Chapter 3
The smell of roasting deer meat filled Amberose’s den. The den itself was an interesting place. It was set in a cliff face; the only way up was by rope-ladder, which at that moment was rolled up in a corner. Amberose was locked in for the night. In her mind, she was just doing the natural thing.
The cave area was fairly large, and Amberose had obviously enlarged it by chipping away at the cliff. It went into the rock and dirt wall about twenty feet. The front was covered by a makeshift stone wall with a door woven from pine boughs.
There were pine needles scattered across the floor to get rid of the damp earth smell and provide some cushion. She liked to call it a carpet, but didn’t know where that word came from.
The smoke from the fire escaped through a shaft that slanted out of the cave naturally, and it was part of the reason she had chosen this place for her den. The other reasons were its secure location and closeness to a nearby stream for fresh water.
In her lofty den, Amberose felt as close to safe as was possible for a Wild One. After living for so long in the Wild, she had developed a healthy case of paranoia, as did all Wild Ones.
Amberose bent over the fire to add more fuel. She had to keep it going all night to ward away the night creatures. Even though she was high out of reach, some could climb and she did not want to risk being unprepared in case they decided tonight was the night to make a meal of her.
One night when she had been new to the Wild, Amberose had seen a night creature. It looked like the shadows had been condensed into a slinking form with a pair of glowing orange eyes that never blinked. It had stalked her the entire night, and she had only kept it at bay by using her fire.
Ever since then, fire had been her only friend and companion. Well, mostly. There were the other Wild Ones. She traded with them sometimes, careful to show no weakness because one misstep could lead to a knife in the throat, or more likely, the back.
The Wild Society was a band of cutthroats, each member a single unit able to break away and live alone for long periods of time. No Wild One ever sought out company. They only gathered when they had to for survival.
“The moon is bright tonight,” she said as though speaking to the fire. “The night creatures will hide from her face.”
Amberose looked out at the night sky with its twinkling stars and the round face of the moon. Her fire crackled and she smelled the tender meat as it sizzled deliciously. It would soon be ready enough to eat. She was starving after hunting all day. The young buck would sustain her for a few days until she was able to hunt again.
Most of the day creatures were peaceful like the young buck, but some, like the cougar, were hunters as well. She had to be careful everywhere at any time of the day. Her wits were what kept her alive for this long.
The fire crackled with life, and Amberose snuggled down in a bear fur to watch the night and listen to its music. It was chilly even in the summer at night, and her breath condensed into a miniature fog right in front of her face.
She sighed in contentment. She was happy with her life and with living alone. She frowned as she thought about the other Wild Ones. They were vicious most of the time, and not fit company for her.
Amberose was like the lone wolf that sometimes followed her around hoping for some scraps from her latest kill. It was for him that she left the deer entrails in the meadow. He was not a bother, and never seemed inclined to harm her, so she tolerated his presence when she was out in the wilderness.
It was comforting at times to talk to him. Some of the Wild Children had almost forgotten how to speak they had become so inundated into the Wild. She did not wish to be like those Lost Souls. They killed for more than just survival.
She scowled at the thought of their wasting precious meat just for the sport of the hunt. Meat was prized, it gave life in the winter when the world was icy and the wind cut like a knife.
Thinking about the winter reminded Amberose that she needed to kill another bear or cougar soon. She needed the hides and the fur to keep warm, and the ones from last season were getting worn. A raccoon had chewed a hole in the one she was using right then and paid with its own grey and black, ringed hide.
She heard the spectral howl of her wolf-friend from a low hill nearby, and decided the time for sleep had come. Tonight the wolf was keeping guard, and tomorrow would come as it always did with the shining light of the sun beckoning her to the hunt.
“I will hunt tomorrow, my friend,” she said addressing the distant figure of the lone wolf. “May the sun guide me to bounty.”
Lying down with the banked fire to one side and the entrance on the other, Amberose fell into a sleep where her dreams haunted her with visions of her past, and with things she did not quite understand.
Chapter 4
The wind chimes tinkled softly in the gentle breeze outside her home. Home. That is what that place was called. The house was small, but comfortable for the young girl and her father.
Her father was a hunter. He taught her how to track animals and kill for food. Not for sport. They lived very happily in that small house nestled in the midst of a grove of conifer trees, the soft needles like a carpet of down on the earth, muffling footsteps.
The girl was about eight when the tragedy happened. She was home, making cookies for her father, because he loved the way she made chocolate chip faces in them. All she was waiting for was to hear him come walking up the path, with his kill on his shoulder, and she was looking forward to seeing his bearded face light up in a grin at the sight of her covered in flour with a tray of his cookies.
He never came. It grew dark. Still she waited. She didn’t worry. He always came home; he was just late today for some reason.
“I bet he got a moose, and it’s just too heavy to go fast,” she thought to herself. This thought pleased her, because it meant he was okay.
