Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 119
119
I have to help, I know I can help...
It was beginning to turn into a kind of obsession. Kiana knew this perfectly well, but she couldn't let it go, and neither could she turn back. She had to finish this. There was simply no other way.
The first tent she checked was already stripped bare, as was the second and third. She tried not to make eye contact with the Wolves lining the paths, watching her slow progress, but it was difficult. Ever since her 'encounter' with the misty Wolfess, it was as if the entire basecamp had gone through a radical change. Or maybe this was the way it had always been, and it had merely taken a near-throttling for her to open her eyes and see the truth.
One of the Wolves spat a disgusting blob of yellowish phlegm at her. It struck her on the hip and ran down her dress in a thick, goopy line. She spun around on her heel, absolutely incredulous that anyone could be so rude. A rebuke danced right on the tip of her tongue, but died the very same moment she locked eyes with the guilty party.
It was the same look. The very same look as the nameless Wolfess. Anger, madness and sorrow, all mixed together into a deadly whirlpool.
"Yeah?" The Wolf was chewing on something, making horrible smacking noises with his jaws, up and down, up and down.
Kiana didn't say anything - there was no point - so she hurried on, trying her very best to ignore the feeling of all that spit freezing into her dress.
Kiana caught movement out of the corner of her eye and suddenly a half-eaten bowl of soup came flying right at her face. She screamed and ducked out of the way just in time. It sailed above her head, missing her by inches, and clattered across the ground, flipping end over end and leaving a steaming trail of chicken broth and potatoes in its wake.
_Cindy worked so hard to make that..._Kiana thought as the stock slowly seeped into the earth and hardened into a dry, frosty crust. Some of it had splattered into her hair, and the warm, runny feeling of it slowly working its way down her neck made her feel sick to her stomach.
"This food is garbage!" The Wolf screamed. He was a shaggy one with long brown fur and yellow teeth. "If you're gonna kill so many of us, the least you can do is give us some proper meat!"
Kiana stepped around the overturned bowl -
(That could have been a stone just now. Or a knife.)
- and hurried on without giving that Wolf a second glance. It seemed safer not to. Easier. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how badly he had rattled her, how she had to clutch at her chest just so it wouldn't feel like her racing heart would burst right out of her ribcage. But most of all, she didn't want to risk looking into his eyes and seeing the same oddly cold hatred staring back at her.
But, of course, it was impossible to avoid it. It was everywhere.
An elderly Wolf with a milky cataract in one eye grabbed the hem of her dress, stopping her dead in her tracks. "You think it means anything!?" he screamed, tugging on her dress, pulling himself up and dragging her down at the same time. "I'm telling you, it does not!"
"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about!" Kiana said, very close to panicking. She could see how his teeth had worn down over the decades, but she was certain they could still tear out a big chunk of her flesh if they wanted to.
"It means nothing! You're nothing! Nothing but a lowly coward! You couldn't face us head on, so you resorted to such evil trickery! The Cora will not accept this, I tell you!"
"Please, Mr Wolf! I don't know what you're -" Oh gods, he was pulling her down, dragging her closer and closer to his face! She tried to straighten her back, but he was just too heavy! She could see the discolouration on his gums, could smell the stench of second-hand soup on his breath.
"The Cora will strike you down for your sins! The Cora will -"
Kiana grabbed a double fistful of her dress and wrenched free of his grasp with a rip and a tear. The old Wolf tumbled to the ground with green scraps of fabric impaled on his claws and Kiana beated a hasty retreat, walking as fast as she could, telling herself over and over that she would not run, would not run, would not run.
There were eyes on her. So many eyes out here near the edge of the basecamp, all of them following her every step, all of them filled with the same, cold hatred she's come to expect of them.
"Hey, Fox! How many Wolves did you and Ander murder tonight? A hundred? Two hundred? Tell us! We have a right to know!"
"Yeah!"
"Hey, Fox!"
"Foxy!"
"You're her, aren't you? The one we almost burned? Guess you got your revenge in the end, didn't you? I bet you schemed long and hard to pull this one off. I bet you're disappointed you didn't get all of us. Isn't that right?"
"Bitch! You killed my best friend! Dirty rat bitch!"
"Hey! Look at me when I'm talking to you! Hey!"
