Denver was fatigued, he was feeling worn down by all the emotions he was picking up from everyone, and he needed to close off from them all. It was starting to get dark, the sun had disappeared behind the trees some time ago and they’d been travelling in the dark grey of evening for a while.
He’d noticed that some of the boys had become more clumsy and almost fell face first as they tripped over roots and grazed themselves against the bushes. He’d be glad when they were out of the forest. He missed the concrete of the city; even if it still had a lot of rubble at least it had some open areas, not like here with this feeling of always being closed in by trees and bushes. It seemed they had to continually meander and weave a winding route. He needed to rest and so did his group. It was time to make camp for the night and to set up watch for the Woodlanders that might choose to attack.
Raising his hand and halting he looked around for an area that was perhaps slightly more open, one that would avail them some moonlight and stars. He saw a place with a slight gap between the canopies of foliage above. That would do.
Turning to the rest and taking in the sagging shoulders and grim faces he instructed, “We’ll settle here for the night.”
He beckoned Flint and Detroit to come to his side, noticing Detroit's scowl at Oak and Blackthorn. As Detroit left them he indicated to another to keep watch over the captives. They both wearily approached him and he turned away from the rest of the group, so they had to get closer to him to listen and his orders without the others hearing.
He pointed to the area that they were to camp.
“We’ll rest here. Flint shall take first watch, then me, and lastly you Detroit. Expect that the Woodlanders may attack to take back their own, so never drop your guard and alert us of anything, anything at all.”
Both Flint and Detroit nodded their understanding. He looked over toward Oak and Blackthorn and continued. “Detroit, the Woodlanders shall sleep close to me, that way if they move or think of planning an escape I will know.” He didn't say that he would pick up their thoughts for Flint and Detroit already knew that. “Let's quickly prepare food and get some rest. Tomorrow we'll travel to the point.” He stared into the expanse of black that was descending, leaving his face barely visible in the haze of grey light. “Let's hurry the night is coming too quickly and the creatures will come if we don't get a large fire going.”
Detroit moved away back to Oak and Blackthorn but Flint stayed at Denver's side his voice low as he asked, “can you trust him?”
“No, we can't trust him but there's little that he can do at this point, so we needn't worry for now.”
Flint nodded in agreement his face unchangeable, he never showed his emotions. Denver had noted long ago that his quiet and calm expression was disconcerting to the others. It made them uneasy not understanding him or having any idea of what he was thinking. He knew Flint liked the fact that they were wary of him, that way they never dared challenge him. He watched him walk away, his footfall soft upon the ground in comparison to the rest of the Citans. Flint gave brief orders to the others, ordering them start a fire and begin to prepare the evening meal. They quickly did as he requested.
Denver stood alone for a while watching them all, his eyes rested upon Rancor who was openly staring back at him. He knew Rancor was near exhaustion (one of the reasons he’d pushed so hard was to see what physical strength he had). He was satisfied with his conclusion that Rancor was not physically strong; obviously he had other means to be able to defeat and kill people. Still, he couldn’t find that out since everyone that had challenged Rancor were now dead. He could sense ridicule from him as his sallow face gave Denver a slanted look and his lips twisted up into a snake like smile. He reflected on what he’d said to Flint about Detroit; Rancor definitely couldn’t be trusted at any time and he would always be someone to never turn your back on.
Once camp was set up and everyone had eaten, he readied his sleeping area and left a space for the Woodlanders, his bed being a blanket and nothing more. He slept in his coat since it kept him warm, probably warmer than the thin old wool blanket. Supplies were carried in backpacks by a number of them and switched everyday to someone new who would share the load. Denver had already carried one of the packs himself during the first day when it had been full. Now the packs were much lighter, food and drink having been consumed along the way. Tonight they’d eaten the last of their food supplies, all there was to carry tomorrow was the last of the water and the blankets.
“You, Woodlanders!” he called, “come here, you are to sleep beside me.” He watched Oak help Blackthorn to his feet; from there he practically carried him to where Denver was. The young Woodlander had struggled all day to keep up and he’d noticed how Oak had picked up the boy, lifting him whilst he hopped on one foot. He’d been impressed by the strength of Oak since he was so diminutive in size compared to the Citans.
