The Raven Collection

What they had thought of as their strength had turned out to be a deathtrap. The den had been dug deep beneath the root systems of a dense knot of strong pines, but the wind had ripped them down like leaves falling as the weather turned cold, roots had torn free to whip-lash into the den, heavy boughs crashed through the weakened roof, crushing so many to death and maiming so many more.

Sleeping away from the carnage, Thraun had woken, howled danger and fought his way back through fleeing wolves to see the damage for himself and help the trapped and wounded. There was little he could do. Blood was seeping into the ground, bone protruded from hide and fur and of the few that moved, none would live, their bodies broken under the weight of earth and branch.

The wind was bringing down more of the den and Thraun had run to the only open way out, escaping as it too had collapsed. Outside it had been little better. A blizzard of splinters had cut and slashed into the survivors, leaving most bleeding, handicapped or blinded. And those who hadn’t found immediate shelter from the wind had simply been blown away, one to hang in grotesque fashion from a net of branches higher than any wolf could spring, eyes dulling as its lifeblood ebbed from it.

Thraun howled his lament and hunkered down further to think how to save his devastated, panicked pack. He looked around him, at the mothers sheltering the pitifully few cubs that had survived and at the dog wolves, four only, looking to him for help and escape.

Thraun tasted the wind as it surged around them, felt its evil violence and knew they had to move. It came seemingly from everywhere, thrashing in his ears, its blasting force ripping down the forest. He could hear nothing but its fury and knew it hunted them like prey. There was only one place where they could hope to survive until the wind had passed. The crag point where the pack gathered before hunting would provide a barrier the wind couldn’t break.

But it was over two hundred paces away. An almost impossibly long distance in the forest with the wind roaring and spitting its ferocity. Lulls were few and relative. Thraun sniffed again. A temporary quiet was coming.

He waited, every fibre tensed, his heart racing. There it was. A lessening of the tumult. Barely noticeable but it could give him the edge. He sprang over to the sheltering mothers, grabbed a cub by the scruff of her neck, growled through clenched teeth for the rest to stay and darted toward the crag.

The way was every bit as difficult as he had envisaged. The trails he knew and the markers he followed were all gone. The whole nature of the forest had changed almost beyond recognition. Everywhere he could see the sky, its heaving dark cloud piling across his vision like a river in flood.

The crown of every tree was shredded, snapped or gone completely. Debris lay thick on the forest floor, waiting to be whipped into lethal frenzy by the next gust. Nothing was as it should be and only Thraun’s i

The relative calm in the lee of the crag was like walking from night into day. The wind whistled around its edges, a mournful dirge that saddened the heart, but in its centre, the crag would protect their lives. He set the cub down, nuzzling the quivering body of the petrified creature and licking its face. His growl was warming and comforting.

Stay. I will return.

And so he did. Five more times. Once with each cub and once with the remnants of the pack.

Finally, he could rest as the wind tore at the ruins of Thornewood. He looked at them, four adult males, two adult females and five cubs all less than two seasons old. Pitiful survivors of a den in excess of forty. But he would save what he had and build again. First, though, it was time to mourn.

He lifted his head and howled to the sky.

Erie

Not that Erie

And the truth was that they had scared Erie

On the gently toned yellow walls had been drawn waving, smiling bears and groups of rabbits at play. Light came from three shaded lanterns and, in addition to a soft bed and low wooden desk, there was a child-sized armchair and sofa; and all sitting on thick rugs that protected feet from the timber floor. Candles filled the air with a fresh forest scent.

But Lya

‘Shh, darling, Mummy’s here. No one will hurt you,’ she whispered, putting her lips to the girl’s head. ‘That’s it, calm down, now. Calm down.’

‘Are the ghosts gone, Mummy?’ she mumbled into Erie

‘Oh, sweet, they aren’t ghosts, they’re your friends.’

‘No!’ wailed Lya

Erie

‘I’ll be with you,’ said Erie

‘Look at you!’ she admonished gently. She wiped away the damp on Lya

Lya

‘I’ll never leave you, darling. Do you want to sleep with me tonight or in here?’

Lya

‘This is a nice room,’ she said.

‘It’s yours if you want it.’

‘Where’s your room?’

‘I’ll make sure it’s next door, so I can hear you. Is that all right?’

Lya

‘How are we doing?’ she asked.

‘Come in,’ said Erie

Ren’erei had changed into loose cloth trousers and a woollen shirt, reminding Erie

‘Good,’ she said, not approaching too close. ‘They are anxious to meet you. They didn’t understand your reaction.’

Erie