CHAPTER THREE - The Cave
Steven started up the cliff as the sky progressed from bloody-black to its usual red. He nibbled at the fruits in his pack and took a lick of honey as his own reward for spending a night alone. Judging by how faint Father's scent was by the time Steven got to the top of the cliff, Father had to be very far away.
Steven went as fast as he could without wasting his strength. He knew he had a long way to go, and his little legs couldn't really keep up with Father's stride. If he started running, he'd get tired and would have to rest, and Father would get even further ahead. By the time he started looking for a new place to spend the night, his feet ached, his legs burning from his non-stop march through the woods.
Another night alone, he hated the idea. This time he did find a cave but he didn't dare just wander in. It might be home to something else and it would be too dark to see inside. It was easy in this area of Quor-Toth to find tar. The sticky, smelly stuff bubbled to the surface. Sometimes creatures got stuck in the vast pits. Steven assumed those were the dumb ones or ones that had no sense of smell or possibly they were running too fast and couldn't avoid it.
Steven plunged a few thick limbs into the tar, spinning them until he collected blobs on the end then headed for the cave. He set them down at the mouth and got out his tinderbox. With the flint, he set the tar of one aflame, nudging his spare torches into the cave with a toe. Steven unsheathed his knife and began to check out his new resting spot. The last thing he needed was to find himself sharing the cave with a demon.
There were plenty of smells but he wasn't sure how old some of them were. The smoky, stinking light of his torch cast sick shadows on the stone walls. The torch smoke interfered with his delicate sense of smell. There was some old spoor and some crunched bones in the cavern but nothing fresh. He bent down and sniffed and listened at all the passageways that lead deeper into the cave. He heard nothing, smelled nothing but damp. This was a very wet cave so he didn't want to go deeper. He'd only get muddy and chilled. In this area he could find tar-filled caverns, or ones filled with water which usually was as good and crisp as any he could hope to find on the surface, or he could find wet, slick rocks that could send him sprawling, possibly to his death.
Steven was too afraid to go down into the absolute darkness alone and explore more thoroughly. If he dropped his torch, he'd never get back out because no light penetrated that deep. There was no way to see. His only hope would be to track his own scent back out, and he didn't want to be there in the dark, sniffing along, waiting for a blind cave demon to home in on his heat and eat him before he knew it was there. Steven decided the cave was worth the risk. One of the big winds was picking up outside. Quor-Toth was often ravaged by winds strong enough to blow Father over, not to mention trees and structures that demons built. Steven didn't stand a chance against them. He had to have a place to shelter. The cave appeared empty so this was going to have to do.
While the winds were still reasonable, Steven went out to gather firewood and kindling. He lucked into a Levo demon, a small, harmless creature that father likened to squirrels. They were usually juicy and delicious. Though he would never admit it to Father, Steven hated the taste of organ meat. He knew the necessity of eating everything but now that he was alone and had no time to smoke anything, he couldn't possibly eat all of the little creature so he could toss away the disgusting organs. Steven dressed out the creature, tossing all the organs off the cliff face several hundred yards from his cave. No sense in leaving a gut pile to attract attention and so long as he didn't have to eat the organs he could care less what became of them.
He started a small fire, listening to the winds beginning to howl outside. They siphoned his fire smoke right out of the entrance, which was a good thing. He didn't like to have his eyes burning and blurry just in case something bad happened. He munched a handful of nuts while turning the spit he had fashioned to roast his dinner.
When the skin was crispy and golden, Steven tore into the demon meat, voraciously. His little belly had been growling through most of the cook time. Juices played over his tongue. How much better was fresh meat over smoked? Despite his assumptions that he couldn't eat it all, Steven gobbled it up except a leg that he wrapped in leaves for breakfast. His strong teeth cracked the long bones so he could suck the marrow free. Dinner over, he licked his hands clean then banked the fire to last much of the night.
In spite of his excellent repast and being safe from the winds, Steven still hated being alone like this. However, he was also proud of himself for doing so well on his lonesome. He didn't expect to do good and Father would have to come find him instead of the other way around. He couldn't give up now because, even though he was proud of himself, he was still scared, and he hadn't found any signs of Father doubling back to check on him. Father was moving on and expected him to follow.
Steven curled up with Dover, wishing to hear one of Father's stories, even if it was the one about Utah again. He just wanted to hear Father's voice, smell his comforting scent. Steven brushed his cheek against the tatty fur of Dover's head. His toy didn't make him feel any less lonely or scared.
Steven dropped off in spite of his fears and the raging winds. He woke with a start. He had been having bad dreams again, and as he reached for Father, he found no one there. His lips trembled as reality pierced his sleep-fogged brain. Then the hissing sound from his dream happened again. Steven's eyes scanned the room, barely illuminated by the dying embers.
Did something move along the far wall? He got up slowly and edged another tarred torch into the fire. As it caught with a smoky flare, he saw a scaled demon, pulling itself up from the depths of the cave. It hissed, dragging the rest of its bulk free from the hole. It must live deeper than Steven had explored.
The boy's heart pounded. The thing was so big, longer than Father was tall. Its nails clicked on stone as it stalked toward him. A forked tongue flickered out, testing the air. It lunged for Steven who thrust the torch out to meet that charge. As the thing backed off, growling in pain, Steven went for his knife. He'd have to get closer than he wanted to in order to use it. Oh, to have Father's bow now.
Waving the torch in front of him, Steven hoped to just drive the thing off. It whirled away, running through Steven's bedding, its talons tearing into the furs. The boy charged its back, and its thick tail caught him in the gut. Steven flew through the air, bounced off the stone wall and ricocheted out the entrance. His breath was gone and his shoulder ached and burned. He could smell his own blood.
Steven tried to stand up but the winds kept shoving him down. He had lost the torch but he had a death grip on his dagger. The demon rushed him. The boy struggled to get up before the gnashing jaws caught him. Teeth grazed his leg. Biting back a cry of pain, Steven got to his feet in time to get buffeted back to the ground by the winds. The demon leapt on him. Steven managed to get his feet up and into the thing's belly, keeping it off of him. He stabbed wildly as the demon tried to bite off a hunk of him.
Steven kicked upwards, arcing the thing over his head. That wasn't where he wanted it to go. If it turned before he could move, it would have his skull in its mouth. No attack came. A howl of pain echoed just after a meaty thud. Steven rolled onto his belly, trying to shield his eyes from the dirt blowing into them from the storm. He realized, his heart near to bursting with terror, that he was at the very lip of the cliffs. The demon was on its way all the way to the bottom. He could only hope the fall killed it.
Unable to get to his feet in the winds, Steven belly crawled back into the cavern and stoked up the fire until it was roaring. He didn't care if he was wasting wood. He had no desire to try and sleep in a dark cave. There could be more demons. The one he had sent over the cliff might come back. His mind came up with many terrible scenarios. Steven sat on his bedding, which was torn. He got out his kit and took out the materials Father used for poultices and bandages. Steven managed to staunch the bleeding from where the thing had bitten him. If it was venomous, he was dead already, but it didn't look bad, and he felt okay except for the pain in his back and shoulders. There was no way he could fix up the cuts from hitting the stone, shoulders first.
Steven huddled near his fire, knowing there would be no sleeping tonight. He searched the bedding for Dover. He saw the demon's claws had nearly severed Dover's head. Steven burst into tears, cradling his doll. Finally, when the fear ebbed, he shoved the stuffing back into Dover and started to lovingly stitch up his torn friend.