Piers Torday - The Last Wild

*How is your father?* asks the stag gently.

*We do not know. He tumbled into the valley, and was lost from view.* Anger flares suddenly in the cub’s eyes. *They have sworn to avenge him — do you know that?*

The stag is not laughing now. He is listening.

*Yes, I can imagine. And you, what about you, Cub — do you wish to kill me now, to avenge your father?*

*My father will be avenged,* says the cub quietly. He looks down at the wet slate beneath his paws. *But he was wrong. We were all wrong. Even before the sunset after you fled, more of the wild had been lost to the berry-eye. Now all the eagles are afflicted, and more of the badgers too — everyone is so fearful. Some say that the end of all things is approaching, as in the dreams —* He glances anxiously at the swirling sky above.

The stag shakes his head. *Not yet, Cub, while blood still runs through these veins. So why have you come, if not to avenge your father?*

*Because the wild I have sworn from my first breath to protect is dying. I … I have come to help you in your quest, Wildness.*

I slide off the stag and take a step towards the cub. I want to stroke him. But he suddenly growls, bristling, and I jerk my hand away.

*But I will not help the human! I can never help a human!* he snarls.

*Then you may not travel with us. We need the human’s help.*

The wolf-cub stares straight at me, eyes open wide. I hold my hands up in the air, trying to make peace.

*I want to help you, I promise,* I say. *I won’t harm you.*

*Ha!* he says, his ears splayed. *Have no fear of that. But you had better watch out for me. I will always be watching your back!*

I’m confused.

Now the wolf-cub is confused too, looking to the stag for advice. He tries again. *No, I mean, that is … you should watch your back! That’s all I’m saying.*

*I will try,* I say, trying not to let him see my smile as I get back on the stag. I can feel the cub watching my every move, and we wait.

Finally the stag breaks the silence. *So, Cub, will you join us all in peace?*

The wolf-cub snorts and, glancing at me, licks his nose sulkily.

*In that case you are most welcome,* says the stag, nuzzling the cub softly on the top of his head.

And then we are off again, marching back into the fog, the pigeons guiding us out with shouts and cries, the wolf-cub trotting behind as if he has been with us all along — which, in a way, I suppose he has. He is quiet though, treading suspiciously over the broken slates one by one like they might suddenly attack him.

There is a steady series of soft snores coming from my jacket pocket. I can’t believe the General slept through a wolf-cub arriving.

I would give anything to be able to lie down and sleep now. My head is boiling and pounding at the same time, and every step the stag takes makes me want to throw up.

The walls of rock give way to green slopes overgrown with rolls of spiky bush hidden behind yellow flowers, which look nice but scratch at the stag’s sides and my legs. As he picks his way along a path of muddy earth and roots, the ground rises steeply, until we find ourselves on top of a small knoll overlooking a dark green forest. And beyond, poking out above the trees, only just visible against the grey sky, but definitely there, dead ahead — a row of six chimneys.

I have seen other houses and chimney tops throughout our journey, but this has something none of the others had.

Smoke.

Sparks start to fly in my brain. If there are smoking chimneys, then underneath them there must be a fire — and warmth. And perhaps a bed, not a rock, that I can lie on.

I don’t say all that though. My head and stomach feel carved clean out, hollow, and every word is an effort.

*Look. Smoke.*

The stag grunts and turns around before starting to clop back the way we have come, along the rocky ridge, heading once more into the low white mist. I grab at the tufts of his mane.

*Wait! What are you doing? You’re going the wrong way.*

*We do not know what we might find there.*

*But I don’t feel well. I want to lie down.*

He stops and gives a long sigh. *My animals are not well either. And if we do not find a cure for them, they will all die. We cannot be discovered.*

This is a joke. Checking around for any sharp rocks and not seeing any, I bounce off him on to the hard ground, my head spinning as I do. The wolf-cub ducks out of my way, ears pricking. The stag keeps on walking, but a few strides up ahead he sighs and stops before turning round to glower at me. You forget when you’re on top of him, but he is really massive.

I reach down and grab a dead branch off the ground, holding it like a sword. My hands might be tingling from the cold, but there’s a fire burning in my stomach which rushes up my throat, a shower of sparks behind my eyes, making me dizzy.

*Please, Stag! I feel really sick. I’m the one going to die if you don’t take me to the house.*

Then the stag speaks gently. Soft. I wish he wasn’t soft. You can’t hit anything with a stick when it’s being soft.

*Very well. We can rest here awhile, if you wish.

I look at the stones jutting out of the earth, the spiky bushes. *I don’t want to lie on a rock! I want to lie on a bed — I need to lie down.*

He nods slowly, chewing, not saying a word. I try again. *If you’re worried about meeting people — well, you’ll have to meet plenty of them in Premium—*

*I will enter your land to meet with your father and his magic. But first we need to get there alive.*

The pigeons flutter down on to his horns, blinking at me.

*You must understand — we do not trust other humans like we do you.*

*Yes. Don’t trust me, human,* says the white pigeon, popping up on the stag’s back from nowhere.

*But there’s a fire — I could get warm,* I say, my head feeling dizzier and dizzier by the second.

*Yes,* reply the grey pigeons, *and humans only make fires so they can roast pigeons in them. That’s the reason you made them to begin with.*

*It is a great honour that we trust you at all,* says the wolf-cub, trying to copy the stag and sound older than he is.

But the old deer puts his foot down. He shakes his head gruffly, sending the pigeons tumbling off into the bushes while the wolf-cub cowers behind him.

*Enough of this — you are all behaving like fawns. We take another walk-upon.*

As I listen to them bicker, a thought charges up out of nowhere like a battering ram. The fire behind my eyes, the shakes, the sickness in my stomach — my brain and body are burning up. I should never have gone near these animals; I should never have agreed to any of this or left the safety of the Hall. There’s a reason the countryside is abandoned and all the animals are gone. An infectious, deadly reason. And now I’ve got it.

That’s it. I’ve got the red-eye. That’s the only explanation.

I drop the stick, shaking. Sweat trickles down my sides.

*I was wrong. I can’t help you.*

The stag lowers his head without a word.

The stomach-fire crackles and roars behind my eyes.

*Do you understand? This is all your fault!*

But they all just stare at me silently. Almost like they’re just animals again and we can no longer talk.

Fine — that’s probably for the best. So I turn on my heels and run away from them, down the hill, slipping and sliding on the flattened grass, in the direction of the chimneys, running faster and faster, away from the animals, towards the house.

I don’t look back. I can’t.

Because I know they’re not coming after me.