AN: So, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading. (Please, also remember the original idea was from when I was eleven...and I'm editing it. I used nearly no punctuation. If you spot a problem, I apologize. My eyes were too burnt to process it.)
Also, recall this is thirteen (13) years in the future from last chapter.
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CHAPTER TWO
The Damis Forest
Sunlight bounced off the muddy water, off the ice on the banks, and stabbed at the bare-branched trees, high-lighting delicate spiderwebs and empty stick-spiked bird nests. A late-to-bed owl hooted far off in the distance and the clomp of feet on packed earth gave the dank woods a steady heart beat.
Coh glanced around, taking notice of the bend of the brook, the mossy stones, and ring of birches, the crown of the uneven clearing.
“This should be good,” he whispered.
A splash caused him to wince. His narrowed eyes locked on his red-cheeked brother then trailed down to the boot stuck a hand’s depth in formerly ice-covered water.
“Or it will be if you stay quiet,” Coh said.
“Sorry.” Luke ducked his head and tow hair fell over his eyes.
Coh sighed. “Just get behind those logs.” He gestured at the pile--three high and covered in deer moss. The place looked perfect for bowmen, like perhaps it had been used in the past, for something that didn’t just involve man and animal. Man-and-man. He always wondered how many battles had been fought in the smoke-mist drenched woods, so dark with so many hiding places.
Luke moved alongside him and he followed once his adoptive brother was crouched behind the logs, bow up but black-feathered arrow still in the quiver.
His russet-leather boots squelched in the mud with his first step and Luke let out a small chuckle.
“Shush.” He stepped onto a patch of leaves then moved into place--shoulder-width from his brother. He drew out an arrow and tested it. The dove feather was slightly ripped, but there was no need to put it back--the wood was fine and the stone-head was sharp as a snake’s tooth.
“Look-y,” Luke mused, pleasure glinting his eyes. Coh looked into the glare of the incoming sun, following his brother’s sight, and smiled grimly. A fox; bushy-tailed and low on the light-splashed grass, far across the water.
“Shoot it. I’ll get the next thing,” he whispered. He shifted, hands shaking, and leaned back against the stone behind. It reached half up his back and it did well enough. The thick blanket of leaves kept the seat of his trousers dry. All in all, comfy as you could get in the Damis Forest.
He tipped his head back, eyes closed with red in his sight, and he listened to the bow string snap. A whistle, then a yelp of pain. He heard Luke make a discontented sound, but he ignored it. Luke needed to get over his softness.
“Go get it, then. Finish it off.”
Luke huffed and he listened as he clambered over the logs, headed for the probable still-struggling beast.
He did hate having to more-or-less force Luke, but he was older. Even if their Da hadn’t taken him out much when he was younger, he had to own up. And Da was too old to trek so far. It was his job then. No big deal. That was just all there was to it.
A growl, then utter silence.
And Luke was doing his job.
#
“I really am sorry.”
Coh glowered.
“Really. But it was a baby one--”
“Not really. It was just small. Honestly.”
“Sorry.”
Coh sighed, then glanced over at the blood splats. He’d hit the stag, or maybe the younger doe, but he couldn’t tell which. The blood trail would lead eventually to one or the other--dead or drying--but he didn’t have the time to look. The sky had gone gray and dark steel was coming. He looked up. The clouds’ underbellies had that tinge of green to them every forest-man hated. A storm--and a big one, maybe even bringing downpour from the great water, the Ocean, down south.
A predator would have the deer, then. A non-human one, anyway.
“At least we got the fox and there was a hare in one of our traps,” Luke mumbled beside him.
“Doesn’t matter.” Coh shook his head. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll just get the arrow, then come back. Load the pony with the kills, a’right?”
Luke hummed his agreement and walked off, a slight limp to his step.
Coh still couldn’t believe he’d pointedly bumped his arm to knock the arrow off course. But looking at his brother, skinny and so much like his mother, it didn’t exactly surprise him. Luke wasn’t a hunter. He made things. He was good at that. He wasn’t a killer, though. He never had been.
He shook his head again as a drop of water hit his shoulder. Time to move.
#
The tree held the arrow’s head. It was lodged deep, just the gray-black, polished end of it sticking out. The rest of the arrow was nowhere to be seen.
