Oak had seen Pine watching them and he’d carefully, without Flint's knowledge, indicated that he lay low. Pine had quickly followed his instructions. His defenders were well disciplined and he was glad of it; fewer mistakes were made when immediate action followed instructions. Flint was anxious and would kill immediately upon being attacked. Oak didn’t want to lose one of his defenders, and right now his own situation was safe and it may well give him the knowledge that he sought.
Denver wasn’t the vicious brute he made himself out to be. Oak was certain it was show for the sake of keeping the group’s respect but that was all. He hoped he was right, he tended to want to see the good in everyone, and it was perhaps one of his failings as a leader. Flint thought him weak. Would that be his downfall wanting to trust? His thoughts went to Elm; he was a constant danger to everyone. Pine warned him many times yet Oak let Elm stay with the clan.
“Do you keep the danger and watch it or do you send it away so it can multiply and bring back more danger?” he said to Pine and Pine hadn’t been able to answer him. Pine never spoke of it again. Those were his choices, the other choices were unacceptable to him; to lock Elm up or kill him. He had to protect his people but he also had to abide by his ethics.
His concern was that his Woodlander defenders wouldn’t want to kill but these Citans, the very ones he was now to travel with, would kill without a second thought. He could sense it; he knew that at least two or three of them had killed before. One in particular had killed without regret and he knew he would have to watch him the most carefully, for he was the one in charge after Flint, the one called Detroit.
Oak strode faster through the forest to get back to Blackthorn, he was impressed that the large Citan behind him had no problems keeping up and negotiated the forest almost as well as he did. He could sense Pine and Elm moving along either side of them and he dropped both hands palms facing the ground to indicate they were to stop where they were. They did but only just in time because Denver was now within view and his rifle was pointed right at the spot where Elm was hiding.
If Denver shot Elm he would take away one of Oak's biggest concerns. His mouth filled with a bitter taste and he knew it was from his unethical thoughts. He was a leader of high morals and even if it cost him his life he would stick by them. The first Woodlander, the male that had built the Woodlander camp, had taught them not to follow the wrong path. He’d made them change their names for their new start. They were a new race, a race that would follow what was right. Oak would make sure that he continued what Sequoia had taught them.
He never understood why their leader had left. Sequoia had talked with Willow and made Spruce leader. With a tearful farewell he’d hugged as many of them as he could and walked away. He'd explained that he needed to see what had happened to the rest of the world he loved so much.
To Oak it had been a devastating blow, for Sequoia was his mentor, he was everything Oak wanted to be and even now he hoped that he was successfully following the path that Sequoia had started them on. He missed his friend greatly, Sequoia was the only one he’d ever talked to about his life, what he’d seen and how it had affected him, Sequoia had been a balm to his emotional wounds.
He was almost running now, he didn't know if he hurried because he was worried about Blackthorn or to get away from his own thoughts.
When he approached Blackthorn, he noticed that he’d recovered consciousness, a good sign that he would be alright and Oak smiled down at the young defender in relief. Quickly he went down on his haunches and carefully undid the makeshift bandage and gave an unconscious contented nod as he looked at the already closing wound. Carefully he placed a few of the healer leaves upon the atrocious tear and proceeded to retie the blood encrusted bandage. He didn’t like the filthy bandage but with the healer leaves upon the wound they would prevent the risk of infection and it would suffice.
He smiled at Blackthorn and patted him upon his shoulder; he could see that his spirits had risen a little. “You’ll be fine Blackthorn.”
To his surprise Blackthorn was suddenly wrenched up to his feet by Denver.
“Then get up and let's get moving.” Denver growled through clenched teeth. “We have two hostages, now they’ll come in very useful.” Turning to his band he gave his head a jerk to everyone as an indication that they should get moving.
