White Ghost and the Poison Arrow (11 page)

Chapter 8

“I swear this
walk isn’t usually this long.” Nootau says.

“Stop
complaining. The walk to the elders next week will be much longer
and you know it.” Mato replies.

“So why are we
out here again today if we’re going for out trail starting in five
days? Shouldn’t we be resting for the long walk?”

“Because you
still need practice. Your bow skills are terrible Nootau. You can’t
even hit the wide side of a bison with your aim.” Doahte quips.

“I can shoot
better than you and you know it.” Nootau retaliates.

“Well when we
get to the training grounds, you can get your bow out and we’ll see
who is a better shot.” Nashoba says. Arella spots the young men
through the trees. She looks down at Maska who looks a little
unsure.

“Let’s follow
them. This should be interesting.” She whispers at the auron
kitten. He blinks his odd eyes at her then purrs, almost like he is
agreeing with her. Maska’s fluffy tail wags slightly as they walk,
the purring continues and he has his eyes half closed as he trots
along beside Arella. He is happy, although the tail wagging is
slightly out of character for an auron cat. Arella smiles down at
him, keeping low to the ground so the young men do not see her.

Nashoba comes
to a clearing, and Mato, Doahte and Nootau follow him in. Arella
and Maska stop at the side on the clearing. A large tree with a low
hanging branch sits close to the edge of the glade. Arella picks
Maska up and lifts him onto the branch. She then climbs up herself,
and repeats this another three times until they are high enough in
the tree to be covered by foliage and invisible. Maska purrs
softly, not loud enough for anyone but Arella to hear. He snuggles
into her side and closes his eyes. Arella places one hand on his
soft fluffy back to keep him safe on the branch and watches the men
practice.

Mato goes
around setting up targets made from wooden sticks with painted
animal skins attached He sets four of them up, lining them a few
meters away from each other. As he forces the targets in the
grounds, the muscles on his shoulders and arms flex and the veins
on his arms stick out a little. All of the men are wearing
sleeveless vests, much easier for firing a bow. Mato’s hair has
been pulled back into a long braid down his back. It has wooden
beads threaded through it, and comes to an end just below his
massive shoulder blades. The sweat on Mato's back is causing his
shirt to stick to his muscles as he moves. His large powerful frame
reminds Arella of a bear, although his personality is the most
un-bearlike thing she has ever seen. He seems to be the voice of
reason, and the one to calm any situation rising with the other
young men.

Nootau is looking around the glade, checking that there is
nothing that could trip them up, and moving stones and rocks to the
side so to not cause anyone injury. Nootau still has bright red
feathers in his hair, although there seem to be more of them now,
joined by black ones too. A tattoo on his left ankle stands out. It
is a bird, a raven Arella thinks. This is used to signalise that
the man with the tattoo brings bad things. It is a war cry as it
were, just on his leg. It still looks a little red, like it was
fresh. “
He is the strangest one of the
bunch.”
Arella thinks to herself, shifting
her position in the tree as her bum goes a little numb. There is
something likeable about Nootau, although Arella thinks his
cockiness would start to grate on her after a while. He never fails
to get a rise out of the others though, and from the smile on his
face when someone bites at his comments, this is exactly what he
intends to happen. Arella has to stifle a laugh as Nootau nearly
trips on a root. He tried kicking it away, thinking it was a
branch, only to find out it was a little more solid than
that.

Doahte checks the bows to make sure they are still working
okay. He flexes the strings, pulling them tight then letting them
go. It makes a satisfying ‘twang’ noise which he giggles at.
“
He is definitely the more childish of the
four.”
The muscles on his skinny arms
tensing as he tests the bows, he three rings tattooed onto his arm
bending and stretching as he does so. He has a strange face, thin
with cheekbones that stick out a little, eyes a bit too small for
his face. Doahte seems to just enjoy watching the others argue, and
seems a little bit like the odd one out of the group, but then
Arella only knows of them what she has briefly seen while they
practice.

