In the Panther's Wake

Chapter 25

"Wake up young wans."

I open my eyes and Farkas is leaning over us, speaking softly. "We cannot stay in wan place for long."

"I thought these woods—your woods— were safe. I thought the danger was behind us." Markus speaks nervously.

Farkas shakes his head, "Be no safe places anymore. Dee masked ones are always trying to stretch dem power to da east. Dem won't stop till der's notin left, till evertin is dead and burned, den dem will turn on eachoda, and der will be truly notin left."

He passes us his flask and we both sip, sitting up and crossing our legs. Farkas sits opposite us and keeps his eyes on Markus, remaining quiet but uneasy. I look closely at Markus and I'm sure he looks worse; weaker and paler, if that's even possible.

"You talk as if you know what's going to happen," Markus suddenly speaks up.

Farkas shifts his weight, tilts his head. His dreadlocks are so long they brush the floor as he leans to the side.

"Let me tell you wan last story, before ya continue on yer marvellous journey. Dem came from dee stars long ago. And after livin among us for a while, leavin behind relics of dem past, dem retreated below dee ground. From down bellow dem watched as we blew eachoda apart; as we killed dee sky and dirtied da waves. We burnt everytin' up till dee air was a poison, dee sky blacker dan dee hell below dem.

"Dem gave us a chance, left clues of der wonders; pyramids dat pointed to dee great outa space dem came from. Dog faced, dem laughin' at us now, causin' dee earth we walk on ta tremble.

"Dem been playin since dee beginning, chosin' our leaders, havin' dem lie, pull a mask ova our eyes. Behind it all it was just anoda game. So now I play games too, wid my brodas, and I fight dee end; what else is der ta do? I defend my forest, and we brodas—you brodas—we live on. And till we all fall, burn away like da rest of it, dem can laugh on. Dis game ees not ova yet."

Farkas stares sternly for a second, then smiles for the first time, exposing a warmth I didn't know he had. I know his heart is good and pure. He's fierce because he has to be, and alive because of it. He's adapted to live on, like Markus and I have to. We've made it this far; stealthy, silent, like shadows—panthers.

A huge smile stretches across my face and for a second I feel strong again. But a howl erupts from outside the cabin and Farkas' face turns grim, "Time ta go! Quickly!"

I jump to my feet and pull Markus up.

"What is it?" he asks.

But Farkas is pacing out the cabin doorway in a storm, and the howling continues, several more wolves joining in.

Markus almost falls straight back down and I have to hold him up for second to steady him.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed I asked. "Outside, come on!"

We rush out into the ash and the early dawn sky is grey. The wolves are circling, growling and grunting. Farkas stands to the right of the cabin, staring out to the west. A thick smog has set in and we can't see far through the milky haze. The bitter stench rises, twisting my empty stomach.

We run over to stand beside Farkas as he continues to stare out through the columns of trees. "Dey're on dem way!" he says. And my heart thuds heavy and fast once again.

Farkas goes down on one knee, his face level with ours. He swings his bag from his shoulder and pulls out a white, wolf skin wrap. He unravels it to reveal two small blades inside. He passes one to each of us, and I hold the dagger up in front of me. The metal is old, doesn't shine, but the blade is sharp; both edges and the tip. I feel the handle, open up my palm. It's made of bone, carved in the shape of a wolf head; fangs and ears, sharp eyes.