Chapter Twenty-Six: The Sleeping Forest
by thelittletree
Elira had decided in Costa Del Sol, specifically on the beach in the evenings, that though it was nice to have primarily uninterrupted warm weather, the humid climate wasn't for her. This decision was based especially on the great presence of mosquitoes in the resort town. It had been such a relief to finally leave them behind.
That was why she thought it singularly unfortunate that the Sleeping Forest seemed to be swarming with the nasty little bloodsuckers.
"Dammit, leave me alone!" she muttered to herself as she slapped another one off of her arm. Even through her jacket and sweater they were pricking her, and the itching was fast becoming intolerable. Despite her best efforts, her hands were already covered with irritated red bites and she could feel a few of the swollen bumps on her face. If only she'd thought to buy some bug-repellent! A mosquito endeavored to land on her ear and, finally too frustrated to go on, she stopped in her tracks and began to wave her arms furiously around herself in a vain attempt to scare the pests away.
Vincent had gained a few feet on her while she'd been dealing with the inconvenient insects, and now he stopped to glance back at her, looking unperturbed.
Elira glanced up and glared at him, realizing for the first time that she had yet to hear him smack one from his skin. "Why aren't they bothering you?" she demanded, irrationally upset by the fact. "What are you doing differently?"
He didn't answer, but began to slip the tent and his packs off of his shoulders. Once they were on the ground, he pulled out of his coat and then beckoned her with a nod of his head. She wondered what he was doing as she approached, but as he arranged the coat in front of him she thought she understood. With a sigh of relief, she yanked at the straps of her own packs and let him drape his coat over her.
"Thank you," she told him. On her, the hem nearly brushed her heels and the black sleeves engulfed her hands; like a girl dressing in her father's clothing, she thought to herself with a wry smile. Quickly, she turned to gather up her things and struggled to put them back on over the bulk of the coat.
Vincent gave her a hand with her gear and then, like an afterthought, he moved to sweep her hair free of the collar. She turned to smile up at him and suddenly became aware of the scent of him on his coat, mixed with the smells of dust and rain. Her body tingled a little and she tried to keep her thoughts from bringing a blush to her face.
"It may simply be the smell of your skin." Vincent stepped away to pick up the gear he'd taken off.
Elira thought about this for a moment. "My skin?" she asked. "Would that attract them?"
He glanced at her as he bent to retrieve the tent and she thought she saw something flit over his expression, but it was gone before she could identify it. "Your skin is..." He paused, and then turned his face away from her in a gesture that seemed to radiate embarrassment. "The smell of your blood," he continued eventually, "through your skin may attract them."
Elira watched Vincent put on his own gear and couldn't help thinking to herself, 'What a pair we make. We've both been stewing so long in our own juices we're practically ready to burst!' When Vincent started walking again, however, she simply went to catch up with him. There was, she admitted to herself glumly, very little they could do about it.
The barrier of his coat made a difference -- it was too thick for the mosquitoes to get through -- and the approach of evening was cooling the air enough to make wearing the extra layer bearable. So by the time night began to fall she felt she was actually starting to enjoy the hike. Though shadows grew longer, it was hard to be afraid with Vincent beside her, even when he sometimes seemed to disappear into patches of darkness.
Eventually, however, as it became dimmer without moon or stars visible through the canopy of leaves, she began to stumble on things she couldn't see. Once, she nearly tripped headlong over a clump of elevated roots, and she only didn't hit the ground because Vincent managed to grab her by the arm and haul her back to her feet. When he suggested stopping for the night, though, she shook her head. Sleeping on the tug boat had given her some extra energy and she thought she could probably go for another hour as long as he was willing to keep an eye on her. He seemed ready to debate it, but finally he agreed and they continued.
It was probably fifteen minutes before her sneakers caught on something else and sent her tumbling forward. Expecting to feel Vincent's firm grip on her elbow, she was surprised when she landed heavily in the grass with a grunt. "Ouch," she murmured to herself, rubbing her hip where the small dagger had likely left a bruise. "Vincent, I thought you were going to catch me."