Nashoba is the
last one Arella looks at, taking her time to examine his features.
She has never really been able to get a good look at his face. The
green eyes are obvious, but Arella has never really taken much
notice of the rest of him. She’s always been more interested in the
way the men move, and how they fight than what they look like. As
well as the green eyes, Nashoba has a slight red tinge to his hair,
making it lighter than the others who have black hair. He is fairly
well built, with muscles on his arms, chest and legs, but he
doesn’t look too large. He has tattoos on both his arms. On one arm
he has a wolf howling at the moon, and on the other he has an eagle
in flight. One is a symbol of solitude and longing, while the other
is power and freedom. A strange mix for someone to have, but they
suit him. His hair is also long, but tied back in a loose bun at
the back of his head. He is sitting on the floor checking the
arrows, making sure they are weighted right and that the flint on
the end is sharp. He splits the arrows into four sets and places
them in the ground opposite each of the targets.

“Okay boys, I
think we might be ready.” Nashoba says. “Well my part of the job is
done anyway. Arrows sharp and ready for firing.” Doahte joins
him.

“The bows are
all okay too.” He says as he hands Nashoba one and puts the
remaining two on the ground by their sets of arrows. Nootau joins
them too, all rocks and branches he was moving out of the way.
Nashoba looks over at Mato.

“Mato, are the
targets ready or are we still waiting for you?”

“No I’m all
done Nashoba.” He says as he walks back to the group.

“Okay so the
plan for this session is to all manage to fire at least three
arrows at the centre of the target in one round. Now for today, a
round is six arrows.” Nashoba explains.

“How come its
only six. Normally a round is twelve.” Doahte asks.

“We’re running
low on arrows that aren’t broken after my sister’s birthday
celebrations. Far too many arrows got broken in those
competitions.” He pauses. “Anyway that’s beside the point. My
father always tells me that a good warrior should be able to hit a
paloa fox between the eyes from fifty feet away with one arrow. Now
I know none of us are that good, but we have to be able to shoot on
target at least half the time right?” The others all agree with him
and take up their stances behind their sets of arrows.

The young men
all bring their bows up to their shoulders, knock an arrow in the
string, pull back and fire. Although they all fire in different
ways, the arrows hit similar places on the target boards. Not one
of the men hits the centre, but they’re not far off. They repeat
this process a few dozen times, getting close to the centre on
most, and a few times each they hit the centre mark. Their
self-criticism is easy to see though. Every time one of them misses
the target, or doesn’t hit the centre, he mentally kicks himself.
Arella can’t see what is wrong with their shooting… It is a hell of
a lot better than she could do, but then she still hasn’t made any
arrows yet. She cannot think how she would make them, and feels
that making the bow was a waste of time. 

After a few
round of archery, the men are all starting to look tired. They have
sweat on their brows and backs, and the muscles in their arms are
beginning to shake as they fire. “Can we have a break now?” Nootau
asks, putting his bow down on the floor as he does so.

“There will be
no resting next week Nootau and you know it.” Mato says as he fires
off another arrow, missing the target completely.

“Well at least
I hit the target on my last shot.”

“I’ll hit you
if you don’t shut up.”

“Enough both of
you.” Nashoba finishes the argument. I think we’re all tired. So
let’s sit down and eat something before Mato kills Nashoba.

“He couldn’t
kill a fly if it landed on his arm.” Nootau starts.

“I said enough.
By the gods you two are acting like a pair of seven year olds. What
is wrong with you?” Nashoba asks.

“Nerves is my
guess.” Doahte answers. “We’re all a little nervous about going on
the trip to the elders next week, and I think it’s getting to Mato
and Nootau.”

“I think you’re
right Doahte.” Nashoba agrees. “But we will be fine. We have each
other.” They all agree on this. “Put your bow with your arrows
then, and we will have something to eat.” Nashoba goes over to the
bag he was carrying and begins emptying food out of it. “Okay so we
have; barrow berries mixed with marrow tree sap; pieces of cooked
rabbit from tea last night and roasted grue bulbs. Who wants what?”
Everyone rushes for the food, taking equal shares of pretty much
everything. They all sit down and eat the food, savouring every
bite.

