Chasing Sparks

Chapter 10.1

It was five days now since Wren’s encounter with the lion. His chest and ankle were fully healed and his trepidation about being chased was beginning to come down a notch or two, as he must have put some good distance between him and the Seekers. He was still following the same river as before but it had bent towards the mountains over the last day or so and Wren found himself heading more north than east now.

A new day was dawning and as the morning light started to filter through the jungle canopy, Wren couldn’t help but smile. Shafts of sunlight pierced the gaps in the leaves above his head and tiny dust particles danced in the rays, making the whole beautiful scene almost ethereal.

The sounds were calming too. Gone was the constant chatter and buzz of the nocturnal insects to be replaced by something softer and more peaceful. Not silence of course, this was a forest, but a quiet peaceful whisper that lifted Wren’s spirit.

Feeling good he started skipping down the trail. He felt like singing too but couldn't sing, so he hummed quietly to himself, while taking in the world around him.

It wasn't long before Wren's skipping became a run and he found himself racing alongside the river, splashing in and out the water now and again to cool off. For the first time in days, Wren was just enjoying the experience of running. He had stopped humming though. Not because he didn’t enjoy it, it was just that he didn’t know all that many songs.

He continued in this vein for a while but his carefree mood ended abruptly when he came across a small ford in the river. It wasn’t the ford itself that bothered Wren but rather the fresh wheel tracks in it. A wagon of sorts had clearly passed this way recently and that could mean trouble.

Wren had to admit to a certain level of curiosity about the wagon and wondered whether now would be a good time to start heading back east again, following the wheel tracks. But he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of wariness as to what a wagon was doing so deep in the forest. Unsure what to do, he lingered in the river a few minutes before finally deciding to follow the cart east.

His best guess was that the wheel tracks were around a couple of hours old. Wren wasn’t the greatest tracker in the world but knew the basics and was careful to remain hidden just off to the side of the trail as he headed east.

Making the effort to bring a wagon through this difficult terrain, meant it likely contained something valuable, otherwise why bother. And if it was carrying something valuable it also meant there would likely be lookouts in front and behind the wagon watching for trouble. So Wren followed at a distance, ensuring he didn’t get too close.

His newly obtained nightvision meant he was probably better off waiting until dark before attempting to get a better look at the wagon people.

He didn’t know when he had decided he was going to get closer, it was definitely safer and more sensible to just bypass whoever it was in the night. But he was growing more and more curious now, and figured whoever they were, they couldn’t be worse than the people already chasing him. And they might even be nice. Besides, he was only going to have a quick look and be on his way.

…

It was well past sunset when Wren began creeping closer to take a look at things. He was moving very carefully now, sure the wagon would have stopped for the night. He was right. He could just about make it out, parked off the trail to the left. He couldn’t see what the people were doing, as there were too many trees in the way, but their loud voices carried clearly on the wind to where he was. The voices exuded a definite unwelcoming attitude and he was dissuaded immediately from just walking up them and saying hello. If he had to guess, he would have said they were bandits or criminals of some description.

Taking a deep breath, Wren dropped to his belly and started inching his way closer to the wagon. He really wasn’t sure what he was doing. He should be going the other way and quickly, but he had followed the cart pretty much all day and wanted to know what was in it.

He continued slithering forward on his belly until he was about thirty paces from the wagon and had a good view of it through the trees. It was then that he realised it was a cage. A cage with something alive inside. His initial guess was a bear or some other large predator but as he looked more closely he could make out a small pair of arms and legs.

There was someone inside the cage and judging by their size, a child. But why would a child be in a cage?

Common sense was screaming at him to just walk away and that this was none of his business. But the obvious problem with that now, was he would be leaving a child in a cage, surrounded by people he suspected were bandits. 

Wren started to slither back the way he came, already wondering how on earth he was going to free the kid and avoid being caught himself. He rested his back against the base of a tree, well out of sight of the camp, and reviewed the only plan he had come up with so far. Wait until the middle of the night. Hope everyone was asleep. Sneak in and free the child.

As plans went, it was a little thin on detail and relied heavily on the bandits doing their part by falling asleep. It also required being sneaky, something six foot tall Krills found harder than most. But there was nothing else he could think of to improve the plan, so, when the moon was at its highest, Wren began slowly making his way back towards the camp. He had assumed there would be a key of sorts for the cage and it would likely be kept by or near the leader, whoever that was.

The campfire was just embers by now but gave off enough heat, Wren had no problem making it out with his nightvision. He could also see six lumps arranged around the fire. They weren’t moving much, so Wren presumed they were asleep. Just then, a slight movement off to his right caught his eye. It came from the wagon. A sentry had stood up from the driver’s seat and was stretching his arms and looking around.

Wren froze, waiting for the sentry to settle back down.

As the sentry did so, Wren released his breath and looked more closely at the cage, his earring giving him perfect vision. The person inside was looking directly at him. Wren froze again and this time, buried his head into the ground trying to make himself as small as possible.

He waited, expecting someone to start shouting or some alarm to be raised, but nothing happened.

Wren eventually got the courage to look back up and see what was happening. Everything looked the same as it had a couple of minutes ago, other than the figure inside the cage was shaking its head slightly from side to side, as if in despair at Wren’s actions.

The figure then held up one finger and pointed to the left, then to the right, then the driver’s seat of the wagon. It seemed the child was trying to communicate with him.

The child repeated the gesture, clearly expecting some kind of response from Wren. Three sentries, thought Wren. He nodded his understanding.

Wren in turn then held up nine fingers. The child shook its head and held up ten. So, one more somewhere I don’t know about. Great, thought Wren.

It then occurred to Wren that this was one clever little child, so he strained to look closer at the cage. As he peered intently, he realised his error, it wasn’t a child but a small slight woman. And given her pale skin tone and ability to pick Wren out in the middle of the night, likely a Caver.

Wren raised his hand and made a key gesture. The woman put her hands up to her neck as if holding a necklace. Wren’s heart slumped. He figured he had a tiny chance of sneaking into the camp and stealing a key if it was in a box or something. But there was no chance he could take a key from around someone’s neck.

The little woman was pointing north now and counting to three in her other hand. Wren reckoned that meant the key was around the neck of the third lump round from north around the fire.

Just then the sentry in the driver’s seat stirred again, aware the woman in the cage was moving around and poked a long stick through the bars. Wren could hear the snarl from the woman as she backed away from the stick into the corner of the cage.

The way she put her hands up to protect her face, suggested this was not the first time she had been poked with that stick.

The sentry prodded the woman repeatedly, the way a hunter might bate a lion or bear. It made Wren sick. He felt a strong feeling of revulsion for the sentry, which left him in no doubt he was going to try to help.