Metamor Keep -- A Long Patrol
By Christian O'kane

Part 3

The two figures moved quietly but quickly through the darkness. Many miles behind them fifteen corpses lay scattered near a small cave dug into a hillside. Mute evidence of their having passed that way, evidence they would rather not have left so deep in enemy territory.

After a few minutes of running flat out they settled into a slow, steady jog that they kept up for hours. The lead scout carried the large axe in his hands with ease. If it's weight bothered him it didn't show. He only slowed his pace to find his footing in the darkness. The person trotting behind him easily kept pace. Coming to a stream they leapt it easily.

Suddenly three lutins loomed out of the darkness. They barely had time to bring up their swords before the axe swept back and forth. Two of the lutins fell dead. The third sentry fell to an arrow, scarcely a moment later. The two scouts kept right on moving, not even breaking stride.

The two of them kept moving until the sounds of the chase finally faded into silence. They slowed to a walk, and then stopped by a large boulder. Misha leaned against the rock, too tired to do anything but pant. The stone was still cold and wet from the recent rain and it felt good against his back. In the silence of the woods his panting sounded like thunder, but he couldn't stop it. Being a fox morph did have its drawbacks. Caroline slumped to the ground at his feet, exhausted. He took a long drink from his canteen and splashed more on his face. After a moment his partner stood up and started sipping water from her own canteen.

After what seemed like an eternity he had cooled down enough to stop panting, and quiet returned to the woods. "I think we've lost them," Caroline signed with her hands.

Maybe they had. There had been no sign of their pursuers for a long time. He nodded yes. In his mind Misha plotted the safest route back to Metamor. It was at least a week's walk to the river through an area infested with countless thousands of lutins, all eager to skin the two of them alive. Nasoj had a standing reward of a thousand gold coins to the person that brought him Misha. The reward was double if he was still alive. The thought of being held prisoner in Dark Keep made him shiver. He patted the hilt of the dagger that hung from his belt. He would use it to slit his own throat rather than be taken there.

Off to the south came the sound of people tramping through the brush. Damn! In a moment the two scouts were moving east. Dawn was still several hours away; it was going to be a long night. Hopefully things would get better with the daylight.

They didn't. A long, bad night turned into an even worse day. The chase never let up. No matter how times they lost them, their pursuers always found them again. There always seemed to be someone snapping at their heels, never letting them rest. Time and again they had to turn and lash out at their pursuers with sword, axe and bow. The battles were short, sharp, but one sided. Carol and Misha would kill three or four lutins, and the rest would flee. Each fight took valuable time and made large amounts of noise, advertising their location for all to know. They would have to run, dodge, and hide until someone caught up to them. Then the cycle would start all over again.

Slowly the sounds of pursuit grew fainter until it disappeared altogether. Finally, they stopped for a rest. It was almost nightfall. After running all day and night they were exhausted. Lying flat in a cluster of thorn bushes, they listened and sniffed for any sign of pursuit. It was the little things Misha checked for: the rustling of mice in the leaves, and the sounds of insects. Both would go quiet if lutins were about. After twenty minutes of waiting they relaxed, but only a little.

The ration was dry, almost tasteless, and the meat filling was unidentifiable, but he was too hungry to care. It was the first meal he'd had all day. He finished it in a heartbeat. He drank the last of his water and shook the now empty canteen. They had to find potable water, in the Northlands that could be a difficult task. Still he knew of a few places that held promise. He put the canteen back and started on a second ration.

He'd taken only a single bite, when the wind brought to his nose an unwanted scent. "Shit, I knew it was too good to last," he thought to himself. Dropping the unfinished ration into a pocket, he checked on Caroline. She was looking at him, confused, aware that something was wrong, but not what it was. Misha made a sign with his hands. Her whole body just sagged in disappointment. Caroline looked about ready to cry, but didn't. Instead she sighed quietly, and quickly finished her own field ration.

Lying flat in the middle of the brush as still as death, they waited. The minutes slowly dragged by with nothing happening. The scent grew stronger, and Misha could pick out the rancid stench of lutins. Also there was the faint musk of wolves in the air.

Misha listened intently. The mice and the insects had gone quiet. After several minutes the sound of quiet footfalls came to him, then silence. Neither of them moved, or made a noise. Someone was out there listening and watching, just like they were. This was the hardest part, the waiting. A person could never be sure if the enemy knew they were there or not. If they didn't know the scouts were there, the best thing to do was to wait them out. Eventually the lutins would get tired and leave. If the lutins did know, the scouts had to leave before they were surrounded. The problem was moving made noise, and that would surely give their position away. The hard part was knowing when to stay, and when to leave. If he judged right, they lived. If he judged wrong, they died.

