Book II - Exodus (Chapter 3)

As the day wore on, the scenery around Erich changed. A line of trees appeared in the horizon, only when he first saw them they were too distant to make out as anything other than a thick, dark green line. Still, he recognized it for what it was, and was glad for the chance to judge his speed. If it was a proper forest, he might find some berries or roots to chew on, and even possibly a stream.

His stomach growled as he thought of it, the claws of hunger gnawing deeper than ever before. He noted the weakness in his step, the way his head felt like it was pulling away from his body. Hunger had been normal when he’d travelled with Krutt, but this was the worst it had ever been. Still, he imagined he’d last at least another day if not two without food, and now that he had a forest to look forward to, it looked more likely that he’d soon have something in his belly besides hunger pains.

It took another three hours to reach the forest, and when he finally entered into the protection of the tall boughs and thick-trunked behemoths that made up its visage, he was greeted by a perfume of pine and maple. The forest floor was matted with pine needles and cones, and every once in a while a patch of luminescent green moss sprung up on the trunk of a giant. Erich looked up as he walked, unable to the see the tops of the trees, and only occasionally catching a glimpse of the sun, which was already sliding down its afternoon track. He would most likely spend the night here, in this forest; it was either that or find some way around, and at its edge it seemed to go on forever in both directions.

He walked with his eyes travelling constantly, looking for plants that would yield berries, but was severely disappointed to find that beyond the impossibly tall trees that spanned the girth of several men, the forest was mostly barren. Perhaps it had been foolish to hope that he’d find something immediately, and he realized now that subconsciously that’s exactly what he’d been doing since he first saw the forest line.

Now he was practically in the same situation he had just exited. Only instead of constant rolling hills with no outstanding features, he was now traversing constant rolling hills with a tree sprouting out of the ground every ten or twelve body-lengths.

So he walked, as he’d charged himself to do, and as the sun went down for the second time since his journey began, he became increasingly uninterested in the forest. It seemed the same, now, in every direction, the orange forest flooring littered with patches of green saplings and ferns, and it was amazing that Erich could even tell in which direction he had to walk, as the treetop canopy gave little light. Still, even when it was approaching full dark, Erich was able to see fairly well, which struck him as odd. He picked a tree in far in front of him, as he’d done with the star the night before, and set himself that way. Once he reached the tree he’d chosen, he’d choose another one, and by this way worked steadily Eastward with only a few small fluctuations to the North or South.

At the fifth (or was it the sixth?) tree that he’d marked as destinations, he collapsed. He was reaching for the ground before he was fully aware that he’d begun falling, and the pine needles he dove into offered a surprisingly soft landing. He lay for a moment, dazed, trying to determine what had made him fall. His legs quivered wearily, and he realized that fatigue had finally found him. Well, then he would rest, and when he felt better he would begin again. Strangely, all fear of death had left him with his encounter with the wolfas. He understood that he might die, might starve alone in the forest, and yet it didn’t bother him as much as once it might have.

He rolled over onto his back and pulled himself up against the tree. Which way had he been facing? All sides looked the same now. He’d have to wait until sunrise. Secretly he was glad for the chance to rest, and at the same time he knew that every moment he wasn’t drinking water or eating something was a moment closer to the end.

And so he spent the next four hours in a trance-like state. His eyes he closed, and yet he did not sleep. His breathing slowed, his mind focused on nothing, and even then he was perfectly aware of his surroundings. He ignored the pains in his stomach and in his legs, and listened to the sounds of tiny animals playing high up in the trees. He melted into the forest, ceasing to be himself, breathing in the sweet pine scent of night and feeling the warmth in the air. He remained in this not unpleasant state for some time, until just before the sun rose. That’s when he met the hunter.

The arrow missed him by inches, driving itself deep into the tree’s trunk by his left ear with an impossibly loud crack.

Erich’s eyes shot open and he was in motion at once, rolling to the left and away from the tree. He crouched, staring at the arrow-shaft. Pre-dawn light was beginning to trickle down through the treetops, and Erich could see the feathers on the tail end of the arrow quivering in the wind.

Deep laughter sounded from the direction the arrow’s shaft pointed. Erich turned his head, and saw a man wearing a tall hat standing seven or eight trees away. Erich stood up, and faced the man. His laughter coming to an end, he finally addressed the boy.

