When Ravens Call: The Fourth Book in the Small Gods Epic Fantasy Series (The Books of the Small Gods by Bruce Blake (books under 200 pages txt) 📗

approach. When he came within ten paces, he tossed his spoil into their midst, including the one he'd already fed upon. Other prey skulked about the forest waiting for him.

They fell on the feast with no hesitation, growling and snarling until their sharp nails pried open the animals' bellies and they pressed the steaming flesh to their faces. The animalistic noises turned to slurping and sucking, wet sounds that brought the hunger back to once-was-Rilum.

Satisfied they'd gotten enough sustenance, he headed into the forest to find more game for himself. Once accomplished, and the craving grew quiet again, he'd return with more for them. And then he'd teach them to hunt for themselves.

XXXV  Horace - Creatures

It weren't dark yet, but it were gettin' damn close.

Horace's boots scraped along the forest floor as he pressed on, still by himself. He'd seen no sign o' Ivy, not that a man o' the sea knew anythin' about trackin' in the woods. If a horse galloped its way through, he might've missed signs it'd passed by. Put him on the deck o' any ship and he'd taste the wind and tell you how bad the storm were goin' to be. He'd figure the direction a boat headed by the shape o' the waves. Sometimes, he claimed the ability to smell how close they was to land. In the woodland, everthin' looked, tasted, and smelled like a forest with no distinction between one thing and another.

He pressed on. What other choice did he have? Lay down on the ground and wait to be ate by animals or bugs? Didn't sound like a good time. At least this way he might find Ivy and, if he did, she'd get him the hell outta here.

He'd given up callin' out her name a while back thinkin' it more likely to attract them things he didn't want to have comin' for him than gainin' her attention. She were a creature used to the woods and this place they called the Green. When she wanted to find him, she'd do so. In the meantime, he just had to stay alive.

With great care where he placed his feet, Horace walked beside the translucent veil. While he found himself navigatin' the tangle o' forest on this side, it looked like grass on the other; not that he trusted his eyes 'cause the nature o' the shimmerin' curtain kinda turned everythin' to smudges. He wondered if he'd ever find himself on the other side again. But wonderin' wouldn't get him anywhere, nor keep him from becomin' some beast's meal.

The ol' sailor shuddered and directed his attention back to his forested bit o' the veil, searchin' between trees for signs o' his friend's sister, watchin' for a creature comin' to eat him. Weren't long before he caught a glimpse o' movement between trunks ahead.

Horace stopped dead in his tracks, his breath turnin' shallow. For a bunch o' beats from his speedin' heart, he saw nothin' else. The biggest chunk o' him surged with hope at the possibility o' findin' Ivy again, but he weren't takin' no chances until he knew for sure what his peepers was showin' him.

A patch o' dark fur flashed between a couple more trees and Horace's rapid breath got itself caught in his throat and stopped up completely. Coldness touched his skin and prickled the hair along his arms. The thought o' turnin' tail and gettin' the hell out occurred to him but he realized thrashin' through the brush, the thing'd discover him quicker. Best to stay put and hope it didn't sniff him out.

A wide, thick bush adorned with jade leaves and ruby berries blocked the creature from his view again. He glanced side to side, prayin' for a glimpse o' Ivy comin' to his rescue the way she'd done the first time they met. He found the space around him empty o' any sign o' the gray lady and his chest threatened to buckle 'round his heart. Energy rushed into his limbs, the fight-or-flight part o' him gettin' ready, but he struggled against the urge. Start backin' away made more sense.

He eased his right foot back, movin' it with slowness and care to avoid attractin' the beast's attention. It were goin' the same direction he'd been headin', so maybe, just maybe.

Horace wondered if the furry beast had the ability to climb trees, or if he himself'd be able to if it came down to it.

The animal's broad head and shoulder emerged from behind the brush, its gaze trained straight ahead without notice o' anythin' to either side. It loped out into the open. About then's when he saw the woman.

She walked beside the beast, dwarfed by its size, her skin shining extra white next to its blackness. Her hand rested on the scruff o' its neck, disappeared into the thick fur so it looked like she didn't have one.

Horace's mouth fell wide, an unintentional breath whistlin' its way into his chest.

He regretted doin' so and slapped his palm o'er his gob, waitin' for the beast to gaze toward him, to bare its teeth and snarl. It didn't. Turned out he stood far enough clear for it not to hear. Now all he had to do were to hope it couldn't scent him, either.

He shook his head, attemptin' to wipe away this impossible vision o' woman and animal. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, stared at them expectin' the two o' them to disappear like nothin' but a tricky shape in the mornin' mist. But it weren't mornin', and the forest didn't contain no mist. Fearful spit flooded into his mouth so much, he needed to suck it back in lest he drool down his chin. It became clear he were lookin' at somethin' real: a woman with her hair cut short walkin' alongside a hairy, sharp-toothed behemoth, the fingers o' her one hand graspin' the fur at the big