I had spent many Octobers hunting moose with my father in British Columbia, and actually considered myself an adept woodsman; but only Kat appeared adept in this bleak place.
With the stale air came a sense of the sinister, the lurking thing between trunks, and unseen predators waiting to pounce. We were not wanted on the tall grass, and we were not wanted in these dying woods.
My guts contracted at every snapping twig and the wind continued after us like an angry phantom. With solid footing on a path of soiled leaves and deadwood, our trail ran to distant portals of melting blacks and swirling greys. Surrounding trees had only inches to spare between them, and their festering trunks grew high on each side of the path until their branches collected and clasped, forming a confused roof overhead. Skylight came down in beams through cracks, but barely enough to light our way.
I followed three feet behind the warrior, who was as delicate as any ballerina with his steps. Like the best chess player in the world, Kat considered every detail, his grip unrelenting on the hilt of that katana.
'Why do the trees grow this way?' I asked, feeling a biting cold under my skin.
'When man is freezing,' he answered, 'he may embrace another for warmth.'
Shocked, my imagination began to reveal those petrified faces. I tried closing my eyes and thoughts to them, but it was useless. Desperate men and women spread like butter over the trunks of rotting trees; this wood was a drowning man's last second above water, it was a body buried alive and scratching nails at the coffin lid.
Only practicalities would take my mind from imagination, so I searched for a suitable stick to construct a spear; unfortunately, decay ate the strength from everything here. The only object that appeared half-useful was the samurai warrior himself, and the two silver swords in his belt.
'You have two swords,' I said. 'Can I borrow one? You know, in case?' I extended my hand, expecting Kat’s shorter sword, the wakizashi, to be placed there. Instead, the samurai turned to me with a mortified expression over his scarred face, as if I had just asked a parent to loan me one of their kids because they happened to have one extra. I did not fully understand it, but those weapons were part of my defender's soul; man and steel in co- existence. No, Kat would not be giving up a sword. He simply scratched another itch from his stubble, then uttered, 'I am your weapon.'
I laughed. Never have I heard something so ridiculous said so earnestly. My companion clearly was reviling in our situation; one of the most dangerous warriors in Earth’s history was back in his element. A supreme confidence in his own ability impressed me, and I was keen to see the man in action, preferably from a distance and with a bag of popcorn. I was also eager to discover why Kat had waited so patiently in the white limbo above. What wish did he request from God? What would a killer born with no possible chance of entering Heaven ever demand at its gates?
We two trudged a further hour without incident. The last of the sun perished through the branches, and with frost starting to bite and no hotels in sight, a terrible thought now dawned on me: Kat and I would be spending the night here. When our narrow path came to an eventual bend, we discovered two heavily packed horses with reins conveniently knotted to the nearest branch.
'For us?' I asked, surprised.
'For us.'
The sight of horses, these friendly living animals, pleased me. Perhaps this place was not as distinct as they say. It also came as a relief to find our helpless transportation untouched and unworried in such a menacing location.
Kat heaved a heavy-looking bag from one horse’s back and threw it in my arms. 'Water and suitable clothing,” he said. “You will need both.'
I untied the bag on a bed of leaves and parted the folds to reveal a generous flask inside, also a collection of thick animal skins — practical rather than stylish — and a pair of worn boots. I opened the flask and took a sip from the lid. It was water, clear and plain water. I drank and it quenched my thirst, but the muck lining my throat gave the liquid a bitter aftertaste. Next, I grabbed the hairy skins from the bag and held them up to scrutiny. It was a weighty woolly coat, a not-so magical fleece. 'I’m to be caught dead in this?' I joked. 'How can they know my size?'
'They know everything…'
***
I wore the fleece over my old shirt and laced up the boots. I connected the flask to a length of strong vine and carried it over my shoulder. Now, looking something nearer the part, we set off side by side on horses through the colorless scenery, which I much preferred to follow the leader.
The advancing darkness did not appear to concern Kat, so I presumed he knew what he was doing. Although the samurai showed no interest in me, I certainly was interested in him. I heard snippets of his legend before we set off, but nothing on the man himself. I decided then to work it out of him a piece at a time. I was used to that. I would assemble clues and build a profile, passing the hours and easing curiosity. If the samurai were not up to talking, he would have to listen. 'I've heard a lot about the samurai,' I said, my head bobbling along with the horse. 'I once read a comic book about one warrior protecting a village from bandits. He fought forty single-handed, even deflected bullets with his sword. It was really…cool.' I squirmed at the sound of my own idiocy; meanwhile, Kat held his strict face forward. 'Why do they call you Kat? Is that your real name or…not?'
No response, zero. This business of day to day, getting to know you small talk was going to be harder than I thought. 'I once knew a woman called Stephanie Dogface,' I rambled. 'Swear to God. She didn't have an actual dog for a face, but she was pretty ug-'
Kat tugged on his reins and shushed me suddenly. His index finger pressed over his lips and his nostrils sniffed great whiffs of suspicion. Did Kat not care for my talking, or did the man of experience smell, see, or hear something I could not?
The horses were far from disturbed, sedately snorting and kicking up leaves with their shoes. After too long of this, I decided Kat was being overly cautious, and prepared to break our silence when something toe-curling did it for me, a distant, indiscriminate screech. 'I hear it, Kat…'
He shushed me once more as the moan increased. Inhuman, it was approaching overhead, beyond our shelter of clung together branches. We strained our eyes through the cracks for a glimpse, when all of a sudden, the scream exploded down on us, rattling the tangled roof to bombard our faces with debris. Immediately, my horse reared, and I snatched at the reins to stay in the saddle. With a jerk, Kat also remained upright; his horse was circling a spot and he was kicking his heels in its hind to calm it.
My ears were ringing as the chaos subsided. However, the peace was temporary, and when that ferocious sound and wind struck again, we both clung to our deranged animals and struggled for control. This thing was a bird, a large bird, and Kat, ever alert, already had his katana drawn. 'Up there!' he roared. “Through those—”
Our embracing roof shield unclasped in one single, snapping motion. Previously dead trees sprang into life, the branches like flailing arms in fire, causing a frenzied downpour of earth and leaves and wood. The stark purple skylight was disorientating, so it was Kat who first caught sight of the bird monster, spooking trees, animals, and men.
Growing in the dusk sky was the condor. Its wings cast an astonishing shadow of night some thirty feet across; brown plumage covered its chest and creased tart skin folded over its neck and head. The predator, spotting us, opened its gaping beak and screeched.
I covered my ears, cleared my eyes, peered upward, and saw the bird’s opening talons closing in on my head. Seconds before my skull was caught in those claws, Kat booted me off my horse. The condor missed its man but sunk its nails deep into my horse. The poor animal let out a chilling cry when it was snagged and carried skyward.
I scurried on all fours like a beast now, wind, kick, and fall knocking me senseless. Kat, meanwhile, dismounted his horse and set his legs like roots in front of me. 'Get low!' he moaned. 'Lower!'
I flattened my face fully into the muck and lay like the dead. I could hear Kat’s bullish snarl as the condor abandoned my expired horse over far-off treetops.
'What does it want?” I yelled, terrified. “What does it want with us?!'
'Flesh!' Kat exclaimed, twirling his swords. “Keep your mouth shut!”
The bird tipped its wings to one side, directing its beak toward space and then soared for it. In a feathery blur of speed, it climbed until a silhouette against advancing twilight.
'Is it gone?' I asked, my heart pumping painfully against my ribs. 'Tell me it's gone!'
Groaning, Kat gave me a thump in the head with the hilt of his katana.