Vincent didn't reply and she rolled onto her side to look up at him.
But, for all she could see, someone might as well have put a bag over her head. Feeling a stirring of panic in her gut, she pushed herself to her feet and glanced around. "Vincent, where are you?"
Still no reply, and her stomach started to clench with fear. "Vincent!" She couldn't believe he was doing this on purpose. "Answer me! I can't see anything! Where are you?"
'Ellllllira...'
It was like a whisper hissed in her ear and she gasped and spun around, feeling her heart beating in her ears. But there was only more blackness behind her. Her chest felt tight with her short, heavy breaths. "Vincent!" Her voice sounded shrill in her own ears. "Vincent, where are you?" She thought she felt something ghost over her hand. With a startled exclamation, she jumped and was running before she even realized it.
When she impacted with something, she imagined it to be a tree for a split-second, but then it gave way in front of her with an 'oof!' She tried to keep her balance, but despite her efforts she was pitching forward into Vincent's hastily prepared arms a moment before he fell to the ground with a grunt.
"Elira!" He sounded both winded and relieved.
She was practically lying on top of him, sprawled ungraciously between his bent knees, but she felt unable to do much more than grip the material of his shirt in her cold fingers and breathe. When he began to try to sit up after a few seconds, however, she attempted to accommodate him. Soon they were sitting together on the ground, so close she could briefly feel his breath on her temple.
"Elira, where were you?" His voice was terse with worry as he got to his feet and she could feel his hands trying to pull her up. The unyielding metal of his prosthetic was hard against her right arm and she suddenly recognized how few times he'd actually touched her with it.
"I was just there," she told him, glancing once over her shoulder, and now in the darkness she could make out the slightly reddish glow from his eyes. "I tripped, and then I called out for you. Didn't you hear me?"
He didn't answer right away, and when he did his voice was wary. "No, I didn't." She noticed that, although she was now steady on her own feet, his hands were still holding her by the arms. "I think we should set up your tent."
Elira was trembling a little in his partial embrace as she nodded. When he stepped away to get the tent ready, he sensed her movement before he felt her body come up against him as if she was afraid to let him get very far. The brush of one of her thighs on his own was enough to draw a quiet hiss out of him and he quickly took another step from her. "Elira, I'm right here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
"I know, I know," she muttered quietly, and he could see her in the dark rubbing her fingers together. "Sorry."
It only took him a few minutes to get her tent ready, and then he pushed the blankets gently into her hands. "Go to sleep, Elira. I'll be right here."
Something in her face made him worried for a moment that she was going to try to draw close to him again, perhaps for comfort, and he was somewhat relieved when she seemed to change her mind. With his help, she ducked into the tent and he could hear her rustling around as she prepared to sleep. Almost without conscious effort, his right hand drew the Peacemaker from its holster.
'Yesss, by all meansss, prepare your weapon. Not that it will sssave her...'
Chaos! He grimaced and turned to the tent. "Elira?"
"Yes?" he heard her muffled reply.
"I put the darts in my coat pocket. Could you hand me two of them?"
He heard her rustling around again. "Are you all right?"
He considered telling her that the demon had returned, but he thought it would probably only worry her, perhaps enough to keep her from sleeping. "It's just a precaution."
"Okay." She was then poking her head and one arm out of the tent flaps. "Where are you? You can take these from me."
He pulled the tranquilizers from her hand and she disappeared again into the tent. In a few seconds, all rustling from inside stopped. With nothing else to do, and feeling alert and restless, he began to pace around the area. On the way here, Elira had told him about her lunch companion and the possibility that the Cetra's power was fading from the planet. But he was starting to think this forest had a little magic left in it.
Magic, he thought with a tremor, Chaos seemed to be able to use to its advantage.
