The Forsaken

creature will probably be looking for its companion now.
    But I’m wrong.
    The animal is staring directly at me, its yellow eyes locked on mine.
    It sees me. Knows exactly where I am. I start inching back slowly, my belly still on the ground.
    The animal raises a hoof and takes a step in my direction. A silvery rope of saliva hangs down from its black gums. I start wriggling away from it faster, arms and legs moving frantically. The creature bares its teeth, taking another step. Then another. It swings its head in David’s direction. Now it has seen both of us.
    I finally scrabble to my feet. David does the same. In the second before we turn to flee, I catch a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye, headed our way.
    At first I think it’s the second animal. But then I see that it’s a dark figure with a painted face— exactly like the figure who attacked the blue-eyed boy. The figure blazes a trail directly toward the creature in a rapid, swirling frenzy.
    The animal hears the person coming and arches its neck, emitting that horrible screech again. At least it has lost interest in me and David. It pivots and bares its fangs, still screeching. But it’s no match for the whirlwind heading toward it at maximum velocity. I see the flash of metal blades in the figure’s hands as it descends on the animal.
    Everything happens in a blur as knives plunge into the animal’s flank. I can’t see the figure’s face now because its black robes are flying and fluttering all around it.
    The figure rides the animal downward as it plummets headfirst into the earth. A long metal blade churns its way through the animal’s throat, blood arcing outward and spattering onto the leaves.
    “Run! C’mon!” David screams at me.
    I finally turn and race blindly through the forest, branches whipping at my face and hands, lashing the skin. I trip over gnarled roots and fallen vines, but keep scrabbling forward. I hear David hobbling behind me.
    The life expectancy here might be eighteen years, but I won’t even have lasted one hour! I always thought I was smarter than a lot of the kids back home. Yet my classmates and fellow orphans are probably safe right now in the UNA, and here I am on the island, about to die.
    It takes another fifteen minutes of running before I realize that I don’t hear anything behind me. The animal’s screeches have ceased. I assume the figure killed it. I wonder if it’s possible that he didn’t see me or David, but that seems unlikely. It’s more like he just waited until one of us distracted the creature before going in for the kill. Like he was using us as bait.
    I finally stop running when I reach another clearing. I’m gasping for air like I’m surfacing from a deep sea dive. I stagger around, trembling, looking behind me. Above the canopy I can still see the upper portion of the broken stone staircase, which means I’m not lost. At least not yet. But I don’t see David anywhere.
    “David?” I call out softly, afraid to get too loud in case someone—or something—hears me. “Where are you?”
    It takes a moment, but I finally hear a faint reply. “Over here.”
    I see him emerge from the forest. I move toward him. He’s limping severely now, like he can barely put any weight on his injured foot. Unanchored Soul or not, he’s got to be safer for me to be with than those creatures or the robed figure.
    “So, it’s not safe on the ground.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath and then exhales. “When it gets dark, we’re gonna have to climb a tree and sleep in the branches. We can take turns keeping watch.”
    I feel sick. “Who do you think that guy with the knives was?”
    “No one we want to meet. Hopefully he’s preoccupied with his kill. We need to start a fire and make some torches.”
    “That’ll give our position away,” I point out.
    “I’m pretty sure he saw us already, and we need some kind of weapons. Besides, torches will keep any animals at bay.”
    “We don’t have a way to start a fire,” I tell David, looking around. I’m afraid the robed figure will reappear. But David is already scavenging in the underbrush. He brings up a pair of thick, dry branches.
    “Perfect,” he says.
    “We have to keep moving,” I remind him, but he limps over to a tree and begins peeling strips of dead bark from its trunk. “What are you doing?”
    “Making our torches.”
    David wraps the bark in loops around the end of each branch. Then he tucks one branch under