, not saying much so that her mother would go on sharing memories.

  “Do you remember the wonderful days when your tutor would come and while he was helping with you with your lessons, I would bake treats for you and for your father when he returned home? Do you remember the days when neither of us had to toil so hard at another’s tasks? And do you remember our lovely home on the hill?”

  Tears clogged Kara’s throat at her mother’s words. “Yes,” she choked out. “I remember.”

  And she did remember. She remembered when her mother’s hands were the soft hands of a gentlewoman, not the cracked rough hands of a laborer that they were now. She remembered the joy she herself had taken in learning the lessons her tutor had taught, instead of learning by her own mistakes and from the rough slaps of correction that Leila Malmont administered if she did not perform her duties correctly now. And, more clearly than the rest, she remembered their family suppers together at the great table that sat in the dining room of their beautiful house on the hill.