Blood for Wolves (10 page)

“We have not had a pretty one in a
while,” said one. Her voice rasped like gravel on gravel, as if she hadn’t
spoken in a long time. She had blood on her talons; she’d been the one to grab
my arm.

“Certainly we have not,” said the
one behind me. “What shall we do to her, my sisters?”

“Eat her!” screeched the third.

“No,” cried the first. She lifted
her talon and licked my blood from it. She spat and made a face which made her
even uglier like a shrunken head. “She is much too sweet yet. She will have to
stay here for a time until properly ripened.”

What the hell did that mean? My
head felt fuzzy. I wanted to fly, but couldn’t. I wanted to get out of here,
but had no idea how. Climbing down the tree could be possible, but not with the
harpies around. I winced and pressed my forehead against the blackened bark. One
of the harpies cackled.

“See? Look at her. Already despair
is setting in. I say she has a day or two before she submits, and then we can
pick her apart, piece by piece.”

Why did everything around here want
to eat me? First Wolf, then the giants, and now harpies. Except Wolf hadn’t
really wanted to eat me at all. Why had I left Wolf? Why did I think I could
survive in this place on my own? I wanted to fly again. I touched the wings on
the necklace, but nothing happened. Would I die here, eaten by harpies?

No. I lifted my head to glare at
the one with my blood on her talons. I was not going to be eaten alive by
harpies. At least, not without a fight. I’d go down breaking wings, tearing out
feathers, and gouging eyes. I abruptly pushed myself up and spit into her face.

I went down again immediately as
she screeched in surprise and anger, flapping her wings and flinging her head
back and forth. I cried out almost as loudly, digging my fingernails into the
tree branch out of pain. My arm was slick with blood. I prayed she hadn’t
punctured anything vital, or I wouldn’t have to worry about being eaten alive. I’d
die of blood loss first. The idea made me even angrier, and I kicked out at the
harpy behind me. Bad idea. I missed, and she shrieked and scratched at my legs.
Her talons sank into my calf, pushing me over the branch. I screamed again and
hung on for dear life, dangling over the dark ground far below. Then I heard a
low growl and glanced down. Something on all fours, black, with a long tail
paced beneath me. A pair of vibrant green eyes looked up.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said,
fear spiking through me. I strained to pull myself back up, but my injured arm
hurt too much, the wounds too deep. I started to slip.

“No, no,” said the harpy behind me.
She fluttered over and hauled me back up by my backpack. I secretly thanked the
powers that be that she hadn’t done it by some other body part. She plunked me
down on the branch again.

“You are staying right here until
you are ready,” she said.

The three of
them cackled again and flew off to parts unknown. The clouds overhead seemed
tainted by an inky blackness, making them look smoky and evil. The creature
pacing below stopped to lap up something from the ground. My blood. It dripped
from my fingertips and slowly soaked into my hiking sock from my leg. I closed
my eyes. I never wanted to be here. I just wanted to help a little girl get
back home. Not even Wolf could find me now. I didn’t know how far I’d gone, but
I’d traveled by air. But what did that matter? He knew Marianne’s scent. He’d
go after her instead. He was bound to.

With the harpies gone, I’d dragged
myself over to sit against the tree’s trunk. I rummaged through my daypack to
find the first-aid kit. Luckily the harpy’s talons hadn’t ripped the pack too
deeply, only tearing out the outer pocket where I kept small things like
sunglasses, my compass, and pocketknife. The first-aid kit was hardly what I
needed for my wounds, but I did what I could with the antibacterial ointment
and small role of gauze. Duct tape held everything in place. Fortunately my leg
wound wasn’t too bad and after a while it finally stopped bleeding. On an
afterthought, I kept the scissors from the kit and slipped them into my pocket.
Then I closed my eyes and tried to rest.

I didn’t know how long I sat in the
tree. Occasionally the harpies returned, snuffled around me, and then flew off
again, dissatisfied. I guessed I wasn’t ripe yet. The thing below had lain down
against the trunk, its tail occasionally twitching back and forth. It reminded
me of a panther, but it was bigger, much more sinister, and way too eager to
get whatever leftovers the harpies dropped. I kept touching the wings on the
necklace, wishing I could fly again, but nothing happened.

