"Two hours," Caelan sighed wearily and leaned her head against the rough bark of the tree, "We've been here for two bloody hours and not a soul knows where we are!"
"I don't get it," Kate was still watching the rustling in the brush that meant the Wyrsa still had the tree surrounded, "They just STAY. It's like they're patrolling, out on watch. Look - see that one right there? He's been there the whole time. He hasn't left. And I know it's the same one because he's got a scar on his muzzle," she brushed her finger across her nose, "Right here. And he paces - back and forth, back and forth - never takes his eyes off of us, either." She faded into silence.
Caelan watched the woman as she spoke. Kate seemed deep in thought, analyzing what she saw with an air about her that said it was a common practice. Strategy, analysis - she's a Monarch through and through. Years of schooling and hard work had gotten her to this point, no doubt. And whether it was voluntary or not remains to be seen.
"What are you thinking?" she asked, and leaned forward.
"Well - they have lookouts. Probably here to make sure we don't leave the tree-"
"-and to warn the others if we do."
"Right."
"So. . . . ?"
"So; what if we found a way to distract the lookout and get out of the tree? By the time they'd come back from hunting down our ploy, it'd be too late."
It sounded logical enough in Caelan's ears, but her brain told her that this was merely wishful thinking. How could they ever hope to escape when an entire pack was on the prowl? Surely there was more than one sentry.
"I don't know," she said to Kate, and let her eyes wander the forest floor, "There have to be more of the lookout Wyrsa."
"Then we have to make a big enough distraction to lure them all away."
"I don't see how-"
Kate interrupted. "Don't be such a pessimist. You're a Mage. I've got my Gift. We can devise some sort of plan, can't we?"
Caelan shook her head and sighed. "Remember? We can't use magic."
"That's right . . . Damn it!" How had she forgotten something so vital? That was a serious error. A very serious error. One that Kate could never make again, lest she loses her life in doing it.
Stupid girl! She berated herself, after all of the years of schooling, you still so clumsily forget?
Something about this place was getting to her, and it wasn't just the foreign aspect of it. Kate sensed that something about this land was changing, and she wanted to find out what.
Just not right now.
Kate pulled a twig from the branch she'd been sitting on and tossed it to the ground in meditative thought.
A lightning-bolt of green shot from the brush; Caelan gasped.
"What the hell?" Kate swore, and looked questioningly at Caelan.
"They're set to kill," she replied, "look how they just leap out after anything that touches the ground!"
As darkness descended over the forest, Caelan and Kate were still in the tree, surrounded by Wyrsa and without a hope of escaping their interest – or their jaws.
Caelan lay nestled in a little hollow made by a few overlapping branches, her eyes growing heavier and heavier by the moment, and stared out through the leaves. Interesting, she thought, how the leaves seemed to turn a coppery color when the light of the setting sun touched them. She closed her eyes and imagined that she was a bird, soaring high above the forest floor, free from the leering glare of the Wyrsa. She envisioned herself swooping down to taunt the pack; talons were good weapons to have when one was a winged thing. And if she were a bird, she could soar back home with nary a care, unharmed and unhurried. Then, as her imagined bird soared, it came across her hometown, with its little cozy cottages and warm hearth fires burning. She could even see Donas, sitting on the doorstep of their home, waiting for Caelan to return. Odd how things looked so real from this point of view; the woman imagined she could even hear him grumbling about his empty stomach. She winged to the left, away from that scene, and pictured the home of Dante, quaint and tidy, sitting near a babbling brook. Dante was sitting out on his door step, a worried expression on his face. 'They've never been gone this long before,' he said, and Caelan was struck by the genuine look of worry on his imaginary face, 'Where could they be?'
'We're here!' Caelan's bird-form shouted, 'We're in the woods - stuck in this tree! We're surrounded by Wyrsa!' But it was no use, for Caelan was a bird, and she was only imagining. But the image of Dante looked sharply up and stared right into the bird's eyes, then sprinted off to the left and out of Caelan's line of sight. She flapped her fantastical wings hard and soared upwards, searching for Dante. Where was he? Where could he be? And where had he gone!?
She continued searching, looking high and low, left and right, in and out - he was nowhere to be found. And, when Caelan's imaginary bird could no longer fly due to exhaustion (could imaginary things grow weary?) she settled in the eaves of the barn and tucked her head under her wing . . .
. . .just as a high bugle shattered the silence like a hammer to glass, and sent Caelan leaping from her alcove and nearly falling from the tree. She managed to save herself from going over when her outstretched hand clasped a handful of leaves, along with Kate's shoulder.
Kate stifled a startled yelp and clung to the branch with all of her might, hoisting Caelan back up with an effort, and at the same time scanning the ground for what could have made such a noise.
But Caelan knew what - who - it was, and her eyes lightened considerably.
"Dante!" She shouted, standing up on the branch and waving one hand about wildly, "Dante, we're up here - but be careful!"
Kate stood, too, and found herself eagerly searching for Dante's face amidst the forest plants - only because she wanted to be rescued, she told herself - and couldn't help but smile. If Dante was here, they could certainly defeat this hoard of beasts!
