The Lost Witch (11 page)

Those still gathered around the door were now trying to dig their way in. Carole
whacked at their paws until the digging stopped, but while she was doing this, other dogs
returned to the gaps in the walls. She reached for another burning branch. She was forced to
repeat these actions again and again, until the dogs finally gave up their attack and moved
off.

She wiped a patch of glass in the front window clear of grime and peered outside. Close
to a dozen canines were milling about the clearing and sniffing around the well. They looked
ragged and hungry. Escape seemed impossible.

Carole returned to the fire. She flopped down beside Runt and reached for an oat cake.
"Maybe it's time you tell me about those dogs."

The pig nodded. "Rit."

According to Runt, the pack had picked up the pigs' scent while Runt and Smoky were
still deep in the forest, probably close to where she'd crossed paths with the two dogs earlier that
day. The pigs had made a run for it. They'd gotten as far as the meadow before the dogs had
finally closed in. Knowing he couldn't outrun them, Runt had headed for the well, hoping to stay
out of reach of their snapping jaws, or at the very least to distract them long enough for Smoky to
escape.

His plan had worked. The dogs chased him, which had allowed the larger pig to get
away. Unfortunately--or fortunately as it turned out--the well cover had been so rotten that it
collapsed as soon as Runt jumped onto it, dropping him into the frigid water below. He'd
managed to clamber atop a large piece of wood and had hoped for rescue.

The tiny pig crawled onto Carole's lap and sighed contentedly, as if certain she'd figure a
way out of this latest trouble. She looked down and breathed out a gigantic sigh of her own.
"Unfortunately, those dogs are the least of our worries, Runt. A lot has happened since you left,
an awful lot."

"Reet?"

"Well, for one, I ran into that howling creature we heard the other night."

"Wreeeeet?!" Runt jumped up.

"Yes, the werewolf, but don't worry. He won't bother us again, or anyone else for
that matter."

Wide-eyed, the pig stared at Carole.

"Oh it's not what you're thinking. I had plenty of help. The problem is where that help
came from and where we're likely to end up, before long."

Runt scrunched his snout.

"I know I'm not making a whole lot of sense, but explanations will have to wait. Right
now we've got to figure out a way to lose those dogs."

Carole walked over to the window. The dogs were still milling about the meadow.
"They're certainly in no hurry to leave, and we can't afford to wait around here forever. Not to
mention our supply of wood won't last much longer." She went to the back of the cabin and
peered through a gap, close to ground level. The forest was barely ten feet away. "You know
what might work?"

"Ret?"

Runt trotted over and watched as Carole tested the strength of the board atop the gap.
The wood moved encouragingly. She studied the board closer. "Just that one nail. Of course the
real trick is keeping those dogs from figuring out what were doing." She picked up her
jackknife.

"Rit?"

"By you keeping a lookout. Go stick your eye against a knothole and let me know if any
of them get too close."

Carole dug at the wood around the nail. It wasn't particularly difficult work, though she
was grateful when the board finally popped free of the wall. Swinging it aside, she stuck her
head and shoulders through the opening. "Tight fit, but I think it's a go." She pulled herself back
inside and replaced the board.

She went to the window. "Good. It looks like those dogs are going to settle in for the
night. Let's catch some shuteye ourselves. Hopefully we'll be long gone before they even realize.
Get me up a couple hours before sunrise, will ya Runt? I'm beat."

It seemed only minutes later when Carole pushed the pig's snout from her face. "All
right already," she grouched, blinking sand from her eyes. She got up stiffly and stumbled over
to the window. A number of lumps were silhouetted against the moonlit meadow.

"Okay." She yawned, grabbed her gear, and winced at the fresh blisters on her fingers.
"We'll move straight into the forest for fifty yards before cutting back to the path. Let's go, quiet
as field mice."

She pulled the board free, crawled through the opening and froze.

Two dogs were sleeping against the back corner of the shack.
Sentries!

Before she could even think about what to do next, their noses began to twitch. A
moment later, they opened their eyes and bared their teeth.

"Reverse!" She backed into Runt.

