Chương 7: Separation Anxiety

Ch. 07 - Separation Anxiety The best laid plans of mice and men can still go wrong. - Robert Burns, 1785 I'd often hear my Gramps saying that. In fact, as life continued to turn its screws, as surviving on Earth became harder and harder, I'd hear it so often that it lost all meaning. It didn't take long after I arrived on this world for me to appreciate it anew. - from the writings of Steadholder Eckhart There was a brief moment when everything froze, crystallising.

The electric deer weren't just moving from one place to another; this was a full on charge, aimed with a terrible intent right at them. Wyatt's mind raced, putting everything together too late. The behaviour of the stag they had killed, where it had first ignored them and then fought with a fierce intelligence. The little fox, seemingly a mere animal, but also displaying far too much understanding to be normal. And now the herd of deer, radiating a palpable anger.

This wasn't a chance encounter, this was vengeance for what they had done. Wyatt stared at the approaching herd of deer, part of his mind absently running the numbers, calculating the odds of surviving this. They couldn't run; that was immediately apparent to him. Even if they could somehow stay ahead of the swiftly moving animals, they had nowhere to go — no safe haven or defensible spot to aim for. And they couldn't fight either. Not if they hoped to win.

The herd of deer moved as one, perhaps thirty all told, but it seemed like there were far more as each animal was easily double the weight of what you would expect to find on Earth. They weren't quite as big as the stag they'd killed had been, but Wyatt wouldn't willingly tangle with any one of them, let alone an entire herd.

"To the tree!" Wyatt called out as he darted to the nearest trunk. If he'd had time he'd have given climbing it a try, although he would have needed at least two knives or similar to aid his ascent. The massive trees were defiantly straight, with no deviation of boughs or limbs until close to where the canopy began high overhead. The bark was thick and could conceivably aid in a climbing attempt, but the going would be slow, with the electric deer reaching them far too quickly.

Added to that, Wyatt remembered the sight of the stag carving grooves and notches in the trunk of a tree with its antlers; he wouldn't be able to get higher than that in the time they had. Wyatt turned, expecting to see the others following him. They could at least try to hold off the animals with skills; dodging and striking without being surrounded. It was all he could think of. However, there was clear panic on everyone else's faces; in the time that Wyatt had thought and acted, they had remained frozen.

He belatedly realised that his passive skill, [Lesser Fortitude], had aided in keeping his wits about him. As Wyatt watched, his heart dropping in his chest, Anders lifted his spear above his head. The [Squad Leader's] eyes were wide, but his voice shook only a little as he activated his skill. Doing what he thought was the right call.

"We need to get out of their way! Hide until they pass us by! [Squad Follow My Order] run! Take cover!"

"No, don't!" Wyatt yelled, but it was too late. The skill took effect of the group, overriding their motor functions, getting them moving. They turned and sprinted at an angle away from the charging deer, moving in a tight group. Wyatt felt the tugging of Anders skill, the silent demand that he follow the directive. He refused it though, gritting his teeth with effort. Wyatt hadn't known he could do that, that he didn't have to listen.

All he knew was that the order Anders had given was the wrong call, and that the deer were attacking them, not just passing by. Refusing the command skill had consequences though. By the time he'd shaken it off, Wyatt had been left behind. Oh, he wasn't separated by much distance, perhaps two hundred feet, but racing after the others would mean risking getting caught out in the open by the deer. He almost went for it though.

Wyatt was planning a route, thinking he could sprint from tree to tree, keeping them between him and the herd … but he'd forgotten about something. As soon as he made ready to dash, the back of one of his pants legs was grabbed, anchoring Wyatt in place. The silver fox. It whined as it worried the leg of his pants, setting itself low and tugging Wyatt backwards with a strength that belied its diminutive form. It actually managed to stagger him a step before it let go, and by then it was too late to run.

The herd was almost on him. Belatedly, the rest of the squad finally realised that Wyatt wasn't with them. He saw Samantha's eyes widen, saw her glance towards the charging animals. Her mouth firmed into a grim line and she set herself for a dash back. She only got a single step though, when Royce stuck his foot out, tripping her and sending her crashing to the ground. Royce spoke calmly, but his eyes were glittering as he looked back at Wyatt. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Don't be stupid. It's too late." Samantha snarled, springing back to her feet.

"Fuck you! Anders, we can't —" To his credit, Anders did look pained as he stared back at Wyatt. Then he shook his head.

"We need to move." Still Sam wavered. It was Wyatt who got her moving again. He yelled to the squad as he looked around, trying to think of what to do to save himself.

"Go! Don't try to hide, they're coming after us! Go!" Sam met Wyatt's eyes for a long moment, then she nodded sharply at him. She turned and started running, kicking the others into moving. Then they rounded a tree and disappeared from Wyatt's view. The chance to follow after the others had gone. The herd had arrived. They thundered as they approached, weaving between the trees and each other, tossing their heads and brandishing their current-filled antlers.

