Elemental Hunger

Chapter Thirty-Five

Hanai's step faltered, as did mine. "Fire," he whispered.

He didn't need to tell me twice. Using my fist as a torch, we went on for a few steps to a grouping of low brush. I dripped flames onto the waiting limbs, and they caught the fire.

"Adam should be back soon," Hanai said. "This will have to do until he can rescue us."

"Adam—back—what will have to do?"

Another howl ripped through the night.

"Safety first," Hanai said. "I'll tell you everything, but not if I'm in bite-sized pieces."

"Okay, fine." As the brush cradled the flames, Hanai and I gathered rocks and built a circle about ten feet across. Any loose branches we could find went on top of those, where I then poured my fire, encouraging it to burn hot and long.

Just as I finished the ring, a pair of yellow eyes caught the glow. A hint of bared teeth followed.

"Aren't we too far south for wolves?" I asked as I settled next to Hanai on the sooty ground. Every few years, a wolf would carry a child out of the communes in Crylon, but my old home lay much further north, right on the edge of the wild.

"No," Hanai whispered. "The wilderness is full of wolves."

We huddled together through the darkness, heat, and silence. The third time Hanai's chin drooped to his chest, he didn't snap it back up. I carefully laid him on the ground before patrolling the circle, re-banking the weak spots in the fiery fence that kept the animals out. Several pairs of shining eyes mirrored my movement beyond the flames. Then I settled next to Hanai, keeping one hand on his shoulder just to assure myself that he was there, and alive.

I awoke to a morning sky full of golden rays of light. I rolled over to find Hanai crouching near the edge of the ring, unmoving. Unblinking. His chest didn't rise and fall. One hand stretched toward the fire, which had burned down to only a few inches of flame.

A wolf—a very large, very furry, very black wolf—was poised on the opposite side of the barrier. It didn't blink either. Dragging its belly along the steaming ground, it shuffled forward an inch or two. A whine came from its closed jowls.

Fear rose through me; I wanted to leap up and torch the animal before it could clamp its jaws around Hanai's skinny neck. He raised his free hand to me, palm out. Don't, he was saying.

The wolf inched forward again. Still Hanai didn't move. My heart hammered in the back of my throat. Seconds became minutes.

Then, with a lurch, the wolf leaped, its mouth rearing open. A deep growl washed over me, followed by a sharp bark.

In a fluid motion, Hanai stood, gripped the flying wolf around the neck and twisted. A yelp issued from it, immediately before my own strangled cry.

Hanai knelt again, holding one hand over the wolf's body, chanting. A tear ran over his nose and dripped onto the matted fur. His lips moved in a silent ceremony before Hanai stood and dragged the wolf to the center of the circle.

"Bank up the fires, please. I'll make breakfast." He said it so calmly, but the tension in his shoulders and the tightness around his mouth broadcast his worry, his hunger, his pain at killing the wolf.

I moved around the ring, pouring flames to ensure our safety. The fire didn't look so merry, so comforting, in the daylight. Now it represented a blazing barrier I couldn't cross.

"Your knife?" Hanai asked. I handed it to him and quickly scurried away from the dead animal, trying to find comfort in the smoke. At least six wolves paced a few yards beyond the fire line. One howled. Then another. They trotted closer, their beady eyes trained on their fallen companion.