WOLVES DON'T TALK

Chapter 14. THE END OF THE ROAD

"I have to go," I told the wolf and walked away from his cage.

There wasn't anything else I could do. His warning had scared me down to the bones, but Pythia needed her key, I needed her key, and maybe the wolf needed it, too. I'd promised to find it and it was time to deliver.

"Come on." I waved my arm at the huge red rabbit, ordering her to follow. "It's time to go."

"Don't do it," the wolf barked behind us as we strode off. Then, when he saw his words were useless, he added a few more. "I pray for your children, little girl," he said. "May they never become wolves like me."

I felt chills race down my spine at this new piece of strangeness. My whole body started shaking like a wind chime in a stiff breeze. I couldn't stand any more warnings.

Sensing my weakness, the Daphne rabbit wrapped one of her paws around my waist, pulled me toward her pounding bunny chest and gave me a great big hug, and I hugged her back. I'd been subjected to too many strange creatures and too much of that darn wolf. This adventure had to end. I would find the remaining pieces of Pythia's key and then I would go home, back to the regular world with the regular people. So, I grinned at the silly red rabbit instead of cowering in fear.

"Which way do we go?" I asked her the obvious question.

Daphne lifted a furry paw and aimed it in the direction of the same logging road we'd followed earlier to reach the clearing. We both turned and I waved good-by to the mob. Everyone seemed to nod at us in response except for the white rabbit and the fox, who stood beneath the huge redwood once again, conducting another one of their consultations as they passed some object I couldn't see back and forth between them.

We walked for about two hours after leaving the clearing, moving straight up the road, which had become more of a path and a very poor one at that. We dodged large potholes and clumps of vegetation, including a lot of treacherous blackberry vines trying to stab us with their sharp thorns as we passed. I began to be concerned that we'd lost our way, but the red rabbit hopped steadily along, seemingly confident in her direction.

I followed her, knowing I couldn't do anything else, trudging forever onward, until noon when we spotted a huge rock and paused to eat. The forest misted over as we cuddled up next to the rock, making everything looked very eerie in the shifting grey fog. We both started to imagine weird things while we sat there sharing some trail mix from the old blue backpack Daphne had found. My eyes darted back and forth, looking for devils. I felt certain one would jump out of the mist and grab us.

That didn't happen, of course, but Daphne almost scared the pants off me after we finished gulping our lunch down when she pointed into a stand of nearby trees, whistled softly and then hopped off into them. I anxiously watched her fade into an oblivion with no sign of even a path but trailed after her anyway and soon found her waiting for me to catch up in the middle of a grove of immense sequoia trees.

They looked very similar to their redwood cousins but were somewhat shorter and had broader trunks; many large enough to bore tunnels through. Dead debris from the trees carpeted the forest floor, forming a thick mat and crowding out all other plant life. The treetops formed a heavy canopy over our heads just like the taller redwoods had, blocking out most of the sunlight from the woods.

We paused as I admired the mighty sequoias, which I recognized from the many lectures I'd received at camp about the forest.

Daphne did not share my admiration for the trees. She cuddled up as close as she could get to my side and shuddered instead. She shook so hard, she passed her fear right on to me. But I contained my agitation, feeling responsible for the red rabbit and knowing I couldn't take the risk of her rushing off again and leaving me stranded in the grove with a thick mist confusing my sense of direction and no clear trail to follow.

I gave her my most reassuring pat on one of her fat cheeks.

"We're okay," I said. "I'm certain." Of course, I lied, knowing if we climbed much further, we'd be more than half-way up the mountain and past our destination.

With my reassurance, Daphne stopped shaking and stood up on her hind feet and hopped off again into the fog.

"Wait for me," I called and then raced off after her.

It didn't take too long before we'd worked our way through the grove of giant sequoias, weaving steadily between their vast trunks until we found ourselves out of the thick woods and back into the sunshine. I glanced anxiously around to see if I could find a path or trail to follow and shouted with joy when I spotted the old logging road nearby. Daphne had apparently taken a short cut through the sequoias when she could have stayed on the road, which now ran almost in a straight line along the side of the mountain. Large potholes marked its gravel bed, but few plants clogged its way now.

A row of ravaged lifeless trees, a combination of dead giants and their leafy cousins, lined the road. A few aged brown needles and leaves still clung to their crooked branches but most lay in piles at their roots, along with mounds of dried yellow vegetation. To me, the trees seemed like aged wooden sentries placed there as guides toward some wretched destination.

After another hour of jumping over potholes, the dead forest finally ran its course and faded from our sight. We continued stumbling along the road until the sun gave out on us and another heavy fog blew across our path. True to form, the fickle red rabbit raced away once again.