Wolfen (22 page)

Aiden had told Sinna about that part, the day their human
keepers had pushed Bryce too far. He’d said, at the end of it, nothing outside
of the cages had been left alive.

Sinna could believe it. But she couldn’t believe he’d have
harmed his own pack. Bryce was not a monster—despite having fought so many of
them, Sinna couldn’t believe he’d become one himself.

Even now, he spoke about the little girl with such depth of
affection, it made her heart ache. “Tiny little scamp,” he said, “could almost
fit her into the palm of my hand. Never cried, never fussed, just looked at us
with those big eyes of hers. So trusting.” Bryce wasn’t a beast. He was only
hurt. And hurt could heal.

“But she’s okay now,” she said.

“Yeah.” He sighed heavily. “She’s okay.” He sounded weary to
his soul just saying it.

“You care for your pack very much.”

“I do.”

“What are they like?”

“Loud, rowdy. They like to play games and solve puzzles.
Most of them are pretty social; they sleep in a central chamber together. Only
married couples and a few oddballs choose to live on their own. The den has
solid walls, built back in the days of rebar and cement, so you know they’ll
hold. We get electricity from solar, like the mule, and running water from the
river. The main structure is a massive three-story central lab. We repurposed
the cages to house livestock, and dug channels for irrigation. We have a
decent-sized wheat field, a garden for vegetables and herbs, and an orchard
with apples and such.”

“Sounds like a fairy tale.”

Bryce squeezed her hand lightly. “It’s amazing what people
can do when they set their minds to creating, rather than using.”

She hummed in agreement, and a huge yawn muffled her answer.

“You should sleep now.”

“You too.”

He gave her another backward nuzzle. “Good night, Sinna.”

“Bryce?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for the story.”

A pause. “You’re welcome.”

I watch the sun rise against the backdrop of a barren
landscape. There’s nothing here. What life there used to be, the converts
ravaged like a plague of locusts before moving on. Without animals to graze and
insects to fertilize the earth, the plants withered and died. Trees dried out
and toppled. I see patches of blackened earth where a fire cut a swath across
the land.

This is as inhospitable as North America gets.

And it stretches in every direction as far as I can see.

~

In the light of day, the mule looked even worse. The
batteries were low, so the entire car should have been pitch-black. Instead,
there were patches of light gray around the web of shallow scratch marks, and
stark white surrounding the deeper grooves where it was no longer salvageable.
Where paint had peeled off completely, metal showed through, dull and dented.
The damage would hurt them going forward. Bryce estimated forty-three percent
usability for solar power, give or take, which meant it would take more than
twice as long to charge up.

He let Sinna sleep in while the sun did its job. They’d be
stuck here for hours, anyway. In the meantime, he gathered the arrows he’d
whittled last night and cut up a bit of duct tape for fletching. The wooden
shafts were dry, brittle, and heavy, and they probably wouldn’t fly far, but
Bryce wouldn’t be picky. He liked the reeds much better. They were perfectly
straight and sturdy. Too bad he’d only found a handful still usable. Everything
else around here was basically tinder. Making a fire at night would be tricky.

By the time he’d finished, he had twenty decent arrows and
ten pretty good ones. He retrieved the collapsible bow from the truck’s
compartment and looped the string in place. It was a simple, lightweight
recurve bow that could take a lot of abuse without falling apart. Bryce nocked
an arrow and sighted down its length to a toppled tree. The arrow had a slight
curve to it. He adjusted his aim and loosed, watching the shaft quiver through
the air to hit the target. It struck hard wood, cracked, and fell to pieces on
the ground.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Sinna came out of the car, knuckling her
eyes. She yawned hugely and stretched, bending this way and that, cheeks
flushed from sleep and brown curls mussed in a crooked ponytail. A dark smear
of blood streaked down the side of her jaw and, like him, she was covered in
dust and grime. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

Sinna had come through some pretty shitty odds to be here,
whole and unscathed; been through enough to make most people bitter and
withdrawn. Yet there she stood, smiling at him quizzically as if nothing was
wrong. So much innocence. So much trust.

It terrified him.

Because Sinna had seen him at his worst, and instead of
running away, she’d flung herself right into his arms. He could have killed
her; had been a fraction of an inch from ripping her apart in his daze. If he’d
been a second too late in coming to his senses, she would have been gone.

The thought of that, the mere idea of her not being around,
pissed him off.

Bryce handed her the bow. “Do you know how to use this?”

She frowned. “In theory.”

“You’re about to learn the practical application.” He marked
a target, then measured out fifty paces.

“I guess last night’s chat session is over,” she called.