He couldn’t underestimate these Woodlanders; they were much stronger than they appeared. They may be svelte but they were muscled and their endurance was formidable. Oak couldn’t be dispelled as no match for him because he could never be certain just how much there was to the Woodlander leader. He chuckled to himself at the thought; he’d managed to capture the leader of the Woodlanders, quite a feat for a first attempt.
The fire burned brightly as they stepped around it, the glow throwing itself onto Oak's concerned face. He worried about Blackthorn, almost as a father would for his son and Denver smiled at the show of Oak's fraternal feelings. No doubt he cared about all of the boys in his charge and would try to keep them safe; this could be a weakness that would work in Denver's favour. As yet, he hadn’t told Rancor that Oak was the Woodlander leader and wondered if he should wait a while before he did or whether he should tell him at all. Although, he didn't want to put them all in danger by not revealing his knowledge, especially if it meant that he and his group would be safer with Rancor, something told him that the Woodlander leader would be of help and Rancor being in the dark would help them both. He’d have to think things over some more but first he needed rest.
Oak and Blackthorn were approaching now and he indicated to the ground beside him.
“You are to sleep there. Blackthorn you are to sleep next to me, Oak beside you.”
Once the eyes of his captives were raised from the spot back to his own he forcefully warned. “I want you to know Oak that I sleep with my knife close by, should you try to escape or if your Woodlanders attack it will make contact with Blackthorn's heart.”
He watched Blackthorn pale at his words as he gave a quick glance to Oak who responded with no reaction. Oak was expecting as much, his words were no surprise.
Detroit walked over and threw the small blankets of the Woodlanders to the floor at their feet, he looked like he was going to spit at them but instead he turned and walked away. Denver sensed a mix of emotions within Detroit and he had no doubts as to who had caused such a stir. He’d seen Detroit sat with Rancor as they all ate, his attention completely taken with what Rancor had to say. After the conversation he’d stared at Oak and then toward himself with a look of disgust. Rancor was succeeding at poisoning Detroit's weak mind.
It left Denver with no doubt, that Rancor was working on Detroit to betray the rest of the Citans, especially himself. Rancor distrusted Denver and Oak. Denver believed it was because he was afraid of them both; he’d picked up the fear now and then even though Rancor tried to hide his feelings. Rancor knew that Denver was gifted with the sight and he probably had an inkling that Oak did too. Two dangers in one group, perhaps more than Rancor had bargained for on this journey.
Oak and Blackthorn had wrapped themselves in their strange blankets, so Denver lay down and covered himself with his wool blanket. His finger ran across some of the threadbare areas, they were lucky to still have so many supplies. So much had been destroyed but the things that had survived had helped them pick up their lives again and continue the fight for survival. The dust had lingered for a long time after the Devastation, he’d wondered if it would ever go away or if it would always hover just like the ring around Saturn.
He'd always enjoyed learning about the planets. He'd even wanted to be able to fly like his grandfather had. His grandfather's stories of flying jets planes were exciting but that had changed. Flying was only allowed if you were in the military, even the supply planes were flown by them. His father had told him of the old days, when there was freedom, choice and trust. He wondered if he would have joined the military just to be able to fly a plane and then thought no, his father would have been against it. He'd loved and respected his father enough to never go against his wishes.
He was looking up through the small gap, he couldn't see a moon but he knew there was one. The sky was too bright for there not to be. He was looking at the stars, trying to find Orion's Belt when he heard a hushed sound. It was human but wasn't talking nor was it snoring, just a low guttural noise. He turned his head to look in the direction it came from past the sleeping body of Blackthorn and saw Oak looking back at him. Oak's eyes moved to his left. He couldn't see much beyond Oak because of the bodies that lay in the way and it took a while for his eyes to focus as he was looking past the flames of the fire.
After his eyes adjusted he saw Rancor. He was hunched over doing something. Now and then he made furtive, jerky movements causing his clothes to rustle slightly. For a moment he stopped what he was doing and looked around him, checking if anyone was awake.
Denver knew Flint was on watch somewhere and would see what Rancor was doing but Rancor wouldn't know this. Flint had chosen a spot that no one could see. Rancor finished his perusal of the camp and then satisfied that no one watched he continued to look at something in his hand.
