17: One of Them

Growing up, my family never kept cats. We couldn't have kept them cooped up in our homestead even if we wanted to, what with how often we were running inside and out and leaving doors and windows open. And if we had a feline friend to curl up beside our fire, it would've had to have been one mean-ass cat to deal with all the predators we had sniffing around for our chickens and cattle.

So when Shail dragged the hapless girl against his belly and bared long fangs my way, a sharp sense of worry spiked through my veins. How the hell do you take prey away from a predator? In the back of my mind I knew cats periodically gifted their owners with dead things, but I wasn't sure about big cats. Or crag cats.

So how was I supposed to get the girl away?

The answer, I thought, was a very cynical, "only if Shail lets me."

"Help!" the girl exclaimed in a pitchy squeal. Shail's attention shot down. His jaws clamped around around her torn shoulder, puckering the skin.

"Play dead," I told the groaning girl, running my hand over my braid.

Her panicked eyes met mine. Shail's lower jaw covered up her expression as she squirmed against him, pushing her fingers into his thick neck to no avail. "He's hurting me!"

"I know," I said, trying a tentative step forward. The cat's ears pinned back toward me. He growled through his tightening grip. "Be quiet."

"It hurts!"

Nothing I said kept her quiet. She struggled against her captor and her captor bit down harder and the cycle would go on and on until Shail decided to end it. I had to do something, but I didn't want to hurt him or her.

"Shail, stop." I declared, squaring my shoulders. He let go, but only so he could bat her down again when she tried to crawl away like a baby impala caught by a playful leopard. With little options left, I sawed off a hunk of branch from the brush around us, big enough to swat his shoulder with. Of course, whacking a cat with a stiff collection of plant material was about as effective as one might guess. He shut his eyes and hissed and with my body leaning as far back as I could, I kept thumping his snout. "C'mon boy. Drop her."

His patience fizzled into annoyance, and within seconds the branch had been swiped from my hand. Keeping my eyes trained on the cat, I scooted the limb back with my foot and picked it up again, prepared to spend as long as it took to annoy him into letting the girl go (or more likely, eating me instead).

About the sixth or seven time, the cat reached his boiling point. He dropped the girl flat on the ground, and bit down hard on the stick, wrenching it from my hands with a hiss. Before I could blink a hot pain blushed across my forearm and I fell back onto the ground a few feet from the girl. Shail was a hissing presence in my face and then the cat's ears swiveled forward, then down again. His head turned toward the forest depths. With one last snarl he twisted away from me. By the time I'd gotten onto my knees the cat had run clean through the brush and headed for the river.

The girl was gasping loudly in the dirt. Tiny specks of dust blew around her in the green light of the afternoon, and then, somewhere beyond her, past the massive trunks and angled roots I could observe with my eyes, something pushed through the undergrowth at a frightening, noisy pace. It didn't sound like it was coming directly for us, whatever it was, but it was coming.

I scrambled across to the girl, grabbed her by the less-punctured shoulder and hauled her to her feet. She slipped against me with a soft cry, shaking hands clutching at my own bleeding arm.

"Come on," I said, grimacing. Setting her hands off me, I turned away from her and squatted onto the ground. "You know how to piggyback?"

She nodded.

"Climb on," I said, angling my head back towards the forest. Branches bowed and broke at a steady rate. "Hold on tight."

Her pale frame balked. The girl collapsed into a shell, hugging her bloody arms against her chest. "I can't—"

"Hold tight," I repeated, leaning forward a little under her weight. The noise drew closer. My arm burned as she clung to me. It took me too long to get to  my feet, too long. Fast as I could I stumbled forward in the crag cat's wake. Blood dripped against my neck, warm and sticky. The girl's breath came in such short pants against my skin I thought more than once she might faint and let go before we went- the hell were we going to go? With every shrub we ducked around we left a glistening, copper-scented trail.

Ahead of us, Shail's form was a splash though the river. The cat slipped through to he distant bank and retreated north toward where I'd found him. The banks and water was inundated with tall reeds and grasses, bogged down with deceptive, feet-sucking mud and a cold, low current of water. With my own muscles shaking from the girl's weight, I heaved us into the mess, sludged forward as far into the reeds and fetid muck as I could manage until my foot sank to my knee. I fell flat on my face. The girl rolled off my in a dirty linen ball. Before she could scream I slapped my muddy hand across her mouth and held a finger to my own lips.