"So much for plan A." She replaced the board and leaned back against the wall. "Guess
we do things the hard way."

The graying light of predawn found Runt and Carole peeking through the open doorway
of the cabin. "We'll go straight for that main group of dogs sleeping over by the well," she
whispered. "Hopefully we won't need them, but I'll hold onto a few branches, just in case.
Ready?"

He nodded.

Carole slipped on her rucksack and pulled at the straps until they dug into her shoulders.
"All right." She squatted low and motioned to Runt.

The pig leapt. He landed solidly on top of the pack with his hind legs straddling Carole's
neck and his front paws gripping her forehead.

"Umph! You been munching rocks, you porker?" She shifted pack and pig until her load
was balanced, and then pulled as many flaming branches from the fire as she could hold. Using
her staff for support, she moved quickly to the door and slipped outside.

They charged, screaming and squealing. Eyes snapped open, and snarls of alarm turned
into yelps of fear as Carole shoved the flaming brands at the dogs. The pack scattered in all
directions.

She turned for the trail but three dogs came at her from behind the well. She hurled a
branch at them. Two gave way but the third lunged for her legs. Twisting sideways, she swung
her staff and hit the dog in the face as its jaws clamped onto her skirt. Material ripped as the dog
jerked back with a howl. Another dog rushed in and got a mouthful of fire and spark.

Still screaming at the top of her lungs, Carole threw branches at the closest animals
while speeding towards the trail at the far end of the meadow. She concentrated on putting as
much distance as possible between herself and the dogs, before the bewildered animals realized
that their pork dinner had also escaped.

"Keep an eye out, Runt," Carole gasped. "Let me know if--" She heard the growls before
the rest of the sentence was out of her mouth. She looked over her shoulder, past Runt. Two
monstrous dogs, fangs gleaming in the firelight, were charging after her.

Carole threw all but one of her remaining branches at them and kicked into a sprint. She
glanced back moments later. The dogs were still closing in.

"Hang on, Runt!" She skidded to a stop and spun around to face them. Staff in one hand
and sputtering branch in the other, she waited.

The dogs, one tan the other black, slowed to a measured pace but kept coming, guttural
sounds escaping from their gaping maws.

Carole challenged the black one, thrusting flame in its face. The dog backed off with a
snarl, but the tan raced in and clamped down on her staff. She jabbed with her firebrand and it
leapt away. She pivoted, swinging hard. Her staff came down squarely on the black's head. The
dog dropped, stunned. Carole twisted to face the tan, but her momentum combined with the
weight of Runt and her pack was too great. Arms flailing, she stumbled backwards. The branch
slipped from her hand and the tan dog lunged for her throat.

With a cry of desperation, she raised her staff. Amazingly, it jammed into the tan's open
jaws.
CRACK!
The staff wrenched out of her hand as the dog slammed into her
chest.

She lay on the ground, winded and gasping. Only after Runt gave a faint "Ri-i-it?" did
she realize that the dog was still on top of her, and that her pig was trapped beneath her pack. She
pushed the dog off and rolled over. The tan's body convulsed and became still.

"Anything broken?"

Runt got up slowly. "Ret." He went over to the dog and sniffed. "Reet?"

"I don't know. There's no way that poke should've killed it." Carole picked up her staff
and examined it closely. "I thought this thing had snapped in two, but there's barely a
scratch."

She saw movement. The black dog was regaining consciousness. Getting to her feet, she
raised her staff high, and inched close. Teeth bared, the dog lifted its head but remained silent.
For a long moment she stood poised and ready.

When the dog didn't move, she prodded it. It snapped at her staff and struggled to its
feet.

"Go on. Get!"

The dog looked hard at Runt before turning and staggering off.

"Back on top, Runt," Carole said as she crouched. "We've got to get out of here."

Finally, a good thirty minutes later, she could go no further and collapsed in an
exhausted heap onto the ground, letting Runt tumble unceremoniously off her back. As she lay
there gasping, he sniffed, testing the air and listening for further signs of pursuit. Satisfied that
the pack truly had given up the chase, he ambled over and asked for something to eat.

