Chapter 4 Hanne #3
Only one would come at me at a time, so it was easy for me to scare them with the fire then stab them with the blade.
Morco released another blood-curdling scream, the sound belonging to a monster more than a human man. It was raw and vicious, scary enough to frighten me, even though we were allies.
This time, they scurried off into the forest, yipping like frightened dogs that were retreating from the greater opponent.
I panted like I’d done all the fighting, and he didn’t breathe at all, as if waiting for another attack. I looked at him, seeing the blood dripping down his arm to his hand. “You’re injured.”
He continued to look into the tree line, to listen to the sound of adversaries, before he sheathed his blade once again. “We’ll return with reinforcements. They’ll continue to hunt if we stay here.”
“Your arm—”
“We need to return. They’ll follow us, so we need to move quickly.” He took the torch from my hand and guided the way out of the forest.
I grabbed the pack off the ground and followed him.
The bag was heavy because it contained all the potatoes and carrots along with the other supplies he’d brought, but I didn’t complain, wanting him to be unburdened so he could save us again if they returned.
I hurried after him, two and a half steps for every single one of his strides, sticking to the light like a moth to a flame.
We carried on that way for fifteen minutes before the howls started again.
“Hooowwwllll.”
“Howl.”
Our torch was a dead giveaway to our location, but without it, we’d be lost in the dark—and they could see in the dark.
Morco checked behind him to make sure I was still there. With one glance, he saw my sweat and my struggle, and he turned back to help. He grabbed the pack by the shoulder strap and lifted the weight off me.
I didn’t object, not when all the muscles in my back were screaming in protest. I’d never done a day of hard work in my life. Never did the dishes, changed my bed. Nothing. And now, it showed, because I practically buckled under the weight of the bag and my sword.
He took off at the same speed, like he didn’t notice the weight of the bag.
My spine straightened, and I didn’t heave with breath. I stayed closer to him, the two of us moving as fast as we could without actually running.
“Move ahead of me.” He didn’t slow his speed, but he held out the torch for me to take as I passed.
“Why?”
“Do what I say.”
I jogged to catch up and took the torch before I stepped in front of him, holding the flames up high.
He unsheathed his blade and carried it at his side. “Continue straight. At this pace, we should return to the boat in about five hours.”
“You think they’ll chase us that long?” I glanced behind me to look at his face.
“Yes,” he said. “They’ll never stop chasing us.”
“I see the boat!” I saw it sitting on the shore with the oars inside. That gave me a burst of speed, and I ran to it.
“Howl.”
“Hoowwwwlll.”
“Howl.”
The horrible sound had followed us all the way here. “Will those assholes give it a rest?”
Morco came next and dropped his pack inside. He took the torch from me and stabbed it into the sand. “Get in.”
I didn’t know why he’d left the torch out, but I knew better than the question him. I jumped into the boat and grabbed the oars so I could start to paddle the second he was inside.
He shoved me out into the water, but he didn’t join me.
“Morco.”
He turned back to land and unsheathed the blade.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I can’t let this opportunity pass.”
I floated, the momentum gone as I sat fifteen feet from shore. “What opportunity?”
He continued to stare in the direction the wolves came from, sword in hand. “My people are hungry, and meat is hard to come by.”
I grabbed the oars and started to row back.
“Stop.”
“I’m not letting you do this by yourself.”
“I said, stop.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Stay.” He turned back to the wolves. “That’s an order.”
“Well, I don’t follow your fucking orders.” I rowed back to land and felt the bottom of the boat hit the sand.
His eyes were sharper than the tips of arrows. “How dare you defy me—”
“You don’t have to do everything by yourself.” I opened the pack and searched inside until I found another torch and the vial. I poured it on top, lit it with the flint, and then it carried to land.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. The veins in his neck popped from rage. The rage that had been reserved for the coyotes was now directed at me.
I left my sword at my side and held the torch. “They’re more afraid of the fire than the blade.”
“I can’t protect you.”
“I’m not asking you to.” I moved behind him. “I’ll watch your back in case one sneaks behind you.”
“Hooowwwllll.”
“Howl.
“Hoooowwwwwllll.”
Now, they were right on us, stepping into the light, their teeth bared once again, ready to continue the fight they’d lost. There were so many more of them now. At least thirty.
Morco silenced his protests as he focused on the threat before us. He didn’t adopt a defensive stance. Instead, he kept his sword at his side and stared down the dogs that had come back for another bite.
