Authors: Michelle Paver,Geoff Taylor
Tags: #Good and evil, #Death, #Animals, #Wolves & Coyotes, #Juvenile Fiction, #Philosophy, #Prehistoric peoples, #Battles, #Fiction, #Voyages and travels, #Good & Evil, #Prehistory, #Adventure fiction, #Historical, #Fantasy & Magic, #Demoniac possession, #Friendship, #Murder, #Enemies
People drew back, clutching clan-creature amulets.
At the edge of camp, a wolf appeared.
Relief washed over Renn. If Wolf had survived the fire, maybe Torak had too.
He had helped her simply by showing himself. It would be dangerous for him to do more. "Uff," she warned.
He tilted his head, puzzled.
"Uff!" she said again.
He turned and vanished into the trees.
The clans breathed out. The young man stood dumbstruck, his axe dangling from his hand.
The old man cleared his throat. "I think," he said, "we'd better not harm her just yet."
He didn't. He stayed near the Den.
The taillesses stank of fear and hatred. They hated
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Not far from the Den, Wolf found a small Still Wet, and cooled his sore pads in the mud. He waded deeper and washed the stink of the Bright Beast off his fur. When he got back to the Den, he scented a change. The taillesses were getting ready to move. Wolf decided to follow and keep a close nose on the pack-sister. Then maybe Tall Tailless would come too.
Two Lynx hunters ran into camp, breathless and sweating, and spoke to the Leaders in a flurry of hand speech. Renn tried and failed to follow what was going on.
The young man cast them hostile looks, but the old man shrugged. "They're ravens; they like games. And trickery."
Renn wondered if that was meant for her.
"Here," he said. "You might as well take this, although I can't let you have any arrows."
To her astonishment, he held out her bow. It had been cleaned and oiled, the bowstring freshly waxed.
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"Thank you," she said.
Renn hesitated. "This
is
the spare string," she lied.
He peered at her through the tangle of his brows.
Had he laid a trap for her? Or was he telling her to use what she had? She was about to ask why he'd given it back when the young man ran over to them. "It's decided," he told the old man. "We're breaking camp." "Where to?" said Renn. He ignored her, but the old one gave her a regretful look. "I'm sorry," he muttered as he hobbled away. Renn barely had time to sling her bow over her shoulder before her wrists were tied and a blindfold was pulled over her eyes. 192
Scrambling onto the piled branches of the lodge, he cast about. Dimly, he made out charcoal hills jagged with dead trees. Nothing else. He sank to his knees. Renn. Wolf. How could they have survived?
If there had been a single bird in the sky, he would have broken his promise to the wind and spirit walked
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to find them. If there had been a single tree left alive on the slopes ...
Behind him, something sneezed.
The foal lay in a sprawl of spindly legs. It looked as startled as Torak by its sneeze.
Gently, he stroked its mane, and it blinked at him through long lashes. He felt a spark of hope. If a foal could live through the fire, maybe Wolf and Renn had too. Talking to the foal in an undertone, he untied his belt and looped it over its neck. It wobbled to its feet and swayed. Then it threw down its head and coughed. After a short struggle, he got it into the water, and together they struck out for the shore.
The other horses sidestepped and tossed their heads,
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For the first time in his life, he felt the ceaseless vigilance of prey. He twisted one ear to listen to the human kicking at cinders, and flicked back the other to catch the nicker of a mare chivvying her foal. One eye scanned the shore for hunters, the other the slope above, while his horse nose told him the movements of every member of the herd.
The mare's souls were surprisingly strong, but very fearful, and although Torak wanted her to canter up the hill, she refused. She was a wise horse, she knew it was best to avoid anything strange, and since
everything
was strange, she wouldn't budge. Her herd had been through the terrors of the fire, and now they found themselves in this black Forest where there was no grazing and only the water smelled the same, so she would stay near that.
But the alien souls in her marrow were making her restive. She snorted and rolled her eyes, and the worried herd did the same.
In the battle of souls, Torak overcame her. Kicking up his hind hooves, he broke into a canter. With effortless
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strength his four legs hammered the earth. Such power, such speed! He felt a surge of wild joy as he thundered up the hill, and his herd came thundering after him. At the top he halted, puffing and blowing. The ashen wind played in his mane, cooling his sweaty neck. He flared his nostrils to catch the scents. Almost at once, he caught the scent of a wolf.
