Chapter 4 Hanne #2
“Sap.” He returned the vial to his pack then stood and prepared himself to continue the journey. His blade was sheathed once again then hooked across his back before he placed the pack on top.
I remembered one of the men in his crew carried everything so the others would be ready to fight if necessary. “I can carry the pack.”
“Let’s go.” With the torch in hand, he began the journey once more.
I followed him and stayed in the light.
We walked like that for a long time, neither one of us speaking.
“Do you have children?”
His back was to me, so I didn’t know what his reaction to the personal question might be.
“Why do you ask?”
“I noticed a lot of the women are pregnant. You said you’re trying to repopulate…
and you’re the chief…” His dark hair and matching eyes were striking, and his quiet command was so loud in the silence.
Any one of those women could be having his child.
Any one of those women would want to have his child.
“No, I don’t have children.”
A faint rush of relief swept through me. It came out of nowhere, a cold breeze on a summer day. “Is there a reason why—”
“Because I don’t want them.”
I withdrew my line of questioning when I felt his resistance. His tone warned me to steer clear of the topic. I marched behind him, his torch the guiding light in the dark, feeling comfortable with a man I hardly knew.
A couple hours later, I spotted the glow from the flowers in the distance.
Morco halted and turned back to face me. “We stay quiet. I’ll follow your lead.” He blew on the torch, and the flames dwindled but didn’t extinguish. Then he sealed his bare palm over the top and put out the flames with his own flesh.
Then it was dark.
I’d never been so aware of it before now.
I felt him reach for me, felt his big hand touch my forearm and gently hold on to it. The heat from his hand traveled through the fabric of my shirt and warmed my bare skin. He gave me a gentle tug, telling me to begin my search.
I suddenly felt the weight of responsibility hit me. If I could find these crops, it would be a blessing to him and his people. The stews could be heartier and filling. Morale would be boosted among the tribe.
My tribe.
I turned toward the glowing flowers and began my search, kneeling down on the forest floor and touching the brush I found there.
The leaves of these root vegetables were distinctly different from the bushes and other shrubbery I was used to seeing on the surface, but I wasn’t sure if the plants would be exactly the same below.
The conditions were similar, but not identical.
On the surface, sun still shone on the leaves, but here, there was only darkness.
But I would search until I found something.
Morco’s appearance came as a shadow, his body blocking the light that came from the firefly petunias. He stayed with me as I moved but never spoke, didn’t make a sound as he passed through the foliage.
I found nothing useful, but I continued to look anyway.
Continued to look, not for myself, not just because I was hungry, but because I knew Morco was too.
In the two days I’d been with the Obsidians, I’d quickly realized Morco lived for his people and not for himself.
He didn’t hoard the food for himself, didn’t send his inferiors to do his bidding.
He was a greater man than Vulgaris, even greater than my own father.
I wanted to help.
Time passed, and I continued my search, finding nothing but indigestible greens. My hands were coated in dirt, and it was trapped under my fingernails. I couldn’t see the buildup in the dark, but I could feel it on my skin.
The glowing flowers grew only in patches on the forest floor, so I couldn’t see everything as I searched. I had to identify by touch alone. While I was experienced in gardening, I wasn’t experienced enough to have such a skill.
I grabbed another set of leaves in the dirt, and when I pulled up from the top, I felt resistance.
But more resistance than from a flimsy stalk.
I tugged again, and when I couldn’t remove the leaves from the earth, I returned my hands to the dirt and dug, my fingers feeling the outline of something solid.
I dug into the earth and finally tugged it free.
Morco moved in close, like he knew I’d found something by the way I continued to dig in the same spot.
I finally pulled it free and examined it in the limited light. Firm to the touch but malleable, shaped like an oval with tapered tips, I brushed my thumb over the skin and recognized the papery feel. “Yes, it’s a potato—”
He snatched me by the wrist and squeezed.
I closed my mouth, realizing the grave mistake I’d just made.
He continued to grip me, to listen attentively to make sure we were alone. He stayed that way for seconds and then a minute, just listening to the forest around us. When he let me go, that told me it was okay to resume.
