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He doesn’t move through the forest the same way I do. He has a heavy step, dropping his foot like a weight onto the ground every time he walks. I roll and spring with my steps, moving quietly and quickly rather than with his loud, stomping, military efficiency. The two of us make an interesting pair.
“Wolves can be intensely loyal once they’ve established a bond,” I explain as we walk. “But you must never mistake that for being servile. They are cunning and wild, especially since the mutation.”
“What do you mean by wild?” he asks.
It’s not a bad question. “I mean that they will do nearly anything for you, but they will never give up their freedom. The moment you try to force them into something they don’t want, they will turn on you, even if they’ve known for years.”
“Sounds a lot like you.”
I turn to him and examine his face. What does he mean by that comment? Anything?
“I suppose that’s true,” I answer finally. “Right now, we’re especially interested in larger prey. Winter is coming, and we want to stock up on meat for the leaner season.”
“I was hoping you’d say something like that,” he replies, obviously feeling the lust for battle. “As much as I love setting wire traps for squirrels and –”
I put my hand on his chest, stopping him. He looks puzzled, and I point to the ground.
One step ahead, where he was about to bring his foot crashing down, the ground gives way to a pile of leaves and sticks. In between them, you can just see the darkness of the pit below.
“You’re pretty good at setting those,” he says. “Another step ahead, and I could have really been helpful in solving your food problem.”
“You would have been stringy,” I tell him, starting to move the leaves around to better cover the pit. “Can you find a few long branches? They need to be strong enough to hold up the bait. At least three.”
“I’ve got it,” he says and starts to examine the trees and the underbrush. He picks one up. “Does this look alright?”
“Perfect,” I reply, picking up a few of the broader leaves. “The forest is a gift. It offers us everything we need. All it asks is that we take care. Of it, and of ourselves.”
He looks at me, obviously surprised. “I hadn’t figured you for a poet.”
“It’s not poetry. It’s the way the world is. The forest lets us borrow everything that it has. In return, we have responsibilities toward it.”
“Responsibilities like what?”
“Like not disturbing it more than you have to. Like letting it take the things it’s given you back once you die.”
He nods. “It’s not the way orcs look at the world. Is that something the wolves taught you, or something you came up with yourself?”
“Something I came up with myself, I guess. It’s just the way things are.”
He pickles up another branch. “Here’s three. Will that hold your bait?”
I nod, and together, we set them around the pit. Once all of them are in place, I balance the bit of meat I’ve chosen for the trap right in the center.
“Let’s hide,” I whisper. “It shouldn’t be too long before something comes looking for that.”
He walks around the pit, and the two of us kneel together in the shadow of two trees. The forest continues its talk all around us. He doesn’t understand the sounds and smells of it in the way that I do, but I can feel that he hears something of its magnitude all the same. He’s clearly not used to this kind of listening, but he doesn’t scorn it, either.
Not bad for an orc.
That’s when we finally hear the sound of something large moving through the trees. I can’t tell what it is, but it’s definitely approaching our trap. Both of us tense, waiting for something to appear.
Then, in a flash, I see her, striding through a clump of bushes. A lioness, sleek and beautiful as she is deadly. Green eyes and tan fur. Her shoulders roll as she steps forward.
Right into our trap.
Kian leaps up. “We did it!” he cries. “A whole lion!”
“Quiet!” I snap at him. “What did I tell you about taking care?”