Somehow I managed to doze. What
little light broke through the polluted clouds eventually faded and the entire
forest went black. Normal forests had ribbiting frogs and singing insects at
night. This place had things that screamed. A creature squealed, something
snapped, and then whatever it was ate its prey, little bones crunching in its
teeth. Big snakes—or other horrors—slithered through the underbrush. Suddenly,
I was six again, in the woods, in the dark, all alone. I curled my fingers
around my skull. Then somewhere, far off in the distance, a wolf howled, and I
wanted to cry.

In the
desperate hope that maybe I hadn’t screwed up too much, that maybe the wolf was
my Wolf, I howled back.

“She is stagnating.”

The rough snarl woke me from what
little sleep I’d managed to catch. The harpies were back, staring at me with
black, beady eyes.

“She was too blissful when we
caught her,” said the one who’d caught my arm. My blood had dried on her
talons. “We will have to wait longer.”

“But I am
hungry
,” shrieked
the third.

“Too bad,” the second snapped. “We
have gone for twenty years without any, what are a few more days? She will give
in eventually. They all do. Hunger and thirst are the best and simplest
instruments of despair. Once she lays here wailing and begging, then it will be
time for a feast.”

The other two harrumphed. My throat
was dry, though I dared not reach for the bottled water in my pack lest they
take it away from me so I’d cave faster. They hung around for a while, watching
me. I watched them right back. I hated feeling sad and alone. Pathetic and
waiting for rescue that would never come. I didn’t have my pocketknife, but I
did have the scissors. I slid my hand into my pocket. The harpies hopped from
branch to branch, wrinkling their ugly faces at me. If I was going down, it
wouldn’t be without a fight.

The second one of them jumped near,
I lunged forward and jabbed the scissor point into her neck. She shrieked and
leaped back, flapping her wings as she tried to get away. I held on, letting
her jerking motion do even more damage. Dark blood spurted from the growing
wound. The other harpies screamed and darted at me. I ducked away, hoping they
wouldn’t use their claws, but knowing they wouldn’t risk knocking me off the
branch to feed the dark creature below. The harpy in front of me jumped and
tried to scratch at me with her talons, but the angle wasn’t right and she
missed. I grabbed at one of her legs and dragged her closer, taking out the
scissors and jabbing down again into her chest. The instrument was small but
sharp and dug a few inches into her flesh.

She kicked out with her other leg, the
other two harpies yelling and flapping around my head. One of them kicked at my
wounded arm. I cried out, and the distraction almost allowed the injured harpy
to slash into my face. I released her and she flapped awkwardly back. Watery
black blood covered my hand, smelling like rotted meat. I gagged and backed up
to the trunk of the tree. The other two hovered nearby, watching as their
comrade flopped and stumbled on the branch. Blood dripped over the bark and
fell to the ground. I’d punctured something vital in her neck. She coughed and
sputtered, finally collapsing on the limb with one last gurgling breath.

My stomach lurched from the smell
of her blood, but I managed to steel myself against the desire to retch. Instead
I watched the other two for their retribution. It didn’t come. They landed,
looking deeply thoughtful about what they’d witnessed. I guessed they’d never
experienced such an event before.

“Hmm,” one of them said. “I
suppose…I suppose that just means that there’s more for the two of us.”

They cackled
as though they’d just heard the funniest thing in the world. Then they left
their perches. One snatched up the carcass and they flew off, probably to eat
their so-called friend and then find some other poor creature to torment. I pulled
out my water and drank down half the bottle.

Around mid-day, the evil panther
below me got up and trotted into the forest. I laughed to myself. I’d beaten
the evil panther. Then I froze. With it gone, I could try to climb down the
tree.

I shifted around to hug the wide
expanse of trunk. The bark split apart into thick pieces I could grab and was
surprisingly stable for a dead tree. Slowly, methodically, I wrapped my legs
around it and inched my way down, sliding a few heart-stopping inches from time
to time. I’d been rock climbing before, but hiking boots were far from ideal,
and my wounds throbbed painfully. I’d only made it six-inches below the main
tree branch when vicious snarls emitted from the spot where the evil panther
had exited. I froze in place, muscles slowly cramping as I stared at the spot. Whatever
had attacked the panther sure as hell was giving it a run for its money. I
moved down a few more inches, deciding that if the two things were fighting, it
made for a good distraction and a potentially safer getaway.