“So what do you
think it will be like then next week?” Doahte asks.

“Pretty much
like now I guess. We will end up sitting around like this on the
evenings eating food and relaxing.” Nootau answers.

“I don’t think
it will be easy.” Nashoba says. “But we have each other so we will
get through it. I think it might be fun though. I mean, think about
it. The four of us, on the road, walking through the wilderness,
righting off monsters and hunting for food. What more could you
want?”

“A comfortable
bed?” Mato answers. They all laugh at this.

“Yeah I think
you’re right.” Nashoba laughs.

“What do you
think the elders are like?” Doahte asks.

“Old.” They
chorus. Doahte laughs, as do the others.

“Well I
gathered that, but I mean what will they be like? Do you think they
will be nice, or mean and strict.”

“I’m hoping
nice.” Nashoba answers. “I don’t want to be the only one who
doesn’t come back having passed his tests. That would be
awful.”

“You’d be
exhaled.” Mato says.

Conversation
continues, but Arella’s attention is broken. Maska shifts his
position and growls lightly. She whispers to him. “What’s wrong
Maska?” The kitten pushes himself into Arella’s side and growls
again. Arella follows the direction of Maska’s eyes, a dark space
in the trees on the far side of the clearing. Two eyes stare at the
men in the glad. Its eyes are bright yellow, but a white scar
covers the skin around its right eye. Its mouth is pulled into a
snarl, and big white teeth fill its jaws, dripping with saliva and
salivating at the thought of eating the men. Arella looks at the
men in the clearing, they haven’t seen the beast.

The beast steps
forwards, big paws hit the ground, sharp claws scrape the dirt
beneath them and he steps forwards, saliva dripping from his mouth
and splashing on the ground at his feet. A coat of dark grey on his
back, a little matted and covered in war wounds. With intent in his
eyes, the wolf stalks the men, while they continue to eat, no
realisation of what is stalking them.

The beast steps
forwards, revealing himself from the bushes. Nootau is the first to
notice, but he is too lost for words to say anything. He jumps to
his feet and steps backwards wide eyed. The creature takes another
silent step forwards, saliva still dripping from its open jaws.
“What is wrong with you Nootau?” Nashoba asks? “You look like
you’ve seen a ghost.” He looks at the others who all have similar
looks on their faces. “Okay, is this another joke about the white
ghost I saw, because I’m telling you it was real.” Nashoba stops
talking when the look on his friends faces does not change. Arella
is in shock. Is she really going to witness a wolf kill these men?
Surely not. They are fighters, and they must know how to take down
an animal such as this because she sure as hell doesn't.

Nashoba feels
hot breath on his head, and the stench of death fills his nostrils.
The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and a shiver runs
down his spine. A trickle of saliva lands on his left shoulder and
Nashoba’s heart beats faster. He turns slowly and it met with the
yellow eyes of a great wolf. He panics and falls backwards. The
wolf lunges at his and bites for Nashoba’s throat. He catches it
and forces it away from his throat, his hands on the wolfs neck. As
Nashoba continues to hold the wolf away from himself, the others
just stand in shock. None of them know what to do. “Don’t just
stand there you idiots, do something!” Nashoba yells from the
ground.

“What do we
do?” Nootau asks. Mato picks up one of the bows and aims an arrow
at the wolf. He fires but his shaky aim misses completely. He takes
aim and re-fires. This time the arrow hits its mark, however, it
bounces off the wolfs shoulder. The wolf releases Nashoba, looks up
at Mato and growls. “You just made it angry.” Nootau yells.

“Well I don’t
see you trying to do anything.” Mato yells back.

“
This is useless.”
Arella thinks. “
I will have to do
something otherwise they will all die.”
Maska looks up at her, fear in his eyes. Arella whispers to
him to comfort him. “It’s okay little one. I will be back for you
soon. Just wait here in the tree. You will be safe, and the wolf
won’t get you. Just keep your eyes on me and you will be okay.”
This seems to comfort him a little, and his heart rate slows.
Arella’s heart rate has never been so high.