I grabbed his hand, feeling that searing heat again, and placed the spud in it.
He quietly opened his pack and placed it inside.
I continued to dig, knowing there should be more in the area.
He started to join me, getting his hands dirty as we dug up the earth and found the hearty vegetable hidden in the ground. They were covered in dirt, but we stuffed them into his pack anyway.
We cleared the entire area, digging until there was nothing left to be found. But we found at least fifteen potatoes, and that was better than none.
High on success, I continued to search for more, hoping to come across more potatoes or something else, like carrots or mushrooms.
Morco moved with me, squatting down beside me as I searched among the flowers for more.
I came across something else, the thin, long leaves of a carrot.
I dug my hands into the soil once again, and I pulled them free, feeling their long length and hardness.
If I were to break them in half, they would make a distinctly loud snap.
I placed it in his hand so he could feel it, and he squeezed it in his fingertips.
Together, we dug and harvested all the carrots in the area and added them to the pack.
I was digging for more when he grabbed me by the wrist.
I stilled at the way he squeezed me, squeezed me hard like he wanted me to stop moving.
I lifted my eyes and looked at where his face would be.
I could make out no details in the darkness, but I could picture his angry eyes, visualize the warning he gave as if I’d seen his face a million times, as if I’d known him for years rather than days.
Then I heard it, the sound of a low growl.
“Grooowwwwllll.”
A flurry of bumps spread over my arms instantaneously. I didn’t know what to do, not when I couldn’t see a damn thing, when I could grab my sword but had no idea where to swing it.
Morco quickly reached into his pack, not bothering to be quiet as speed became more important. He must have grabbed the torch because he lit it a second later, and then in the distance, I saw the pairs of eyes reflecting the light, circled around us.
“Shit.”
He shoved the torch into my hand. “Be my light.” He dropped the pack and unsheathed his blade in a second. He turned his back to me and blocked me from the pairs of eyes that crept closer. More growls ensued, coming from different directions in the forest, the number of opponents unclear.
Then they stepped into the ring of light, gray coyotes with teeth bared, lean like they were just as hungry as we were.
Their tails flicked with hostility. If it were just one coyote, this would be an easy situation to revolve, but as more of them stepped out, it became clear there were at least a dozen.
Their eyes were glazed over, like they’d adapted to eternal night.
I reached for the sword Morco had given me and held it with a shaky hand.
Morco stood firm and stared at the sea of hungry coyotes, waiting for the first one to strike.
“Hooowwwl.”
“Howl.”
Their calls erupted around us, coordinating their attack. They added growls and snarls, their fangs dripping with saliva.
“Come on.” Morco slammed his fist against his chest. “Let’s do it.”
They lowered to the ground, paws digging into the earth, getting ready to pounce.
Morco spun his sword around with his wrist, and the blade caught the light.
Then they pounced, and it was mayhem.
Morco swung his swung and decapitated one with the first strike. He sliced another across the throat and the next across the chest. The dogs yelped in pain. Some fled, and others dropped dead. Then more converged, coming at Morco from all sides.
One pounced on his back to bite him on the neck. Morco flung him off, and he slammed into a tree and went still. Then he cut down another one that came, handling the attack on all sides like he had eyes in the back of his head.
They all came for him, as if they understood he was the threat that needed to be neutralized and I was the second meal they would enjoy afterward.
He cut another down then faced off with three that came at him at once. Then he screamed, releasing a war cry so loud and vicious that it echoed through all the trees and made them scurry back in fear. All the veins in his neck popped, and the anger in his eyes burned a hundred degrees hotter.
There were more wolves now, at least two dozen, replacing their fallen foes.
They started to come for me. One growled and lunged at me, and I instinctively shoved the torch right into his face.
He screamed in pain then took off.
Two coyotes jumped on Morco’s back, and he threw one off.
I ran to the other, shoved the torch into his fur, and charred his flesh and hair, making him jump off and cry out.
Morco spun his blade at another set of wolves and cut them down like rats rather than hungry dogs.
It was pandemonium, the wolves surrounding us, lunging and trying to bite us, but Morco moved across the entire area and cut down one and then blocked the other that came from behind, like he’d done this before.