A Night in the Woods

     Lily's earliest memories were of being alone. The woods were her home. She nested in the treetops, perched carefully in the canopies where predators couldn't reach her but a fall meant instant death. But Lily had fantastic balance and never shifted in her sleep.

     She foraged in the daylight, collecting food, drinking and bathing in the stream. The water felt good; it didn't eat away at her thick chocolate coat. The heat was a different story. She was careful whenever the sun was high in the sky.

     It wasn't exactly a life of luxury, but she was accustomed to it. She didn't get too lonely or sad, but what Lily really wished for was to have a purpose. And while the whistling breeze and the happy songbirds kept her company, it was rare that Lily saw another living soul deep in the forest.

     Naturally, it was quite a surprise to be awoken one night by rowdy shouts below.

     Lily listened hard. There were many voices talking, laughing, whooping. She could hear children, men and women, elderly people. Why would so many people be here in the woods?

     She crept silently down her tree. The voices were coming from a clearing nearby. Curious, Lily approached the fringe of the clearing, inching closer, taking care to conceal herself behind the bushes. They were lush, green, and studded with berries. She made a mental note to scour them later, perhaps for breakfast.

     There was a huge, crackling fire roaring in the center of the clearing, surrounded by dozens of strangers. Their clothes were worn and they decorated themselves with huge pieces of gold jewelry. Enormous hoops hung from the ladies' ears and their shoulders were wrapped in tattered shawls. The men wore patched-up hats and fingerless gloves, and the children played with odd toys Lily had never seen before. Several caravans were parked nearby.

     A twig snapped. Lily whirled around, just in time to react to the huge Skeith looming over her. How had she not noticed him earlier? She had been so enraptured by the odd little camp, the faces, the clothes, and the stories... They had been telling stories.

     She scrambled backwards, immediately assuming danger, and stumbled through the brush and into the center of the camp. She had been too scared to realize that she had backed herself right into the middle of what could very quickly become a bad situation.

     But this was not the case. The strangers were quite hospitable – that was Lily's first observation. They sat her down on one of their logs surrounding the fire and thrust some roasted animal leg in her hands. Lily's belly growled at her.

     She looked up, examined the faces that were watching her intently.

     “Ah, hello,” she said.

     She usually talked and sang to the birds in the woods, but even so, her voice felt faint from disuse. She delicately cleared her throat and conjured up a winning smile. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

     That seemed to break the ice. They all loved her, all these strange folk camping in her woods. They asked her how she kept her coat so glossy, how she managed to smell so good, where she was from, what was her story, what were her talents.

     “Talents?” She rubbed her chin and took a bite of the chicken (at least that was what she called it) that she had watched the others eat merrily and judged to be safe. “I've never thought about it. I don't think I have any talents.”

     They all found her so charming. The rough-cut young men all seemed to want to impress her, the old ladies all seemed to want to dote on her. One of them gave her a stunning jeweled necklace (insisting that Lily keep it), tittering, “Of course you have talents, girl.”

     They had talents. One of the boys expertly stole the cherry off her head before she could even blink. Another juggled at least fourteen differently-shaped objects and could still carry on easy, casual conversation. One boy ate fire, swallowing a flaming ball of orange and yellow without batting an eye.

     They told her fortune, read her palm, spun the most amazing tales. There were dancers, graceful ladies whose skirts billowed in dizzying circles as they put on a brief show, accompanied by a little group of ragtag musicians sitting by the caravan.

     This was an amazing traveling show. Lily could never match the skills of these performers. They must have been born into this business, specialized in showmanship all their lives.

     “You’re incredible,” Lily told them. “All of you.”

     “Practice, practice... When you do the same thing for years, you’re bound to do it well. You'd make a fine dancer, if you trained up a bit,” one of the younger women said, tipping her head in Lily's direction.

     “Yeah, or a tightrope walker!” chirped one of the kids.

     “She could be a Werhond tamer.” This voice came from a tall, shady-looking Nimmo leaning against the caravan. A hat hung low over his eyes, but Lily could sense he was gazing right through her.

     “That’s not funny,” said a gruff voice from across the fire. “You know what happened to the last one.”

     “Yes,” finished the Nimmo. “Yes, he died.” Lily's stomach suddenly did not want any more chicken. She set the leg aside, her eyes locked on the tall man the whole time. Unease prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. The friendliness of the troop had calmed her nerves, lulled her into security. Now the threat was back. She had heard of Noil tamers—Noils were at least more docile creatures than Werhonds—but never Werhond tamers.

     Werhonds were the most vicious animals Lily had ever heard of, and she had never even seen a real one. Deep reddish-brown coats hid them in the night, and fierce glowing eyes gave them vision in the dark. Their sense of smell was unmatched, and it was said that once a Werhond was set on a trail, nothing could deter it until its victim was dead.

     “She's cut out for it, though,” the Nimmo replied with a long, slow nod. “She’s not as delicate as she lets on.”

     Lily wanted to get up and run, but fear and... curiosity?—yes, she realized, she was actually curious—rooted her to the spot.

     “She wants to try,” he wheezed, looking gleeful. Rows of unkempt teeth flashed in Lily's direction. Lily wondered if his talent was mind reading. “This girl wants to try taming Werhonds.”

     Lily had always had a way with animals, but she'd never had to deal with vicious, bloodthirsty creatures like Werhonds. But she couldn't resist the pull - what did she have to lose? Her heart was pounding as she rose to her feet and skirted the edge of the fire. Each step brought her closer to the sketchy Nimmo, to the Werhonds, to certain doom.

     As she approached, her ears picked up a low growl. There was a cage packed in the back of one of the caravans, and through the bars she could see three horrifying, vicious creatures glaring steadily outside. They looked hungry, and the Nimmo threw them the remainder of his chicken leg, which they devoured instantly.

     Then he stepped aside and nudged Lily closer to the cage, and everything changed. Their ears drooped, their jaws snapped shut. The hair on their backs still stood up, but they were cautious, not bloodthirsty.

     They were looking Lily right in the eye. They were intelligent creatures, she thought, when they weren't blinded by bloodlust. Without any prompting, she reached out her paw. She could feel the hum of nervousness, of anticipation coming from the encampment behind her.

     One of the Werhonds crept closer to her paw and sniffed it. He didn't bite a chunk out of her, just took a long whiff, looking her in the eye. Then he bowed his head, and she gave him a pat.

     The cheer that erupted from the troop when she removed her unscathed hand was incredible.

     “Look at that!” whooped the gruff man by the fire, slapping the nearest guy on the back.

     Lily felt fantastic. She realized what this meant - she had a gift none of the others had. They were scared to even go near the Werhonds, and here one of them had let her pet him! It was a gift – a real gift. Lily suddenly realized that she could be one of them. She could travel with the troop; they could become her family. She was still nervous about dealing with the ferocious creatures, of course, but what a life it would be - traveling the world with this strange, amazing group of people. She was almost too wrapped up in the moment to notice the voice behind her.

     “No need to thank me, sweetheart,” said the Nimmo with a grin, low enough to be out of earshot of the troop but loud enough for Lily to hear. “There's no way those Werhonds would ever eat you. Love flesh, they do, but they hate the taste of chocolate.”

The End