The Iron Warrior
Page 43
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I do.” I checked my swords, making sure they were still there, at my waist. “Wonder how long it’ll be before something comes leaping out at us?”
A few paces ahead, the wolf snorted.
“Don’t worry so much, little humans,” he growled, glancing back at us. “Nothing will attack you here.”
“How can you be sure?” Kenzie asked.
“Because you are with me,” the wolf replied.
“Right,” I muttered, unconvinced. Yeah, the wolf was huge, and strong, and scary, but I’d seen things like giants and dragons that were way bigger. “And who are you, again?”
“Not very bright, are you?” was the rumbled answer. “I am Wolf, Ethan Chase. Every story, every tale that you’ve heard that had a wolf in it, that was me. The Grimm brothers, Aesop the storyteller, even your modern fable of a man who becomes a beast the night of the full moon. Those stories are all mine. You should know who I am.”
“Oh,” I said, as it finally clicked. Not a wolf. The Wolf. The one who ate Red Riding Hood’s grandma, terrorized the Boy who cried Wolf and threatened the three little pigs. The Big Bad Wolf himself.
I shut up after that.
A while later, we stopped at a small stream. How long we’d been trekking through the Deep Wyld, I couldn’t say. Hours or days, for all I knew. The Wolf never slowed except to sniff the ground or the air, testing the wind, and then he was off again. A rickety wooden bridge spanned the banks of the stream, even though it was barely three feet across, and the Wolf sniffed that, too.
“She’s been here,” he said, curling a lip. His fangs flashed briefly in the darkness as he pulled back, wrinkling his nose, and I frowned.
“Something wrong?”
“Not for me. But you might want to see this.”
Warily, I walked around to the bridge entrance. Someone had nailed a chicken’s head and feet to each of the wooden posts. A few blood-caked feathers fluttered in the breeze, and I joined the Wolf in wrinkling my nose.
“Ew,” Kenzie said, echoing my sentiment. “What the heck is that?”
“It’s a warning,” the Wolf said. “Whoever put this up is telling people to stay away. Not a problem in itself, but if it’s the person I think it is, your girl could be in a lot of trouble if she passed through here.” He shook himself, then sprang lightly over the stream, looking back with glowing eyes. “Let’s go. And don’t touch the water. You’ll turn into a frog if you drink it.”
We crossed the bridge, being careful not to touch the grisly remains, and continued into the Deep Wyld.
“At least we’re on the right track,” Kenzie commented, as Razor perched on her shoulder and muttered, “Bleh, chicken heads. Bleh!” over and over again. “Maybe we’ll catch up to her soon.”
“I hope so,” I muttered. “This place is starting to...”
Somewhere in the woods, a branch snapped. Stopping in the middle of the trail, I pulled Kenzie to a halt, frowning.
“I heard something,” I growled. Kenzie immediately shushed Razor and fell silent, head cocked as she listened. Up ahead, the Wolf had also paused, ears pricked and head raised to the breeze.
Something was coming toward us through the trees. Something massive. Something that caused the ground to shake and the branches of the trees to sway wildly back and forth.
The Wolf whirled around, bristling.
“Move!” he snarled at me. “Get out of sight, humans. Now.”
We scrambled around a tree as the crashing and snapping got louder. The Thin Man vanished, and the Wolf melted into shadow, as something huge and heavy continued to stomp its way toward us.
When I peeked around the trunk, my mouth nearly fell open in astonishment.
It was...a house. A flipping house was walking through the forest, on a pair of gigantic chicken legs. Incredulous, I blinked hard and looked again, making sure I was seeing this right. Yep, it was definitely chicken legs. The gnarled yellow talons squelched mud and snapped branches in their wake, carrying the ramshackle wooden hut through the trees with every stride. I could only stare after it, gaping, as the house with chicken feet walked past, trailing a curl of smoke from the chimney, and continued into the forest.
“O-kaaay,” Kenzie remarked after the crashing had died down and the woods were silent again. “I’m not crazy, am I? Everyone else just saw a house walk by us, right?”
Razor buzzed and nodded vigorously, ears flapping. “Funny house!” he exclaimed. “Funny house, funny feet, ha!”
“Blast it all,” said the Thin Man, emerging from behind a tiny sapling that was more twig than tree. “Unfortunate that she is lurking about this area of the Deep Wyld. I was hoping we could avoid her. Can you still pick up the girl’s trail?” he asked the Wolf. “Is it still around? Where does it lead?”
The Wolf stared at us and didn’t answer. I sighed. “It’s going in the same direction, isn’t it?” I guessed.
