May Dawney - Survival Instincts

Her legs felt strong when she started to pull again. Her arms didn’t feel tired. She held up the fire bowl and Dani’s spear as she pulled with all her might. Steady pace, straight ahead. She might draw every predator in the area to her location, but if they came, she’d kill them all and pull right on. No one was dying tonight, least of all Dani.

THE SPURT OF ENERGY DIDN’T last, but Lynn’s determination only grew stronger. Even with cramping leg muscles, she pulled on, and even with trembling arms she kept her grip. The route was simple; finding a path for the cart was more complicated, but Lynn was an expert at cart pulling now. She reached the bridge and crossed it without pause. The ramp down the highway appeared within the circle of light cast by her fire, and she took it, then slowed to orientate herself.

Knowing herself, Lynn had probably gone right. Left would have taken her under the highway, and she always tried to avoid that if at all possible because the shadows could hide any manner of predator. If only you had remembered that yesterday.

She set her jaw and maneuvered right. As long as she could find points to orientate herself by, she would push on. If she couldn’t, well, she might have to make camp for the night.

Red brick buildings rose above her, illuminated only to their first row of windows by the flickering light cast by her makeshift torch. Lynn hadn’t been too afraid on the highway, but this was a whole different experience. Even during the day, an urban area like this, with blown-out windows and gaping holes for doors in every building, would have her on edge. During the night, the darkness beyond those crevices reminded her of gaping mouths and cave entrances, hiding certain death.

Even though she wanted to hurry past them, she forced herself not to since she had to look for landmarks that would help her find the Homestead. Nothing seemed familiar for much longer than she was comfortable with. Then the circle of firelight caught the branches of a tree that grew inside of a house. Lynn exhaled with relief; she remembered that. She turned her gaze right and moved on until she came to the oaks that had housed the yipping monkey. Other animals howled and growled in the distance, well beyond the light of her fire, but if there were monkeys in the oaks, they were silent.

Lynn moved on, following her memories down the maze of streets. It reminded her of a bedtime story Old Lady Senna had told her, about children following breadcrumbs into danger, but Lynn knew she was heading to the witch’s gingerbread house and she would be careful to avoid getting burned. The danger didn’t matter. She was heading to the Homestead, consequences be damned. She would deal with whatever came her way once Dani had help.

The hike toward the hunting site had been completed mostly by sound, but Lynn—as Dani had pointed out—was always aware of her surroundings. Even with limited light, she remembered the small park she’d cut through and the giant willow tree she’d turned right at. It had been a short dash through the streets last time, but that had been in full daylight and at a jog. Adapting the time for her much slower pace was throwing her off, and before long, she stopped to have a better look around.

Skeever barked.

Lynn nearly had a heart attack. “Skeeve! Quiet!” She hissed the words in his direction and whipped her head about frantically for something to lean the cart’s handlebars on so she could untie herself. If they were being attacked, she wanted the freedom to move.

Skeever barked again. She could hear him squirming against his restraints.

Fear pushed through her veins like ice. “Shut up!”

Nothing pushed into the circle of light. No eyes reflected.

She lifted her fire bowl high, hoping to extend the range of the light it cast. Undoing her bindings with the hand that still held Dani’s spear seemed to take an eternity as she awaited whatever Skeever had smelled.

Finally, the ropes gave way. She ducked out from under the beams and set the fire bowl down before gripping the spear more tightly. With her left hand, she drew her tomahawk. She’d throw the spear and then switch the tomahawk to her dominant hand.

Slowly, she turned around as she listened for any sound out of the ordinary, but all she heard was the wind through the trees and Skeever finally fighting his way off the cart.

He shot away from her, nose to the ground, stumbling into the dark as he tried to put weight on his leg.

Lynn’s stomach dropped. “Skeever!” Now she allowed herself to shout. “Come here! Here!”

After a few terrifying seconds, he did. He almost bowled over her firepot before bumping against her legs.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lynn still scanned her surroundings with absolute intensity. She moved to position herself closer to the cart in the hopes she would be able to catch whatever would come charging before it pounced on Dani, but even if she could, it would be a short fight. Her thighs trembled with the strain of hours of heavy pulling, and the pain in her forearm and shoulder was searing.

Skeever trotted to the edge of the circle of light and looked back. He wagged his tail and yipped.

Lynn glanced at him. Nothing attacked either him or her. Then she noticed the twitch running down his tail, which was usually a sign of happiness, not fear. She tried to get that bit of information through her adrenaline- and exhaustion-soaked brain. Maybe we’re not about to be attacked after all. Maybe… Her eyes widened. “Do you smell them? Do you smell the Homesteaders?”

Skeever walked away from her, then whined. He hobbled forward again, never once putting his injured paw down.

Tears welled up in Lynn’s eyes, and she took a deep breath that shuttered as it went down her throat. “Oh thank fuck.” She lowered her weapons and doubled over for a few seconds as the adrenaline drop made her dizzy. Lynn beamed. “Okay, wait. Wait.” She hurried to gather her things and strap herself in.

Skeever sniffed along the ground and weaved in and out of her view.

“Skeeve! Slow, okay? Slow!” She turned the cart in his direction, then grunted as she put it into motion by sheer leg strength. “Go!”

Of course Skeever took off like a bat out of hell. He stumbled and disappeared.

There was no way she could keep up with his eagerness, even if he had only three functioning legs. She got stuck behind a rock almost right away, then had to maneuver around a bunch of obstacles, all while balancing a hot bowl, trying not to catch her hair on fire, and keeping an eye out for danger. “Skeever! Dammit, get back here!”

He did, and this time he stayed just inside her range of view.

With her hope renewed, Lynn managed to scrape the very last of her energy together and gave the chase her all. Sweat ran down her back and made the spots where her jacket chafed along her skin sting. Her thighs and calves were on fire; her lungs burned, but she pulled.

Skeever took routes that were perfect for dogs but didn’t accommodate a cart.

Lynn had to call him back, guide him around, and wait for him to find the scent again, but they managed.

Eventually, Skeever seemed to catch on that if he had to climb over things, Lynn would call him back, and he started choosing his way more carefully.

His pace was just at the top of Lynn’s ability, and she didn’t want to slow down either. They had to be close and were getting closer with every step. Even when she stumbled and nearly fell, even when she stubbed her toe or jerked to a halt because the cart got caught—making Dani groan—she chased after him. Her vision went fuzzy again; her heart threatened to give out; her lungs felt ragged and sore in her chest, but she followed her dog.