For a second Wyatt thought that he had misjudged things, and that they would leave him be … but then the herd turned. The deer parted, splitting down the middle. Half went after the running squad, and the others wheeled, their hooves cutting deep ruts into the loam, heading straight for Wyatt. Bellowing all the while. Wyatt didn't try to stand his ground; that option was long gone now that he was alone.

He ran, as fast as he was able, circling the massive tree he was next to, trying to keep it between him and the vengeful herd animals. It would have been futile in any mundane forest, but here the tree trunks seem to average around seventy feet in diameter at the base. Wyatt knew he was just stalling, but it didn't matter. Every second he could buy gave him time to think. I refuse to die here! Alone in this damn forest for no reason!

He heard the animals chasing him split as they reached his tree, moving in tandem in both directions around the trunk. Cutting him off. Wyatt was about to make a break for the next nearest tree, preparing to activate [Desperate Strike] and hoping he could still use it with just the wooden staff he had, when the silver fox bounded in front of him. The shadows that had bloomed at her feet had spread, moving over the fur of its body now, gathering around its tail.

It tackled Wyatt, pushing him down onto the ground against the tree. The little fox jumped on his chest, baring its teeth in a warning to be silent. Then the shadows erupted around its entire body, snaking tendrils twining and expanding, wrapping around the two of them. The fox's tail fluffed up and coiled across Wyatt, a soft and reassuring presence. Then the silver fox lay its head on his chest, close enough that he could feel its breath on his face. It let out a low, warning whine … and then fell silent.

Wyatt's heart was hammering, and it took a supreme effort not to move. His pack was digging into his back and he was twisted at a weird angle. He watched as the deer appeared from either side of the tree, meeting together only a dozen feet from where he and the fox lay … but they didn't look in his direction. Didn't even appear to notice the two of them as they milled around, confused. The deer kicked at the ground, tossing their heads and letting out their deep bugling bellows.

Every so often two of them would clash their antlers together, igniting a plethora of sparks and current that would ripple across their bodies. The deer circled, seeming to confer without words. Searching for where Wyatt had gone, and growing more furious by the second that they couldn't spot him. Swathed in shadows, Wyatt stared at the fox on his chest with shock. This was similar to Royce's skill, but more refined. Wait, could animals even have skills? And if they weren't skills, how were they doing it? Magic?

Was there even magic in this world? It wouldn't surprise Wyatt considering everything else he had seen. And for that matter, did every animal in this forest have some kind of special ability? Was that why they'd seen barely any wildlife since they had gotten lost? Wyatt's thoughts raced, branching out down tangents as he tried to distract and calm himself as the beasts stomped furiously about mere feet from where he lay. He was acutely aware of the fact that if he was discovered there would be little he could do.

A bugling cry echoed through the forest, coming from the direction that the rest of the squad had run. The deer near Wyatt snapped their heads around, looking intently. Then, as one mass, they took off; bounding through the forest just as quickly as they had arrived, racing to join the rest of their group. Wyatt lay still for almost five minutes after they had left, his ears straining for any sound of returning pursuit.

It wasn't just his own caution either; the little fox still lay on his chest, unmoving as shadows whispered around them. Even after his [Danger Sense] fell silent, he still didn't move. Only after the surrounding forest had returned to its eerily silent norm did either of them do more than breathe. The silver fox sat up, still on Wyatt's chest, and shook itself vigorously. As its fur rippled, the shadows dissipated, curling off into wispy tendrils that blew away like smoke in a breeze.

The fox looked down into Wyatt's face, and opened its mouth in a grin. It patted him once, twice, on the chest with its paw, then lithely jumped off. Wyatt sat up, rubbing at his face.

"Uh, thanks. I don't know how much you understand me but … you really saved me." The fox sat primly on its hind quarters, its tail whipping around behind itself. It yipped, and then shook itself again. It looked inquisitively up at Wyatt.

"Can you do that again if you need to?" The little fox sneezed, then scratched itself with its hind leg. Wyatt sighed.

"I'll take that as a maybe. I hope the others are alright, but if the herd caught them …" Wyatt shivered. He couldn't imagine anyone being able to survive or fight off what he'd just seen. One stag had almost been enough to finish the entire group. Still, he couldn't just stay here by himself and wonder.

"I'm … going to have to follow the deer. See if the others are okay." The fox cocked its head, letting out a questioning whine that sounded dubious.

"I know, but I have to try. they might be —" Wyatt stopped speaking, realising that he was talking to the fox like it was a person, that it could understand what he was saying. It helped though, and it was better than being left with his thoughts. If he were to be honest with himself, he couldn't imagine finding any of the others alive. But what was the alternative? Just to continue wandering aimlessly through the forest by himself?

"I won't hold it against you if you leave, okay? If you want to run, just run." The fox looked at him for a long moment, and then just agilely jumped up to sit on top of Wyatt's pack once more. Wyatt felt a swell of gratitude to the little animal. He spoke softly.

"Thanks. Come on, at least there's an easy trail to follow." Wyatt set off, keeping his senses as alert as possible, watching the surrounding forest. His nerves frayed as he strained for any hint from his [Danger Sense]. Following the churned up earth from the stampeding deer as he headed in the direction his squad had gone.