Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 143
143
Layla had a split-second view of Hokin's maw before a heavy branch, its top half encrusted with a network of red-hot glowing cracks and crowned in flame, whispered just above the tips of her ears and caught him right between his gaping jaws, exploding the teeth from his mouth in a shower of blood and embers. It made the most horrific THWACK sound she had ever heard: solid, yet almost wet, like a watermelon falling from a great height.
Hokin hit the ground in a puff of ash and lay still, completely dead to the world, the branch still protruding from his jaws like a grotesque flag pole.
Layla looked up, expecting to see some kind of hero, some dashing figure straight out of legend, but the thing looming above her was about as far removed from that image as it was possible to be.
They had been saved by a dead Wolf.
Bathed in firelight, everything stood out in terrifying detail. There were gashes all over his body in groups of three and four, so deep in places she could actually see the layers of fat and muscle beneath the skin and fur. Some of them even went right down to the very bone. His clothes had been reduced to tattered shreds and were barely hanging off his shoulders. There were bite marks all over his arms and legs; pitch black punctures in his flesh. There was no telling what his natural fur colour might have been because all the blood had tinted his pelt a dark ochre. Even more blood was constantly dripping down his legs. He had only been standing there for a few seconds, but already there were puddles of it forming beneath his feet.
Tio buried his face in Layla's chest and she instinctively pulled him into a protective hug, unable to look away from this shambling horror, this freak show that had absolutely no right to be alive.
He crossed over to where Hokin lay, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind, and pulled the branch from his mouth (it clicked nauseatingly on the jagged remains of his teeth on the way out). Layla watched the blood slowly roll down the wooden splinters, hissing through all the glowing bits and sending out tendrils of foul, black smoke.
The other Wolves could only stare, and Layla didn't blame them in the least. It was like looking at some recently murdered corpse freshly risen from the grave.
And that's when her gaze travelled down the club and came to a stop on his hand. There were no claws on that hand. His fingers ended abruptly at the first knuckle, capped off with leathery scar tissue, torn and frayed and dripping blood.
"I'm sorry..." His voice was little more than a raspy croak. "I'm sorry I pushed you away..."
Her eyes widened. "Dan?"
He looked back over his shoulder and, for just a moment, she was able to recognise those doleful eyes, filled with such warmth and kindness, the only part underneath the mask of gore that was still Dan, whole and untouched.
A single snowflake, grey from accumulated smoke and ash, landed upon his cheek and instantly turned to water. It ran down the cuts crisscrossing their way over his face, turning a darker shade of crimson until it reached the corner of his mouth, miraculously turning up into the beginnings of a smile.
"I couldn't leave yet..." he said. "Not without keeping my promise..."
"Dan? What are you...?"
He smiled for her. It was the warmest, kindest smile she had ever seen. A true smile.
A smile to seal their promise, once and for all.
If the biggest sadsack Wolf to ever step foot in Grovenglen can smile, then surely it means there must be hope, right? There has to be...
His eyes went glassy and unfocussed. The club slipped free of his crippled fingers and clattered to the ground. In the moment before he collapsed, he looked so confused, like he didn't know where he was or what was happening.
"Dan!" She reached out and just barely managed to cushion the worst of his fall, taking the brunt of his weight across her lap. He was heavy - far heavier than she would have anticipated, and even the simple act of lifting his head was enough to send bolts of pain racing up and down her shredded back, but she didn't have time to worry about that right now.
"Dan! Oh you stupid son of a bitch don't do this to me!" Her words tumbled from between her swollen lips in a slurred, drunken mush. His blood was already starting to seep through her dress. It was hot. Hotter than the burning tree. Hotter even than her own blood, steadily trickling down her back.
"Layla-Kai!" Tio tugged on her elbow. "Layla-Kai!"
She looked up and quickly noticed the reason for Tio's concern. The other Wolves had gotten over their initial shock and were trying to revive their friend.
"Hokin! Hey!" The stocky one was rapidly tapping him on the cheek. "Wake up, damn you!"
The other three were straightening up, cracking their knuckles and rolling their shoulders, expressions of utter loathing and revulsion plastered onto their faces. And to make matters worse, even more were beginning to move in from all over the battlefield, attracted by the noise, or perhaps the scent of vulnerable prey. Wolves with cloven faces. Wolves with blood dripping from crimson teeth. Hundreds of them, so desperate for revenge, something to take the pain away, something to distract them from the dying faces of their loved ones, flashing through their minds every time they closed their eyes. So much anger... so much sadness... all of it with nowhere to go. Just like...
"They're just like I was..." Danado whispered, his eyes finally finding hers, "before I met you..."
She took his head between her hands, feeling the warm, slightly unpleasant way his sodden fur was sticking to her palms.
It was strange. There were hundreds of Wolves approaching and that number was growing by the second. They weren't here to sit down for tea or have a quaint palaver or a well-reasoned debate. They weren't coming to shout at them or even beat them to within an inch of their lives. They were coming to kill them, to hold them down and rend the flesh from their bones. Bleed them dry. Bite down on their necks and listen to the fragile bones snapping between their jaws. A hundred other possible ways, each one more gristly than the last. She had absolutely no doubt in her mind. She could see it in their eyes. Past the drying splatters of blood, past the crinkled muzzles and exposed teeth, past the furrowed brows. There was anger in those eyes she had never seen anywhere before. So much so it couldn't be contained. Anger for the loved ones lost and the overwhelming desire for vengeance, to strike out at those who had torn their families apart. And underneath that anger, so desperately, but poorly hidden away... unbearable sadness and grief. It all sprouted from the same thing. The very same thing that made Danado leap through the fire. The same thing that had compelled Layla to knock little Tio out of the way of the falling tree. The same thing that had, in turn, caused him to stand up to his own people and beg for her life. It was the same thing driving Ander, and Mother, and everyone else whose life had been touched by the falling snow. It was insanity, but it was also love, so closely intertwined they were almost indistinguishable. And that was why she felt so strange right now. Because, even though all these Wolves were bearing down on her, gnashing their jaws and cracking their knuckles and spitting blood into the dirt, she didn't feel any fear, even though she knew she ought to. Was it because she had accepted her death? Or maybe...?
There has to be hope, right? There has to be...
Maybe it was the promise. Maybe there really was hope. Maybe that was what this entire war was about. The hope of those who still had something left to protect, against the hopelessness of those who had lost everything.
Hope.
Layla bent down until her forehead lightly touched Danado's. There was nothing either of them could do but smile, and so that's what they did.
They smiled as the ground began to shake.
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