White Ghost and the Poison Arrow (19 page)

It doesn’t take
them long to get to the woodland by the other bank of the lake. It
was much longer than it is wide, and the trees are a welcome cover.
The grey clouds above have started to leak water, and slow steady
drizzle falls from the sky. The trees give some cover, although
Arella and Maska are getting a little wet. “We need to find
shelter.” Arella says, but Maska is way ahead of her. He is in
front scouting out the area looking for somewhere they can hide
from the impending downpour. He spots a group of willow trees and
turns to look at Arella. “Yes, good idea Maska.” Willow trees have
low hanging vines of leaves that stretch out quite far. They do not
get wet underneath, and this tree has a natural hollow all the way
through the middle. It has a very wide base, and almost seems like
two trees that have grown together and intertwined at the top. Upon
closer inspection, Arella finds that this is exactly what has
happened. The branches above are all intertwined, pulling on each
other for strength, and the roots on the ground spread out in many
directions. The bases of both trees are large enough as it is, but
combines they make the tree seem enormous.

Under the
willow tree, vines hanging all around them, watching the rain get
heavier and heavier, Arella attempts to light a fire with damp
wood. She has been trying for the last twenty minutes, and is still
not able to light it. She is getting frustrated, and the air is now
very cold. “Why won’t you light?!” She shouts at the damp wood.
Maska, seeing her frustration, looks around for anything dry that
could help start the fire. He spots old man’s beard moss in the
willow above. He jumps up into the branches, knocking leaves onto
Arella’s head. She does not seem to notice, and is too preoccupied
with the fire that will not light. Maska swipes at the moss,
knocking it loose from the branches and onto the floor. He then
chuffs at Arella, getting her attention. She looks up at him.
“Maska, this is no time to be playing. We need to light this fire.”
She says, a little irritated by Maska being up in the tree. Maska
swipes at more of the moss, causing it to fall to the ground near
Arella, the chuffs again. “What is this?” Arella says as she leans
over to pick it up. “Old Man’s beard. Good spot Maska.” She thanks
him.  Within no time at all, with the help of Maska and the
old man’s beard, Arella has the fire roaring into life.

Arella tosses
tow of the fish to Maska, and begins cooking the third over the
fire. It has a strange smell to it. Wet wood always does when
burning. She is thankful for the food though, and thankful that
Maska was thinking ahead when they were still by the lake. Arella
thinks herself lucky. If it weren’t for the auron cat sat next to
her, she would not have a fire tonight, and they would not be
eating fresh fish. She hugs him tight, and he purrs loudly. They
must be getting close now to the poachers, and Arella is feeling
butterflies in her stomach again. Good job she has finished eating,
because she has completely lost her appetite.

With the rain
pouring, it is hard to hear the noises of the forest. Arella and
Maska sit, staring into the flames of their fire as the sun goes
down, huddled together as the winds rise and the air cools. A flash
of light and crack of thunder sound, and Maska jumps a little. “You
remember that story I told you of the Thunderbird right?” She asks
him. “Well just remember that. It is nothing more than the spirit
of a great bird.” Arella pats Maska’s head. Maska relaxes at her
touch. “I think the Thunderbird is angry Maska. It has been
thundering a lot recently, more and more since we’re been finding
those animals dead and dying. It can’t be a coincidence can it?”
She asks, knowing that it is probably just the time of year. Maska
just purrs and closes his eyes, urging Arella to do the same.

Tiredness takes
over and Arella’s eyes begin to close. As they flicker and darkness
takes over, Arella spots something glowing, something looking at
her. Eyes. She opens her eyes quickly, but they are gone. Was there
something, someone there? Watching her? Arella can’t tell. The rain
is blurring the landscape around her, making it hard to see
anything in the darkness. She decides that it must have been a
figment of her imagination and closes her eyes, leaning into Maska,
taking in his warmth and falls asleep, covered with her furs.

