In the Panther's Wake

Chapter 24

I reach out and grab my brother, pulling him towards me and I bury my head in his shoulder.

"It's Ok," he says. "I think it's Ok."

I pull my head back and give him a hard stare before picking up the can. I hold it up to my nose and sniff it. The scent is sweet, syrupy and rich. My mouth is salivating and I glance at Markus, who has a slight smile on his face. He nods, assuring me.

His eyes are grey, his cheeks pasty white. But maybe the juice is Ok. It's too early to tell. I'm still shaking, shivering, and my stomach is tied. I feel I could vomit any minute and I don't wait any longer. I put the can to my lips and tilt it. The sweet peach nectar comes pouring over my tongue. I swirl it around and swallow before taking another big gulp and flashing my brother a smile.

"Have the rest," he says. "I had half. We need it now, or we'll never get out of this forest."

I slowly sip the rest, feeling the sugar surging around my veins, charging my body with new life. I smack my lips between swigs, moving and swishing the liquid up around my teeth with my tongue. I save a final sip and hold it out for Markus.

He shakes his head. "That's yours."

I lean against the wall beside him and sip it down, breathe slowly out, closing my eyes.

"If it kills you, it'll kill us both," I say. "Always together, like father said."

"It'll be alright," Markus whispers.

And there I sit, eyes closed, feeling stranger than before, but stronger. I hope—wish—that the strange feeling is just in my head.

"It's getting lighter outside. We should move out soon, while we're feeling strong." Markus has a skip in his voice. "The juice won't keep us going long. We'll save the lentils for later."

The flare begins to die and the cottage goes grey again. The cold feeling returns without the rich glow. Markus is on his feet, smiling at me. But it's a sad smile. His face looks gaunt. I feel like I can almost see his bones through his skin.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"He tries to widen his smile, but it only assures me something's not right. The peach juice—what if?

A howl breaks out of the deathly silence. Markus drops to his knees and shoots me a horrified glance. We both scramble up beside the cottage opening, perched either side of the empty doorframe. Another howl echoes through the trees, this time louder, and another. I slowly peer out and can't believe my eyes.

I get tighter against the wall. Markus is staring at me.

"Wolves," I murmur.

There are at least six, circling the cottage, sniffing the ground. Markus peers out for a second, rests his head back against the doorframe. "What do we do?"

I glance around. "The stairs!"

I dart towards them and creep up to the top. Markus follows, heavy on his feet. A step snaps halfway up and Markus falls, crying out. The howling continues, growing more frequent. I scurry down and grab Markus' arm, pulling him up through the crack in the splintering wood. He grimaces in pain from a large cut on his thigh, but we can't treat it now. We move up and out into the open and lay beside each other, using our arms to push us towards the edge. We look down at the pack of wolves—I can see eleven of them, scuffling about in the ash, turning in circles, snapping their jaws. They bite and growl at the air, but they don't advance. They stand back, around thirty metres away from us, waiting for something.