Denver knew what it was as soon as he saw the flames reflect from it. It was a screen, just like the ones that had been used years ago to give everyone directions and their allowances for food, electricity and heat before the Devastation. Rancor was communicating with someone.
The screens were basic, operated by either touch or voice; they were audio and video. There was a keyboard on screen for you to type information or you could use voice to get what you wanted. The screens had been useful for those that wanted to betray others; they could video offenders and send it to the military. His father had told him that those in high positions had screens that could do much more than gain information and communicate. They could make things happen. He’d been very curious to know what things but his father had not elaborated.
Denver was confused, how could Rancor be using a screen? Screens hadn’t worked since all the towers had been destroyed. How had they managed to make the screen work? The thought made him nervous, having technological knowledge and control could mean that they would be up against a lot more than he originally thought. He was dreading meeting Rancor’s leader, he knew he was going to be much worse than he could ever think of.
He looked back at Oak and recognized the worry on his face. Would he ever gain the trust of the Woodlander leader? Should he trust him? It was a dubious world they were going into and mistrust could be disastrous. Men had turned on men so easily in the past. He didn't want to put himself nor his band into a situation in which he could easily be betrayed, he would have to have a safety net as back up.
Rancor distrusted him but then he was certain Rancor trusted no one other than his leader. He knew what Rancor's intentions for Detroit were. At the end of his usefulness he wouldn’t receive the reward he thought. He could feel Rancor's anticipation of that day. Denver closed his eyes; he had a few hours to get some sleep before his watch. He’d better get what rest he could and ponder the screen and Rancor during the hours of his watch instead.
It seemed like only minutes had passed when Flint woke him and he shrugged off the bleariness, stiffness and wiped the remnants of sleep from his eyes. He nodded to Flint that he could leave and sat up pulling the blanket around his shoulders. He looked over to where Rancor now slept and once again thought how he would like to stick a knife up under his ribs, hear the final gurgle of life escape his lips and know that everyone was safer for his having left the world.
In time he thought, he’d make sure this nasty creature took his last breath before he himself lost his own life. Rancor stirred in his sleep, unsettled, as if he'd just felt the hatred that was directed toward him. Denver gave a silent grunt as he went over the fact that the boy had no feelings. No feelings other than the vile ones of delight in death and destruction.
He slowly pulled his attention away from Rancor and his gaze rested upon Oak. He was surprised to see that he was awake, then he shook his head at himself, of course he was awake, he would have sensed Flint and himself moving. He looked down at the sleeping boy. He looked younger than his years now with innocence and peace upon his face and he felt sorry that Blackthorn had had to endure such pain. He'd born it with little complaint and struggled admirably to keep up with them. He was fine and worthy, he hoped he'd heal quickly as he'd come in useful for the fight ahead.
He gazed around the camp, everyone slept soundly from the exhaustion of the day. They’d covered many kilometres. No-one had verbally complained, even though he’d felt all of their complaints in his head. He hoped that most of them would return back alive to the city but he wasn't sure, his doubts were increasing more with each day. He'd save as many of them as he could before he, himself died. He wondered why his death seemed inevitable. He had to change his thoughts to positive, to expect to die only made the possibility more likely. He'd do his best to help everyone survive what was ahead and he'd make sure that he'd take down as many of the evil ones as he could before they escaped.
He looked at the young Woodlander again; it was too bad they'd followed. Rancor wouldn't have instructed him to capture them and they would be safe in their camp. There was nothing evil in either of these boys, only good. He looked at Oak, who stared back and the knowledge passed between them. What did it matter if Oak knew what he thought of them, perhaps it would help Denver to gain Oak's help as an ally.
The night was quiet, not even the creatures were stirring through the bush in search of food. That unnerved Denver and he looked back at Oak again, his eyes were closed. Did the Woodlander know an attack was about to happen? Was that why he’d been awake? Denver felt for his sheathed knife to comfort himself and relaxed, he'd not been aware of any new presence. He didn't think the Woodlanders would risk the death of their leader. A flying knife could be as lethal as one in a hand. He wouldn't let him escape alive should an attack take place. He saw Oak's eyelids flicker and knew the Woodlander knew as much also. No attempt would be made, at least not tonight.
