20.
The Renegade’s Forest
Tir jumped at the sudden, rasping call of a bird from somewhere in the intertwined branches of the trees above him. It was about an hour past midday, but the little light that managed to seep through the thick canopy of trees was dim and green, pooling in patches beneath each bush and frond of bracken. Nerasa was right; it was better to hunt for the renegade in daylight. But still, not much sunlight was able to penetrate the canopy. The renegade’s forest was dark enough during the day.
He flinched as a squirrel dashed across his path. Sirle, who was walking in front of him, shot him a look of disgust. Tir felt his fur burn with embarrassment. He needed to calm down, or he’d be easy prey for the renegade.
But calming down was not a simple task at the moment—his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, still recovering from the shock of Xelind’s murderous intentions. How could he have been so stupid? Palva was right, and she had every good reason to be furious with him. He hadn’t been any better than Alpha Liyra—he hadn’t listened to her, and had she not showed up at the last minute, he would not be alive right now—would he? Xelind had insisted that he wouldn’t have killed him, but Tir didn’t know what to believe. Everything was a mass of confusion—Seilo, the renegade, Xelind—Tir had a terrible headache from it all, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest for a season. But that wasn’t possible—if he couldn’t keep his senses alert, then Palva’s intervention may have been for nothing.
“All right, everyone listen to me now.”
Leron’s patrol came to a halt in a small clearing among the massive, lumpy roots of an oak tree. Leron faced the five wolves assembled, his eyes alive with a fervent glint.
“Listen and take care,” he said. “Because I’m not going to repeat it. This is a very important mission, and it could be dangerous.”
Seilo squeaked, but Leron ignored him.
“I’m going to split you all into pairs, and each pair is going to search for the renegade in a different area. She will not escape us this time. We have more wolves, and we have the light of the sun by which to see.”
Simetra snorted in a very Palva-ish way. Of course, the sun did not make much of a difference in this quiet, shadowy forest. Leron took the time to stare at her before continuing.
“If you find her, first chase her down. Once you have her subdued, howl and the rest of the patrol will meet you. Do not leave the place where you stand.”
“Pardon,” said Salka, her tail bristling and eyes darting around the trees. “What shall we do with her once we catch her?”
Leron’s eyes glinted, and he paused for a moment before replying, as though wanting to create a larger effect.
“Kill her, of course.”
The other wolves exchanged uneasy glances at this, but no one complained. Salka coughed quietly.
“Well, then,” she said. “What shall we do if she attacks us? She attacked wolves on last night’s patrol.”
Leron offered her a rather condescending smile. “I am sure that two of you would be able to defeat one of her, of course. But even so,” he added. “—howl if you need any help.”
Captain Leron began moving amongst them, dividing the group into pairs. Unlike the rest of the wolves, he did not seem nervous at all. He strolled among them, waving his tail as if he were on a normal, leisurely hunt. Seilo was hunched against the dark ground a few feet away, trembling. Tir ached with pity for the pup, but at the same time was angry—was Liyra mad? This was no place for a pup to be. He wondered if perhaps bringing Seilo had been Captain Leron’s idea.
“Ah, let’s see,” Leron purred, standing before Tir. His stare burned through Tir’s pelt, and, however hard he tried, Tir could not meet his eyes.
“Yes, I think you would go well with the pup. You did such a fine job teaching him how to hunt. I don’t think he’ll be much of a disruption for whatever tasks you need to complete.”
Tir’s head shot up with incredulity. Seilo? Leron was teaming him with Seilo? But surely Seilo should be partnered with someone older and more experienced? Seilo wouldn’t be able to help Tir with the renegade, nor Tir help him. Tir glared at the back of Leron’s head, wishing he had the renegade’s claws so that he could throttle the captain. No doubt, this was another attempt of the Captain’s to try and get rid of Tir. Leron was doubtless hoping that the renegade would finish off both of them.
“Good luck,” Leron said, nudging a terrified-looking Seilo towards Tir. “And watch out for spiders.”
It was very dark in the forest. And very quiet, also, now that the other wolves had gone their separate directions. Tir was padding through the thorny undergrowth with his ears pricked and his heart thumping so loudly he was sure that the renegade would hear it and track him down.
“I’m glad that I got teamed up with you,” Seilo was whispering. “I can’t fight at all. You’re big; I suppose you’d scare that renegade off, no trouble.”
Tir sniffed at a pile of dead leaves, deciding it was best not to tell the scared little pup that he couldn’t fight either.
“What does the renegade look like?” Seilo asked, half curious, half fearful. “Nerasa says she’s a huge, fanged monster with lynx’s claws and hedgehog spines, but Raatri says she’s nothing more than a white shadow—like a ghost.”