The wait seemed to stretch on for an eternity with no sound or sign of lutins. How many were out there, and where were they? Did they know we're here, or are they just looking. Misha tried to calm himself, and not be nervous. The worst thing he could do was panic. He listened for even the slightest sound. Nothing. There was the faint rattling of some stray leaves off to his left. Was it just leaves moving with the wind? The sound stopped, leaving a deathly silence.

Neither Misha nor Caroline heard it coming. One moment it was just the two of them lying there. The next moment a shadow loomed over Caroline. Misha's heart stopped for a moment, and he had to fight the impulse to run. Standing less than two feet from Caroline was a large wolf the size of a pony. It had to weigh at least a thousand pounds, and it seemed to be all muscle and teeth.

To her credit Caroline didn't panic, but just held stock still. Looking into her eyes Misha could see the blind panic she was fighting to control. The wolf just stood there, looking and sniffing it's find. It was a young male, no more than two years old. Misha suddenly realized that it had never before been this close to a morph. Her scent would be strange to it; part animal, part human. The wolf didn't know what this thing was, and he was confused.

That confusion could work to their advantage. It was large, but it was still a wolf. Moving slowly he reached into his pocket. The wolf's head whipped around towards him. Misha found himself staring into a large maw that seemed to be filled with hundreds of foot-long teeth.

From his pocket he pulled out his partly eaten trail ration. He extended his open hand, with the ration on it, towards the wolf. Lutins liked to keep their animals half starved so they would be extra vicious. The creature warily examined the offered food for a moment. The giant could just as easily take his whole hand, rather than just the food it was holding.

The wolf leaned closer, but whether to attack or eat, Misha couldn't tell. SNAP! Suddenly the food was gone, but his hand was still there. He wiggled his fingers just to sure everything still worked. Relief flooded through him, and he relaxed just a little. The wolf was more interested in food than in fighting. He pulled a second ration from his haversack and gave it to the wolf. It was eaten, parchment and all, by the hungry animal in a moment. A third was produced, and disappeared into the large maw, like the previous two. As it was eating a fourth ration, Misha risked petting the wolf. He rubbed the soft fur on the underside of the neck. He could feel the powerful muscles under the fur relax as the wolf enjoyed his touch.

"VACK!! Come here," someone shouted from a few feet away. The lutin who'd spoken had not the vaguest idea that Misha and Caroline were so close. The wolf stared at Misha for a moment, and he realized that it was deciding what to do. Would he attack, reveal them to his lutin handler, or just leave? He licked Misha on the muzzle, and then turned and trotted away. All without making a sound.

They waited in silence for a long time for something to happen. Finally the insects started to chirp and chitter. They both slowly relaxed a little, but not completely. Misha risked making some hand signs to Carol. "Are you alright?" She nodded yes, but she looked very shaken.

"Just a little unsettled," she signed back.

"You have a right to be. It's not often a person goes nose to nose with a giant wolf." Misha wrapped his arm around her, and he could feel that they both were shaking. That one had been too close for comfort. The shaking grew worse as it sank in just how close to death she had come.

Holding her close the soft musk of her scent filled his nose. He could smell the fear and panic in it. It was too dangerous to talk, and Misha couldn't think of what to say anyway. All he could think to do is hold on to her. After a long time the shaking stopped.

"Better?" he asked silently. After a moment she answered with a barely discernible nod of the head. Misha stared at Caroline for a moment trying to guess her emotions.

"He really liked it when you rubbed him under the chin," she signed.

"All canines love being rubbed there. It really feels good."

"Even you?" she asked.

He nodded yes. "Rub me under my neck, and I'll follow you anywhere," he replied.

He could feel her shaking even harder than before. This time trying to suppress the laughter. "I'll have to remember that," she signed.

Misha had to hold his muzzle shut with his hands to keep from laughing out loud. He couldn't help himself, it sounded hilarious. Both of them lay there for several minutes quietly laughing, completely oblivious to everything else. As he shook with silent laughter, all the pain, tension, fear and shock drained out of him.

Finally the two of them regained their composure. They listened and checked their surroundings. When they were reasonably sure no one was lying in wait, the two of them stood up, and slowly started moving south.

Continue to Part 4:
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