After a few hours Denver rose to find Detroit and quietly shook him awake. He then went back to where Blackthorn and Oak lay. He'd taken his loaded rifle with him just in case Oak should think of trying to escape whilst he was a few feet away. Oak had continued to lie still as if asleep but Denver knew he wasn't. He was surprised at how little sleep the Woodlander leader needed. He himself was going to get a few more hours under his belt before sunrise. He had an idea of what awaited them and he would need his wits about him.
**********
Elm had travelled quicker than he ever had before. He was starting to feel frustrated that he couldn't find the three Woodlanders to the east and he was not as quiet as he should have been. So, when Cedar suddenly appeared from behind a tree he nearly fell over backwards from trying to stop.
“What has happened Elm?” Cedar asked his eyes narrowed at him. “Where are the rest of your group and why do you run with so little concern at concealment?”
Elm gave a small one sided sardonic smile at this question realizing his own foolishness; he would have to turn this around.
“I don’t care about my safety!” he cried. “My concern is only with our leader, Oak.”
He’d sparked interest now as he watched Cedar's eyebrows raise and his eyes become eager to know more. “He‘s been captured by these cruel and vicious Citans and is surely to die if we don’t save him!”
“Pine and Blackthorn where are they?” Cedar questioned already beckoning the rest of his group out from the trees to join them.
“Blackthorn is dead!” Elm cried dropping his head, feigning distress, and then shooting his head back up. “They knew where we were and how many of us. Our numbers gave us away.”
Once more he dropped his head bringing up a frantic hand to his worried forehead.
“Where is Pine?”
Elm left his head lowered for a moment as he worked on a reply.
“We ran in different directions. I don’t know where he is now.”
Cedar looked to the others and turned back.
“It is unlike Pine to break with training.”
Elm shrugged his shoulders in response. “We do not have time to reason.
He noticed Cedar paid him no attention, he was turning away. “Let’s go we must save Oak.”
“No!” cried Elm.
Cedar was spinning toward him looking angry now, distrust crossing his face.
“No,” replied Elm, more softly, “it’s our numbers that gave us away. The reason why Oak split us up originally remember? Because the Citan leader knew we were there. The leader's senses are too strong.”
He could see that having Oak's own words as his back up was working.
“I will return to save Oak alone. As one my chances are greater to follow unnoticed and later tonight I’ll sneak into the camp and aid Oak's escape.”
He looked from Cedar to the rest, no-one said anything and he smiled inwardly as he knew that he’d won this small battle.
He could see Cedar's doubts going through his mind and thought “damn him for not trusting me” and so continued. “You must come with me to find the group to the west and we shall send out messengers to the rest telling them to go to the camp. As one army you can all come to the aid of Oak and myself and wipe out these Citans who are only twenty against our many.”
He knew the odds were in their favour and this would help Cedar to believe that his plan could work. Elm went on, “with all of the defenders together even if I’m captured or killed you will be able to save Oak, whom they keep as a hostage for their own safety.” He watched Cedar going over the scenario in his mind and waited.
“Let’s travel to the west and find the others from there to send messengers and make our way to the camp as Elm has suggested. We shall save our leader as an army, taking out these Citans who choose to invade our land.”
Nods of agreement came from the other two. Without further thought Cedar was running through the forest with Elm in pursuit.
Elm was unhappy at the balance of dynamics within the group since Cedar had now taken leadership of it and he was again only a follower. Maliciously he thought he would like to take Cedar out for ousting him from control of the situation but then he reflected that if he continued to think this way he would have few defenders left. He'd let Cedar lead the group and then go to the camp to return as a small army because when he himself returned to the camp he would take control, even if it meant using force against Cedar.
Surprisingly they were quick to find the group to the west. Birch appeared from the trees with two others as soon as he heard their approach and awaited an explanation expectantly.
Elm was quickly trying to regain his breath to tell them of the plan. Cedar began before he could get a word out. Elm seethed in rage at the arrogance of Cedar and mentally noted that here was a defender that he would have to watch in his army. However, he was pleased that Cedar wasted no time in getting them all together and ready to be on their way. With all explanations covered for Birch to peruse, Cedar gave him little time to make any other decision than to go to the camp, impressing even Elm at his dominance of the situation. There was more to Cedar than he'd thought.
