Firestorm by Mark Robson Page B

bushes, but unlike their last stop there were no trees for enemies to hide
in. The long grass of the savannah concealed many predators and game, but there were no signs of human life.
    Any predators would keep their distance from the dragons. They were safe – for now.

Chapter Nine
Fish on a Hook
    How many days had it been? Six? Seven? Nolita had lost count, but she knew that unless she got lucky, she would not survive much longer. Although she was reasonable at the
basics of woodcraft – she could build shelters and light fires – she had never been good at hunting. Now her belly ached for food and her limbs felt weak.
    Edible plantlife was not easy to find in the forest. Berries and nuts would not come into season for some time yet, and there was little else apart from fungi. But she was wary of eating any
mushrooms. A boy in the village had nearly died the previous year after mistakenly eating a poisonous variety. Her best chance of finding food was to make a kill, but so far she had enjoyed no
luck.
    She made a portable trap that she set every night, but no animal had been foolish enough to step into it. Her brother was an expert at setting traps and snares, but Nolita had never worked out
what he did to gain such consistent success. If she were to stay in one place for more than a night, then she could set more snares and build more traps, but she had been forced to keep on the
move. IT had been following her.
    At first she had thought it was her overactive imagination at work, but then the beast had spoken in her mind again and she knew for certain that it had not given up. How it was following her
was not clear. Surely it was impossible for it to see her through the thick tree canopy, yet somehow it had found her every day and plagued her mind with its soft voice and its cajoling words.
    Nolita was descending a steep slope, pondering different ways she might shake the beast from her trail. The footing was slippery and dangerous. Her head and eyes were fixed downwards on the
ground immediately ahead when a snarling noise stopped her in her tracks. There was no mistaking the sound. Legs frozen in place, she raised her head slowly and met the eyes of the wolf. It was no
more than a dozen paces away. Its body was dipped forwards on its extended front legs, and its hackles were up as it deepened its snarl into a rich, throaty growl.
    With a great effort of will, Nolita broke eye contact with it and flicked her gaze around to see if any more were lurking nearby. It appeared to be alone. Relief warmed her as she met its intent
stare again. A lone wolf was dangerous, but not as dangerous as a hunting pack. Her stomach fluttered with fear, but it was nothing compared to the terror that had consistently haunted her for the
last few days.
    Under different circumstances Nolita might have tried to run, but she knew that to do so would likely provoke an attack. A wolf’s killing tactic was normally to hamstring its victim as it
ran. Having immobilised its prey it would then go for the throat. By standing her ground, the wolf would be forced to think twice about attacking.
    Nolita slowly moved her right hand until it rested on the handle of her belt knife. The wolf’s growl deepened still further and its body weaved on the spot as it threatened to leap
forwards. She drew her blade, the bright flash of steel strengthening her feeling of control over the situation.
    ‘Leave me alone,’ she said aloud. The words had no confidence in them, but to her surprise they had the desired effect. The wolf gave one final snarl, then turned and trotted away
across the slope. ‘I suppose there must be plenty of easier game out here,’ Nolita muttered. ‘I just wish I could hunt well enough to be so choosy.’
    ‘That was bravely done, Nolita. Come to me and you’ll not have to worry about wolves or hunting. No predator will dare threaten you with me around and I’ll bring you meat to
eat whenever you want it. I’m a very