Awaken by Michelle Bryan Page B

decision has been made. I stare back at
it.
    “ Don’t make me sorry for
this,” I say. It blinks at me. “And for gods sake if you get hungry
during the night, don’t eat me!”
    In response it snorts at me, shakes its
head and the blue tongue I remember so disgustingly well, pokes out
to lick its lips as if it’s saying “I ain’t making no
promises.”
    Gods help me, I think.
     
    We set out, the boy, the beast and me.
I couldn’t have imagined more unlikely traveling companions if I
tried. But Finn was true to his word, the critter did all the
hunting and provided for us every meal…we never went hungry.
Whether it was rabbit, dirt dog or some crow unlucky enough to have
landed when it shouldn’t have, Cat supplies us with food. And I
would never admit it to Finn but it was real nice not having to
worry about the hunting. As for the boy, he don’t ever complain
about all the walking…not once. He don’t shut up neither though. He
talks so much it finally just sounds like buzzing in my ears. Funny
thing is though I find I don’t mind. It keeps me from thinking
about other things and worrying about stuff I got no control over.
As far as traveling companions went, they were all
right.
     
    We had reached the tree line about six
days past and had been walking in the woods since. Didn’t have much
of a choice but to go through ‘em. The tree line was massive, as
spread out as far as the eye could see. Would have been foolish and
a waste of time to try and go around. Plus our easterly course was
straight through and I wasn’t willing to veer off
course.
    I ain’t used to trees this size. It had
been a little overwhelming at first. The biggest of trees in
Rivercross only grew to your waist but these trees tower over us,
their branches and leaves blocking out the sun and keeping some of
its heat off of us. Would have been kind of nice if it wasn’t for
the smell of death and rot coming from the wood. Most of the trees
are sickly, their bark gray as ash and their leaves dry and
withered. A lot of them were just snag trees, dead, half fallen
over into each other, blocking our way. Slowing us down. We try not
to stray too much off our path but sometimes it cain’t be helped.
Cat scouts ahead of us at times, we lose track of her for a bit,
but never for too long. All it takes is for Finn to give two short
whistle bursts and she’s back, checking on him. She brings an
occasional tree rat or crow, but there ain’t a lot of game in these
dead woods. There ain’t a lot of anything but stillness and quiet.
It rattles our nerves. Even Finn, who ain’t shut up for days, talks
a mite quieter now and less often the deeper in the woods we get.
It’s as if he don’t want to disturb any ghost or demon that might
call this wood home. It spooks me something fierce.
    The evening dusk is coming on us fast.
It always comes earlier in here. The shadows are getting longer and
darker, making our minds play tricks on us. Making us see
shapes…things we know ain’t really there. We got to make camp soon.
There’s no way either of us wants to be walking these woods after
dark. We need a fire, which thankfully don’t pose no problem now a
days. The one good thing these dead woods did have to offer was
plenty of fire kindlin’.
    We enter a small clearing big enough
for a campfire and for us to stretch out our bed rolls. I stop
walking, look around. Finn stops beside me.
    “ Here?” he asks.
    “ Aye,” I say. “This will
do.”
    We have it down to a routine now. While
I get the makings of our fire together, he clears the ground for
our beds, lays out our blankets, gets the waterskins out. He even
lays out the iron shooter. I didn’t know he had brought it along at
first. Cain’t rightly say I would have let him bring it had I
known. To me it was just a reminder of the evil men it had come
from. But now, after being in these damn, frightening woods for
days, it was almost comforting to have it so handy.
    We work in silence