"I don't get it," Kate was still watching the rustling in the brush that meant the Wyrsa still had the tree surrounded, "They just STAY. It's like they're patrolling, out on watch. Look - see that one right there? He's been there the whole time. He hasn't left. And I know it's the same one because he's got a scar on his muzzle," she brushed her finger across her nose, "Right here. And he paces - back and forth, back and forth - never takes his eyes off of us, either." She faded into silence.
Caelan watched the woman as she spoke. Kate seemed deep in thought, analyzing what she saw with an air about her that said it was a common practice. Strategy, analysis - she's a Monarch through and through. Years of schooling and hard work had gotten her to this point, no doubt. And whether it was voluntary or not remains to be seen.
"What are you thinking?" she asked, and leaned forward.
"Well - they have lookouts. Probably here to make sure we don't leave the tree-"
"-and to warn the others if we do."
"Right."
"So. . . . ?"
"So; what if we found a way to distract the lookout and get out of the tree? By the time they'd come back from hunting down our ploy, it'd be too late."
It sounded logical enough in Caelan's ears, but her brain told her that this was merely wishful thinking. How could they ever hope to escape when an entire pack was on the prowl? Surely there was more than one sentry.
"I don't know," she said to Kate, and let her eyes wander the forest floor, "There have to be more of the lookout Wyrsa."
"Then we have to make a big enough distraction to lure them all away."
"I don't see how-"
Kate interrupted. "Don't be such a pessimist. You're a Mage. I've got my Gift. We can devise some sort of plan, can't we?"
Caelan shook her head and sighed. "Remember? We can't use magic."
"That's right . . . Damn it!" How had she forgotten something so vital? That was a serious error. A very serious error. One that Kate could never make again, lest she loses her life in doing it.
Stupid girl! She berated herself, after all of the years of schooling, you still so clumsily forget?
Something about this place was getting to her, and it wasn't just the foreign aspect of it. Kate sensed that something about this land was changing, and she wanted to find out what.
Just not right now.
Kate pulled a twig from the branch she'd been sitting on and tossed it to the ground in meditative thought.
A lightning-bolt of green shot from the brush; Caelan gasped.
"What the hell?" Kate swore, and looked questioningly at Caelan.
"They're set to kill," she replied, "look how they just leap out after anything that touches the ground!"
As darkness descended over the forest, Caelan and Kate were still in the tree, surrounded by Wyrsa and without a hope of escaping their interest – or their jaws.
Caelan lay nestled in a little hollow made by a few overlapping branches, her eyes growing heavier and heavier by the moment, and stared out through the leaves. Interesting, she thought, how the leaves seemed to turn a coppery color when the light of the setting sun touched them. She closed her eyes and imagined that she was a bird, soaring high above the forest floor, free from the leering glare of the Wyrsa. She envisioned herself swooping down to taunt the pack; talons were good weapons to have when one was a winged thing. And if she were a bird, she could soar back home with nary a care, unharmed and unhurried. Then, as her imagined bird soared, it came across her hometown, with its little cozy cottages and warm hearth fires burning. She could even see Donas, sitting on the doorstep of their home, waiting for Caelan to return. Odd how things looked so real from this point of view; the woman imagined she could even hear him grumbling about his empty stomach. She winged to the left, away from that scene, and pictured the home of Dante, quaint and tidy, sitting near a babbling brook. Dante was sitting out on his door step, a worried expression on his face. 'They've never been gone this long before,' he said, and Caelan was struck by the genuine look of worry on his imaginary face, 'Where could they be?'
'We're here!' Caelan's bird-form shouted, 'We're in the woods - stuck in this tree! We're surrounded by Wyrsa!' But it was no use, for Caelan was a bird, and she was only imagining. But the image of Dante looked sharply up and stared right into the bird's eyes, then sprinted off to the left and out of Caelan's line of sight. She flapped her fantastical wings hard and soared upwards, searching for Dante. Where was he? Where could he be? And where had he gone!?
She continued searching, looking high and low, left and right, in and out - he was nowhere to be found. And, when Caelan's imaginary bird could no longer fly due to exhaustion (could imaginary things grow weary?) she settled in the eaves of the barn and tucked her head under her wing . . .
. . .just as a high bugle shattered the silence like a hammer to glass, and sent Caelan leaping from her alcove and nearly falling from the tree. She managed to save herself from going over when her outstretched hand clasped a handful of leaves, along with Kate's shoulder.
Kate stifled a startled yelp and clung to the branch with all of her might, hoisting Caelan back up with an effort, and at the same time scanning the ground for what could have made such a noise.
But Caelan knew what - who - it was, and her eyes lightened considerably.
"Dante!" She shouted, standing up on the branch and waving one hand about wildly, "Dante, we're up here - but be careful!"
Kate stood, too, and found herself eagerly searching for Dante's face amidst the forest plants - only because she wanted to be rescued, she told herself - and couldn't help but smile. If Dante was here, they could certainly defeat this hoard of beasts!