“Er, well, she’s only a little wolf, about half my size,” Tir scanned the dark rows of trees as he spoke, trying to get the thoughts of ghosts out of his mind. “And she’s white, with scars all over her muzzle and flanks. But her fangs are the long and her claws are sharp, yes, like a lynx’s—she fights with them, too. I wish she was only a ghost.”
Seilo shuddered, tripping over the protruding root of a nearby yew tree.
“I hope we don’t find her,” he said.
“Me, too,” Tir said quietly.
Aside from the occasional bird call, the forest was as silent as a tomb. Not even the trees moved, and the only sound to be heard was the scuffling of Tir and Seilo’s paws. Try as they might, it was impossible for them to move silently. It was as if the forest was getting in their way on purpose—branches whipped in their path, snagging in their fur and making Seilo yelp with surprise. Thick, lumpy roots seemed to be everywhere, arching from the mossy ground every few steps to trip them. Glittering eyes watched the pair from every dark shadow, disappearing the moment Tir looked straight at them. For all they knew, the renegade could be following them at this very moment. She could be anywhere.
But even in his jumpy, wary state, Tir noted with puzzlement that there seemed to be endless signs of prey activity. Squirrel hollows were everywhere, the empty shells of nuts strewn all across the damp ground. Tir caught the scent of rabbit almost every time he shoved his way through a patch of undergrowth, and Seilo even fell into a rabbit hole. If this forest was so full of prey, then why was the renegade fighting so fiercely for the deer herd?
“Look at that,” Seilo said from behind him.
Ahead of them was a small clearing surrounded by a row of leafless silver maples. Through the spiky, black branches, they could see the space in the middle. Sniffing the air for dangerous scents, Tir wove through the trees and into the clearing with Seilo following close behind, blue eyes wide.
The clearing was small, grey, and dreary. Although the forest itself was eerily quiet, this clearing had an air of dead silence—almost unnatural, as though something had placed a smothering hold over the place. Tir shuddered, sensing the change in atmosphere. Everything was still as death; even the frost that glazed every grey surface did not twinkle. A soft, icy breeze swept across the ground and sent chills dancing across the skin beneath Tir’s fur, ruffling the frosted leaves and filling the air with an almost inaudible whispering. The entire place had an otherworldly feel to it. It was as though they were surrounded by ghosts.
Tir stood in the center of the clearing for a few moments, the cold breeze sifting through his fur. Seilo had wandered over to a far edge, and was now sniffing something on t
he ground.
“Tir,” he said, his small voice breaking through the silence. “I—I think you’d better come over here.”
The fur at Tir’s neck bristled at the apprehension in the Seilo’s voice. He padded over to where Seilo was standing; the pup’s tail was rigid and fur fluffed up with fear. He was looking over a patch of grass and dead leaves under some low-hanging branches. The stalks curled around a center area, forming a tiny indent deep in the shadows. It looked almost like a nest.
“What is it, Seilo?” he asked.
“It smells— it smells of—” Seilo stammered. He ran his tongue over his jaws in terror.
Tir padded closer and examined the nest. Unlike the dead leaves beneath his paws, the grass in the nest was not stiff and frosted—it was green and dry. This nest had been used recently.
Tir sniffed it, and every hair along his back stood on end. It smelled of the renegade.
They were standing in her clearing.
“Get back, Seilo!” he said, his paws shaking with the instinct to run. “Get out of here! Now!”
But before they could make another move, terror-stricken howls filled the air, coming from somewhere deep within the forest. Both wolves flinched and recoiled, tails bristling and stiff behind them.
Without a word, Tir sped out of the dreary clearing and into the shadows of the forest, his heart pounding to the rhythm of the distant howls. It’s the renegade. She’s caught someone.
The tortured cries were growing louder, and Tir could now hear a thrashing sound in the undergrowth, as though something were writhing and dying in the thorny brambles. Ripping snarls tore through the rustling noises; it sounded as if a whole pack of wolves was battling.
Behind him, Tir could hear Seilo’s running pawsteps and ragged breathing as the pup struggled to keep up. But Tir didn’t slow, though he didn’t know whether he was going to be much of a help if he got there in time.
A white streak crashed out of the undergrowth, halting when it caught sight of the frantic Tir and Seilo. They skidded to a stop, dead leaves spraying up at their paws.
“MORE OF YOU?” the renegade hissed. “How many have you brought along?”
Seilo was whimpering, and Tir did his best to put on a brave face before the bristling, hostile she-wolf.
“Many,” he said, forcing a growl into his tone. There was blood dripping from her muzzle, and he tried not to look at it. He narrowed his eyes, imitating Xelind’s frosty composure. “They’re coming for you. You should run.”
“Oh, should I?” she said. “And where are these friends of yours? They wouldn’t happen to be the wolves in the pine grove back there, no?”
“I…” Tir’s voice trailed off, unable to think of what to say to this.