The girl nodded, but remained a shivering mess. The grasses moved with her, swaying as her tiny frame shook. Very slowly I eased myself through the mud until I could get behind her. I pulled her against me, hugging her tight.

Masked by the sound of water, the crashing noise I'd heard disappeared. We waited in silence in the wet, waiting, shivering, fighting every burning instinct to get up and run away, to put more distance between ourselves and whatever was out there. The angle of the sun tilted down, and still we didn't move.

I'd just about considered the anger passed. A lizard flipped overhead in the emerald sunlight, it's feathered shadow a darting arrow, when the grasses compressed not fifteen yards away. A great, harsh snort cut across the mellow burble of water.

My gut said animal, but it didn't sound like Shail. Was it Gabriel? Was it Chiro's wolf already? The thing snorted again and in my fear I thought it sounded almost masculine. The girl shook even more, cowering against my chest. I held my hand against her dark hair and we listened. Sniffsniff. Step. Sniff.

It drew closer, near enough that I could almost see a shape above the stalks, but as I gripped the knife tight the creature turned downriver. I held the girl close a good long time after that, until her waterlogged fingers gripped mine.

"Please, can we go?" Everything I ever imagined in this past week slipped into her pleading sob. "Please. I want to go."

I waited five more minutes, then stood and helped her up. Water clung to her skinny, undeveloped frame.

"You're so young," I observed, frowning.

With dirty fingers she pushed knotted hair off her cheeks. "I'm scared."

The shock in her eyes became relief and confusion at the sight of my armor, like she was finally aware of the situation now that she wasn't being mauled or hunted. "Where'd you get that?" she asked, holding her stained rag of a wedding dress. "Who are you?"

"Tay Wilson,  Lady of the Hunt," I said, tugging her hand when she pushed away from the reeds. In the time waiting she'd healed up, same as I, but knowing there was something sharing the riverside, I was loathe to leave tracks in plain view.

Her muscles were too young and weak to break my grip. Instead, she slipped and would've fallen if not for my grip. "You're one of them."

"No!" I said loudly, then dropped my tone. Her brown eyes were focused on my hand. I dropped her arm and tried again. "I mean, I'm on your side. I'm here to save you."

"I saw them!" the girl said. "I saw one turn into a tiger. Are you turned into a girl?"

"Do you think I'd be hiding if I could turn into a tiger?"My feet squelched in the mud. I started walking back in Shail's direction. Even if he turned out not to be the protector I thought, he was good at detecting danger- and the crag cat probably had a good hiding spot somewhere in the rockier area.

Her tiny shoulders shrugged as she caught up with me. "What'd they tell you about the Hunt?"

"A bit," the girl said. She moved with all the grace of a limp dove, dragging her feet alongside mine probably not because she trusted me, but more because she had no other choice. "We know more. We know what they'll do to us."

"I won't do any of that," I said, glancing sideways at her. She was a young girl, definitely not older than ten. My heat ached for everything she -and her earthly family- had endured so far. This wasn't how any child should spend her life: or afterlife.  "I just want to bring you and the other girls back safe."

In her filthy face, the only spark of light was a flash in her eyes. Her mouth opened in a soft gasp. "Can you get me home?"

Shail's tracks cut back to our side of the river. The deep marks of his claws vanished onto hardened rock and dry soil, but the marks were still damp and drying. The girl asked the sam question. I sighed, turning back to her. "You remember how you came to the Mid?" I asked.

"I want my mom," she said, sniffling. Her arms crossed. Her bottom lip stuck out. Tears stained clear paths down her cheeks and met at the base of her chin, where she wiped away the wetness. "I want to go home. Take me back."

"We can't go yet," I said. The words were both a lie and the truth. I couldn't take her truly home, but we truly couldn't turn tail for the palace yet, either.

"Why not?" she stuttered as we reached the base of the waterfall. "You said you'd make me safe."

I glanced up the rocks, searching for signs of the cat and a suitable home. We'd have to climb, and in doing so, anyone could see us until we got into a deep crevice or cave. From my vantage point, the first decent one looked about three-quarters of the way up the incline. "We have to get the others," I said, putting my knife firmly in its sheath. I was fine to move, but the girl's feet were bare. She was going to slip and the rocks were going to cut her feet, but we had no choice. When I got her somewhere safe, I resolved to gather some of the water and wash away her tracks. To be honest, it'd be nice to have someone with me, someone whose motives weren't questionable or deranged.

