Through the Wildwood by M. R. Mathias Page A

watchers had been in close enough to examine their party during the day. Vanx not only saw them a few times, but he smelled the musk of the wolves the strange Kobalts rode.
    None of it made any sense, he decided, as he made his way down from the treetop. He found no reason to turn back. Gallarael’s life might be dependent on them getting to Dyntalla swiftly. All they could do was be alert and ready to defend.
    “I saw what might be a stream bed a few miles ahead of us,” Vanx told Trevin and Darbon before he leapt the last few feet to the ground. “We could fill our skins and wash off the dust then find a place to stop for the night.”
    “Stop?” Darbon asked with confusion and fear showing plainly in his expression.
    “If they wanted to take us, Darby, they could do so anytime they like.” Trevin gave a dry chuckle. “Why they haven’t yet is a mystery to me. We are at their mercy.”
    Vanx nodded his agreement. “We need rest. The animals need rest. Maybe they are going to let us pass. Like Trevin said, they could take us if they wanted to. There’s no sense stumbling around in darkness.”
    “Maybe we’re not a threat to them?” Trevin showed his agreement with Vanx. He gave Darbon a pat on the shoulder and went to help Matty get Gallarael back in the saddle.
    The cut in the trees Vanx had seen was indeed a waterway. A stretch of sun-bleached grey rock with a fairly shallow, yet briskly flowing stream ran through the forest like a giant snake. They filled their skins and ate some dry meat. With Matty’s help, Trevin gave Gallarael’s body a good cleansing, and then they dressed her in some of the hauler’s loose-fitting garments. Matty washed the filth out of Gallarael’s other clothes, thus making the decision for all of them that a fire would be lit when they stopped for the night.
    When they were finally mounted and moving again, the sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains. It was then that the strangest thing happened.
    As they started through the stream, a trio of wolf-riding Kobalts appeared directly across from them. One of them was a bit larger than the other two. This one wore a bandolier-like sash of some reddish-brown-colored animal pelt across his upper body. He eased his wolf out of the tree line into the open and paused there. The Kobalt’s small, furred ears twitched and he sniffed cautiously at the companions. The low growl of the haulkatten rumbled behind Vanx and he silently hoped that the big cats would stay in line. He was sure that any wrong move could provoke an attack that would end all of their lives. His horse sensed his unease, and he felt it stomp and shudder beneath him.
    The Kobalt wearing the sash pointed downstream and gave a harsh, barking grunt.
    “There are more of them behind us, Vanx,” Trevin called from the rear. “A lot more of them.”
    “I think they want us to go downstream,” Vanx called back. “What do you want us to do?”
    “It’s your decision,” Trevin half laughed. “But what choice do we have?”
    “Aye,” Vanx agreed and turned his horse in the direction the Kobalt was pointing. “Nice and slow, follow me. Keep those cats calm. Talk to them. Relax your bows, but keep them at hand,” Vanx instructed.
    As they made their way down the streambed they saw that they were surrounded. Vanx felt like a sheep being herded to sheer.
    After just a short bit of travel they came to what might have been a campsite not long ago. The Kobalts had seemingly dispersed. Vanx wondered if the Kobalts wanted them to camp there.
    There was an open pack that had been rummaged through lying under a tree, and the blackened remains of a day’s-old fire in a ring of rocks that had been taken from the stream bed. The area had been trampled, as if a handful of men with horses had tromped around the site for a night, if not longer.
    Vanx’s keen Zythian nose picked up a sickening scent. Its source was at least a mile away, as best as he could tell. Remembering