Chapter Twelve

Before Sula had noticed night fell heavy upon her and the forest like a thick wool blanket, tangled uncomfortably tight around her head. Though she could not see past the canopy of thick Grey Oak leaves above her to know, she had no reason to fear the moonlight would betray her in the glade, as on this night, the moon hound did not open its bright eye in chase. Only the celestials cast their streaks of light, but few peeked through to Sula below. But as a result, though she was hidden in the pitch black of the forest floor, it also left her blind and forced her to navigate its labyrinth by touch.

So, to navigate the nothingness, she reached her hands out at both sides and ran them along the nearest trunks. Their wrinkled faces were like maps she could not read. Was she headed South, out of the forest, or was she going North, plunging even further into its depths. It did not take long before she shook these thoughts finding them pointless. As long as she kept moving, she would end up somewhere.

Only when Sula’s true fatigue began to wear on her and her arms became too heavy to hold up, did she decide to make a camp for the night. Arktos had taught her well how to set up a camp and start a fire, so the little cub quickly found an assortment of twigs and branches from both soft and hardwoods, some stones from a rock wall—at the base of which she intended to use as her pillow, and dry, brown needles.

The cub clawed out a small hole and arranged the stones around it. She threw the dry needles into the hole and covered the bottom most layer then crossed the mid-sized branches over top, forming a mound of sorts. Using her dagger, Sula next carved a grooved into a long, flat piece of soft pera-tree wood. Into this groove, she ran a straight, grey oak stick back and forth until a gentle smolder rose. She blew, gently, until a small flame flickered up, which she transferred to the pit. The flames rose, burning through the dry needles fast, but slowing with each subsequent tier of firewood.

Though it was a rather warm night and she might have been able to go without a fire, the light brought Sula peace of mind. With the fire she could see her surroundings, though for only a few feet in each direction. But a few feet was better than nothing, she thought. Besides, if it scared away some of the creatures that lurked in the night, that would be enough for her.

Having finished the fire and set up her camp, Sula laid down at once. Her muscles had nothing more to give her without a night of rest. So as the depths of the forest came alive around her, Sula could do little more than hope the fire kept her safe as she slept.

But no sleep would come to the poor, panicked girl. Try as she might, Sula was only a nine-year-old and not even the bravest of nineteen-year-olds would be able to sleep with all the terrors Sula faced in that forest. As the chill of midnight set on, crystalizing each panicked exhalation, an audience of bright, blinking eyes peeked through the shadows of the brush at the edge of the fire’s light. Their greedy yellows and greens and reds flickered with the flames, widening, waiting for its embers to die.

When the forest’s nocturnal life was roused awake, the silence that had so disturbed Sula before was soon abandoned, replaced by shuffling branches and impatient purrs, as well as sounds so awful Sula could not even begin to describe them, sounds of the hunt, sounds of death. Crazed screeches chattered, calling and responding to each other with devilish glee.

The child imagined, as her papa had always warned her on days when she lost track of time and did not make it home before sunset, that these voices belonged to ghastly daemons waiting in the shadows with their long, curved fangs that protruded from their grimaced lips like fleeced-mammoths’ tusks and their sharp horns that sat atop their squat heads. How their bloated bellies bounced in anticipation, swollen from starvation and ready for their next meal, hungry for a cut of cub.

Sula’s fatigued body seemed to grow even heavier with fear. It held her down, pinned her shoulders to the grass. She seemed to take root, binding and entwining her skin to the very soil beneath her. For hours or minutes or days or seconds—she could no longer tell—the cub laid immobilized. The very trees around her swayed away from her gaze. The whistle of the wind between them lulled Sula, beckoning her forth to endless repose. Try as she might, Sula could no sooner break the forest’s dreadful spell than lift her heavy head from the turf.

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Even as the bramble before her began to shake from some bold spirit or monster or pursuer from the capital willing to brave the light, Sula only managed to widen her eyes and open her mouth. But as much as she wanted to, as much as she needed to, she could not scream.

