Marysvale (9 page)

Eventually, morning came and, as
promised, we stopped. With the growing light came some unwelcome
news.

“
Rain,” I muttered to
myself.

Dark clouds gathered, blocking out what
I had hoped would have been the welcoming warmth of the sun. The
clouds weren’t even the gigantic, puffy thunder clouds I loved so
much. Instead, they were thin and gray and went on forever,
covering the whole sky and sucking the life out of everything,
including me.

I unloaded the packs and gloomily
thought of my cozy cottage in Syre, with its warm little stove and,
more importantly, its roof. Stripping Smoke of his gear, I let him
wander around, feeding on whatever he found palatable. I selected a
tree that looked a bit more comfortable and a little less
moss-covered than the rest, and slumped down to the ground using it
as a backrest.

Opening my packs, I checked my food
supply and found it exactly as expected: enough for one meal, maybe
two if I could exercise some self-control. Most of the supplies I’d
planned on taking were still waiting for me back at my cottage,
ready to be loaded onto another packhorse. Also, I hadn’t intended
to go in this direction. Fleeing to the south and meeting up with
the hunting party had been my original, hasty exit plan; or, if
that went awry, perhaps on to another settlement, where I could
miserably exist until they, too, learned what I was. I thought of
the irony and wished I really were a warlock and could magically
pull a steaming roast from my pack. Instead, I ate dried fruit and
a few pieces of dried meat. As it turned out, I didn’t have the
self-control I’d hoped for—I only got one meal. I made a mental
reminder to kill the first thing that moved for dinner. Smoke
wandered past…
other than him, of course.

During our long journey through the
night, I gave some thought as to where I should go. I came up with
four options: I could continue up north and live off the land; but
with winter around the corner, that choice didn’t really sound too
practical. I could return south and try finding the hunting party;
but then I’d have to travel close to the clearing and the creature
that lived there. I shivered involuntarily. Plus, the riders may
think of the same thing and start watching the surrounding country.
Thirdly, I could travel east; but there I ran the risk of meeting
those from previous settlements I’d fled. The fourth possible
choice seemed the best: travel west for a few days and then turn
south. I would find a town where I could get news of Syre, or
perhaps someone who would deliver a message to Mr. Shepherd for me.
While in the midst of pondering the last option, I allowed my head
to droop; and I gave in to sleep.

While I slept, I dreamed of a strange
cabin lost deep in the forest—a forest much like the one I found
myself in now. For some reason, I knew I was supposed to go in, but
found the prospect frightening, and I didn’t know why. Hesitantly,
I walked up the stairs, across the porch, and slipped inside. At
first I thought there was no one home; but after a moment, I heard
the faint sound of women talking. As silently as possible, I crept
through the cabin, toward the soft whispers. Stopping outside a
door, I listened, straining to make out what they were saying. I
heard my name and realized they were talking about me. Curious, I
warily pushed the door open, unsure of what to expect. As I peeked
inside, the hushed voices suddenly changed to screams of terror.
The door burst into pieces and I was greeted by a gigantic, dark,
shadowy monster staring at me with silvery eyes. Stumbling back in
fear, the house erupted around me into flame and smoke.

I woke in a panic and found Smoke
gently licking my cheek with a big, wet tongue. I reached up and
stroked his muzzle affectionately, while trying to banish the dream
from my thoughts. “What time is it?” I muttered, knowing I would
get no answer other than another big lick on the cheek. Somehow,
hearing the sound of my voice brought me comfort. It helped me
realize the whole world hadn’t gone dark and silent, at least not
entirely. The clouds had darkened even more during my restless
slumber, bringing the smell of impending rain and making it
difficult to tell how long I had been asleep.

With a sigh, and some protest from my
aching muscles, I slowly lifted myself off the ground and picked
the direction that looked most west to me. After tacking up Smoke,
and with reins in one hand and the crossbow in the other, I set off
on foot, still trying to give him as much rest as
possible.