“Ho there, boy. So you weren’t sleeping then. What a shame; a person waking in fear is an enjoyable sight.” The man moved closer, his legs moving lithely past one another. Erich looked back at the arrow lodged in the tree trunk, and his eyebrows narrowed. He sneered at the hunter, putting as much force into his expression as his twelve year old self could manage.

The hunter chuckled.

“No, I know what you might be thinking. But don’t worry, boy. If I’d wanted you dead you wouldn’t be standing here now. All I intended was a a warning.”

“A warning.” Erich said it coldly, as he knew this kind of man. He’d met him many times before, when his hands had held a sack in front of him. He’d wink at Erich, and smile obtusely, and the boy would grit his teeth. This type of man liked to degrade, to place himself above another and then laugh down his accomplishments and advanced social standings.

The hunter waved his arms about him, gesturing to the forest they both shared.

“Aye, a simple warning. Just to say that the trees don’t take kindly to strangers here…this forest is no place for a little lost slave boy.”

“The trees. Do they take kindly to being shot? I think the trees can speak for themselves. Unless of course, you meant to say that there are other things in this forest that don’t ‘take kindly’ to strangers.”

The hunter’s grin dropped off his face.

“Aye, I might have been saying just that. Do you feel safer now?”

He stepped closer to Erich, one hand fingering a dagger on his belt. The boy wanted nothing more than to show the hunter that Erich was the one to be feared. But he stopped himself, even though he felt the first tinglings of electric power growing in his belly. You can’t do this. Would you do this, become, a monster? Quick to kill anyone who offends you? It’s time to walk away. Let him think he’s won.

Erich raised his hands in a warding gesture, and took a step back.

“Well now, I have no quarrel with you, sir. I’ll just be on my way then. Do you happen to know of a stream that would be in reasonable walking distance?”

The hunter stared at him.

“Good luck hunting; I mean it. I haven’t seen an animal in this forest yet.” And he began his trek East once more. The sun’s glow was more pronounced now as the top half of it peeked over the horizon, making giant shadows that all pointed west.

For the first five minutes after he left the hunter, his senses he forced to their highests sensitivity. It was stupid to turn your back on an archer, even when he was out of sight. But the hunter had been travelling West, otherwise Erich would have seen him on his way in. Perhaps the man with the bow would have an easier time catching food than he had. Though he was glad he did not have to kill the man, he wished he had a blade, a knife or dagger that would make him seem at least some kind of threat. He wished for food, for water, and to not have to walk any more.

He heard a noise from over the next hill. The neigh of a horse. Erich crouched low, pulling himself forward carefully, until he could see. The horse was alone, tied to a tree. Saddled on its back were the carcasses of three rabbits. And a bag. Erich stood up, and walked closer. The horse saw him, and whinnied.

“Shh, boy. I won’t hurt.”

He sidled up to its face, keeping his hands out away from him in what he hoped was a non-threatening way. The horsa’s eyes were open wide, and it began to shake its head back in forth, making grunting noises as it fought the rope. Erich stepped back.

“No, boy. I won’t hurt. Shhh. I’m coming closer again, all right?”

This time when he stepped nearer the horsa it stayed still, eyeing him warily. So it heard me. My voice soothes it.

“That’s right, I’m a friend. I won’t hurt, I’m going to try to pet you now.”

The horsa blinked, and neighed, looking away from him as if it had decided Erich was no longer a threat. Erich placed his hand on the top of it’s head, and it made no move to stop him.

“We’re friends now, aren’t we, boy. Let me untie you from that tree.”

The horsa paid him no mind as Erich tugged and manipulated the rope around its neck. He removed it without much trouble, then stuffed it into the bag hanging near the rabbit carcasses. His nostrils flared, as he smelled something amazing. Snaking his hand into the bag, his hand fell on something yielding and softly warm. He nearly collapsed with joy. Bread! There was bread in the bag, and he nearly ripped the bag from the horsa’s back to steal away into the forest. The urge he suppressed, however. This was the hunter’s horsa. The rabbits strung on its saddle made it plain. So he would not take just the bread.

He wanted the horsa as well.

It took several tries, but then he was on its back, urging it on Eastward. His heels gently massaged the horsa’s sides, and it picked up pace.

“Take me out of the forest, my friend. Then I can feel you run.”

Seeming to hear and undestand him, the horsa obeyed. Erich grinned when he imagined the hunter returning to the tree where he’d left his horsa. He’d look around, confused, and would then see Erich’s tracks and the tracks of his horsa, and he’d scream in rage.

The bread in Erich’s belly made the fantasy so much better.