Echoes from the Lost Ones (5 page)

“Down some if ye can. We must salvage something from this horror. I promised ye all some meat and that is what we shall have.”

I stopped, ready to return, ready to bring forth more if this fearless and foolish male believed that he could win, when a shaky voice cried forth, “Nay, wait! These are not birdybirds. These are hawks and bigger. We cannot eat this meat.”

So right he was, for raptor meat like all other flesh from animals, is poison to all hominids alike. I let out a “Ha!” and spid-sped into the forest in search of Wirt.

Chapter Five

Encounter With Some Witchy Stuff

I caught up with Wirt secs later, bent over, hands on knees catching his breath. I tapped his shoulder, he jumped higher that a grasshopper avoiding a snakey’s jaw and swooshed round to face me. He pulled me to his chest and held onto me with a strength I had not expected. His heart beat fast and his grip was so tight upon my clothes that it almost stopped my breathing.

I gasped in tiny lungfuls and said, “We must keep moving.”

“Aye, we must.”

“Relinquish my person a tad so that I can gulp some air. At least enough to keep my feet clip-clopping fast.”
 

“Sorry,” he said and let go.

I straightened my crumpled tunic and we ran deeper into the woods. I halted ‘bruptly when I came to what appeared to be a dead end. A large cluster of densely packed trees obstructed our progression. Wirt bumped into my back, and as one, we fell to the ground. I lifted my face from the floor, sat back on my haunches and wiped the dirt from my eyes. Wirt stared at me with an expression of terror and buried his face into my knees.

“All clear, Wirt. We are in no danger,” I said by way of soothing his anxiety. He did not budge and I had to prise and pull his stiff fingers away from my trousers. Which, because of his manhandling, were plucked quite shapeless.

“Birdies. Birdies. Big and nasty. They came before, when I was bub. The raptors butchered my lil’ sis. Plucked her from my mams teat. How? How ye do this thing that brings them to yer bidding?”

Wirt put his head in his hands and rocked back and forth between soft sobs. I touched his shoulder tender-like and he stopped. He dropped his hands and gave me a fearful stare that made me feel ashamed somehow. I shrugged and simply said, “They named me well. I have talent for the voicing of things.”

“Why didn’t the birdybirds come too?”

“Their song is not the same. Took me more than it should to recognise the difference. Got the scars to prove it.”

“This ye can do for everything?”

“Nope. Only things I can call are those that sing.”

“Then we must trundle forth before the dark settles. Before the Wolfies come out to feed.”

“Goodly plan, but to where? You know these parts?”

“Some. I came out beyond that wall of oaks and across the clearing. Walk it before moon up, mebbe less. But, cannot. Should not. I was sent to camp like all the teenbulls and must wait until I am Manlyman. Fems do not want us till then. Fems will be aggrieved on seeing my nondult face. But here there be Wolfies, as fierce as all them raptors in a bag. They have taken more bubs than all the Kiddiefilching Agros in the land.”

“What do you know about those Peados?”

“Only what I hear.”

“And what words did you take in?”

“They take the tenderest, sweet ones. Ones that have the Meekness.”

 
“My bro-bro was biddable. Too much so.”

“When was he taken?”

“Not more than a few moons before I came to your camp.”

“Then I hope he will be living. Safe if ye can find him”

“Where to look?”

“That I cannot say.”

A crick-crack and snap sound ceased our conversation, and I adopted the guarding stance. There was another splinter break behind us, and another and another. Wirt ran to my rear and we stood back to back ready to attack. I only hoped that if it were Agros following us, that they would be small in number.

I whispered low, “You have the skill?”

“As good as any when not outnumbered.”

“Good enough. Stay this close.” He pressed his back against my spine and I yelled to who knows what. “Come out you milksops. Face us like a Backpacker S.A.N.T.”

A snort of some magnitude greeted my blusterings, and I felt Wirt’s body tense as stiff as a dead man’s knee. “Wolfies.” He hardly spoke the word before a huge one sprang at us from the thick greenness.

It landed by my feet. I stayed rigid as a tree trunk, hardly daring to breathe and wishing with all my might that I wore the same metaplasmonic material that my Synthbag was made from. Then I too would be rendered invisible by the light trick camouflage and able to run away undetected.