The rain started to fall lightly. In
response, I pulled the hood of my cloak over my head and did my
best to wrap it tightly around myself, just in time for the rain to
intensify. In this condition, we spent the remainder of the day
traveling.

When the light eventually began to
fade, so did my promise to find something edible. I found it
strange not to see another living creature all day, not even a
squirrel or a bird.
They must be seeking shelter from the
rain
, I reasoned. My stomach growled, as I sought in vain for
anything to eat—edible plants, fallen nuts, or a berry bush—even
the remains of a dead animal would have been savored.

We stopped for the night when the
forest grew so dark that sight beyond a few yards grew impossible.
At first, my cloak had kept me dry; but after hours of rain, I had
grown miserably wet and cold. It started with my breeches,
undergarments, and boots, then steadily worked its way up to my
shirt until I was soaked to the skin and shivering uncontrollably.
I huddled at the trunk of a large maple, as the night slowly
progressed and the temperature plummeted.

I tried everything to get warm, from
hugging Smoke (who refused to lie down on the wet ground with me),
to leaning against the tree. Ultimately, I settled under the
partial protection of a white pine with my arms wrapped around my
knees.

The woods were silent, except for the
soft, never-ending sound of raindrops falling on foliage. In the
total blackness of the night, my mind began to wander, and I
thought about the complete and utter isolation of the deep forest
enveloping me. If something happened, no one would be around to
help; if hurt, no one would hear my screams. I thought of the
soulless creature in the moonlit mist. Could I kill it if I had to?
If not, would it kill me quickly or would it be slow and
painful?

The mental exercise just made things
worse. Shaking now from both chill and fear, I retrieved the
crossbow. I also grabbed the musket, even though I wasn’t sure it
was dry enough to fire.
It would still make an effective
club
, I reassured myself. I crouched back down and resumed my
position, as well as the torturous thoughts of hunger, loneliness,
and the beast. After what felt like an eternity, the rain
eventually stopped and, shortly thereafter, the blackness of the
night began its retreat to the light of day.

When I was finally able to see more
than a few feet in front of me, we resumed our march. Again, I
walked. This time it wasn’t so much for Smoke as it was an attempt
to warm my own stiff and tired body. However, before long,
exhaustion overcame me, and I climbed onto Smoke, spreading my damp
cloak over his back, which made me look something like a tent atop
a horse. I hoped the heat from his body would rise, get trapped in
the cloak, and generate some warmth.

As the day wore on, the clouds again
darkened, and soon the rain resumed. By the time the light started
to fade, I was once again shivering beyond control. I removed the
pack, saddle, and bridle from Smoke, trusting he wouldn’t wander
off too far, or get spooked and bolt.

There I waited, through an insufferable
amount of time, hoping the sun would end my misery. Eventually, the
rain did stop and the clouds broke up, revealing the stars, and
sending the temperatures even lower. The shivering stopped—a
dangerous sign. Briefly, I fought the overwhelming desire to sleep.
But in the end, I found myself not caring.
What’s there to live
for anyway?
I let sleep win, bringing with it a black
unconsciousness that washed over me and enveloped me in a welcomed
oblivion.

Something warmed my face.
Am I
dead?
I pondered the question for a while. Eventually, I
forced my eyes open a crack, just for a peek.

A blinding light greeted me.
Is
this it? Am I dead?
I debated those questions for some time,
trying to decide what my fate was. However, in the end, aching
bones and hunger pains helped me realize that I was indeed still
among the living. The sun had found a crack in the trees above and
was slowly dragging my frozen, stiff body back to life. With great
effort, I rolled my whole self into the sun and lay there, grateful
for the warmth. I listened to the comforting sound of chattering
birds floating down from the treetops. It lulled me back to
sleep.

A long time later, I awoke for good.
Lying there, it slowly dawned on me that I hadn’t started this trip
alone. With reluctance, I pulled myself up, looked around, and
whistled…nothing. I tried again, with the same result.

“
Stubborn mule,” I
muttered.

