The ground was uneven. She felt twigs poking underneath her, with the roots of a massive tree elevating her feet. Dead leaves had stuck themselves to her face.
Sunlight from daybreak had trickled in through the filter of trees. The crows had returned, cawing for the sake of being heard. The newness of each sensation was slowly drawing this one out of her sleep.
She inhaled deeply, and found she was forcing dirt into her nostrils. She coughed, and raised her head.
A pair of brown eyes were watching her. They had gold in them, too, like a generous portion of honey in tea.
This one tried bolting to her feet. Her legs caved at her own weight, and her scrawny buttocks smacked the forest floor.
The owner of the pair of eyes jumped back, as well, seeming to be just as startled as she was. The commotion and her panic were enough to wake her to the point that she recognized him to be boy, probably no older than twenty-one. Irish-looking, with sandy-shaded hair, and a face full of freckles. His frame was a little wide; his face round. He was only slightly more coordinated than she as he jumped up. "Whoa, whoa! Easy!"
He waited. Her eyes were wide, confused. She was not running from him. "Easy," he murmured to her again. He lifted the back of his left hand up to show her. There were no markings on it. "I wasn't gonna hurt ya. See?"
The air around him seemed to compress as the shades of brown and sand took dominance over his form, and she saw him as he was; another wolf.
She wiped her face with her palms. In a single, casual leap the wolf was next to her. She marveled at him. She had never been so close to wild animal before. He looked like a dog, but seemed to carry himself with greater pride than one. In her yearning, she reached…and found her hand sinking into the tawny fur. The wolf cocked his head, sizing this one up. Then he leaned in and licked her face.
She had missed contact with another, the kind that was meant in care. She recognized just how much as her hand swept up and down the smoothness of his fur, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath. Her other hand reached and touched his back in a loose embrace. She wondered if she would weep. Instead, she found that she swam in her own serotonin too much for her to cry over it. "What's your name?"
"Hige."
After a moment, she released him, and the wolf reluctantly trotted back to a comfortable distance from her. He was back to being human in appearance, practically lounging in front of her.
How…? This one wondered. She shook her head and let it be.
For his own part, Hige seemed bashful after reveling in her affection. He giggled to himself and stared at the ground, picking the bark off a nearby twig. He did not look up as he said, "Kiba was right. You smell amazing."
"Who is Kiba?"
Hige looked up from his twig, gawking. "That guy you were with last night! You mean, he never said-" Hige stopped himself and groaned knowingly. "That's just like him!" He grinned and continued, "What do you remember about last night?"
"We were traveling for a time, this one and the white wolf you just called 'Kiba'. We stopped after the sky was dark. This one does not remember much else."
"We had all met up, but you were passed out asleep." He feigned disapproval. "So lazy!"
"Oh! This one is sorry."
"I'm teasing you." Hige lightly kicked at her foot.
"Oh." She nodded her head formally.
"You're really strange, do you know that? But I like you." Hige was grinning again. This one began to think that Hige must laugh a lot.
The girl sat up on her own, stretched, and slowly made it to her feet. "Where is he? Kiba."
"Foraging. The others are scouting. They'll be back soon."
"You mean, there's more of you?"
"There are four of us. With you, that makes five. Wolves travel in packs, where we can help it. All of our true packs disbanded, they came apart. I'd been on my own for a while." He paused to watch her reaction. She was listening intently. Finally he nodded towards her right. "Those are for you, y' know."
On the ground near her was a marvelous and rich rose-hued cloak. It was folded over a pair of pink galoshes. It must have seemed absurd for her to walk in rain boots no matter what the weather was doing, but they seemed sturdy and durable.
"Where did you find these?"
"In one of the towns. It's easy for me to get around in them. An' I know how to get things." He seemed casual about those statements, but she detected a certain boasting behind his words.
She glanced over the gifts; her eagerness to cast off the traces of the last few years of her life was coupled with her innate sense of wariness. "Before this one went away, they said the things The Nobles give to you, even the clothing, is laced with poison. It's in the dyes, and in the threads. It would go through your pores and make you sick."
"I know their poisons. If it was in there, I would have smelled it. It's safe."
She unfolded the cloak. It was woolen, and well-constructed. Something just for her, this one, who was nothing. She drew it to herself. "It's wonderful! Thank you. And thank You, Heavenly Father."