When Elira woke early the next morning, it was to the sound of something growling. Still half-asleep at first, she imagined it was an exposed motor in Mr. Dayle's autobody shop and she tried to remember for a moment if he'd asked her to come in to work today. As she opened her eyes, however, the sight of the pale dawn filtering through the walls of the tent reminded her of where she was.
But the growling continued, not a part of any dream. Though it didn't sound like Chaos. A wild animal? Everything in her tensed as she pictured Vincent being attacked by something out of the forest. Quickly, she threw the blankets off and crawled to the mouth of the tent. Once she was there, she debated for a moment whether or not to simply open the flap, but it became academic as Vincent spoke suddenly.
"Stay in there, Elira." His voice was soft and the words came out rapidly.
"What's going on?" she whispered back. "Are you okay?"
He didn't answer. The growling continued for another few seconds before it cut off abruptly, and then she could hear the sound of something trotting away on nimble paws the way a dog might after it's been called off by its master. A long silence followed, and Elira waited in it uneasily until Vincent spoke again. "All right, it's safe to come out now."
The first thing she saw as she opened the tent was the back of his leg, and she followed it up his rigid frame, noting the gun in his hand. "Was that an animal?" She reached blindly behind her for her sneakers.
"A black wolf," Vincent replied without glancing away from where he was staring into the distance. "We're probably in the territory of its pack. It's likely it wanted to see if we were a threat." But something in his voice, and the way he kept a hold of his weapon, made her wonder if he was convinced that was the reason.
It wasn't long before they were on their way again. From what she could see of the dawn beneath the trees, Elira couldn't imagine it was much past five-thirty or six in the morning -- she almost asked Vincent to check his watch, but she remembered in time that it wouldn't help them here; finding out the hour in Neo-Midgar would have very little impact on them now. She ate a little breakfast, and then helped Vincent to gather their things.
The first hour of walking saw the ground begin to slope uphill. It wasn't what anyone would have called steep, but it was enough for Elira to feel it in the muscles of her calves. To keep her mind from the discomfort, she spent her time looking at her surroundings. But, despite her almost unconscious watchfulness for more wolves, she saw no traces of any animals larger than birds or the occasional squirrel.
It was coming to what she guessed was about noon when she noticed that the trees were beginning to thin out around them as they entered a shallow, grass-covered vale. To their right and left, the ground curved upward into cliffs that became steadily steeper with every hundred or so yards. It looked as if something very large had swiped a portion of land away to create a valley. With the sun shining down on her, no longer hidden behind a sweltering cover of leaves, Elira felt her mood begin to lift. This really was a pleasant place in the day time, she found herself thinking. Perhaps this would be a good time to stop and eat. She turned to suggest the idea to Vincent.
And fearfully caught her breath as she noticed the shape of a large black wolf trailing them along the western ridge. "Vincent..."
"Shh. I know. I've been watching them."
Them? She felt a prickle of fear over the back of her neck. "How many are there?"
"Eight that I've seen. There's also a group of them on our right."
She gave an unwilling glance up to the other bank of land, and it was almost worse when she didn't see anything. "Are you sure?"
Vincent didn't answer her question. "They may just be waiting for us to pass through. There may be no need to fear. But..." He turned his head a fraction to look at her out of the corner of one eye. "If they do attack, I want you to run and find a tree to climb. Stay there until it's safe to come down."
Elira felt her heart climb into her throat. "What will you do?"
He moved to watch the way ahead again, though she thought he was probably also watching the wolf. "I'll try and kill the leader. The others should flee after that."
The idea of a pack of wolves rushing down on him, snarling with their teeth bared in the expectation of flesh, made her stomach turn sour with dread. "What if..." She swallowed uncomfortably. "What if you don't kill him in time?"
He pursed his lips, looking determined as he stared forward. "Elira, I've survived a number of seemingly-fatal injuries. I doubt this would be any different."
His voice was quiet and calm, but the words didn't reassure her. "How can you be sure? What if..."
The rest of her question was cut off suddenly; as if there had been some signal, the black wolf on the edge gave a loud yip and leapt down the incline, followed by a number of its pack. Others were also coming down from the right. Elira couldn't help a gasp of fright as they approached at an alarming speed and she edged instinctively closer to Vincent.