"But you have me," the girl continued, clambering after me. "You can make me safe. The palace isn't far. You want to risk my life when we don't even know if they're alive?"

"Some of them are," I grunted, pulling myself up, "and we've got to find them."

Below me, the girl's voice strained against tears. "After you bring me back. Please. I just want to see my mom."

And in that moment, I realized I didn't even know her name. I turned back to look at her. "What's your name?" I asked, making myself smile.

"Jessie," she said from six feet down, struggling to keep pace. "Where are going?"

"To stay with my cat," I said. "He won't be so mean to you this time, I promise." Or so I hoped. I might have to go back out and hunt something down for him as a bribe. "Anyway, Jessie, Lords and Ladies have to follow the rules. Once you're in the palace, you're trapped until the Hunt's end. If we go back now, we can't save anyone else."

"How many will we save?" I bit my lip and kept going. She scrambled after me. "You'll get us killed."

"We've died once already, Jess. One of these days we'll die again."

I heaved myself onto the ledge and helped her up. We caught our breath at the top, overlooking the darkening forest with our feet dangling. Behind us, the darkness rumbled in a familiar tone.

Jessie tensed, but this time Shail kept his paws to himself. The crag cat lay partially-visible, his big round eyes focused on me. Something finned and scaly lay dead in his claws. He didn't move, I didn't move, and then with a clunk of his tail he returned to eating his catch.

"I'm sorry," I began, clearing my throat. "I won't bring you back yet." She kept glancing back around at the cat. At some point soon I was going to have to wedge her in there with him and leave them alone long enough to wipe our tracks a bit.

"But how many?" she asked. "How many of us do you have to get before we're important enough to go home?"

"When I know we can't get more," I said, and ushered her into the depths out of sight. Maybe I'd even work on constructing some kind of temporary doorway, so we'd have a little extra warning if anything tried to bust in here in the night.

I waited for Shail and Jessie to grow a little more comfortable with each other and with me (which was more or less letting him sniff her hand and letting her scratch his armored hide a little, which contented my semi-ferocious feline), before letting the girl know I had to retrieve my pack from somewhere down below and do a few things before the sun went down. She had to stay right here, right put, until I got back.

*

But I made for a shitty babysitter back in high school. Kids just never seemed to listen to me and I had a knack for losing track of them while trying to keep track of them. Mom said they didn't listen because I had too friendly of a face or some other white lie. I wasn't sure why I was so bad with kids, but I was. And when I hauled my ass back to the beginnings of our shelter, Shail was napping and the girl was gone.

When I woke up in the morning, Jessie was a set of damp footprints on the rocks. "Jessie?" I called after flinging my pack next to Shail. The crag cat's eye opened. He sighed a moment, and then as I started clambering down, the cat's dappled head poked out. After an indecisive yawn, he shot down the rocks like lightning and chilled at the base where the mist sprayed cool and thick.

"Jessie?" I panted as I reached the cat.

Only a torn, bloody scrap of fabric clung to the rocks where she must have slipped and cut herself and the hem of her dress.

I gave that scrap to Shail. The cat sniffed it, then caught sight of a bright lizard in the trees. Big yellow eyes rolled their focus onto it, and that was the end of my attempt at converting a cat into a bloodhound.

Turns out I didn't need Shail anyway.

Jessie stood knee-deep in a shady riverbend, where the massive oak branches stretched across the water. From a distance she looked so small against the reeds I must've missed her entirely when I'd been coming back from retrieving my pack. Water soaked her white dress, clinging to her thin frame like a second skin.  It took me a few seconds to realize that she was trying to clean the mud off herself and the dress.

How silly, I thought. How stupid. After all this, didn't she realize the danger she was in?

And then I remembered that she wasn't even ten years old. Maybe she thought it was safe. Maybe she thought I would protect her. Maybe she wasn't thinking at all.

Jessie ducked her head underwater, squeezed it a bit, then threw it back over her shoulder.The wet ends of her hair slapped a large, dark abdomen that had descended like a storm cloud in the last half-second. Before I found my voice the eight-legged demon dropped onto her completely, smashing her into the shallows. A stinger jabbed her in the lower back. Her struggles faded to nothing, and the demon scuttled back on a slim, silvery thread, dragging her into the ever-looming oaks.