He grinned. “The hunt just got interesting.”
We followed the house, which was pretty easy since it left a giant, house-sized trail of destruction behind it. Crushed vegetation, snapped limbs, broken branches and huge, chicken-shaped footprints in the dirt. Eventually, we came to a small clearing, where you could almost see the sky through the massive trunks surrounding the glen. The house sat, or crouched, or perched, in the very center, the legs now folded underneath it. A fence surrounded it, but the closer I looked, the more it seemed that the posts and railings were made of bone, topped with various skulls. Several chickens milled around the yard, scratching and pecking, seemingly unconcerned that a freaking house had just marched up and plopped itself down inside the fence.
Kenzie nudged my arm. “Look at that,” she said, pointing to a crude wooden X near the perimeter of the trees. More skulls and chicken feet dangled from it, spinning lazily in the wind. The Wolf snorted.
“More keep-out signs,” he sniffed, and gave an exaggerated yawn. “As if that would stop me. Well, humans? Are you going down there or not? I’ll wait for you here. Probably better that way, trust me. No one wants to look up and see a wolf on their doorstep.”
“And you’re certain Annwyl went down there?” I asked.
“I can smell the girl’s trail from here,” was the growled answer. “It leads straight to the front gate and does not return. If she is still alive, she never left that house.”
“Foolish girl.” The Thin Man shook his head, staring at the house with grave eyes. “Foolish, or desperate. Some old powers you do not seek out, for any reason.”
“Why?” Kenzie asked, watching as the house shifted, creaking and groaning, before it was still again. “Who lives here, exactly?”
“A witch,” the Wolf said, curling a lip. “Old, though not as old as me. She travels the Nevernever in that ridiculous house of hers, sometimes in the wyldwood, sometimes in the Deep Wyld, never in one place for long. She doesn’t bother me, and as long as she stays out of my hunting grounds, I return the favor. Still, she has many names and many legends of her own in the mortal realm. It’s best for you humans to be cautious when dealing with her.”
“It’s best not to deal with her at all,” the Thin Man added, crossing his arms. “But, if we must, we must. Again, it cannot be overstated how careful you must be, humans. The witch of this house is indeed old and powerful, and also quite unpredictable. She might help, or she might attempt to trap you into making a deal you will regret. So do watch what you say around her.”
A few paces ahead, the wolf snorted.
“Don’t worry so much, little humans,” he growled, glancing back at us. “Nothing will attack you here.”
“How can you be sure?” Kenzie asked.
“Because you are with me,” the wolf replied.
“Right,” I muttered, unconvinced. Yeah, the wolf was huge, and strong, and scary, but I’d seen things like giants and dragons that were way bigger. “And who are you, again?”
“Not very bright, are you?” was the rumbled answer. “I am Wolf, Ethan Chase. Every story, every tale that you’ve heard that had a wolf in it, that was me. The Grimm brothers, Aesop the storyteller, even your modern fable of a man who becomes a beast the night of the full moon. Those stories are all mine. You should know who I am.”
“Oh,” I said, as it finally clicked. Not a wolf. The Wolf. The one who ate Red Riding Hood’s grandma, terrorized the Boy who cried Wolf and threatened the three little pigs. The Big Bad Wolf himself.
I shut up after that.
A while later, we stopped at a small stream. How long we’d been trekking through the Deep Wyld, I couldn’t say. Hours or days, for all I knew. The Wolf never slowed except to sniff the ground or the air, testing the wind, and then he was off again. A rickety wooden bridge spanned the banks of the stream, even though it was barely three feet across, and the Wolf sniffed that, too.
“She’s been here,” he said, curling a lip. His fangs flashed briefly in the darkness as he pulled back, wrinkling his nose, and I frowned.
“Something wrong?”
“Not for me. But you might want to see this.”
Warily, I walked around to the bridge entrance. Someone had nailed a chicken’s head and feet to each of the wooden posts. A few blood-caked feathers fluttered in the breeze, and I joined the Wolf in wrinkling my nose.
“Ew,” Kenzie said, echoing my sentiment. “What the heck is that?”
“It’s a warning,” the Wolf said. “Whoever put this up is telling people to stay away. Not a problem in itself, but if it’s the person I think it is, your girl could be in a lot of trouble if she passed through here.” He shook himself, then sprang lightly over the stream, looking back with glowing eyes. “Let’s go. And don’t touch the water. You’ll turn into a frog if you drink it.”