So many voices washing over her. So many accusations, curses, damnations, all of them carrying that same cold heat with them, burning her and freezing her, making her want to find a dark corner and hide herself away, where their words couldn't reach her.
I'm only trying to help you! Can't you see I just want to help!?
"Where's your horn, bitch!?"
"Why!? I laid down my weapons for you! I put my back to your wall and joined hands with traitors! But still the snow came down! Still my friends had to die!"
"Do you know what it feels like? To have all that snow crushing you down? Getting into your eyes, your ears, your nose, your mouth, your throat!? Do you have any idea what that feels like!?"
There were so many Wolves out here, more than could be accounted for in flesh. There were spirits here as well, furious ghosts that could not be stilled. They used the voices of the living to be heard. They used hands of flesh and blood to reach out from beyond the borders of death. They grabbed at her clothes as she walked by, forcing her to look into their haunted eyes. They screamed and cried. They asked her questions she could not answer. The path elongated into an endless gauntlet of suffering before her, filled with reaching, grabbing hands and tear-streaked faces, fangs exposed in furious snarls, broken claws like shards of glass attached to blackened, frostbitten fingers. They were all around her, closing in, the living and the dead, the voices and the hands, the eyes and the hatred, more and more every second, more than she could stand.
"I just want to help you!" Kiana screamed. "Please! Please just let me help you! I beg of you!"
A stranger's fingers played across the back of her neck like a gigantic spider and ripped out a lock of her hair. The pain came in a brilliant flash, worse than a slap, worse than a hundred needles pricking at her skin. She spun around, tears shining in the corners of her eyes, and saw a Wolf dancing in place, waving a fistful of her hair above his head, screaming to the sky.
She tried to run. A hand closed around her calf and she crashed to the ground. She kicked out blindly and kept going. Another hand closed around her wrist and she wrenched it free, pushing the Wolf aside without daring to look at his eyes. She could feel the tears streaming down her face now, so hot and yet so cold, freezing into drops of ice by the time they reached her chin, and it was as if those tears were calling out to them, enraging them even further. She could feel their anger crashing into her like a swarm of knives, slicing her cheeks and piercing her flesh. Who was she to cry when they were the ones who were dead and dying? Who was she to cry when she had lost no one, and they had lost everyone? Who was she to cry when she was still perfectly whole and unbroken?
They grabbed at her like thorny vines, slowing her, dragging her down. She could feel their claws, their mangy fur, their questing fingers, their hot, stinking breath.
She kept going. She had to. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she fought, no matter how many hands she slapped off and how many faces she pushed away, she could not escape their voices.
"Darian is dead because of you!"
"You killed Caydo! He was my brother, you orange bitch!"
"Henna!"
"Vineq!"
"Tayla!"
"Shadiko!"
"Nomi!"
"Dasso!"
Names. Names. Names. Names hurled at her like spears. Names she didn't know. Some names she couldn't even pronounce. Names that all had one thing in common, and that one thing was that their owners no longer walked this earth. They were either lying underneath that horrible tarp or still buried beneath a mountain of snow.
Names of corpses.
Stop crying, Kiana! she thought to herself, ordered herself, over and over again. Stop crying! Stop crying! They'll take it as a sign of weakness! They might fall on you as one. They might... they might do things to you... all those things they said they'd do to you in that cage... They might -
Kiana ran full-tilt into what felt like a solid wall. She would have fallen right on her tail had the 'wall' not reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her in close, so close, in fact, she could smell the rubbing alcohol on his wounds.
It wasn't a wall at all, it was one of the most fearsome-looking Wolves Kiana had ever seen, covered from head to toe in grievous wounds. As she craned her neck to look up at this behemoth, her eyes travelled over the rolls upon rolls of bloody bandages wrapped around his midsection. There were deep scratches and bite marks all over his arms and legs, carefully stitched in black thread. The way he was hunched over meant there was probably something wrong with his back, too.
She kept looking up, unable to stop herself, so scared she could barely breathe.
His head was covered in bandages and decorated with streaks of dried blood. His ears protruded from this mess of red and white like two lone soldiers on a snowy battlefield, one standing straight up, the other flopped over halfway.
Wait, isn't this...?
