Chapter 7: Needless Suffering

*Brynn*

The group finally set out in the late morning of the next day. Brynn was exhausted. What little sleep she found had been riddled with weeping moons and gleaming teeth dripping with the blood of her own neck. Cormac and Trevor took the first shift hauling the overburdened cart. The wolf’s pain was palpable in the air, and the animal rarely moved. Even slight motion caused the barbs to shift and cut deeper.

Sidling up to Vesta, Brynn asked a question she had been wondering about from the time that net first emerged from beneath the pine needles.

“Why is it barbed like that? The net?”

Vesta sighed and looked up at the object in question with sad disapproval. “Trevor is a very superstitious man,” she said simply.

“I know that,” Brynn replied. Her eyes urged Vesta to continue.

“Have you seen that necklace he wears? The one he’s always groping?”

“Yes,” Brynn said, surprised. “But what does that have to do with any of this?”

“It’s a silver sun. The sun represents light in darkness or good prevailing over evil. But the silver – it’s actual silver – is said to have physical properties that fight evil. He wears that necklace everywhere he goes. I don’t think he ever takes it off.”

“And the net?” Brynn questioned again.

“Well, we’ve all heard stories about Dagrun Forest and the kinds of things that live here, right?” Vesta asked.

“You mean about evil creatures lurking about ready to suck out our souls or drag us down to the pits of Hell?” If Brynn hadn’t rolled her eyes so severely, the tone in her voice would have been plenty to make her feelings on the matter known.

“Yes, those stories. Well, Trevor tends to believe those stories. And when he heard we were trekking through the Gap, he searched the village for any speck of silver he could get his hands on and had the smithy make that net for him. He does possess a particular craftiness with traps, you must give him that.” Vesta shrugged.

“So the barbs are…” Despite her discomfort, Brynn looked up at the wolf. As she suspected, it was looking back at her. It always seemed to be looking at her.

“They’re silver. Sharp little buggers. I think Trevor’s had this idea about sacrifice brewing about in that simple mind of his since the beginning.”

“But it’s not evil,” Brynn argued. “It’s only a wolf.”

“Evil comes disguised in many forms, Love,” Garan said, limping clumsily up behind them. Brynn hadn’t realized he’d been listening. His brow was beaded in sweat, and his breath was heavy. He leaned heavily on Maeve, who had taken a turn supporting him from Brynn a couple of miles back.

‘If the cart were available, it would have been nice for Garan to have a spot to sit and ride a while,’ Brynn thought bitterly. He didn’t complain, but the going was slow and difficult for him. The journey out of the forest would undoubtedly take longer than the journey in.

“How can a wolf be evil?” Brynn questioned. “Because it kills to eat? Because it uses teeth and claws instead of a bow and blade? How can it truly be any different from us?”

Garan, shifting his weight so that he could stand taller, brushed the back of his fingers against Brynn’s cheek. Down the path, the wolf growled low, baring its teeth.

“I don’t need to know the how or the why to know that it is true,” he said.

A couple of hours later, the group stopped for a quick rest and a bite to eat. Maeve helped pass out small pieces of jerky and cheese. Brynn eased Garan to the base of a large pine, ignoring her throbbing wrist. He immediately slumped against it.

“Rest for a while,” she said. “Sleep if you can. I’ll check your bandage before we move again, but for now, just close your eyes.” He didn’t argue. The others were in much the same position, finding places to recline or, in Vesta’s case, lay flat on the ground looking up at the gray sky.

Brynn looked around, quietly circling the area a couple of times in search of her own spot. She was restless though. It felt like a war of emotion waged in her chest. She wanted what was best for Ingram. She wanted to be a part of this group. She wanted to be known as a strong hunter and valuable team player. But she’d already put them all at risk.

The topic of her folly in entering that clearing by herself was so prevalent in the air, though no one spoke of it aloud. It felt like that particular topic was a flood, and a thin dam prevented it from washing away what was left of this expedition.

Yet, on the other hand, she felt a strange affinity for the wolf. She tried so desperately to ignore it. To NOT look at it. But even with her eyes averted or closed, she felt its gaze. She could sense its presence. And when she did lock eyes, a gentle, smoldering warmth glowed in her belly. She was drawn to it, and it was only, she realized, the threat of what the others would think that she was able to push that feeling aside.