The girl lit all the lanterns and a fire in the mantle, so when he came back he would see the house all bright like a miniature star. The sight would cheer him.
“I hope he gets back soon,” she said aloud. Her tiny voice was beginning to show the worry she refused to entertain in her mind. “The cookies are getting cold.”
Hours passed with no sign of her father, and she fell asleep on the hearth thinking that he would be home any second with meat in tow.
He always came home.
Amberose jerked awake. Her fire had gone out and she’d flung the bear fur off of herself in her sleep. She had this awful feeling of loss down deep in her gut. It was uncomfortable, so she got up to stretch away the feeling of sleep in her muscles and bones.
She sensed that the sun was not too far behind her in waking, so she decided to ready her gear for the day. Today she was going after bigger game, another predator, and for that she needed to be prepared.
She was used to killing and fighting for her life, but looking for a fight was not in her nature. Amberose was very careful to not bite off more than she could chew. That is why she had developed her special weapon styles.
Hunting smaller game, like rabbits and deer was easy, almost too easy for Amberose. All she needed sometimes was her knife or long bow. Yesterday, the knife had worked like a charm. She was wicked fast from her lifestyle, so hunting like that made her feel as if she were a wolf--a legitimate part of the Wild.
It didn’t feel so much like cheating as using the bow did. But when she hunted the bigger predators, she put aside nobility and used her large weapons. When she had come to the Wild, she had brought with her all the weapons she would need.
A bow, a large hunting knife, a strong spear, some nooses for traps, and the rarest of all—a gun. That one, the gun, she disliked using. It was noisy and disturbed the flow of nature. It was unnatural to hunt with it, so she saved it for times when she knew using her favorite weapons would not get the job done safely.
She walked to the place where she kept it hidden and slid it out of its casing. Out of respect, Amberose kept it well-oiled and clean, ready for use. She was loath to touch it. And just as loath to let another Wild One see it. If they knew she had it, they would kill her to acquire it, and she would die trying to protect it from them.
Guns were hard to come by in the Wild. Only the most dangerous of Wild Ones had them, and that was mostly because of the guns that they were dangerous.
She picked the gun up with a sigh and hefted it carefully in her hands. It was not as heavy for her as it used to be…back in the time before. She was suddenly overcome with hatred for the gun and she almost threw it on the ground, but held on at the last second.
It would do her no good to despise a weapon when she needed it for her own survival.
“I’d much rather it had never existed,” she said bitterly as she sat it back down gently and went to look for its ammunition.
Because she used the gun sparingly, her collection of ammunition was still relatively high. She did not anticipate running out of bullets any time soon. The cases of ammo were some she had carried with her in her exodus to the Wild.
She found the boxes behind a pile of wood with an “Aha!” and filled a leather bag with the golden, oblong-shaped pieces of metal. She did not fully understand the chemistry behind how the gun worked, but she knew that without those metal casings jingling in the bag she had tied to her waist, it was just a club of metal and wood.
After fixing a breakfast of deer flesh and tubers she had found a few days ago, when she had startled a wild pig digging them up, she dressed herself in her outfit of tough, brown leather. It protected her as well as anything from scratches and bumps while in the woods.
The boots were made of moose hide, sewn with tough boar skin on the soles to protect her feet. Her pants were softer, and made of doeskin reinforced in the knees and rear with patches of more boar skin. Her shirt was one that came from before. It was worn and soft with dirt stains that she had tried and failed to remove.
It was a light green color, faded from all the years in the sun, and she was afraid for the day when it finally fell apart. On top of that she wore a leather vest of doeskin, with detachable sleeves laced on the outside of her arms. These protected her in close-up fights as well as kept her warmer in the colder months.
She finished dressing just as the sun was peeking its face over the horizon and the pink light lit the trees on fire. The sight was magnificent and for a moment, Amberose forgot everything that was troubling her and only focused on the beauty of nature.
The sun rose quickly dispelling the awe, and she gathered what she needed for the hunting trip. She was going far from the den today, and needed to have enough gear to stay the night if it came to that. She also had to secure her den from intruders, and as she descended from the cliff face and landed on the earth below, she gave the rope ladder a practice flick, and it came undone from its hook on the edge. It fell down to land beside her and she gathered it together to carry with her on her trip.
Her den was effectively shut off to any curious or thieving passerby unless they were extraordinary climbers or had ropes of their own. If that were the case, then she would just have to deal with the consequences.
With one last look, Amberose headed off to the forest to find her predator-prey. Hopefully, before it found her.
In her wake, a shadow in the day followed leisurely, not following too closely as to be noticed. Amberose walked to her destination unknowing of the tail in her wake, and the pale yellow eyes glinted softly in the early morning, dewy air.
Also, if they never seek company, how did the society get started? Finally, again, you gotta watch your connotation. "Society" makes me think of top hats, cigars, and chandeliers - what you've got sounds more like a... pack, really]
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