Blackthorn staggered a little but he was still held up by Denver so he didn’t fall. He gingerly put some weight onto his wounded leg and winced. Oak was soon at his side where he wove his shoulder and arm under Blackthorn's arm and bore his weight to help him. Denver let go of his hold and strode alongside As Blackthorn walked slowly with Oak his face contorted with the pain he was experiencing. Oak heard Denver's powerful voice say, “Keep up with us. We won’t be delayed by you. Cause any trouble and your lives will be over. You’re nothing to us, so if you want to stay alive do everything you’re told without question. There’ll be no second chances.”
Oak heard a laugh from Detroit at these words and he perceived that Detroit would enjoy being the one to perform the task of disposing of them.
Looking down at Blackthorn struggling by his side he asked, “How do you feel? Are you still dizzy?” Blackthorn's face was still pale as he winced with every stride.
“No,” Blackthorn replied. “That has passed but the pain is difficult to cope with.”
Oak nodded and responded, “The healing leaves help somewhat with pain but it won’t go away whilst we travel. Can you cope with it?”
Blackthorn smiled weakly, “I guess I’ll have to Oak!”
Oak nodded again and thought through ideas on how he could help Blackthorn walk with less pain.
He looked over at Denver who still walked beside them his eyes straight ahead; he was deep in thought too. Looking back at Blackthorn he carefully took more of his body weight. “Lean most of your weight on me.”
“Thank you Oak! I may need to do that.” He made a grim expression again as he hopped along, every now and then cautiously placing his foot on the floor at intervals only to pull it quickly back up with a painful wince. Blackthorn became quiet and Oak could tell the boy was trying to cope as best he could with the discomfort and exhaustion his body was feeling. He hoped Blackthorn would make it through the long walk ahead without collapsing and Oak unconsciously shouldered even more of Blackthorn's weight.
Oak's curiosity was peaked with so many questions he wanted to ask Denver but he knew that he had to wait for the right time and place. Even so he had an opportunity now to study the Citans in the group and assess them; this would make it easier for his defenders, if it should come to a fight, to take down the weaker ones first.
Pine had been correct, there were twenty of them including their leader, his own group of fifty he felt would be able to overcome them but there would be costs. A lot of them had a brutality about them; they would fight viciously in order to win. He sensed that some of them had morals and he was relieved that one of them was Denver. Flint too had strong morals, he still believed in his origins and Oak sensed he disliked some of the company. He had a strong allegiance to Denver and Oak knew that was why he was there.
Oak focused on each of Denver's band gauging them by their emotions, putting them into categories of ethical, cruel, weak minded, strong minded, and evil. Only two came under evil, Detroit and another, another that he knew was not a Citan. This boy puzzled him, he came from somewhere else, of that he had no doubt, he was not from this area and he could sense his home was much further away.
He could also sense that this boy had a strong evil purpose that he was leading this whole band to; a trap that would mean death for some of them. This knowledge surprised him the most for he knew that Denver could read the boy just as well as he could and yet they were here travelling with him. Journeying with this boy to their death? Where was he leading them? What had he told Denver and how had he managed to persuade Denver to go with him?
None of the others travelled near him or communicated with him. Oak didn't know his name and he noticed that Denver kept away from him as much as possible even though the boy would give him surreptitious glances to try and get his attention. His hair was black and he wore black clothing over his skinny body. He hunched a little when he walked and often looked tired, as if he weren’t used to physical exercise. He never looked back at Oak but Oak knew he was thinking about him and gloating over how he now had control over him too. He could also sense that he was pleased with himself. He tried to gain more knowledge but he could sense nothing else. Everything in the boy's head was confusing and jumbled; there was no clear line of action, just wandering thoughts.
Oak smiled, this boy had shown that he had a weakness, a lack of discipline and now he knew why Denver was not that concerned with what went through his mind. The boy’s plans could be foiled unless, he thought, many others were involved; however, he knew Denver would know early enough of their arrival.
He caught a quick glance from Denver. Denver knew he was studying his group and Oak noticed a slight curve to his lips and realized that Denver had been assessing Blackthorn and himself too. Oak was unperturbed, his emotions and thoughts were well hidden behind the wall he’d lived behind for years just as Denver had made his own that was also impenetrable.