Just like last time, they all hunched down to the ground and prepared to pounce, small and pathetic alone, but a formidable army when they were lined up together. They did not fight for power or territory—but for food.
They lunged all at once, and Morco swung his blade through the air with both speed and momentum, slicing the first line of coyotes that tried to take a bite.
Blood sprayed the sand, and the dogs whimpered from their mortal wounds.
It was chaos, coyotes snarling and attacking, Morco cutting them down and throwing off the ones that tried to jump on him.
When they tried to get behind him, I chased them back with the torch and watched their eyes close like the intense light wounded them. “The light hurts their eyes.”
Morco continued to fight, thirty to one, slicing and cutting and throwing off his opponents.
Finally, they retreated as they had before, running into the dark.
Bodies of coyotes lay everywhere, at least a dozen of them.
“Are you okay?” I came to him, bringing the torch to examine him for wounds.
His arm continued to bleed from his previous cut. He now had another on the other arm.
“Do you not have armor?”
He ignored the cuts like he didn’t notice them. He stared at the dead coyotes that would feed us for a week. “Didn’t think I needed it.”
I returned to the pack and found clean strips of linen, which I assumed they used as bandages.
I walked back over to him and yanked up his sleeve, showing his hard forearm that was tight with muscle and veins.
I pressed the linen to the cut and applied pressure to stop the bleeding.
“Clean it in the river so it doesn’t make you sick.
” I squeezed both of his wounds to stop the blood.
Neither bite looked serious, but still painful.
He let me handle him, his eyes on the dark where the wolves had gone, indifferent to his injuries.
“Come on.” I guided him to the water. “Clean the wound.”
He kneeled down and dipped his arms into the water, washing away the sickness that could live in the mouths of those coyotes.
I turned to the first carcass and dragged it across the sand until I made it to the boat. The coyotes were small but substantial, and I strained to drop one into the boat.
Morco returned to the pack and tied the linens around his forearms before he grabbed several coyotes at once and threw them over his shoulder before he tossed them into the boat.
“You think we’ll be able to fit them all?”
“We have to. I won’t waste the meat.”
“Well, if the boat sinks…”
“We’ll make it. Can’t leave a carcass here anyway. It’ll attract others.”
“The other coyotes?”
“No. The other things down here.”
“What other things are down here?”
He grabbed a couple more bodies and tossed them into the boat. “Animals, creatures, goblins…all kinds of things.”
“Goblins?”
“Foul creatures with pointy ears and leathery skin.” He grabbed the last bodies that remained and stacked them up in the boat.
He adjusted them so we each had a place to sit and row.
“It’ll take longer to get across with the extra weight.
Don’t push yourself if you’re tired.” He moved to the head of the boat then nodded for me to get inside.
I climbed in then took a seat to the rear.
He pushed the boat out into the water and gave it some momentum before he effortlessly jumped inside, his trousers dripping wet from the knee down. He sat down and started to row like he wasn’t exhausted from the adventure that had taken us away from the tribe for at least a day.
It must have been, because I was dead tired. Felt like I could fall asleep while rowing.
The torch was attached to the front of the boat for light, illuminating the water on all sides of us. Even in the dark, it seemed clear, and I wondered if you’d be able to see the bottom in the light of day, if that had been possible here.
“What did you find?” he asked mid-row.
I released the oars and opened the pack, trying not to stare at the dead dogs that would go into our stew. I felt the potato before I pulled it out, but my eyebrows immediately furrowed at the sight of it.
“Don’t tell me that isn’t it.”
I examined its midnight-black skin, brushed my fingers over the paper-like outer covering that felt like any other potato. I grabbed my sword and sliced off a piece of the vegetable to examine its interior, which was also black. “This is it. It just looks different from the ones above the surface.”
“How?”
“The ones at home are the color of earth, brown on the outside, yellow underneath the skin. But this is solid black, black on the outside, black on the inside. It seems the same in every other way.”
He released a quiet breath of relief.
I searched for the carrots next and discovered the same thing. “These are normally orange.” I snapped it in half just to hear the same crunch I was used to from when I fed the horses at the stable. “I wonder if the lack of sunlight has made it grow without color. I guess that makes sense.”
He continued to row with his powerful arms, the tips of the linen visible from underneath his sleeves when he leaned forward, the red drops of blood stark on the cloth. “As long as we can eat it, I don’t care what color it is.”