In this frozen state the cub remained, until the bramble slowed to a stop. A relief flushed over her as she regained her faculties. She propped herself up onto her elbows to get a better view of the bush and to confirm how silly her racing mind had been.

It was a thick patch of aima bushes, surrounded on both sides by kandara trees. She noticed nothing in its leaves except the occasional cluster of deep red berries. She focused hard on two particularly ripe looking clusters side-by-side. Sula decided that if she grew too hungry after sunrise, she would pluck those two and find out whether or not they were poisonous.

Then, Sula noticed a peculiarity. For one moment the two berries seemed to retreat into the shadows or even phase out of existence entirely. Sula could not stifle her gasp. In the next moment, the berries reappeared berries, a stream of cold, crystal breath slipped between the branches beneath them. Sula swore she felt it on her neck.

The beast lurched, tearing through the bushes with a trail of heat behind it. On pure instinct, Sula grabbed for her dagger. Finding it at her side, she pulled the blade to her and leapt to her feet. But too late, the beast had come within a few steps of her. It leapt. Had Sula been better prepared for the encounter or had she slept with the dagger in her clutches, the girl might have swung it in time to cleave the beast from jaw to belly. But Sula was not prepared and had been forced to fumble for her blade. She did not swing in time.

Sula fell with a hard thud. The shadow beast had tackled her back to what she had before hoped might be her eternal repose. Now, it very well might be. The air exploded from the cub’s chest and try as she might, she could not hold a breath. She felt the beast’s hot spittle on her chin and averted her eyes. She imagined its sharp, bared fangs and cringed.

Then, she felt a moist scratch against her cheek like sand. The girl cried. Though the grit of its tongue stung against her scored skin, the cub recognized the care and love put into the gesture. Hazarding a peak at her assailant, a sense of overwhelming relief—and just a bit of embarrassment—washed over Sula as she recognized the wolf that she had so recently befriended. When the wolf met her eyes, it lost all restraint and focused its efforts on licking the girl.

Sula launched into a fit of laughter all the while trying to shake the beast from her, but as she struggled, a thought occurred to her. If she had been any quicker in drawing her dagger, then the only friend she had left in the world might have been slain by her own hand. The reality of this dawned on the nine-year-old and strong as she was, brought more tears to her eyes. The wolf’s excited ears fell. He moved off her shoulders and let her stand.

Once she had risen, the delicate beast rubbed its head against the sobbing child’s hip. Does he know, Sula wondered? Does he know how close he came to…? I almost came to…? The thought caught in her throat and drew a hiccup that startled the wolf. He met her eyes with his crimson orbs. She could have sworn she saw sympathy in their depths. She rewarded his concern with an abundance of pets.

Soon Sula’s tears and cries slowed then stopped entirely. They were replaced by a quiet, but content smile. Sula was not alright, but in someway the wolf made her feel better. Remembering her exhaustion, Sula fell down next to him.

“So, how did you track me down?” Sula asked as she stroked his mangy fur from head to tail. It was not long before she found in the wolf’s hide gashes too deep for the bramble to have caused. She drew her hand back in astonishment. “Wait a minute! Did you…?”

The reality of her escape was made clear. She found the red stains that lined the grey wolf’s fur, which told the story of who and what had been pursuing her through the forest. “It was you!” she accused. “You fought off the guards as they were about to run me down. You gave me the time I needed to escape the wall. Then after I had made it over into this maze trees and terrors, you chased me down. You wanted to help me. And I ran away. I’m a fool.”

Sula lowered her head at her error in judgement. Then raising it again, she gave her faithful companion a genuine smile. “Thank you! I would not have made it out of that blasted city without you. I owe you everything. Please.”

The wolf would hear no more. He let out a satisfied howl to the moonless sky before nuzzling into her side. She wrapped her arms around his fur and squeezed him tight to her. Now that Sula was a little less lonely, it did not take long before the exhaustion of the day’s events outweighed her dulled grief long enough for the cub to nod off into a light, but restful sleep.