The animal lowered its neck, raised the thick brown-black fur along its back and thrust its head forward. Its thin lips spread wide to reveal deep red gums that held the whitest, sharpest teeth I had ever seen. I swear its drool dripping fangs were the size of my fingers. It gave forth a belly-rumbling growl and narrowed its amber eyes. Four more slavering creatures crept out, all with jaws wide open, all making noises of threat.

They pawed the ground and snorted hot air from flared nostrils and I thought myself gone deaf, so loud was the sound of my blood as it pounded in my ears. The snarling hounds moved nearer to our trembling selves, so close that I could smell their carrion flavoured breath. I felt Wirt’s shoulders dig into mine and again he said the word “Wolfies.”

As fearless as I am, and skirmish trained, I knew that we were outnumbered and soon to meet our doom. The beasts wrinkled their snouts, growled most fiercely and hunched themselves low, ready to strike. Too near to death to think straight, I slowly raised my hand up and over my shoulder and delved into my Synthbag knowing not what I was looking for. I came upon the used sponge bag and an idea sparkled in my brain.

I cautiously pulled out said item, yanked the pouch apart, took out four bloated absorbs and threw them one by one into the shrubbery, saving an extra squishy swab to taunt the beasties with. I swung it round and round and they followed it with their ravenous gaze. Once I was sure that they had taken the bait, I threw it in the near direction of the others. The wolfies sniffed and drooled a bit, then lurched into the denseness. For the first time since reaching readywomb, I was grateful for being afflicted with the heavies. We ran full pelt in the opposite direction, towards the barrier of trees and pushed our way through it.

Wirt slowed his racing legs when we came to a clearing. We stopped by an ancient gnarly tree trunk surrounded by tall yellow flowers.

“Wolfbane.”
 

“This you are assure of? The pics I have seen when we did stuff about nature and the like in geog class, show a pretty blue petal plant. Not this scraggy permutation.”

“The blue stuff is not true. It goes by the name ‘Monkshood’ and although quite as deadly, it has not the power to inflict the extra hurt upon the Wolfies.”

I reached to pluck some up to stash in my Synthbag for later use, but Wirt pulled my arm away. “Do not. Even the tenderest tap will harm. Be not fearful, Wolfies will not follow us here.”

“Truly? I had thought it a myth.”

“No myth, all fact.”

I rubbed a burgeoning welt on my arm that came from the briefest of contacts with the shrub and said, “Not sure I wish to traipse amongst such deadly veg.”
 

“Worry not about harm. I know the way.” He scrunched himself down upon the earth and scratched the ground looking for something under the surface. He slid his fingers around a fibrous root, yanked it out and began to chew the end.

“If you are with hunger, Wirt, I have many a sachet of grub and the like,” I said and took a pack of Soysausage from my bag. “We can mix it up, make a fire and eat heartily from its goodness.” He shook his head and I stuffed the dried meal back from whence it came. He sat upon a rotting wood stump and held up the root.

“This protects. I make a paste of it and smooth it into my flesh, then all is shielded from the plants poison.”

“My jaw drops at your wondrousness. Come, I will masticate too and make us both immune.”

I rested myself beside the teen and chomped upon the rootlet, pursing my lips at its bitter taste. I spat out the pulp into my hand, and then rubbed it along my forearm, fingers and palm. He did the same. Then indicated by way of mimicking a kittle lapping at some cream, that he required some water to rinse away the excess mulch. I took a flask of said same wet and gargled-spat until my mouth felt right. Wirt followed suit and we set about procuring our armour against the Wolfies.

Wirt laid the plantlets on some giant leaves that he plucked from the undergrowth, and wrapped them up tight. Folding them so neat and cleverly that they did not require a binding to keep them from falling out. I stood and watched his dexterous manoeuvres and became aware of a warmth growing inside my gut, that wasn’t all that displeasing.

“Amongst this magic plant, we can abide and have ourselves a sitting down,” Wirt said.

“Most rightly, for I have a belly ache for lack of something good.”

I kneeled and fumbled in my Synthbag for a pack of Soylygrub and some water. I pulled out one of my faves, Soymadras, and turned back to Wirt. He was nowhere to be seen.

“Wirt!” I yelled. No response. “Wirt!”