"You...stomach...on...legs. Root...around...for...greens...'til...I...catch...my...breath."

Snorting indignantly, he went about finding his own breakfast.

Eventually, feeling less winded, Carole tossed Runt an oat cake. After finishing one
herself, she got to her feet. Thankful that Runt was again at her side, she was also worried.
Worried that she was leading him into greater peril.

"Remember what I said last night?" she said, as they started down the trail. "About
meeting the werewolf? Well, that's not the half of it. I really need your help, Runt, but what I've
got to do is likely to be extremely dangerous. I want you to know everything before you decide
whether to come along."

Runt cocked his head to one side and stared inquisitively.

"It began right after you and Smoky headed down the trail..."

Twenty minutes later she shrugged. "So you see what I'm up against."

"Wreet?"

"No, he didn't mention how, or even what it is that you will do. He just said that
familiars naturally know. I suppose that's how you knew the werewolf was real. Maybe it's
instinctual with you brainy animals. Maybe your ancestors came from The Hub. Could be you're
a multitasker, too."

Runt agreed it made sense, given the fact that Hub students trained with familiars, which
clearly proved that such animals lived on that world. He lifted his chin and swaggered into the
lead.

"What's with you?" Carole giggled.

"Rit ret!"

"Oh, multitasker Runt, is it? Perhaps, but I won't know for certain until I get
back there."

"Reet wreet."

"Sorry. Until we get back." She stopped and stared. "You still want to come? Despite the
danger?"

Runt told her that as far as he was concerned, Beatrice was far scarier than any werewolf
could ever be.

"Oh Runt." Carole gave him a hug. "You're the greatest!"

"Reeeet!" He was grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Yes, you're absolutely right," Carole said, letting him go. "We'd best get down to the
business of finding that connector."

"Reet, Reet?"

"The tunnel was rainbow colored. As for the connector, your guess is as good as mine.
Unless of course you know what a 'woo' is."

"Reeet?"

"A woo! The last thing Philamount said was that most connectors resemble a
woo
."

"Rit, reet."

"Well, let's hope we'll know when we see it."

Runt shook his head doubtfully.

"Hey, you're the one who wants to be a multitasker."

The remainder of the morning passed pleasantly. Carole continued to practice
soft-walking until it was nearly second nature to her, though she didn't press too hard a pace so Runt
could keep up. Towards midday the ground became hillier and rockier, and travel grew more
tiring. The forest also began to change, clogging up with brambly thickets in some places,
opening into tracts of scrubland in others. "I guess the ground's too poor to grow anything decent
around here," Carole remarked, as they passed yet another derelict farm.

Not only was the route becoming more difficult, but the path itself was becoming harder
to identify, often little more than a rabbit trail through the trees, if not altogether invisible.
Consequently they spent less time chatting and more time scanning the countryside. Even so, the
small farm caught them both totally by surprise.

The homestead was ringed by a thick patch of forest, but it looked nothing like the
played-out farms they'd been seeing all afternoon. One field had obviously been cultivated last
year, and near the center of the clearing was a small patch of newly-tilled ground. The cabin
itself was so well camouflaged amongst a grove of shade trees that it was easy to miss, though it
looked to be in very good shape. Someone was definitely living here.

Someone wishing to be left alone?

As soon as she realized what they'd stumbled upon, Carole dropped to the ground and
wormed over to the nearest tree. She lay there for a while, studying the area. Unfortunately, it
appeared that the Boar's Head trail ran right past the front door.

"Two choices, Runt," she said quietly as the pig bellied up beside her. "Sit tight 'til dark
and skirt around the fields, or detour through the forest and hope we don't lose the trail
altogether."

Runt opted to wait until sundown, pointing out that going through the woods seemed
like a lot of extra work, especially since they'd been on the go all day without any real break to
speak of.

"I agree. Let's catch a few winks. We'll make the crossing shortly after sunset."

They selected a wooded knoll that offered protection as well as a view of the
surrounding area, and settled down for a short but well-deserved snooze.