Chapter
15

Darkness still surrounds her when Arella awakes. She feels
dizzy and tired still. She is cold now, perhaps that is what woke
her it. She has shoved her furs off in the night, and the fire has
died. Rain still pours outside the safety of the willow tree, and
thunder still sounds all around her, and flashes of lightening
light up the area, although still distorted through the rain.
Arella takes her furs and pulls them up closer to her neck, then
leans her head against the tree again so she can go to sleep. She
stretches her hand out to find Maska’s warm fur, but her hand
doesn’t find him. She opens her eyes and sits up in alarm. With the
darkness surrounding, Arella cannot see anything. A flash of
lightening provides light, but Arella does not see Maska. She
begins to panic. “Maska?!” She shouts, hoping he has just moved
away to use natures bathroom, but he does not answer her. Her calls
become more desperate. Although masked by the thunder, she can
barely hear herself shout. “Maska, where are you?” Still no answer.
This is worrying. Maska never leaves Arella, not like this, not in
a strange place in the rain. Something must be wrong. Arella’s mind
goes into overdrive and she starts thinking, and none of her
thoughts are good. “
He was taken by the
poachers!”
She gets up quickly, puts her
boots on and picks up her weapons. She must find him fast, before
they will him. But how? How is she supposed to find Maska when she
does not know where the people are who took him. She looks around
for clues, but comes up short. “It’s too bloody dark to see
anything!” She shouts frustrated, the flashes of light from the
storm not helping. Each time her eyes begin to adjust to the dark,
the lightening makes her blind again.

As Arella paces
back and forth on the same spot under the tree, the rain begins to
slow. Arella’s eyes are slowly adjusting to the dark, but she still
cannot see where Maska went. There is nothing, no evidence to say
he has gone. It’s like he just vanished into thin air, like he
never was. Arella begins to wonder if he was ever real, or if she
was just imagining him. Just as this thought begins to cling to
Arella’s mind, she notices something on the floor. There is an
indent in the ground, and it is the same shape and size as Maska.
In one way this is a relief, he was real and Arella is not crazy,
but in another it strikes fear directly into Arella’s heart.
Following off from the patch of ground where Maska was sleeping,
there is a further indent in the ground. A long and narrow one,
leading out of the area under the willow. On the ground next to
this indent are five marks, gouged deeply into the ground. Claw
Marks. Arella’s heart sinks as she sees this. Maska was dragged
away by something, someone. But what could have done this to him
without Arella noticing. Maska is strong, he can fight his own. So
how did someone take him without her knowing. It just doesn’t make
any sense. Surely she would have heard him calling, They can't have
taken him without Maska making some kind of noise. Although the
more she thinks about it, the clearer it becomes. The thunder will
have masked any sounds of a scuffle, and the roars of Maska will
have sounded similar to the claps of thunder.

Following the
trail out into the rain, Arella feels dread as it continues. The
claw marks in the sides of the tracks get more and more shallow,
like Maska was losing the fight. Looking to the side of the tracks,
Arella can see footprints. Human footprint, and they look to be
men’s feet. They are big, with long toes from the looks from the
prints. The people that took Maska are walking around barefoot.
This is strange. Most of the tribes around here are now wearing
shoes, so these men must not be from here.

Soon Maska’s
struggles are no more, and he is just a body being drug through the
mud. A tear forms in Arella’s eye. She quickly brushes it away. “He
won’t be dead. I’m going to find him and then kill the pigs that
took him from me.” Arella spits with determination. She follows the
trail even quicker, stopping to make sure she is still following
the right trail every now and then.