Oak knew that Denver was picking up a lot of emotions from Blackthorn in his weakened state but he didn’t know to what extent Denver's gift of sight went. He certainly managed to stay calm with his thoughts just like Oak did; such comfort often meant more knowledge than anyone else had, an edge, a length ahead of everyone else in the race.
He was beginning to admire Denver and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He was a Citan; he continued some of the old ways, ways that were wrong. Oak had a faith to uphold, a faith passed down from his grandfather, his father, and Sequoia; never would he embrace the old ways again. The old ways had produced pain, distrust, betrayal, cruelty, corruption and chains; chains that had held them down, preventing them from living a good life. He didn’t understand why these Citans continued something that was so wrong; living with memories of the city and everything that had destroyed it.
**********
Elm could not believe his luck when he saw Oak get up and walk toward the Citans. He would never have thought such a thing could happen and he felt like he’d just been handed everything that he’d ever wanted. Here was his opportunity to become leader. He’d seen Pine indicate that they follow and moved away from him to relish in his enjoyment of the new situation. He almost wanted to dance he felt so happy and had to make sure his face was turned away from Pine so he couldn’t see the wide smile that wouldn’t leave it, couldn’t leave it. This was his day.
He'd followed Oak until he came to a halt and had stayed behind as he’d indicated for them to do. After a while he and Pine had carefully moved to follow. When he looked across to Pine he saw that he’d stopped and was cautiously watching.
Being attentive Elm looked to see what was happening. It was then he saw Oak get up. He deliberately walked toward the Citan leader who had a knife at Blackthorn's throat. Could things get any better? He was almost singing with joy at the thought that the Citan leader may well get rid of two of the people he'd been planning to oust from the Woodlander camp for so long.
He wanted to throw his head back in laughter. All the months of planning and here everything was coming together in one unplanned moment and Oak was the one that was giving it all to him. He could hardly contain his excitement. Self control, he thought, calm down Elm, don’t celebrate just yet, it can wait, wait until later. For now he had to play along with Pine and then make his move.
Oak was kneeling next to Blackthorn. Elm couldn't hear what was being said, he was too far away. He only knew that Oak was pointing to his bag and sword and one of the Citans was now heading toward where he’d dropped everything. Elm moved back further into the woods, he was too close.
The Citan retrieved Oak's bag and everything else that he’d dropped and was returning to the group, giving the bag to the Citan leader. To his disbelief he saw the leader hand something to Oak. Oak was bending down once more to Blackthorn. What was he doing? Why didn't the Citan just kill them? Oak was standing again and motioning toward the trees. There was movement and then Oak was walking into the forest with one of the Citans in pursuit. He looked at Pine, who was indicating to follow them.
What was going on? Why didn't these Citan's just have done with them? Kill them! Just kill them! As he was following, he briefly looked back to see the Citan leader with a rifle at his shoulder but paid no attention. His mind was reeling; it had gone from rejoicing to frustration.
He lost track of time because he was going through so many things in his head and had to drop quickly when Oak stopped with the Citan. So close, he was nearly seen. He scrambled backwards quietly, away from the direction that they would return. When he felt he was a good distance away he relaxed and continued to ponder the situation.
It didn’t matter that the Citan leader hadn’t killed them immediately. He was obviously keeping them alive to protect himself and his band from the rest of the Woodlanders. Smart, he thought, yes, I’d do that too. He’d keep them with him whilst he travelled the forest but once they were safe out of the forest then…then he’d kill them because they’d no longer be of any use. This was the Citan leaders plan he was sure. He needn’t worry; he just had to be patient, continue the same as he had for all this time. Things would go his way, he was sure, and this would turn out just how he wanted it to.