"Hand her over, Dorin!" the mouth-chewer said, crunching something hard between his teeth, making it clatter and crumble. "We just want to talk to her. Just a friendly little chat. Just wanna know what it feels like to snuff out so many lives, is all."
Kiana looked into the injured Wolf's face, mentally removing all the bandages, and was shocked to discover that this was indeed the same Wolf who had walked up to the wall, a thousand angry eyes at his back, and given such a heartfelt apology to everyone he had wronged.
Dorin looked down at her, and Kiana wondered how she ever could have been afraid of him. He wasn't scary at all. There was no hatred in those eyes. No anger. Just a deep, deep sadness.
"Fox-Kai," he said. "Please don't take their words to heart. They know no other way to grieve."
Kiana looked back at the throng that was gathering around them, at the writhing mass of shadows and glowing eyes. She saw Wolves barely restraining themselves, Wolves with lips curling back into vicious snarls, Wolves with runners of drool hanging from their exposed fangs, Wolves dancing upon the brink of madness, Wolves so angry that their breath issued from their mouths in haggard bursts of vapour, Wolves who would love nothing more than to grab her, claw her, rip at her clothes as well as her flesh, make her bleed, make her cry.
But at the same time, in the same faces of the same Wolves, she saw something completely different.
They know no other way to grieve...
She saw Wolves barely holding themselves together, Wolves with quivering lips, Wolves with tears running down their faces, Wolves dancing upon the brink of utter despair, Wolves so filled with sorrow that they could hardly breathe at all, Wolves who would love nothing more than to turn back time, reunite with their friends, their families, their loved ones, and go back home. Home. Just home...
Without warning, Dorin seized Kiana's hands and held them out to the crowd, wrenching so forcefully she was nearly yanked right out of her shoes.
"Hey! Wha-"
"Look!" Dorin thundered, speaking in a voice miraculously powerful for someone with one foot in the grave. "Look at her hands! Look at them!"
He swept her hands from side to side, and Kiana felt absurdly like a puppet being jerked about by the strings. She had absolutely no idea what was going on, but...
The Wolves stopped advancing and simply stared at Kiana's hands with the strangest looks on their faces, looks she couldn't quite decipher. Some of them lowered their heads. Others looked down at their own hands, turning them over, flexing their fingers. Others turned away completely, shaking their heads or covering their eyes.
Kiana looked up at her hands, wondering what on earth could be affecting them so strongly, but she didn't see anything particularly interesting. Her hands were a bit of a mess, actually. Not lady-like at all. They were covered in scratches, and there were still dark red crescents of hardened blood beneath her cracked and broken claws.
"This girl dug through the snow with her bare hands!" Dorin said, still holding them up high. Everything had gone deathly quiet. There were no whispers, no grumbles, no growls. "We were going to burn her to death, but she got down on her hands and knees and she dug through the snow until her fingers bled! Until they looked like this! Look, damn it! Look!"
Dorin yanked her around in a big circle, holding her hands out to all the nearby faces, yelling at them to look, to just_look_, and there wasn't much Kiana could do except go along with it, moving from Wolf to Wolf, each one a story of anguish, sorrow, loss, and regret. So many emotions that wanted to get out, that had to get out, but couldn't. The pain was in the way. The anger was in the way.
The hatred.
They know no other way to grieve.
"With these hands she saved your lives! With these hands she tended to your wounds! With these hands she offered you food, warmth, friendship! But what do you do? You spit on her? You throw things at her? You tear at her clothes? You're no better than a bunch of wild animals! You should all be ashamed of yourselves!"
Flakes of snow drifted down from a black sky and landed upon silent faces. Everything was so quiet, almost peaceful. Kiana could hear Dorin's laboured breathing somewhere above and behind her, an uneven rhythm of anger and pain.
And then, one by one, the Wolves simply began to drift away. They walked by without a word, staring down at their own feet. None of them even stopped to look at her, but whether it was out of shame or disgust was impossible to say.
I... I only wanted to...
They broke apart and faded away, piece by shattered piece.
Like snowflakes... Kiana thought, watching them dissolve into the darkness. Just like snowflakes...
A painful sob tore through her body. She might have had a little control before, but that was gone now. Tears spilled from her eyes in burning lines. Dorin let go of her wrists and she quickly covered her face, shocked by how cold her hands were against her cheeks and nose.