Coh let out a short curse and glanced around the ground. Sandier here, a dull tan, with no leaves. There was no place for it to hide, but it wasn’t there.
Snap.
A tremble went down his spine. That squirrel, or wren, vole, or whatever it was--it hadn’t gone away yet, then.
He glanced over his shoulder, chin practically resting on his woolen over-shirt. Nothing. He spun on his heel and tilted his head to straighten out the kink in his neck. He’d slept funny the night before, mind caught up in those strange, shapeless dreams he always had.
Then he saw it.
The mist had gone. There shouldn’t be anything that seemed like it, not like this. Not low to the ground. Not in the shape of a healthy timber wolf; black coat dazzling, but see-through. No. It shouldn’t be sitting there, black teeth winking at him under equally dark gums.
His heart leapt into his throat. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
The creature crawled from under the witch hazel; odd, pupil-less eyes locked on him. They burnt like coals, like as if it was night--reflecting silver and red.
Nothing like it had the right to exist.
His breath sped up as it stopped only three yards from the tips of his boots.
Now, can you tell me what you, little hunter, is doing out in my wood? The voice came from nowhere. Everywhere. Did you wish to tempt me?
His gaze darted around the clearing as he stumbled back. “Who’s there?”
Dumb human. You were looking at me.
He glanced back at the wolf-shaped smoke. No. “No.”
No what?
He felt like he should scream. Send someone running his way. Call for help. Nothing but a ragged rustle of a hiss came up when his mouth opened.
I wouldn’t suggest calling for help, anyway. I’ll eat one, but I can eat two. There seemed to be a hint of amusement to the beast, a crafty smile made of silvering, whitening teeth. The longer it sat, smudge-tail wrapped over clawed paws, the sturdier, realer it seemed.
Coh’s vision tunneled. “What do you want?”
A movement of a paw sent the rest of his arrow rolling to his feet. I want to hunt the hunter, obviously. The beast snarled.
Coh took another step back--straight into a pine. “No, no. You don’t--my Dad, he’ll kill you.”
The wolf-being just growled.
Coh shifted and got the bow trapped between him and the tree--his bow. He drew another arrow and notched it. “Stay away from me.”
A bit of wood and string isn’t very scary, cub. The voice had turned mocking as it echoed around his head. Coh swallowed hard and shook himself.
Then he let the arrow loose, with a snap-close of his eyes. He couldn’t watch.
Thud.
He looked, cautious. The animal was closer. He let out a small cry. The arrow, plain behind the beast and at perfect level, was just embedded in a tree, still trembling. Nothing had happened.
“I must’ve missed,” he muttered to himself, a wildness building in him as his gaze jerked around. “Must’ve.”
Don’t be stupid. I told you I wasn’t scared. Petty human toys like that cannot hurt me. Petty human toys can’t hurt a dumar. That should’ve been obvious. But you didn’t know what I am. Oh well. You know what I am now, don’t you? Perfect way to go--when you figure something out. The wolf about grinned, showing off pearly whites. Now stay still. The wolf tilted his head. I don’t want this to hurt too badly. A scream or two--but otherwise? Nah. It’ll be over quick-like. The sarcasm in the voice led his mind to doubt the truth in that.
But he didn’t have time for thinking.
“What?”
The wolf lunged. Coh drew out his hunting knife in reflex. The animal slammed into his chest and his shoulders knocked against the pine. They lurched sideways and a whisper flooded his brain, voice different from the wolf’s. “Aphir Blad.” Meaningless words.
Something hot burnt his hand and he thrust it forward.
Everything stilled, as his heart thudded weightily behind his ribs.
The wolf was stiff above him, unmoving, and he lay flat on his back. He panted and looked about, hoping to see anything. There was a sliver of light, but everything else was black. Something sticky was on his chest and a low burn was there, as well. His hands clutched at the much-too-slimy fur, the unnatural pelt of the animal, and he pushed.
With a crash, the animal rolled off, banging into a holly and sending two stupid birds flying--birds that should have flown off long ago.
Coh gulped and looked over the animal. The monster continued to remain still, eyes wide and jaws gaping--a dark maw leading to nowhere. Coh used his shaky hands to push him till he was bent at the waist.
A twisted, jagged piece of metal--looking like some grotesque candle, melted-like--stuck out of the animal.