Bryce didn’t appreciate the reminder. He still couldn’t
believe he’d said so many words in one go. A minor brush with death, and he’d
turned into a fucking Chatty Cathy. Next thing he knew, he’d be blathering on,
nonstop, like Aiden. He shuddered to think of it.

“Fine, then,” Sinna retorted to his non-answer.

Bryce ignored it and waved her over.

“But just so you know,” she added when she came to him, “I
liked it. Not that it matters.”

It did matter. And that was a problem. Since he didn’t know
what the hell to do with it right that second, though, Bryce opted for a more
familiar subject: weaponry. He pointed out the target roughly fifty yards away.
“Anything that far out, you shoot. Anything closer, you drop the bow and run.
Got it?”

Sinna looked at the bow. “Why?”

Bryce swore she only asked to make him answer. “Because,” he
said tightly, “if you let them closer and miss, you won’t have enough time to
get away.”

Sinna smiled in satisfaction.

Bryce glowered. He positioned her on the mark, adjusted her stance
and hold. “Don’t clutch the handle; it’ll make your arm twitchy. Hold the
tension in your shoulders, not your wrist. Turn your elbow outward or you’re
going to skin yourself.” Thinking better of that, he jogged back to the mule
and tore out a patch of upholstery to use as an armguard. By the time he got
back, Sinna was twirling the bow like a baton.

Bryce snatched it out of her hand, and set it down to fit
the armguard. Once he had it tied securely, he held up an arrow.

“Don’t I need the bow first?” Large hazel eyes blinked up
innocently.

Bryce grinded his teeth, refusing to be sucked into her good
humor. “Tip, shaft, fletching, nock,” he explained shortly. Only then did he
retrieve the bow. “That little bead in the middle of the string is called a nock
set. You put the arrow below it, fletching out. One finger above, two below.”
He guided her through the first nock to demonstrate.

Finally realizing the gravity of the lesson, Sinna dropped
the jokes and paid attention.

“Settle the shaft on the arrow rest and pull the string
back. Farther.”

“This is like trying to do a chin-up, one-handed.”

“You’ll grow into the weight with practice.”

She released the tension on the string and glared at him.
“Before or after my arm falls off?”

Bryce ignored her. “Pull back until your thumb touches your
jaw.” He wrapped his hands over hers to help her draw back to the correct
position. “Good. Now hold it there while you aim, and then just relax your
fingers and let the bow do the work.”

When he released her, Sinna loosed, but flinched her face
away from the string. The motion shifted her arm sideways, and her arrow flew
way off course.

Bryce handed her another arrow, and readjusted her stance.
“It helps if you keep your spine straight. Don’t stand too wide, and don’t cock
your hip. This isn’t a fashion contest. You should be able to draw a straight
line from your foot, through your hip, up to your shoulder. Now just turn your
head sideways—don’t tilt. Raise your bow arm…draw back…and loose.”

The arrow struck the target dead on. “
Cool!
” Sinna
whooped.

“Again,” Bryce said, all business. “You can celebrate when
you do that fifteen times in a row.”

They kept at it until well past noon. By then, Sinna’s arm
shook so much, she could barely lift the bow, let alone draw it back. And she
was getting frustrated, which made her shooting worse. Bryce wished he could
take it easy on her, but they didn’t have the luxury of time. Sinna needed to
build up her strength. He couldn’t be with her all the time; they might get
separated, or worse, he might wolf out again. She needed to learn to defend
herself, and the bow was the best fit for her. It was a long distance weapon,
easily maintained or manufactured if it got lost.

And Sinna was something of a natural with it. After only a
couple of hours, she managed to hit her target eight times out of ten. She
might not become a championship archer, but that was damned impressive, so
Bryce decided to give her a break.

The mule had charged enough for them to get going. Pale gray
all over was the best they could hope for now. With any luck, it would keep
them going until sunset. Bryce loaded everything back up, strapped on his
knives, and got behind the wheel. His first priority: find food and water. To
that end, he followed his instincts rather than the main road and veered off
their southerly course toward a more mountainous, wooded area. More signs of
natural life meant a better chance of finding fresh water.

Sinna made clicking sounds with her mouth. “So… Nice day
today.”

Bryce scented moss, which meant moisture. He focused on the
landscape for any sign of running water.

“I mean, it’s been fun so far. You know, can’t lift my arms
or anything but, yeah. Fun.”

Animal tracks in the dirt. From a moving vehicle, Bryce
couldn’t tell whether they were fresh, but it gave him hope they might get to
eat tonight.

Sinna sighed. “Fun. Fun. Fun.” More clicking sounds. “Hey,
how about a song?”

Bryce’s ear twitched. “Quiet.”