Sometimes Smoke came when I called; and
sometimes he didn’t. Thank goodness he usually didn’t wander too
far. Hoping today wouldn’t be any different, I grudgingly drug
myself to my feet, retrieved the crossbow and Smoke’s bridle, and
began searching. I not only located his tracks, but also noticed a
lightly worn path leading roughly in the same direction I wanted to
go. I made a mental note to follow it after finding Smoke. With
luck, it may lead to some type of settlement.

A half mile later, I found him standing
in a thicket of trees.

“
It’s just me,” I assured
him, while stroking his nose and slipping on the bit-less
bridle.

Although spirited at times, Smoke, for
the most part, was an exceptionally obedient horse, and we had both
learned to trust each other without question. As a result, I never
saw a need to make him wear a bit in his mouth, which I’m sure made
it easier for him to eat while we were on these long
trips.

I worked the reins back over his neck
and hoisted myself up onto his back. I retrieved the rest of our
belongings and, in no time, we were off, following the newly
discovered trail.

Sharp pains in my stomach reminded me
that I had been two days without food. I readied my crossbow,
searching the woods for something to eat.

The warm autumn day lifted my spirits.
The trees were beautiful with their changing leaves—some had
already made their way to the forest floor. Birds still chattered
away in the treetops. The whole scene comforted my soul.

However, it was a peace that wouldn’t
last long.

Smoke started to tense, ears swiveling
like a deer.

“
Easy Boy,” I said in a
soothing voice; but I also trusted him enough to pay attention when
he sensed something unusual. Smoke refused to be comforted. His
gait became irregular and he hesitated going forward. I coaxed him
on; but to be safe, I secured the crossbow to my saddle and began
reloading the musket with fresh powder.

The forest grew thick, and the trail
wound its way through tall ferns and bushes growing along the path.
The thought crossed my mind that this would be a good place for an
ambush. While in the midst of pondering that unnerving idea, I
realized, with alarm, that there were no sounds. Birds had stopped
their chirping; and the whole forest, again, held its breath. The
putrid smell of rotting flesh reached my nostrils and churned my
empty stomach. At that instant, the trap was sprung.

Smoke saved me. He saw the beast first
and lunged forward. At the same time, I noticed, or perhaps more
sensed, motion. In a lightning-quick movement, coming at me from
the side, a gigantic, furry paw, with sharp claws, shot out of the
foliage and went straight for my throat. I twisted frantically out
of the way. It missed my neck, but sliced through my clothes,
leaving a long gash in my upper arm. I cried out in pain. The force
of the slash, Smoke’s leap, and my desperate move to clear the
monster, nearly wrenched me out of the saddle. The musket, still in
the hand attached to my wounded shoulder, began to slip. Swiftly, I
dropped the reins and caught it with my good arm. A bone-chilling,
ferocious growl came from the cover of the undergrowth, and the
rest of the beast crashed through the bushes and onto the trail
behind us. Sharp, yellow teeth and black claws lunged at Smoke’s
hindquarters. In a blur, I wheeled the musket around and fired at
what I hoped was dead center of the creature. The weapon erupted
with a bellowing crack, temporarily obscuring my vision, as white
smoke vomited out the end of the barrel. The shot was greeted with
a howl of pain. A small cloud of red mist mixed with the smoke
which hung in the air, telling me that the little round ball had
found its intended victim. The recoil tore the musket from my
one-handed grasp, hurling it into the bushes.

A morbid curiosity overcame my desire
for flight, and I seized the reins to keep Smoke from bolting. As
the cloud from the musket cleared, I was astounded to see that the
creature didn’t lie at our feet as I had expected, but was
staggering away from us, walking upright on two feet. It was huge,
slightly bent, and covered with what looked not to be fur, but
hair, all over. Long hair flowed from its flat head, past its broad
shoulders, and mixed with the thick mane that covered its entire
body. It had an incredibly muscular arm that extended down to its
knees; the other appeared to be clutching its shoulder. It reminded
me of the pain in my own, and I became aware of the strange
sensation of warm blood oozing down my cold skin.