The renegade laughed. “I am not going to run anymore. You have come to my forest now—I shan’t run from my prey. They run from me. Are you ready?”
“I won’t run,” Tir said. “You’d only attack when we turn our backs. But I don’t want to kill you, either.”
“Well, then, ‘tis simple. Because I assure you, you aren’t going to be doing any killing today.”
Behind him, Seilo squeaked in terror. Tir took a step backwards as the renegade began creeping forward, tripping over the pup as he did so.
“There—there’s a pup,” he stammered. “You can’t kill a pup—”
The renegade gave a spitting snarl. “You would kill a fawn, would you not?”
Tir didn’t know what a fawn was.
The renegade laughed again. “’Tis too late now. You are all idiots, and not one of you shall leave this forest alive. You came to hunt me? Hah. You came to make me laugh. I am the only hunter here.”
“I didn’t want to come here! The alpha ordered us.”
“And all of you must listen to her, no?” The renegade lashed at the ground with her paw, her claws leaving three long scores in the soft dirt. “If you fear for your life, then you should have disobeyed her. ‘Tis too late now. Your damage is done.”
“My damage?”
“The deer. You have slaughtered them. Think ‘twas all a hunting game, do you? Well? Are you still having fun?”
“No. I never was having fun, I swear. I didn’t kill—”
“Of course,” she growled. “Well, I have told you. I told you I would kill you all if you refused to listen to me. You did not believe me, now, did you? Believe me now?”
“I—”
“Your time is up, every one of you.”
Tir’s desperate howl, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear, was cut off as the renegade’s jaws latched around his neck and contracted like a wire snare. White-hot pain shot through his head like a bullet and he gagged, blood spraying up in his eyes; he clawed at the soft ground, clutching at the soil in agony.
There was a small, puppy-snarl from somewhere behind him as Seilo launched across the ground and onto the renegade, biting her tail.
“No!” Tir choked from beneath the renegade. “Run, Seilo! Go!”
Seilo didn’t pay any attention. He snarled and tore at the renegade’s white tail, ripping out mouthfuls of fur and snapping bravely at her flank. The renegade whipped around, lashing at Seilo’s head with a lightning paw. He yelped and tumbled away, landing in a small heap a few feet off.
Tir moaned and tried to stand, but his legs felt as though they were made of water. Pain unfurled like livid flowers in his head, and he was distantly aware of the fact that he was slipping in a pool of his own blood.
The renegade was moving back towards him as though in slow motion. Seilo lay motionless behind her and Tir, suddenly seized with rage, fought to his paws so that he might meet her. They locked gazes, and the renegade’s pale green eyes widened.
“You,” she breathed, pausing. “’Tis you again—you, the ash-wolf.”
“Don’t call me that,” Tir growled.
“I told you never to return!” The renegade flattened her ears. “Why have you come? Why are you always with these wolves? I told you ‘twill not work—have you come to die again, wolf?”
“I’m not going to die,” Tir said, but his legs were failing beneath him. He gasped and slipped back down into his blood, but did not remove his glare from the renegade. She hesitated, seemingly torn between rage and fear.
“I am no fool,” she said, baring her teeth. “I will strip your skin from your bones but I will not kill you—no; you cannot trick me! I know what this means, wolf, and I tell you I am too busy for such things. Leave my forest and leave me to kill these others. But you won’t fool me into killing you; you won’t!”
“I told you, I don’t know what you’re—”
Tir’s voice was lost in the ensuing crash in the trees behind him. His head shot up, ringing and dazed. Thunderous sounds had begun breaking the forest’s dark silence into brittle fragments; it sounded as though a herd of elephants was stampeding through the undergrowth. Tir flattened his ears against the clamor of voices, the incredible, awful din—
“WHERE IS SHE?!”
Tir had never before been so glad to hear the furious roar of Captain Leron.
“DAMN THAT WOLF, I’LL KILL HER MYSELF!”
Something massive and dark brown exploded out of a clump of brambles, bristling to fill the entire forest, bearlike, roaring and slashing out with enormous, skull-crushing paws. Simetra, too, dashed out of the undergrowth after the enraged Captain, her eyes black and face livid.
She rushed over to where Tir was lying. Her ears lay flat against her head; her bristling auburn fur was matted with thorns and dead leaves.
“Get up!” she said, apparently unaware that he was lying in a pool of blood. Head ringing, Tir staggered back up to his paws. He dragged himself over to Seilo, who, as he was relieved to see, was still breathing.
“What happened?” Tir asked. He felt faint.
“SIRLE! SIRLE IS DEAD!” Leron roared. “WHERE’S THAT ACCURSED RENEGADE? I’LL KILL HER MYSELF!”
Tir turned to where the strange white
she-wolf had been only moments before. But she was gone.