We crossed the bridge, being careful not to touch the grisly remains, and continued into the Deep Wyld.
“At least we’re on the right track,” Kenzie commented, as Razor perched on her shoulder and muttered, “Bleh, chicken heads. Bleh!” over and over again. “Maybe we’ll catch up to her soon.”
“I hope so,” I muttered. “This place is starting to...”
Somewhere in the woods, a branch snapped. Stopping in the middle of the trail, I pulled Kenzie to a halt, frowning.
“I heard something,” I growled. Kenzie immediately shushed Razor and fell silent, head cocked as she listened. Up ahead, the Wolf had also paused, ears pricked and head raised to the breeze.
Something was coming toward us through the trees. Something massive. Something that caused the ground to shake and the branches of the trees to sway wildly back and forth.
The Wolf whirled around, bristling.
“Move!” he snarled at me. “Get out of sight, humans. Now.”
We scrambled around a tree as the crashing and snapping got louder. The Thin Man vanished, and the Wolf melted into shadow, as something huge and heavy continued to stomp its way toward us.
When I peeked around the trunk, my mouth nearly fell open in astonishment.
It was...a house. A flipping house was walking through the forest, on a pair of gigantic chicken legs. Incredulous, I blinked hard and looked again, making sure I was seeing this right. Yep, it was definitely chicken legs. The gnarled yellow talons squelched mud and snapped branches in their wake, carrying the ramshackle wooden hut through the trees with every stride. I could only stare after it, gaping, as the house with chicken feet walked past, trailing a curl of smoke from the chimney, and continued into the forest.
“O-kaaay,” Kenzie remarked after the crashing had died down and the woods were silent again. “I’m not crazy, am I? Everyone else just saw a house walk by us, right?”
Razor buzzed and nodded vigorously, ears flapping. “Funny house!” he exclaimed. “Funny house, funny feet, ha!”
“Blast it all,” said the Thin Man, emerging from behind a tiny sapling that was more twig than tree. “Unfortunate that she is lurking about this area of the Deep Wyld. I was hoping we could avoid her. Can you still pick up the girl’s trail?” he asked the Wolf. “Is it still around? Where does it lead?”
The Wolf stared at us and didn’t answer. I sighed. “It’s going in the same direction, isn’t it?” I guessed.
He grinned. “The hunt just got interesting.”
We followed the house, which was pretty easy since it left a giant, house-sized trail of destruction behind it. Crushed vegetation, snapped limbs, broken branches and huge, chicken-shaped footprints in the dirt. Eventually, we came to a small clearing, where you could almost see the sky through the massive trunks surrounding the glen. The house sat, or crouched, or perched, in the very center, the legs now folded underneath it. A fence surrounded it, but the closer I looked, the more it seemed that the posts and railings were made of bone, topped with various skulls. Several chickens milled around the yard, scratching and pecking, seemingly unconcerned that a freaking house had just marched up and plopped itself down inside the fence.
Kenzie nudged my arm. “Look at that,” she said, pointing to a crude wooden X near the perimeter of the trees. More skulls and chicken feet dangled from it, spinning lazily in the wind. The Wolf snorted.
“More keep-out signs,” he sniffed, and gave an exaggerated yawn. “As if that would stop me. Well, humans? Are you going down there or not? I’ll wait for you here. Probably better that way, trust me. No one wants to look up and see a wolf on their doorstep.”
“And you’re certain Annwyl went down there?” I asked.
“I can smell the girl’s trail from here,” was the growled answer. “It leads straight to the front gate and does not return. If she is still alive, she never left that house.”
“Foolish girl.” The Thin Man shook his head, staring at the house with grave eyes. “Foolish, or desperate. Some old powers you do not seek out, for any reason.”
“Why?” Kenzie asked, watching as the house shifted, creaking and groaning, before it was still again. “Who lives here, exactly?”
“A witch,” the Wolf said, curling a lip. “Old, though not as old as me. She travels the Nevernever in that ridiculous house of hers, sometimes in the wyldwood, sometimes in the Deep Wyld, never in one place for long. She doesn’t bother me, and as long as she stays out of my hunting grounds, I return the favor. Still, she has many names and many legends of her own in the mortal realm. It’s best for you humans to be cautious when dealing with her.”
“It’s best not to deal with her at all,” the Thin Man added, crossing his arms. “But, if we must, we must. Again, it cannot be overstated how careful you must be, humans. The witch of this house is indeed old and powerful, and also quite unpredictable. She might help, or she might attempt to trap you into making a deal you will regret. So do watch what you say around her.”