"Run!" He pulled out his gun and began to back up against her as if to push her into action. When she didn't move right away, he snapped his head around to glare at her out of one brilliant red eye. "*Run!*" he shouted harshly.
The tone of his voice startled her and she trembled, staring at him for a moment. She was afraid to stay where she was, but she felt equally afraid to leave him to the wolves, and the inner conflict rooted her to the ground for a couple of seconds too long. When she finally did go to run, a wolf loped up with an insolent kind of ease to cut her off. Before it could get very close to her, however, the ground in front of it exploded with a bullet. It bounded away with a growl, but was quickly replaced by others patient enough to wait for their meal.
Vincent was there at her elbow and Elira half expected him to berate her for hesitating, but he seemed too intent on the threat to worry about that now. The wolves had taken up a kind of pattern around them, almost a circle, and they were pacing slowly. When another one tried to lope forward, Vincent spent a second bullet firing at the ground to frighten it back again. Elira wondered uncomfortably how many bullets his gun chambered. If he killed one that wasn't the leader, would they all attack? And how many would he be able to shoot down before he was overwhelmed?
And then what would happen? Though he might survive an attack, she certainly was only mortal...
Elira could feel the tension of the standstill as the wolves sized up the threat Vincent presented them, and she knew it was stretching quickly to its limit. Agitated and wary they seemed, watching him with eyes that looked too aware, too intelligent for animals. It frightened her to see the almost tangible malice in those dark gazes. And then a sweep of movement, a brush of black against her peripheral vision, made her gasp and her body tensed for flight.
But it was Vincent who had moved, and not any of the wolves.
With a speed that surprised her, he darted toward the unbroken circle and then, just as the beasts began to snarl and lope forward, he crouched and pushed himself into an expertly timed flip that carried him safely over them. A couple of teeth-filled maws snapped beneath him, and Elira expected that if he'd been wearing his coat they might have been able to grab it and pull him down. But as it was, they were left gnawing on air and Vincent was up and over the incline before they could leap up after him.
And leap up after him they did, suddenly interested in the moving prey. Quite abruptly, Elira found herself being left out of the action. She hadn't taken to her heels from the danger, so Vincent was taking the danger from her. And this time, she didn't waste the opportunity he'd bought her. A tree about twenty feet away, one of the only trees in the vale, caught her attention and she ran for it as if running for the security of a parent's embrace.
She realized too late that she probably should have waited another few seconds before moving. Sensing her activity, two of the wolves still in the valley with her broke off pursuit of Vincent to track this new prey. She could hear them behind her as she ran, panting lightly and padding swiftly across the grass on agile paws. The trunk of the tree was getting closer and closer with every step and she stretched out her arms for a low branch as she approached. And then, with a burst of clumsy energy, she pushed and pulled herself up out of harm's reach.
The wolves arrived at the base of the trunk only seconds after her, and one of them stood up on hind legs against the tree, growling menacingly. Elira stared down at it from among the leaves, trembling and whimpering quietly as she caught her breath. The adrenaline of the last few minutes was draining out of her, leaving her feeling cold and sick. She wondered miserably what the odds were that they would get out of this unscathed.
The sound of a gunshot made her glance up through the leaves, and it was purely by chance that Vincent appeared on the ridge where she could see him. Without the bulk of his coat at this distance, he looked blade thin and his movements were almost gracefully whip-like as he followed her example, jumping for the lowest branch of a tree and easily swinging himself up to safety. The wolves were only seconds behind him, and they gathered rapidly around the trunk like ants converging on a piece of food, growling and pacing and trying in vain to reach him.
'Great, now we're both stuck in trees.' The thought brought a wave of despair, but she realized a moment later that Vincent was far from stuck. She couldn't see him for the leaves, but she could hear it as he started to fire off shots at the creatures.