A sudden sickly feel crept up my spine. I dropped the food and ventured toward the woodier parts and called his name again. No answer. My breath came out quick and hot. I thought I heard a low growl somewhere near. I backed off and the noise became louder. I strained my eyeballs searching for signs of animal, but saw nowt except for tree.

The sound again.

It was close. So close that I thought it must be an invisible creature. Like they used to have back in the oldie days when NotSoGreatBritAlbion was called the Youkay. When the sea was not dead, when creatures called squids abided there. They could change their colour to suit their environment using tinted liquid filled sacs inside their skin. When they squeezed their muscles, the cells grew bigger and the pigment spread out making them quite lost to sight. My class learning memories ended when something touched my shoulder. I spun round, fists at the ready. Wirt ducked just in time, for I sent forth a mighty left hook jab.

“Calmly Adara,” he said.

“You are safe?”

“That I am. Why ask?”

“Did you not hear the snarling creature?”
 

“I did not.”

“Then listen with me.”

We stood in silence and cocked our ears up wind. A mighty snarl burst though the quiet and Wirt chuckled.

“That was no animal sound.”
 

“Than what?”

He poked my tum and it grumbled.

“It is ye. The source of noise, listen.”

I did and heard my innards churn and complain most forcibly.

“Here, I come bearing nosh,” he said and held out what looked like a mummified turd.

“What in huffin’ hellfire is that?”

“Carrot. And this is Pignut, and these are ‘shrooms,” he said and proceeded to pull out a variety of dubious looking objects from his skirt pouch.

 
“These things we are to eat?”

“Cook firstly.”

I picked up my Soylygrub and waved it underneath his nose. “This is food, proper.”

Wirt shook his head and squatted down next to the log we’d sat on to chew the magical root. I leant my bottom against it and watched Wirt drag together leaves and twiglets. He placed them on top of each other, forming a tower of dead foliage and branchlets. He took some flint and a piece of hemp string from his pouch and bent close to the mound. I ogled, fascinated as he scritch-scratched at the flat stone until a surge of sparkles danced around the ragged material. Then he blew as gentle as a sleeping bub, and I saw the tiny sparks ignite the hemp. A bright yellow flame and then another and another, tongued up the tower.

Wirt, created fire.

I kneeled beside him and grinned for all to hear when the flames jumped higher and higher, as he piled on more dry and dead-dead wood. With some twiglets and string, he fashioned up a tripod and straddled it over the blaze. As quick as a spider knitting her web, he used his forefingers to knot together a pouch.

“Ye have a cup or bowl in that magic sack of yers?”

“Both,” I said and handed him a nanosteel croc.

“Goodly. Water too and something to aid us in the eating of this meal?”

I gave him my flask and an all-in-one cutlery device that he opened to reveal a spoon, fork and small knife. He laid the utensil on the ground and put some liquid into the pot. Then, he filched out a ragged dagger from the holster on his skirt and chopped up the miscellaneous titbits. Wirt placed the pot in the knotted holder, piled in the whatnots and attached it to the twiggy stand.

“The taste may benefit from some dried ‘erbs,” he said as he took out a sachet from his skirt pouch and sprinkled it on top. I do believe I smelt the tastiest smell I have ever breathed in. I didn’t have the sentiment to tell him that I had a firebox and that the Soylygrub self-cooks.

“You are a sorcerer of greatness. Santy Breanna showed me how to make a fire once. Too bad I wasn’t paying attention that day, for if pressed to summon up flames myself, I think I would flounder. Where did you school to learn all this?”

“Here and there around the forest place. That’s what we do in Manlyman camp. The best foragers make the best hubbies.”

“Then you will be sought after.”

Wirt blushed and shook his head. “That path may fork too broadly.”

I looked into his moocow eyes and knew the right in his sayings. I decided to change the subject and learn more about these rustic folk.

“Is it true you cannot cleanse until you become Manlymen?”

“Tis rightly so. At first our wishy-washiness, and holding on to the old fear of the virus, was nearly our undoing. So we sought a way to toughen up and keep from coughs and colds and the like. This muckiness is a solemn thing, a test of spirit and vigour. I do not relish such a life, though.”

“That is plain to see.”

“Do ye not wish for bond with Manlyman? As befits a fem of yer years?”