5. Tricktrees

Wilderness was a well-chosen name. In such places it was even forbidden to build or use “new” inventions, such as buildings or weapons. It looked like a painting of nature just after it was created. Not exactly the same, but something close.

Himnib kept up the pace. Despite enjoying nature, he still wanted to leave this dark place, because he missed his walking cane. When the sun rose tomorrow, the date would be Marta the 17th. Then he wanted to be at the Council. At the winding rivers through the stone stands and the wooden throne of the Wise Owl. Beautiful, of course, for Bunjo had built it. He couldn’t wait to tell the Wise Owl of his latest adventures and to hear which parts of the world she had explored this time.

“Stay close!” he yelled, before realizing it might not be a wise move to make noise. Any further conversation was whispered. “Protect the herd. Who leaves alone, is left alone.”

Every shadow seemed to conceal a snow leopard. Even trees—surely Himnib wasn’t scared of trees?—seemed giants who could come alive any second. And eat you, or crush you, or whatever trees in the Wilderness evolved to do.

Like everyone, he’d heard the stories about the four Giants: the only trees who had a living soul and could talk. He also knew only one of them was left these days. The others had abused their power and lost it. He wanted to stay alive long enough to at least meet Gallo the Giant and speak with him.

Anxiousness made the sheep lose their formation. The dogs proved effective shields again. They ran circles around the herd to keep everyone pressed together, even when they heard weird noises or rustling leaves.

Himnib was suspicious at first, but he hadn’t seen anything weird yet. No sheep had disappeared or been attacked. He doubted that more bandits would wait for them in here. Yet with every twig that broke without probably cause, he was slightly less sure.

Would he meet the same fate as Jorib and Hellib? Stop it, he thought. They are not dead.

“What an invention,” he said to himself. “A shepherd with dogs. This saves me so much work.”

He waved for Hirdi to come to him. “From now, I will call you Sheepdogs. After the vote at the Council, I offer you a permanent place in my herd. What do you say to that?”

“I—erm—well. If you can ensure we have food? And don’t fall unconscious the next time we’re all attacked? Then fine.”

Himnib rubbed his temples. “What do you remember about the attack? Someone bound you to the wagon, right? Surely you saw something?”

“Yes, a bunch of …” Hirdi cowered and spoke softly. “Snow leopards.”

Why would they help me? he thought, and bind the bandits?

He stopped and raised his snout. Smells were less strong here. The wind could blow freely, without homes to stop it, and moonlight also wasn’t defeated before it reached the ground. If he looked upward even more, he could even see the furthest stars for the first time in a while. Beautiful.

Why had he always avoided this? This is where his herd should be every day. Maybe then they would grow bigger and more healthy again. Reluctantly, he had to agree with Lazpard. Himnib had built a thousand homes for others, but would never want to live inside a cube like that.

The Wilderness did make it hard to find the right direction.

He studied Hirdi’s naked body. “And your fur? Also shaved by Lazpard?”

“Who is Lazpard?”

“A leopard with whom I have a bone to pick.”

“Hmm. No. Then a purple flash of light appeared, multiple of them, with buzzing and crackling, and before we knew it everyone was gone and we were … like this.”

“Ah. Then you need not fear. What you saw is normal and not fatal.”

“Huh? Do you think…” Hirdi cowered again. “That one of the gods is still alive and helped us?”

Himnib smiled. “In a way, yes.”

Before him a tree bent down, as easily as if an invisible giant had kicked it. The herd continued walking, but at half their pace. It was no tree, no, it was too thin. It was the stalk of a very tall flower, bent by the wind, yes.

His front paw tentatively touched the plant. The stalk bent back up and revealed a large ball at its end, like a flower waiting to bloom.

A ball with teeth.

What, he thought, his heartbeat times two hundred, is this?

The ball opened. The plant bent again, reaching for the frontmost sheep. Behdiël bumped them aside, which allowed the plant to grab the tip of his fluffy tail.

“No!”

When his strongest sheep dangled from a plant with teeth, Himnib found the power to jump two meters and land on top of the stalk.

It immediately snapped in two, like a table from a weak-skilled Bearchitect. Behdiël flew through the air, as the damaged plant bent upright again and snatched him.

Himnib held on. This forced the stalk all the way to the other side, and the shepherd upside-down like a sloth from a tree.

The impact released Behdiël from its teeth.

“Carnivorous plants!” Hirdi yelled. The dogs froze and looked all around them.

Plants. Plural. Woolly enemies! Close to him, another stalk bent to the ground and bit at sheep. Himnib instinctively reached for his walking cane to give a command, grasping only empty air.

“No! Leave the herd alone! Take me!”

Himnib threw all his weight into his next movement and managed to completely break this plant. Now all the other plants.

His sheep understood. Each time a plant bent down to grab them, it was vulnerable. The stalk would be weak and exposed, ready to be broken by an attack.

Some plants were successful, and Himnib lost sheep every second. But then the others immediately overwhelmed it and ate from its stalk as if it was the tastiest food they ever found. One sheep would take a minute to break a plant like that. Twenty sheep per plant, and a carnivorous monster fell down with each heartbeat.

Himnib ran past Hirdi, who was still frozen by fear. He didn’t even react when another raccoon dog was thrown into the air by flesh-eating teeth. The plant opened its mouth—gravity would do the rest.

The shepherd bumped his shoulder into the stalk, which was at least four bears tall, fuming with rage. The dog still fell to the floor—but the plant was already there, toothless.

Himnib dropped from exhaustion and couldn’t defend himself from the next plant.

“Who leaves alone,” Hirdi yelled loudly, “is left alone!”

He jumped forward and scratched the plant in every place he could reach. A few teeth snatched Himnib’s leg, but Hirdi kicked them away. Within five hits, he’d broken the stalk in two and helped Himnib back on his feet.

The sun rose. The dogs ran circles around the sheep and helped bite through plant stalks. The end of the Wilderness was in sight and most sheep had made it. If they had the eyes of an eagle, they’d already be able to see the Council of Kame from here.

Himnib walked on with a hopeful heart.

But he had no eagle eyes—and also no elephant legs.

The final carnivorous plant was smart enough to not attack directly. Its stalk swept low across the floor and kicked his legs out from underneath him. Behdiël broke his fall, but his fur bounced Himnib away with even more speed.

The entire herd ran after him as if they were one giant sheep, out of the Wilderness, to catch Himnib as he fell.

They were too slow.

Pain shot through his back upon landing. He knew, immediately. He’d seen it happen to sheep, heard the sound, almost felt what the sheep must have felt then. He was so close, on the final day of the vote, but the stands filled with Companions felt half a world away now.

His leg had fractured, hopelessly broken.