The West Woods

Chapter 14 : I Need a Hero

Wes, Wigfrid, and Willow were gathering eggs when they heard the commotion in the main yard. Hoisting their baskets they hurried from the avian room into the quart where they beheld a panicked Max tossed over the shoulder of an even more mortified Wolfgang. Wickerbottom, Wilson, and the two younger children were already surrounding the men with worried looks.

"It is a disgusting creature," they heard Max inform as he squirmed from Wolfgangs grip on him and found his footing.

"Is wood man! Large and towering, he come up from the ground like great mole!"

Wes looked around quickly. Woodie was nowhere to be seen. His stomach churned and he swallowed hard. His chest was rising and falling rapidly now and he shifted nervously on his feet.

"Wes," Max breathed, his feet moving in stumbling steps. He placed his hand on the mimes shoulders. "Wes I'm so sorry, there was nothing we could do. It uprooted - the tree guard- Woodie was tangled in the branches when it rose! He disappeared into its pines, we ...we don't think he made it."

The world came crashing down. Reality was tearing itself apart around Wes and he felt sick. He stared in shock and his hands shook. His legs felt weak. He felt like he was going to vomit. The acids in his stomach were eating the lining and his heart felt like it might burst at any moment.

This couldn't be happening! This couldn't be real! Woodie was the strong one! Woodie was the one supposed to protect him! He'd always been the hero.

The thought that Woodie could be dying, or worse already dead ; he couldn't process it.

And then something in his brain snapped and the basket slipped from his hands sending the eggs to the ground, dozens of yolks spilled out of them as they broke on the cobblestone.

Wes felt his expression twist into seething fury and he sprinted to the side gate to throw it open. Wilson and Max ran quickly after him, but they weren't going to stop him, not now.

"Wes! Where are you going?" Max called through worried heaves.

"Where is he?" Wes screamed in demand, stopping Wilson and Max dead in their tracks.

They stared at him wide eyed.

"God dammit it all, Maxwell! Where is he?" He screamed again.

"H-he's off to the northwest. The tree guard is still out there, you won't make it in time."

Wes turned again and picked up his pace. He was a man on a mission.

"Wes, what are you doing?!"

He came to the beefalo gate where the beasts were glowering and bellowing loudly. His hand no sooner touched the door than Wilson's own hand gripped his shoulder.

"Wes, you can't the beefalo are in their rutting season! They'll trample you."

The mime sneered and yanked himself away from the scientist, giving him a push and a warning glare. Wilson backed away slowly.

He breathed hard, looking at the gate to the pin and swallowing. He had to do something. He had to save Woodie.

He gripped the green shawl he wore over his shoulders for warmth and tore it off, biting into it he ripped a strip of cloth and tied it about his head to keep his bangs from his eyes. He reached then to the stand that held the Tail o' Three Cats. He gripped the whip and gave it a hard crack on the ground, earning him the attention of the beefalo in the cage.

The beasts glowered at him and bellowed, stomping their cloven feet in defiance. He glared back and threw open the gate snapping the whip again. They held still a moment.

They stared him down, he stared back. There was a heaviness in the air.

The first stepped forward and scuffed its hooves through the dirt with a mighty clop. It snorted, its eyes narrowing, and charged. Wes tried to move only to be caught by the edge of his shirt and tossed a series of yards. He landed hard on the ground and felt the air knocked out of him. Though he was dazed he forced himself up and bolted toward the gate to lock the others in.

Wes shirt had been ripped open and he was quite shocked to find that he had not been scraped by the sharp antlers on the creatures head. He breathed out shakily, but his determination was not faltering. He tore the sleeve from the other side of his shirt and held the cloth tight in his hand. The whip was still gripped in the other and he raised it high giving it another crack on the ground.

The beast turned and barreled toward him.

Wes pulled the whip back and as the creature approached he swung it, cracking it hard against the bull's face and stunning it for the moment.

While the brute was docile he gripped it by the horns, giving a hard tug. It mewled in defiance but Wes only yanked harder till the beast lowered its head and Wes was able to mount.

The beefalo did not bare their saddles in the winter. Bareback riding even in the summer and autumn was dangerous. In the winter, when the beasts were hostile, even more so.

Wes took the ripped sleeve and tied one end about the left antler, and the the other about the right, securing them as well he could. He twisted his arm into it and gave a tug to test it.

"Wes wait!"

He turned back to see Willow, her lighter bared to him.

"Take this! Light him up for me!"

She tossed him a spear with a red gem at the very top. He'd seen her use it before.

If this monster were wood then this would surely take care of it.

He nodded his thanks and gave a hard kick to the Bulls side. It jerked and bellowed, then bolted toward the woods.

His plaid shirt had been tattered by the branches- the buttons popped off and it hung open, and his pants legs were torn from the knee down. His head ached with the pounding of coming to from being knocked unconscious and he couldn't get his eyes to focus, but Woodie could feel the bouncing of his torso being shaken by some force all around him.

His eyes slowly adjusted to see the branches and pine needles that surrounded him and panic eased into his gut. The memories came flooding in.

He had been with Max and Wolfgang. They had been cutting trees.

The tree guard had uprooted itself right before Woodie and swiped at him, tangling him in its branches and among its bark. The last thing he saw before the lights went out was the figures of Wolfgang and Max retreating.

Every step the monster took jostled him and made his bones ache. He was certain something had been broken, it had to of been. Pain shot through his body like a thousand needles and made him cry out. He choked on his breath and tears ran down his face. This was unbearable.

A few branches over he saw Lucy. He could hear her grating cries of panic and he felt what little strength he had rearing its head. He hauled himself up on shaky legs, using the trunk of the stumbling beast to walk the branches. A time or two he thought he might fall, but soon he had Lucy in his hand.

He pulled Lucy back readying to strike when he felt something crash below him and he looked down to see a very raggedy mime on a Beefalo.

"Wes! What are you doing?!"