Chapter 11, Run

The nearly full moon is partially obscured by scattered clouds as the silence of the night is suddenly broken by the mournful howl of a solitary wolf.  The rising cry echoes eerily off the nearby hillsides and soon other wolves join in, creating a chorus of wolf song that echoes through the night air.

The lone she-wolf who began the song lowers her muzzle from the sky and surveys the area with her golden eyes.  She is an exceptional specimen of her species, large and powerful.  Out of the darkness a tall man approaches and stands by her side, his calloused hand resting lightly on her neck, gently scratching her mane as he speaks softly to her in a strange language, guttural and sharp.

She responds to his words by turning her head and looking directly into his eyes, viridian swirled twilight grey eyes.  The man kneels before her and hugs her about the neck, she responds by licking his face.  The man stands once again and utters one word, spoken so softly as to nearly not be heard… Go!

The wolf runs into the black of the night, using the lope that her kind is famous for, steady, strong, and able to cover great distances in a surprisingly short span of time.  She senses that the man is following behind her so she adjusts her pace to match his.  Together, man and beast run through the night, swift and silent, leaving no sign of their passing, two shadows in the darkness.

The dawn is beginning to lighten the eastern sky when she feels the command in her mind… Stop!  She complies immediately, looking back over her shoulder to see the man close behind her.  She pants lightly, her tongue hanging from her mouth.  The man is in nearly the same condition, a light sheen of sweat on his skin and his breathing slightly more rapid than normal; both are tired from the exertion of the run, but neither is exhausted. 

The man comes up to stand beside her and, resting his hand on her head, scratches her between the ears.  She leans into him, each providing a comfort to the other, drawing strength from the others presence.  Both were at one time alone; now neither is.

The man thinks for a moment, weighing options, considering avenues.  He kneels down to check the condition of the wraps about the paws of his companion; wraps made from the hide of the Sea of Fire dwelling creature known as the Morduska.  They are strong and durable, exactly what is needed to protect the paws of his friend and companion.

Satisfied that each of the wraps is in good shape and secure the man stands and opens his satchel, removing two pieces of rolton jerky; giving one to the she-wolf he begins to chew on the other himself.  The wolf devours hers in one large gulp and the man smiles at her, then, after looking down at the half eaten piece in his hand, he gives it to her as well.

He then removes a bowl from the satchel, fills it with water from his water-skin, and places it on the ground before his companion.  She begins noisily lapping at the water, bringing another smile to his lips.  Only when she finishes does he put the bowl back in his satchel and slake his own thirst.

The man decides he knows basically where they are.  He also knows there is a river close by and he should be able to find a decent place to lay up for the day, resting and gathering a few resources; perhaps even a decent meal.  The two of them have been on the move for so long, sometimes it feels like forever. 

Perhaps they have put enough distance between themselves and their pursuers that they have given up, deciding the quarry was not worth the effort; it has happened to the man before.  The trick is not leaving a trail and moving fast, two things that are normally mutually exclusive when moving through the wilderness.

The thought of their pursuers brings the man back to the reality of their situation; there will be no rest, no fire, and no evening meal.  The only real safety is in putting as much distance between themselves and the small town they visited four days ago; the one with the six dead Imperial soldiers in it, the six soldiers who were alive and well until they decided a lone Tehir would be good for a bit of sport.  What they failed to understand was that this particular Tehir, who, due to the presence of his companion was far from alone, thought nearly the same thing; six Imperial soldiers might be good for a bit of sport, until a soldier pulled a dirk and cut the Tehir man.

The chase was on but the man and his companion have the advantage; they can move faster than their pursuers can hunt.  The man, highly trained and skilled in the art of survival, and his companion, whose senses, instincts and cunning are well known, will easily win this race.

The man decides, on a whim, that he has had quite enough of running; it was time that the hunter became the hunted; lessons needed to be taught and learned.  He leans down and whispers something into the she-wolfs ear and she heads off in an easterly direction, the man then proceeds west.  After backtracking their own trail for nearly five miles the man comes upon the tracks of horses.  There appear to be at least a half dozen horses; all heavily burdened… armoured men ride these horses.

A quick plan begins to take form in his mind and he runs back the way he came until he finds the river; he then quickly swims it, leaving ample sign on both banks of his having done so.  He then proceeds a quarter mile or so into the forest on the other side and builds a fire; one much too large for a man alone in the wilderness who does not wish to be found.  He then begins putting green leaves and pine boughs on the flames, creating a lot of smoke, smoke that filters up through the trees and into the sky.

Now, the waiting begins.  He has chosen a well-concealed place near the point where he crossed the river.  After a while he hears the snorting of horses and the clank of metal armor; this is almost too easy.  Soon they are close enough that he can hear their voices.

"Don't you find this strange?  We haven't seen a single track, not one bit of sign, and suddenly we see smoke and come across these tracks," one of the riders says.

"Yeah, we weren't even heading this way, until we saw that smoke," says another.

The others mutter in agreement.

"Shut up, all of you!  We're going to kill this murderer.  He killed my friends," another says.

"Your friends were thugs, and they tried to take the man, six on one, just because he was Tehir.  I'd say they chose poorly this time," the first says again.

"Enough!  Now get across that river so we can end this.  I want his head on a pike!"

The six men on horseback lead their horses down to the bank of the river and begin crossing.  At a point roughly halfway across the river the horses are beginning to founder, the water deep enough that they are not quite able to either walk or swim.

It is at this point that the man steps out of the brush, training his longbow on the men, and says, "A'right der fellers.  I reckons dat's bouts as fer as yer gonna go's.  Ya's gots yerselfs a choice here.  Ya can head on back whar ya cames from, er I can kills ya right here an' now; don' matters much ta me which it be."

The man who told them all to shut up and cross the river states, in a loud voice, "He's only one man.  He can't hit all six of us with that bow; no one is that good or that fast."

It's at this point that the mans companion, the she-wolf, steps from behind the man, baring her teeth and growling menacingly.  The horses, already skittish and nervous from their predicament in the water, become even more agitated.

"Nope, ain' gots ta shoots ya wit' da bow.  All I gots ta does is shoots yer horses.  Reckon wit alla dat armor yer all a'wearin ye'll sinks like a stone.  River'll does m'job fer me.  Er mebbe I'll just turns da wolf loose... lets her spooks yer horses so's dey bucks ya'll off… be da same r'sult.  Alla ya'll be dead no matter which; an me, well I'll jus' keeps on walkin.  Choice be yers, but ye'd bes' be a'makin it quick."

Knowing they are as good as dead if they don't agree the five men force their comrade to agree to the terms.  They turn their skittish horses around and head back the way they came.  The mans voice reaches them from the other side of the river, "Ya'll r'members dis.  I coul'a kill't ya any time; ye'd a ne'er saw'd me, ye'd a ne'er know'd I were der.  Ye'd a ne'er foun' me if'n I hadn't a'wanted ya to, so keeps ridin' back from whar ya come, an' ye'll live.  Foller me, an' I'll kills ya'll… real slow."

The man and the she-wolf then disappear into the forest, continuing in a generally northern direction.