Hige seemed pleased. "Yeah. You're welcome." As this one sat and worked her calloused feet into the galoshes, she remembered something.
"In that place where this one came from, I used to paint you. I saw wolves in my mind, and I painted them."
Hige did not know her meaning. But he was still curious. "What were we doing in them?"
"There was a field, and all of you were running toward a light. You were running out of darkness, but you did not seem to be in fear of the dark. It was like you only knew that there was a light."
Hige considered that carefully. Then, he said, "Hey."
This one raised her head from her own task.
"It's going to be…okay now, isn't it? I mean, with you here, things are going to be different. Things around us will change."
She worked her feet into the boots. Remarkably, they seemed to fit her well. "Come here," she beckoned to Hige. Once again, he was next to her, as a wolf. Her hands gently clasped the sides of his face, her thumbs touched his muzzle. "Hige, listen to this one. What we are going to witness will be greater than anything we can imagine. We'll see the world going back to God to be renewed. This task, this journey, is much bigger than any one of us. But if we are ever to survive what's coming, we must do what The Lord says, exactly as He says. His Word must be inscribed upon our hearts. Do you understand?"
"I can do that."
**************************************************
He had watched old cities burn. He'd seen the forests being consumed by greed. These were humans who always wanted more.
Kiba was unsure which had endured the worst of it; was being dragged away from life at any early age and living in isolation worse than watching life fall apart before your eyes?
The pristine domes had arrived unannounced to all, encroaching upon what remained of the wilderness with each passing season, widening as if bloated. He had entrenched himself further into those woods each time, away from the acrid smoke and the stinging disinfectant smell of change.
He would have stayed as long as he was able, but he was being pulled to run. For what, he did not know. But when his dreams broke, he would awake with new sensations, like strange colors and sounds, and the scent of a foreign flower would waft towards him.
The flower in the wasteland he had found so far. Her name was Cheza. He would protect her.
Now he believed in The City of God, in Rakuen. He believed what he would find would bring sense to chaos and order. And he was convinced wolves would live to see it.
************************************************************
A plaintive, slurred voice called out from across the hallway, "My Lord Darcia, will you join us?"
There was revelry in the other room. Bodies were upon each other. Darcia could not be certain what they were doing collectively. The guests of The Keep did what they liked, moved however the moment enticed them to.
"No, Justin," he returned cooly. He had grown weary of the blood-letting, and needed to think. There was business to tend to.
He shut the door on those favored of The Nobles, now mostly inebriated through some means, and stole into a dimly-lit room, decked in fine wood and lush fabrics. The bookshelves brimmed with the topics of world religions, alchemy, ancient polytheistic ceremonies, and culture, mainly art. He had explained to an advisor once of it, "If we are to communicate with the world, we must do it through its faith. We must learn to speak the language of the world, as people have always spoken to each other. Long before people knew, they believed."
His love, Harmona, was connected to the room, in her own sub-chamber, encased in glass. He never desired to leave this room, but there were times that his duties and commitment to Harmona required him to.
He had called for Rease, his aid, to brief him. In a matter of minutes, the aid appeared at Darcia's door, and was granted entry.
"Praise be to you, Lord Darcia, and to our master."
"Thank you, Rease. What is your word?"
"It's Cheza, my lord. The one you called for. The Captain and Lord Orkham report that she has escaped."
Darcia nodded his head. "Good."
Rease started. "Sir?"
"The world's people are dying off only because of their own weakness. The old ones ruined enough. They made their people comfortable as they consumed and squandered."
Rease nodded along with the statement, although he felt patronized. He knew this already. "Of course they did, my lord."
"And all their leaders did was distract them. They spoke of faith."
"Yes," Rease looked at Darcia uncertainly. "But I was speaking of Cheza."
"The one we need would overcome the obstacles set before her. The key to everything would not be weak." Darcia abruptly stood from his chair, and walked to the doorway, the entrance to where his Harmona slept. "But tell me, why did Orkham let her go?"
"I have some thoughts, sir."
"Say them."
"There are rumors that the implants have begun malfunctioning in Freeze City. The people are becoming erratic, unreliable. If it's true, he'd have too much to handle now to try to hold prisoner you want."
"This was a delicate operation from the start. Orkham mistimed everything."
Rease smiled. "If I may, my lord, this hunt is going to be an excellent pursuit."
"Well said, Rease."