We Walk As Wolves

Chapter 16

Cass

It was odd to Cass, walking alongside the boys without their spears rubbing against his back and their dirty bonds tied around his wrists. 

They followed behind him with a strange tranquility, like the sudden, unwanted awareness about their leader's hidden secrets had killed a large piece of their primitive bonds to the island. They were quiet, snuggled up in a neat, single-file line like obedient school children. For a moment, Cass missed the wilder parts of them. Without the untamed flare in their eyes, they were almost unrecognizable. 

They all walked a few meters behind Dells, barely picking up their feet and glancing at Finch every now and then, trying to catch a glimpse of his stomach without being caught. Cass had done the same for the first half of the walk to the Lost Forest. Even Finch himself had tucked the black cloak tighter around his body, an attempt to keep his own eyes away. 

But now, Cass just watched Dells. 

He had distanced himself from the rest of them, running a few fingers through his hair or scratching at the back of his neck. Cass had been waiting for the inevitable reach, the subtle jerk of his fingers toward his thigh. But he never touched the gun. 

Cass's stare shifted to his bare skin beneath the leather straps crisscrossing over his spine. The wound from the spear flared red, and lines of blood continued to ooze from it, dribbling down the backs of his legs. His ruined arm hung awkwardly at his side, sometimes getting tangled up in the bushes if they'd grown too high. 

He looked like one giant open wound. 

Back in London, the starving dogs that had roamed the alleys with Cass usually hunted the stray cats - for meals, and for sport. The cats had always been smarter, one step ahead, but the hounds knew the young from the old, the healthy from the sick. They could smell it. And they were stronger. 

He wondered if the island's monsters could also sense fragility. But even with the deep gash in his spine, Dells walked with a sturdiness that made it clear the island's monsters might possibly mistake his blood from somebody else's. 

He reached for Dells's good shoulder, but hesitated as the heat of a body pressed against his hip. He glanced down, then redirected his question to the child. "Are you all right?"

The boy tried to give him a brave smile. "I've never been this far from the Lost Village before."

"So, there's a Lost Forest and a Lost Village?" Cass asked. "Sounds rather confusing."

It was Dells who answered. His voice was tight, like there was a coil of rope wrapped around his throat. "You stay long enough, and you'll know the difference. The Lost Village is where lost things are found. In the Lost Forest, you lose everything the Island hasn't already taken away."

Cass frowned. "Like what?"

"Your courage, your sanity, your heart." Dells's head tilted, a silent gesture to something Cass couldn't clarify. "Your life, if you ain't careful." 

Sounds a bit like the rest of the island. "And you're bringing us there?" 

Dells rolled his eyes. "Regardless of what's in it, it's the safest place right now. The Grave Thief won't go near it." 

"What about Redd?" a large boy with dark skin - Scout - asked from near the back of the line. 

Finch shot him a warning glare, but Scout kept his eyes on Dells. He turned slightly, looking the child up and down. "What about her?"

"She's out there," Scout answered.

"She'll miss us," the boy walking in front of him added. 

Cass remembered the rabbit foot hanging from her wrist. It was smaller than theirs, and seemed to be a darker shade. But the cord of her bracelet and the cords of their necklaces were the same material.