She stood there, crying into her hands for a while, listening to the footsteps of the Wolves going by, dragging their feet on their way to nowhere. Probably some dark corner where they could curl up into a ball and hate her in peace.
I only wanted to help...
"Fox-Kai?" She lowered her hands. Dorin was bending down in front of her, his floppy ear partially covering one eye. "Are you all right? Dumb question, I know, but..."
Kiana couldn't keep it in any longer. She had to. She just had to...
She threw her arms around Dorin's heavily bandaged body and wept hysterically, burying her face in the scent of rubbing alcohol and aloe vera.
Please don't push me away... she prayed. Please don't choke me, or scratch me, or throw me to the ground. Please... Please don't hate me...
She felt his hand on her back, patting her gently. It was a bit awkward, but it was also wonderful.
"Thank you, Dorin..." she whispered. "Thank you for saving me. Thank you for everything."
"If we start with the thanking game we'll be here all night," he said, pulling away from her so he could look her in the eye. "Now will you tell me what in the Cora's name you're doing all the way out here, all by yourself, in the dark, with a bunch of angry Wolves after your blood?"
Kiana sniffed, wiped her eyes on her sleeve, felt a little better. "Mother asked me to fetch some blankets, and I -"
"Forget that. If a Wolf really needs a blanket that badly, he can scavenge one for himself. They're all over the place. Now come on, I'll take you back to the fires."
He tugged on her sleeve, but she dug her heels in like a mule. "No, Mother asked me to get some blankets, so some blankets are what I'm going to get."
Dorin frowned at her so hard that the bandages across his brow formed a crease. "This isn't really about blankets, is it?"
Kiana shook her head. "No. Not entirely."
"You're trying to feed their hunger with something other than blood and violence, is that it?"
"Their... hunger?" Kiana was still trying to figure out what he meant by that when he said something even more confusing.
"You know, you remind me a little of Nilia."
"I do?" Kiana couldn't think of anything she could possibly have in common with such a strong Wolfess. Certainly no one would ever catch Nilia bawling her eyes out like this.
"Last chance. I can escort you back to the fires, where it's warm and where the Wolves are at least partially sane."
Kiana shook her head emphatically. "No. I am very sorry, Dorin, but this is something I have to do. I know it sounds stupid. I know it's just a bunch of blankets. But there are Wolves out there, lying on the ground for crying out loud, with nothing but scraps of leather to cover them. They stew in their hatred and I can't stand it. I want to do something about it."
"And you think handing out blankets will fix that? They won't stop hating you."
"No, but it's a start, isn't it?"
There was more Kiana wanted to say, but she didn't know how. Good and evil. Love and hatred. Pain and joy. Anger and kindness. Happiness and misery. Hope and despair. What was she to do in the face of all that? Where joy existed side by side with pain? Where kindness could turn into anger and anger into kindness? What was she to do when all these things existed, not apart from each other, but part of each other? What could she do other than hope that her own kindness would be met in kind?
Dorin smiled. "Aye. It's a start."
The Wolves in this subchapter, as well as the preceding ones, used to be much, much more violent. Instead of merely harassing Kiana, they actively went after her, trying to attack her. They were driven by anger instead of sadness. While I was writing, I thought it would make for a nice bit of action, but later, I realised that this created a glaring flaw. It wasn't realistic for Kiana to keep trying to help them if they were actually trying to kill her. It just made the whole thing feel off.
I tried to fix this problem by going in the opposite direction. I made the Wolves incredibly lethargic, almost zombie-like, as if they were suffering from some kind of PTSD. I thought it would be kinda creepy, having all these big Wolves lumbering around the place, lost in their own thoughts, but that didn't work either. There was no tension, no sense of danger, and that meant there was no real reason for Dorin to come into the picture.
In the end I decided to go for a middle-ground between the two extremes of anger and sadness, hopefully getting the best of both worlds. It needed to be dangerous enough to be fun to read, but not so dangerous that Kiana would look foolish for trying to help them.
Another change I made was Dorin. It used to be a completely new character that jumped in to save her, but I quickly realised that creating a whole new character this late in the story was more trouble than it was worth. The audience would have no attachment to him, and any efforts to flesh him out would just slow the pace with unnecessary backstory. By replacing him with an already established character, I managed to solve the problem.
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