He noticed Oak was striding back through the forest with the Citan behind him. The Citan looked angry and no wonder, what did Oak think he was doing just taking off? He was lucky he didn't have a knife in his back. There was Pine again, giving him orders, your last orders Pine, he thought. These will be the last orders you ever give. He crawled along through the undergrowth following once more until he saw Pine suddenly halt and stare at Elm with enlarged eyes. Elm looked at the group and saw the Citan leader through the bushes, the rifle was rested upon his shoulder, his eyes looking over the sight, and the rifle was aimed at Elm's head.
He almost choked and had to remind himself to breath as his lungs gave short sputters. He could do nothing, other than wait to see if he pulled the trigger. Closing his eyes he waited for the bullet, his body rigid waiting for death.
Nothing–he opened them. Oak and the other Citan were at the group now and the leader had dropped the weapon from his shoulder. He gasped releasing his pent up breath and breathed normally once more.
Elm rolled over onto his back, his heart going so fast it felt like it would jump up out of his chest and run away. His abdominal muscles were tight and he became filled with rage. That stupid Pine had almost got him killed. Idiot, he would most definitely suffer for that, no quick easy death for him. He moved back onto his stomach and looked again through the undergrowth.
They were gone. Where was that fool Pine? He looked around but he could see no sign of him. He kept scouring the forest but saw nothing to show him he’d even been there. He must still be following the Citans. That worked well enough for him. Let him follow them. He was going to go to tell the rest of the defenders that the three of them were dead.
Pondering this idea, which appealed to him immensely, he became cognisant that if Pine should turn up, his chances of being leader would be shattered. No, first he had to find Pine and kill him. Then he would go to the others and with heartfelt emotion over the loss of their great leader he would tell them of his death. How he valiantly tried to save them all but the Citans were too strong, they were too many. Another fault in the plan, there were two other groups following the Citans from their original ten. Obstacle, always obstacles! He was always so close and then everything would become so distant.
He sat up going over the thought of the two sets of three boys on either side of him. Hopefully, they wouldn’t have seen what had happened and even if they had, perhaps he could work it to his advantage anyway. He’d seek them out and send them to the others with word that they were to get all of the groups to return to the camp.
He smiled at this. From the camp they would all together go in search of the Citan band but by then it would be too late because they would’ve already left the forest. He himself would follow the group alone and hide their tracks. By the time they found any trace of the Citans they would be long gone and he’d no longer have to worry about them saving Oak. He would then be their only option as leader.
Heartened by his plan, he rose to his feet; his smile was broad once more. This was going to go well for him. Perhaps not as easy as it had originally seemed but it didn’t matter, he was going to get what he wanted; he was going to get what was rightfully his. Now to find the two groups, send them on their way and then find Pine and kill him.
He set off at a run into the forest in the direction of the group to the east of him; they could send messengers to find the others and all meet back at the camp. He’d tell them that he couldn’t go with them as he had to go back to try and save Oak. Some would try to come with him but he’d say it was safer for him to travel alone, since that was how the Citans had known they were there. Being more than one had led to their discovery and now Blackthorn and Pine were dead because of it and Oak was a hostage. With the condition Blackthorn was in, he was as good as dead anyway.
He’d tell them he needed to avenge the anger he felt and save their leader. That as one he would go unnoticed as he followed the Citans and later that night he’d sneak into the camp and rescue Oak. The boys would admire his bravery and on his return he would be called “a hero” even though he hadn’t managed to save Oak, who he’d say had been shot in the back whilst they escaped. He’d tell how grieving, Elm tried to drag his dying body along, desperate to save his beloved leader, who’d died in his arms whilst another bullet had just missed Elms own head. He liked this story. The defenders would tell Willow of his courage and that his reward was to be their leader.
His thoughts brought him pleasure as he ran, they were distracting and took away his sensory awareness, but he wasn’t disciplined enough to realize it. As he ran there was a slight movement, something that caught his attention at the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head to look he saw nothing. He dismissed the vision as nothing, just a slight blurring of his vision and he continued forgetting that he should be concerned, that he should be wondering as to where Pine could be.