And then she recognized that she wasn't exactly helpless either. She had the tranquilizer gun, and all of the darts were with her either in the pockets of his coat or in her pack. Of course, this wasn't what they'd bought the darts for, but they had enough to spare a couple. Determinedly, she sat up on the branch and, after making sure she had her balance, she began to reach behind her for the gun.
'I feel your frussstration, Vincsssent. Why not admit that you need the help and let me kill thessse creaturesss?'
Vincent ignored the demon, trying to concentrate on what he could be doing wrong. His aim was steady and he'd never had a problem shooting moving targets before. How could he miss *every time*, especially at this range? The wolves moved so fast, the bullets almost seemed to pass through them as if they were shadows. As he stopped to reload, he glanced quickly into the vale to make sure that Elira was still relatively well in her own tree. It looked like she'd moved -- she was no longer holding on to the branch like she was about to be plucked off -- and that worried him a little. Silently, he willed her to stay put until he could come and get her.
The brave streak in her sometimes reminded him of another young woman he'd known before; one who had once come through this forest alone on her way to the city and who had died for her show of courage under the whistling sword of a madman. Sometimes too much bravery without the temperance of fear could be dangerous...
A wolf jumped up suddenly to place its paws on the trunk, growling as if Vincent had done something to anger it. Swiftly, he leveled the barrel of the Peacemaker and fired. But, instead of dropping dead with a bullet hole between its eyes, the wolf merely hopped away as the ground under it erupted with the shot. Vincent stared in disbelief. What had just happened? He couldn't have missed that time.
'They cannot be harmed by bulletsss, you fool,' Chaos hissed at him. 'Ssstop trying. It'sss time for you to acknowledge that you need me!'
Vincent had been wondering why the demon wasn't simply pushing its way out as it had so many times before, but now it came clear. It wasn't enough for him to be overpowered -- he had to admit that he needed the darkness, the fighting edge Chaos brought to him. He had to admit that he was wrong, the first step toward turning around and heading back to his old life.
But he wasn't about to do that. "I don't need you," he muttered out loud.
'Ssso you sssay, but ssshe may need *you* in a very few momentsss. If you ussse my help, if you will go back to Neo-Midgar, I will let you have her. I promissse...'
'But demons always lie...' Vincent glanced back into the vale and concentrated on seeing Elira through the leaves. Eventually, he was able to make her out as she struggled with her pack. Was she trying to get the tranquilizer gun? Something about the mechanics of her movements made him uneasy, and he realized after a second that she was making no provision for the yanking she was doing. Once the gun came free in her hands, unless she was quick enough, she would be overbalanced and would likely fall. Everything in his chest seemed to tense up. How could he stop her? Would he have the time to reach the tree before she fell? Perhaps a warning would be enough for now. Drawing in a lungful of air, he shouted out, "Elira!"
His voice carried over the distance between them and he saw her glance his way. As she did so, however, the gun finally came loose in her hands.
And Vincent watched in unequaled horror as the worst of his fears came true. She started to slip inexorably to one side and there was a knowing shock on her face as she slid too far for her to stop herself. He heard the numbing smack of her hand against the bark as she tried in vain to grip anything to stop the descent, and then she was falling.
"No!"
He couldn't remember afterward how he managed to get back into the valley. He guessed later that he'd jumped from the tree. And then he was stumbling forward on legs sore with impact, running toward the two black wolves who had converged on her as soon as she'd hit the ground. Somewhere inside, he knew he was probably too late, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was getting there.
'Imagine, Vincsssent...'
The wolves were snarling and he heard Elira scream.
'Imagine all of that beautiful ssskin being ripped away ssso they can feed on her organsss...'
It was a moment he would never forget. Ten feet from her, the image in his mind was enough. The pain and the choking despair of failing her, the suffocating regret of letting her come, the horrible realization that he was about to lose the only thing in the world that mattered and that nothing he ever did would make up for it.
And Chaos fed eagerly. But compared with the agony in his mind, the physical torment of transformation was of no consequence.