The footprints
seem to be getting closer together, like the people are slowing.
They must be struggling to drag Maska’s heavy body. If she speeds
up, Arella might be able to catch up with them, or so she hopes
anyway. A little further up the way, Arella notices more claw marks
on the ground. This brings momentary hope. It looks like Maska woke
up. There are signs of a struggle on the ground, broken branches
and scattered footprints, both human and feline. Arella follows the
erratic movements for a while, but they soon stop. There is another
big indent in the ground, the shape and size of Maska’s body, then
more dragged marks follow it. They soon too disappear, but the
footprints of the men do not. Arella bends down to look at the
ground where Maska’s tracks disappear. She spots something in the
mud and pulls it free. It is rope. They must have tied Maska up,
and seen as though his footprints have gone, that must mean they
are now carrying him. There are footprints facing the opposite
direction to the others, coming towards Arella, where the struggle
was. It looks like the men were joined by another. That makes three
sets of footprints. This is not good. Arella is heavily
outnumbered, and she does not have Maska for help. She spots
something else on the ground. It looks like a rock, but there is
something on it. Something red and wet. She bends down to pick it
up, but quickly drops it. “Blood?” She feels sick. “Oh no.” Arella
comes across dizzy and faint. She quickly shakes it off. “Come on
Arella. You can’t flake out on me now. Maska needs you.” She grits
her teeth, clenches her grathon tighter and moves on again,
following the tracks that will lead her to Maska, praying to the
spirits the he is still alive.

The footsteps
in the wet mud are getting deeper and closer together. The people
are clearly struggling to carry Maska’s heavy body. She follows
them for what seems like hours.

A black wisp of
smoke rises above the trees, clearly visible on the slowly lighting
sky above. It is in the same direction that Arella is following.
She moves quicker towards the smoke, knowing that that is where
Maska will be. The smoke seems to be far away, but she hears them
before she sees them. Gruff men’s voices laughing loudly. She can
hear them clearly through the trees that shroud them. “So what do
we do with this one then?” One of them asks. Arella assumes they
are talking about Maska.

“I don’t know.
Myla just told us to bring this one in rather than killing it.”
Another one says

“What makes it
so special? From what I can see it is still young, a bit dirty and
small. Why would she want this thing.” Arella hears a thud which
she assumes is the man kicking the creature they’re talking
about.

“She said it was something about its eyes.” Says a third man.
“That they were the windows into the spirit world and that it would
make a good sacrifice. It’s not right in my eyes though, having two
different coloured eyes. It’s not natural.” Arella’s heart sinks.
They are talking about Maska. She has to do something, get him away
from them. But how does she do that? Tears start to form in her
eyes, but she pushes them away.
“Come on
Arella. You have to be grown up here. Maska is not going to get out
if you start crying like a baby.”
She tells
herself.

Creeping closer
to the men who abducted Maska, Arella comes to a small clearing in
the treeline. In the middle there is a small fire, the source of
the smoke Arella followed. Three skinny looking men surround it.
They are naked except for a small area of fabric covering their
private parts, front and back, and the things on their heads. Each
one of them is wearing an animal skull. One wears the skull of a
young bison, one of the horns broken but the other still intact.
The second, the skull of a large goat, both twirling horns still
complete, but the left eye socket is smashed in. The third wears
what looks to be two paloa fox skulls attached to each other, both
with parts missing. They are strange looking men. On their bodies,
Arella can see as she gets a little closer, still hidden from
sight, are the ribs of the animals, using them as armour to cover
their own ribs. They tangle as they move, the bones touching each
other as they do so.

Arella watches
as the men take a pot from the ground with some thick red substance
in it, and start paining it in patterns on each other’s bodies. She
breaths in, a strange metallic smell in the air. Blood. Looking
around the compound more, Arella sees more bones, skulls, skins and
remnants of animals. They litter the place, strewn all around
without a care. The smell of death here is so strong, and Arella
can hear flies buzzing around close to her. She looks down to her
left and jumps back in horror, holding her hand over her mouth to
keep from screaming. On the ground at her feet is the corpse of a
paloa fox, long dead and rotting. It has been mutilated almost
beyond recognition, only identifiable by the pattern on the fur
Arella can see. She feels sick, and moves away from the poor
animal, trying not to attract attention. Too late. Out of nowhere,
a hand grabs her and pulls Arella from the bushes she was hiding
in. “Look what we have here. A little girl.” Goat man says.

“Oh let me.
Please let me. I like killing children.” Fox man says, excitement
and menace in his eyes.