The mare shivered, remembering sharp fangs biting her flanks. Torak forced her to stay where she was. Then he heard it: a long, wavering howl.
I am seeking you....
It wasn't Wolf.
It was Torak who was afraid. He saw his human body lying defenseless on the ground. The hunters saw it too.
He saw them crunch toward him over the brittle earth, their tattooed faces merciless. He saw a Forest Horse hunter prod his body with the butt of his spear. Another kicked him in the ribs. Dimly, he felt the kick.
Now they were crowding around him, kicking, 196 beating. With a jolt, he was back in his body, and pain was opening inside him. He moaned. Something struck his head. In his last glimmer of awareness, he sent a silent howl to Wolf. Sorry, pack-brother, sorry I couldn't find you. Sorry, Renn. 197
Renn was jostled and dragged till she lost track of . time. Sometimes they carried her; sometimes they tossed her in a dugout. Once they fed her food and water. She smelled charred corpses, and knew they'd entered the wasteland. It seemed endless, but at last they were back among hooting owls and rustling leaves. Suddenly, her wrists were untied, the blindfold torn off; and she stood blinking in a glare of firelight. It was night. She saw torches staked in a vast ring. She caught the tang of pine, the murmur of a river. The Aurochs and Lynx had pitched their camp to one 198
Someone pushed her forward, and she found herself beside a sputtering torch. To her amazement, she saw not only Aurochs and Lynx gathered here. On the other side of the ring of fire, there was a
second
camp and a shadowy throng, bristling with axes and spears. One of them moved closer to the light, and she saw that his beard and lips were stained green, his face tattooed with leaves. His long green hair was braided with horsetails, and his headband was brown. Renn couldn't believe it. The Forest Horse Clan was camped not an arrowshot away from their deadly enemies.
The two sides faced each other across twenty paces of smoky torchlight. Arrows were nocked to bows. Hands flexed on axes and spears. At the roots of the scarlet tree, Renn made out a huge figure in flowing robes and a glaring mask crested with horsetails. Her skin crawled. Thiazzi. His long sleeve hid his mutilated hand, but in the other he held a heavy staff incised with burned spirals.
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"The Auroch Mage," Thiazzi went on, "is known for being wise and just. I have talked with him in his prayer shelter. In token of trust, he has given me his staff." Doubtful headshaking among the Aurochs. What trickery was this?
Even Renn had to acknowledge his bravery. If things went wrong, he would fall transfixed by twenty spears.
With a wary bow, the Auroch Leader took the staff, and Thiazzi stepped back. Slowly, the Aurochs lowered their spears.
Renn watched him return to the scarlet tree, where he addressed both sides.
Gasps of amazement. Hands fluttered in urgent speech.
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What is he after? wondered Renn. She could understand why a Soul-Eater might wish for strife, but why...
"We must unite," repeated the Mage, "against a
greater foe!
"
In the hush that followed, one could have heard the wingbeats of a moth. All eyes were on the masked Mage prowling the scarlet tree.
"Many winters ago," he began, "the clans turned their backs on the True Way."
People hung their heads. Some of the Aurochs scratched their faces to reopen their wounds.
That's not right, thought Renn.
"Three winters ago," said Thiazzi, his voice swelling like the wind in the pines, "an Open Forest trickster duped the Red Deer into sheltering him, then repaid them by creating the demon bear."
People hissed and shook their fists.
"Two summers ago, the people of the Open Forest sent the sickness and the tokoroths ..."
No we didn't, thought Renn. It was the Soul-Eaters!
"... and only our vigilance kept them from the True Forest."
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Axes were shaken in triumph, spears beaten on shields. Rapt painted faces drank it in.
"The winter before last, the Ice clans sent hordes of demons to invade us. Last spring, the Otters tried to drown us in a flood."
This is all lies! Renn shouted in her head.
"This spring, outsiders stole our children and sent the great fire to destroy us. They failed!"
The shield rattling intensified.
The roar that burst from every throat shook the pines and hammered the stars.
"Cast off your headbands!" bellowed the Mage. "Embrace your Deep Forest brothers and unite against the outsiders!"
Suddenly, he raised both arms for silence.
People shrank back behind the torches.
"Never forget," said Thiazzi in a voice of subtle
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Three men bore a bundle into the ring and threw it at the feet of the Mage.
Renn made out a struggling figure entangled in a net. She bit back a cry.
The figure groaned.
It was Torak.
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