About to leave, Cedar only gave a small cursory glance toward Elm (which again held distrust) whilst giving Elm a few brief words.
“May all go well with Oak in your rescue.”
When Elm reflected upon Cedar’s remark he realized they weren’t words of good luck to Elm but words of support only for Oak. This caused another shot of annoyance to go through Elm and his reaction was to give a biting retort to Cedar but it was too late as they were already on their way. Elm could say nothing more.
He was left standing alone feeling like he’d been hit by a whirlwind, left spinning unsure of which direction to take. As he watched them disappear through the trees he collected his thoughts and went back to resuming his plan. Now he had to find Pine. What to do with Pine? He had to stop him finding Oak and if it came to it he'd have to kill him. He had no doubt that Pine was in pursuit of the Citans and his beloved Oak. He was a faithful dog to the leader but he was a pet that would soon be destroyed, his yelping cries unheard by any of the other defenders as they’d be far away.
Once Pine was dead he'd watch the Citans leave the forest, from a great distance since he didn’t trust the large leader. After they were gone and well out of following range (he didn't want the defenders to think they should continue the chase beyond that point) he would find the defenders, then, feigning his effort to save Oak in a tale of his gallant but fallible brave rescue. He would from his hunched position of exhaustion tell of the disappearance of the Citans.
He would have to say that the Citans were long gone and that revenge was not the answer for their peaceful people. They would have to forgive and forget and not stride on into the footsteps of their forefathers. They had become Woodlanders so that they would never do what their forefathers had done and must be wise in continuing the ways that Sequoia and even their good Oak had designated for them to do.
He’d return to hails of a hero and the clan tossing cheers to him as he passed through to the podium to tell everyone his heartfelt story of Oak's demise and the evil Citan's burning of their beloved leader's body whilst they taunted the scorching flesh in a satanic fashion. He could even add how Oak had asked that he, Elm take care of his people and save himself.
A huge smile spread across his lips. Yes that would work very well, who could dispute the leader passing the succession to another? How could anyone challenge him on it? Since they’d not been there and if they did dispute it, he could demand that his name be cleared of being a liar by fighting them. They’d either back down or he would fight for his honour. Woodlanders were opposed to fighting to the death, so they’d more likely concede and he’d tell everyone their harsh words were due to the stress of grief.
Feeling much more cheerful than he had been in Cedar's presence and once more certain that he would get his way yet, he began to run to find the Citans. They had a large lead on him and he would have to make up a lot of ground to catch them. He must also be careful when he grew close because he didn't want Pine to be aware that he was there. He’d find Pine and silently sneak up behind him, perhaps even plunging his sword deep into his body whilst covering his mouth to keep his dying cries unheard. He would leave his body, no need to worry about it's being found, the creatures of the night would dispose of it quick enough.
The sun was dying down to the west as he moved warily through the forest. He must be close to the Citans now. Where was Pine? He still had no sight of him and it was making him uneasy. He was quickly chewing on another melini tablet when he came across the fresh overturned earth. He knelt down touching the area of soil and moss that had been scuffed upwards.
The Citans were tired, they were also close. Constantly looking around him he lightly traversed the same ground as the Citans, his ears peaked and ready for any sound. He was quiet, regulating his breathing so his attention was sharp, his senses clear.
When he finally caught sight of the Citans they were already making camp for the night. One of them was building a fire and the rest were placing backpacks upon the ground and rummaging through them. They were tossing blankets out and pulling out bags of what he supposed was food. They hung a large metal container over the newly sprouting fire on a metal arm and it wavered over the gathering flames, back and forth. Tossing food into it they then poured in water that they carried in pouches. One Citan stood stirring the concoction with his long knife, whilst bowls and spoons were passed amongst them.
Taking everything in and the fact that he still saw no Pine he slunk further back into the shadows. There was nothing more he could do today other than find a tree, climb it and settle himself down for the night. Even if Pine was somewhere around here and watching Elm he wouldn't risk attacking him in a tree. That would be too foolish and one thing Pine was not was a complete fool, only partially he sneered.