He let out a gasp. The bone handle had become sick-pale splinters on the beast’s chest--obliterated. His mind could come up with only one question to ask. What?
Then he noticed the pain. With one glance down, he saw two facts. Claw marks and a trio of blisters. The first down his chest--fresh-blood rivers bleeding onto the torn wool, leading to the hem of his pants. The second decorating the thumb of his right hand.
His eyes widened, even as his vision went black--all sense of power leaving his body in a flash.
#
“Morning?” he croaked. There were two of his brother hanging over him. Both were swinging like pendulums--all a fuzzy mess of water-slicked blond hair, paler than pale skin, and some sort of gray wool sweater that meshed with its twin somewhere in the middle. His eyes almost crossed. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” He tried to hear Luke’s gruff voice over the sound of chattering teeth.
“You know, split in half,” he said, pointing up. Or he tried to point up. His arm sort of did this floppy spastic thing instead. “Um, where are we?”
“We’re on a horse.”
“Oh.” Coh blinked. “Why is it wet?”
“It’s raining.” Luke’s eyes widened. “Wait, no, don’t go back to sleep--”
#
Suddenly, he was back in bed. He didn’t remember ending up in bed, but he had. Somehow. He stared at the familiar ceiling for a moment, before letting his head loll over. Luke was sitting beside him on a crate, feet propped up on his beside.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Keeping an eye on you.” Luke’s eyes were oddly steely. His skin prickled. He noticed a slash across his brother’s cheek.
“What happened to your face?”
“Rogue branch.” Luke tried out a smile. It wasn’t his usual. There was a pause. Coh looked down at his chest to see a swath of cloth tied across. Knots dug into his sides, his back. It felt like he was trapped. His breath sped up a bit.
“Hey, you all right?”
Coh coughed, then got control again. “Yeah.”
Luke nodded.
“How long has it been?”
Luke blinked. “Since?”
“Since my accident.”
“Being attacked isn’t an accident.” Luke dropped his head into his hands and muttered something.
“Luke?” Coh asked, skin prickling more.
“S-sorry.” Luke looked back up, then let out a shaky sigh. “It’s been a few hours. It’s dinnertime. Mum’s cooking stew. Thought it might warm you up a bit.” One side of his mouth quirked, his smile turning more normal.
Coh nodded. “And how badly am I hurt?”
“Not bad. You, uh, got some nasty cuts on your chest, but they aren’t too deep. Just bloody. Or they were.” Luke looked vacant for an instant and Coh winced. His brother didn’t notice. “There was some black stuff on you, too. Oily-like. Not sure what it was from. But that’s about all. We came home and got you cleaned up. Put you to bed. Everything’s okay now.”
Coh eyed his brother. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just cold.”
#
They were eating stew. The time had passed so quickly, so quietly, he hadn’t had time to notice it. He’d been too busy thinking. Luke had gone down and gotten them their food, then stuffed pillows behind his back. Now they were both sitting--Coh facing the draperies that led to the storage on the other side of the attic, Luke sitting on his crate; wooden bowls and utensils in both their hands, hardly messed with.
Coh stabbed a chunk of potato with his fork. “Did you see it, Luke?”
Luke choked. “See what?” He coughed.
Coh smirked. “Need a pat on the back?”
“Fine.” Luke rolled his eyes, a bit of life flooding back into him. “But, really, see what?”
“The monster who did this.” Coh gestured down at his chest.
“No.”
“But it died right beside me.” Coh tilted his head and stared down Luke. “How could you not see it?” The weird sensation sparked along his arms.
Luke shook his head. “All I saw was you, hurt, and your knife bent out of sorts. That’s it.”
Coh closed his eyes. “That can’t be right.”
Luke didn’t respond, just kept eating--the sound background noise to Coh’s brain’s whirring. What happened? Did something grab it, drag it off, to eat? Did it float off like smoke? What?
“Are you finished with that?” Luke’s sudden question made him jump; the broth of his stew sloshing around alarmingly.
“Uh, give me a minute?” Coh asked, even as he had the feeling he’d need more than a minute.
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PRONUNCIATION GUIDE:
Dumar--Du-MAR.
Aphir Blad--a-PHIR bl-AD. (Also, this means 'fire blade'--because obviousness is amusing.)
