Chapter 4
Chapter 4
"Encounter"
He ran until his heart was thudding against his rib cage in protest. He hadn't gotten very far. Someone could still come after him, and he didn't want to see anyone from the herd ever again. The pain in his chest blossomed, and he leaned against a tree weak with exhaustion. Sweat poured down his face and glistened on his chest. The rain clouds were rumbling overhead ominously, and he wished there was somewhere he could take shelter.
His ears picked up the sound of the river nearby. His skin was burning and he was overheated. Perhaps a short dip in the river would cool him down some and make it easier for him to breathe…
The water was fast. The first fat drops of rain began to pound on him as he carefully waded into the river. The icy water on his hot skin felt heavenly, and the shock of it stilled his racing thoughts. Feeling secure in his footing, he ducked under the water completely.
When he started to rise back to the surface, a fast floating log struck him across the back of his head and knocked him unconscious. He floated and bobbed down the river like a piece of driftwood. He was battered and bleeding, freezing cold and entirely alone in the world.
The eerie sound of howling wind and the familiar call of the hoot owl awoke him. His head ached terribly. Moaning, he weakly pushed his torso off the muddy bank, squinting futilely into the darkness around him. His eyesight had always been terrible, and the sliver of moon in the sky offered little light to see by. Exhausted, Harry dropped back to the bank, wincing at the pain that coursed through his limbs.
A fierce growl cut through the heavy fog like a blade through butter. A short bark followed it, then another growl joined the rumbling of the first. Wolves.
Harry's flight instinct kicked in. Foliage and thorny branches whipped at his face as he ran, mercilessly cutting at his exposed skin. He galloped blindly. He squeezed the very last bit of energy out of his muscles, sprinting until his lungs begged for air and his limbs trembled with exhaustion.
His pursuers showed no signs of slowing. The wolves kept coming – occasionally dropping back to rest and letting other members of the pack keep up the vigorous chase. They were a well-oiled machine that Harry simply couldn't outmaneuver. He tripped over a fallen log and felt the blood spray from one of his back legs. The snarling grew closer and he cried out helplessly into the night. He remembered the beast from his Minnetaree, the horrible feeling of being ripped apart…
The thick thud of horse hooves answered his cry for help. Harry opened his eyes just in time to see a rugged black stallion gracefully leap over his fallen form. Lithe arms, lined with sleek muscle, pulled an arrow back on a mighty bow and let it loose into the closest wolf. The beast gargled up blood and dropped like a swatted insect. The mysterious stallion reared back and kicked his front legs menacingly at the remaining attackers. The wolves dropped into a semi-circle around him, snarling and growling with their ears flattened to their heads. The heroic centaur drew another arrow and felled another wolf effortlessly. A particularly viscous looking beast tried to creep around him, but he caught the wolf in the side with a powerful back kick. He took out two more with his giant bow and doled out a few good hits before the wolves scattered, whimpering and squealing as they disappeared like ghosts into the dark, foggy forest.
"Are you injured?" The stranger barked, peering down at him harshly.
"My back leg…I think I cut it…and my head…" Harry couldn't hear if he had said the words or not. There was a strange rushing in head, and Harry blissfully passed out seconds later.
Harry opened his eyes slowly. A great castle loomed on the horizon, dark and poisoned. The sound of children laughing, strong and jubilant at first, but fading now. Harry tilted his head towards the sky, searching for an answer, not entirely sure of the question.
A full moon.
Suddenly, there was a two-legs behind him. He wore a large turban, and his skin was transparent in the odd light of the dream. Harry tried to turn so that he was facing him, but he couldn't move. He saw the man through the back of his head. The two-legs raised a weapon and smiled grimly. Somehow, Harry knew that the weapon the two-legs was holding was called a wand.
Just as a green light began to glow at the tip of the wand, the two-legs was knocked to the ground. His head was split open. Still, Harry couldn't turn. His eyes remained fixed on the castle, his ears strained toward the fading sound of gentle laughter.
This time, when his eyes opened, he was not in the world of dreams. He was in a cave. He sat up abruptly, desperate to confirm that he hadn't been dragged back home.
Thankfully, he wasn't. The cave was similar to the home of a centaur, but it was…different. The first difference Harry noted were the shelves that lined the cave. The centaur that owned the cave had a great deal of things. It was not normal for a centaur to have so many earthly possessions. There were books and bottles mostly, but there were other things as well. On the opposite wall of the cave, just across from the bed, was an enormous black pot. Harry couldn't even guess at its purpose.
Tenderly, he touched his pounding head with his fingertips. He felt swelling, and a cut on the back of his crown, but his entire head seemed to be doused in some kind of oily jelly. The cuts on his chest and arms had been covered with the same substance. The cave seemed to be empty.
Harry had a flashback of the fight with the wolves, the image of the powerful centaur defending his fallen form. Had it been Sirius? No, Harry realized, it hadn't been Sirius. This centaur had been slightly bigger, his coat wiry and black as soot. Most telling of all, however, had been the pitiful state of his mane and tail – tangled and oily. Definitely not Sirius.
Of course, that begged the question, who had his mysterious rescuer been?
Gingerly, he laid back down, knowing it probably wasn't good for his head to be sitting up. The bed was a relaxing mix of hay and moss, soft and worn. Some sprigs of lavender were hung from the ceiling, and the soothing aroma quickly lulled him back into the world of dreams.
Harry awoke several times after that, never fully coherent. Once, he saw his rescuer standing over the large, black pot. Another time, the centaur was at his bedside, sneering down at him. Lastly, Harry had awoken to see him standing at the mouth of the cave, staring at the stars and radiating deep sadness.
Harry sneezed, then blearily cracked one eye open. He sneezed again and awakened more fully. There was something aggravating being held under his nose. Another particularly violent sneeze pulled him fully from the land of dreams.
He blinked owlishly and rubbed his running nose with the back of his hand. He sniffed loudly, his eyes watering.
The first thing he registered seeing was the centaur, his mysterious rescuer, sitting alongside the bed, some strange plant in his hand. He was scowling, and quite intimidating to look upon. His eyes were black and endless, and Harry wasn't quite sure where the shadowy darkness of the cave ended and his eyes began.
He didn't say anything. His scowl intensified, however, and dropped to the hand he had just used to wipe at his nose.
"That's disgusting. You should have requested something more appropriate to use."
Harry only blinked, not sure what to make of the strange situation.
"Err…thanks for rescuing me from the wolves," he said quietly, desperate to break the awkward silence that had fallen over them. "I'm Harry, by the way." Before thinking better of it, Harry extended the hand he'd used to wipe his nose. His large nose crinkling in disgust, Harry's host stood quickly and glided away. He set the plant down on a small, wooden table, and then headed for the cave entrance. "Hey, wait! Aren't you going to tell me your name?" Harry asked, hoping to draw the centaur back.
The mighty centaur paused at the exit, his hand already pushing back the grass covering.
"Severus."
Then he was gone, and Harry was left with a fiercely aching head as his only company.