“Oh, come on, no one’s said a word in hours!”

Bryce stopped the mule, and covered Sinna’s mouth.

He heard the soft hiss of a stream, but in the truck’s
confines he couldn’t tell from where. “Stay here.” Outside, his senses opened
to the world. Bryce closed his eyes to better focus. That was no small creek;
it was the promise of a good-sized river.

Sinna scrambled over the seats to the driver side and stuck
her head out the window. She looked at him askance.

“Turn the engine on and follow me,” he said. “But not too
close. I need to hear where I’m going.”

“Uh, right.”

He waited until the engine whirred to life before he set off
at a brisk pace. He picked his path carefully, making sure it was wide enough
for the truck to pass through. Before long, he came to an outcropping where he
held his hand up for Sinna to stop. The river lay a hundred feet below, at the
bottom of a ravine. There was no way the mule could make it down there and back
up again. He crouched close to the edge to scout out a possible route. Upstream
was only rock, and more rock. They might have a better chance following
downstream instead.

Bryce returned to the mule, and waved Sinna back into her
seat.

“We have water?” she asked.

“Not yet.”
But soon.

He drove them through the forest for a while, close enough
to see the ledge but far enough for the ground not to give way beneath them.
The tree canopy was thick; very little sunlight filtered through. In going this
way, they might not have enough power to get back to the road, but there was no
help for it. They needed water more than they needed the mule right now.

As the sun began its slow descent, the ground finally began
to slope down. Once level with the river, Bryce found them a good place to stop
for the night. They still had a few hours left to the day, but in the woods, it
would get darker faster. They needed fire, a shelter, and something to eat.

The moment he stopped, Sinna flew out of the truck and fell
on the stream, dunking her whole head into it. When she surfaced, her ears and
nose were red with cold and she was laughing with glee. Bryce joined her to
drink his fill, though didn’t have her flare for the dramatic. He cupped water
to his mouth, then more to spill over his head and the back of his neck. “See
if you can start a fire. I’ll go find us food.”

“Roger that.”

They’d cut a pretty loud swath through the woods and the
pickings were slim, but Bryce managed to catch a couple of squirrels and a
rabbit. It would have to do. By the time he got back, his catch cleaned and
gutted, Sinna had a nice fire roaring and roasting sticks ready to go. “Nicely
done,” he praised.

“Likewise,” she returned. “You wanna go wash up while these
cook? I know the blood is bugging you.”

He made a noncommittal sound in answer. Sure it bothered
him, but if washing up meant leaving Sinna alone and unprotected, it could wait
until morning.

“Go on,” she urged. “I’ll make sure the fire is nice and hot
when you get back.”

“You’re sure?”

She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll scream if there’s trouble.”

“All right,” he relented. “I won’t be long.”

He went a safe distance downstream so he wouldn’t
contaminate their drinking water, into a small, natural indentation in the
riverbed that created a churning basin. He stripped in a hurry, and tore off a
hunk of soft moss to use as a scrub brush. When he submerged, the icy water
knocked the breath out of him, and he laughed under water at the beauty of it.
He scrubbed his face and neck, then his arms and torso to get rid of the worst
grime. It didn’t take long to almost get used to the cold, so he took his time
with the rest, savoring the feel of icy water running over clean skin.

Though he would have liked to have stayed longer, worry over
Sinna made him come out as soon as he was done. It was then that he realized he
had nothing to wear except his filthy clothes.
Hell no.
A quick wash
wouldn’t hurt anyone, and he could dry out by the fire. He grabbed his clothes
and went back to the stream. Laundry day, medieval style: a simple matter of
scrubbing fabric together and beating it with a flat piece of wood. Nothing
fancy, nothing high-tech, but it did the job.

“Hey, Bryce, did you fall into the river or something?”

Without thinking, Bryce shoved to his feet and turned
around.

Sinna stopped in her tracks so fast, she slipped on dry
foliage and almost fell on her ass.

“I thought you were going to tend the fire.”

She stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “I, uh…was.”

Bryce looked down at himself. What the hell was she staring
at? “What?”

She didn’t answer.

Scowling, he wrung out his pants just short of tearing the
fabric, then stuffed his feet into them.

Sinna shook her head hard and looked away. “I was. Tending
the fire. I mean, I am. The fire is fine. I…” Her gaze drifted back to him, and
to the zipper he’d left half undone. What, she’d never seen a naked man before?

Bryce pulled up the zipper all the way, wrung out his shirt
and put it on, but didn’t bother to button it. “You what?”

Sinna blushed and turned her back. “I came to tell you the
food is done.” Why was she acting so weird?