The fight lasted a few more
minutes, time enough for me to manage several more feet. Then the forest went
quiet. I stopped again, gauged the distance. Still too far to jump. The brush
where the evil panther left rustled. Panic gripped me. I couldn’t climb back
up, my arm was bleeding through the gauze, I had new scratches from the tree,
and if I jumped I’d survive but probably break something.
Just go. Go, go,
go.
I kept my downward strategy, scraping my bare legs and hands raw, and made
it several more feet before the thing behind the bushes emerged.

“Wolf!”

He staggered into the dank
clearing, one hand held to his abdomen. He looked up at the tree, a grimace on
his face.

“You, my heart, are such a heap of
trouble.”

“Wolf, I’m so sorry. I don’t know
what happened—”

“Later. For now you need to come
down.”

I nodded and kept moving. Maybe
twenty feet to go.

A pair of shrieks tore through the
air. I peeked around the tree. The harpies were quickly closing the distance
between us.

“Let go, Caroline!” Wolf shouted.

“It’s too far!”

“I’ll catch you.”

I slipped a few inches and
squealed. “That is a bad idea!” My muscles shook from the effort of holding
onto the tree.

“Do it, woman!”

I shut my eyes and let go of the
tree. Miraculously, Wolf caught me. It almost knocked him over, but he managed
to keep me from slamming into the ground at least. The harpies went ballistic,
their screams filling the air. They raised their talons and dove at us.

“Run,” Wolf yelled. “I’ll be right
behind you!”

I darted into the dark forest the
way I’d seen him arrive. Behind me, Wolf snarled amidst the wild flapping of
wings. The harpies shrieked and cried, and then one of them screamed louder
than the other. I kept my eyes at the ground as I ran, trying to see in the
dark forest. I spotted a black mass to my left, realizing as I passed that it
was the evil panther beast, a pike jutting through its neck.

I ran until all I could do was jog,
and I jogged until all I could do was walk as fast as my aching legs allowed. But
finally,
finally
, I saw sunlight ahead. Sunlight on green ferns and
yellow wildflowers and trees that actually swayed in the wind. And then I was
out. Out in the clean air and clear sky and trees full of life. I shuddered
violently for a moment before recovering enough to turn, expecting Wolf to be
right behind me.

Nothing but sinister forest.

My heart dropped. “Wolf?
Wolf?
”

Suddenly he swung around the side
of a black tree, gasping for breath, a dark liquid running down the side of his
face.

“Go, keep going. They might follow
us and sometimes things like to reach out. They don’t last long in the sunlight
though.”

We staggered on through the forest
until we’d gone a good fifty feet. Looking back, the dark part was like a decayed
piece of forest, an infection that had dug deep roots. Its outline was as clear
as day. No wonder the harpies hadn’t eaten anyone in twenty years.

Wolf flopped onto his back on the
leaves, groaning in pain.

“Oh my God!” I cried, getting my
first look at him.

Four long claw marks marred his
torso, neatly slicing through his clothing to the soft flesh underneath. His
hands were covered with blood, smudges of it on his face. A few dark feathers
clung to the wet places. I dropped to my knees beside him, uncertain what to do
first.

“Such a heap of trouble,” he grunted.

“Be quiet and take off your shirt,
I need to see how bad this is.”

“It shouldn’t be that bad.” I
helped him sit up to remove his coat, vest, and shirt. “Kehmet claws just burn,
that’s all.”

He fell back again, wincing. I used
the back of his torn shirt to dab away at the blood. I let out a shaky breath
when I discovered he was right. The gashes were bad, but they weren’t
life-threatening. At least, not yet. I folded his shirt and vest as best I
could and laid them over the marks, gently pressing down. Wolf howled.

“Shh.” I wiped at his face with the
edge of my shirt, clearing it of harpy blood and feathers. “Wolf, can I put
lavawort on this? What do lavawort and gum leaf look like?”