Now, though, they all lay sprawled and leaning around her, too exhausted to care what she was doing. Brynn’s gaze swept over the area and her eyes met those deep cerulean pools as if drawn there by a magnet. Quietly, she crept closer. She was more aware of herself now than she had been the other night, but the pull was just as intense. The warmth became full heat, and that heat burned hotter the closer she got.

She came very close to the cart, but this time, she was in control enough that she was unwilling to cross those last few feet. The wolf stared and stared as if willing her to hear the wild words of its heart. Circling the cart, she took in every visible inch of it. A myriad of grays, both cold and warm, mingled together to remind her of the stony cliff faces of the Gap. Prominent ears perked upward as if taking in all the sounds she could never hear. A massive bulk of muscle rippled beneath its pelt making it clear that, in other circumstances, the wolf could overpower them all with ease.

Spots of blood marked the places where glinting silver dug in.

And worse, the ruined leg was still clamped within that horrid, toothed bear trap.

Brynn grimaced. Sudden anger surged through her. She ground her teeth and breathed sharply through her nose, her muscles tensing in fury. It was trapped. Completely. In an excruciatingly tight silver-bared net within a wooden crate, and still, it wore this angry, bloody bracelet that still threatened to take an entire paw.

She whirled, furious resolve setting into her face and bones. Her eyes searched the forest frantically before settling on a small, fallen branch that had the perfect width and dryness to do her bidding. She quickly broke it down to size and, using her dagger, shaved one end to a thin, flat point.

Then, she marched back to the wolf, to his mangled leg, and wedged the branch into the trap as best she could. She pulled heavily on it, trying desperately to pull those horrible teeth apart, but she made little progress. She wouldn’t give up though, pulling with the full force of her weight. The wolf growled and whined, but it held very still. Brynn had the impression that it understood her purpose.

After much effort, Brynn thought the endeavor a lost cause. Just as she considered giving up, at least while she rethought the matter, she was nudged aside.

Vesta was there, her own branch in hand. They looked at each other for only a moment, a silent nod passing between them that said more than words before they set about their task. Vesta, the taller of the two, pushed up on her branch while Brynn pushed mightily down on her own. Slowly, the metal squealed as the teeth were forced apart a fraction. Seeing this small progress, both women doubled down in effort, knowing that success was close at hand.

Slowly, slowly, the metal mouth groaned open, and with one final push, it fell loose. The wolf pulled its paw free of the trap, sighing through its large, black nose. Turning to each other, the women smiled and then laughed in joy at having accomplished their task.

“What have you done?” Trevor shrieked, running toward them. “What have you done?”

“Nothing,” Brynn said calmly. “It’s still trapped.” It was true, her effort may have spared some of the wolf’s suffering, but not all. And she certainly hadn’t freed it.

“But why?” Trevor asked, eyes wide as his right hand clamped around his pendant.

“If you’re going to keep it alive, it need not suffer needlessly,” Vesta said.

“You are an ignorant fool,” Cormac spat, but his eyes rested clearly on Brynn, not Vesta, making the target of these words abundantly clear. “A strange, foolish, wild little girl with no notion of the consequences of her actions.”

“It hasn’t been freed completely, only freed of a small portion of its pain. It is still at your mercy, and it will still suffer for your so-called sacrifice,” Brynn said rationally.

“If you’re keeping it alive, it need not suffer,” Vesta repeated.

“It. Is. EVIL!” Trevor screamed, and Brynn stepped back from his wild, unhinged appearance.

“I suppose you aren’t going to feed it, either?” she said boldly. “Let it suffer and starve and grow weak and then call it a heroic sacrifice?”

“This creature,” Cormac said, his voice a low growl, “is an evil wrought on this world. The only good it will do is in death on our altar. Evil only exists. It does not suffer as the righteous. Your womanly sympathies are better served to raise babes than galivanting in the wilds like a man.”

Brynn clamped her mouth shut, unable to say anything against the wound he had just opened in her heart. She glared at him, but as she did so, she felt her boldness deflate in her chest.

Vesta glared at Cormac, too, and as he turned from them and walked away, she spat on the ground where his feet had been.