She tried to move deeper into the river, the current thick about her. Now the thing was looking directly at her, tiny eyes burning as its breath misted through its teeth.
Now she couldn’t go. Nothing could make her come closer to that thing, not even the soft call of the river goddess. Iwa took a backwards step, almost tripping as the water swelled around her thighs. Please, she silently begged. But already the night had been too much for her.
On the far shore the air seemed to crackle as, slowly, the thing raised an arm which ended in a cloven hoof and, as it pointed to Iwa, the gown fell away to reveal the bare bleached bones of a wrist from which all flesh had been stripped clean away.
Iwa stumbled, her feet slippery across the pebbles as she tried again to throw herself into the arms of the river goddess, but her legs wouldn’t let her. A solid ball of fear rose from her stomach as, almost without thinking, she began to wade back towards the shore, her feet striking awkwardly against the stones. She had to get away: anything was better than having to face that pig-faced demon. As she reached the bank once more she stopped, almost dropping Tomaz as she stood panting on the shore. She was on the shale, her skin dripping with sweat. Before her the shoreline lay covered in a thick pall of smoke, through which the dislocated forms of men ran blindly.
An arrow skidded along the rocks at her feet. Not that it had been meant for her; a stray shot, nothing more, but it was enough to galvanise her frozen limbs into action. She ran blindly, the baby clutched in her arms, now too cold and confused even to cry.
Finally Iwa fell to the ground and lay there, too tired and disoriented to even think. She’d no idea of how far she’d come or how long she’d been running. The sounds of slaughter had faded, though there was no way to tell if the butchery had finished.
She dragged herself and Tomaz upright and sat pressed against some ancient tree. Who knew where this place was, or how friendly the Leszy who guarded it would be? Not all the spirits of leaf and briar took well to strangers. She’d come up one of the backwoods paths but had no idea which one, her eyes blinded by fear as she’d run wildly through the trees with no thought to notice any of the landmarks.
Up above, the wind feathered through the branches. How long since she’d strayed from the track? Almost without thinking she pressed her back against the tree as if for comfort. Of course there were trees in the deep forest that could swallow a man whole, let alone someone like her. Even closer to the paths, when the women were gathering berries or out hunting for roots, one of the older ones would sometimes stop and begin to cry.
‘In the bark, see it there, a face,’ she’d say. Sometimes they would recognise it, one of the old hunters who’d strayed into the forest never to be seen again, or some long-lost lover. Sometimes the face could not be recognised at all.
Somewhere there was a crack, a fallen branch, Iwa hoped. She should have moved away, but her aching limbs wouldn’t let her. Shivering she looked around and felt the night close in around her, grim shadows pressing in as her eyes begun to shut. Just a few moments, some rest, just enough to bring back the feeling into those tired limbs of hers. But that way lay death.
Carefully she reached out, her fingers tracing the lines of the bark, hard against her palm. There didn’t seem to be a face in there. But, in this light, it was hard to tell.
She closed her eyes, ears strained to catch the slightest sound, but there was nothing except the distant lap of the waters. So she hadn’t strayed far from the river – that was something, at least. Maybe she’d taken one of the paths which skirted round the reeds and thickets down to where the fish gathered in a series of tiny inlets dotted around a bend in the river.
Not that she knew this place well, but it’d be vaguely familiar come dawn and the Leszy would be used to the tread of the clan. If that was where she was. Suddenly she was gripped by fear again, her skin clammy as her clothes pressed damply against her skin.
Only now did she realise how cold she was, her teeth starting to chatter. There was no way to last out the night, not without a fire and some shelter. Here the moon was careful to tread, her light picking its way through the branches that threatened to blot her out altogether. Over to her left, Iwa could just about make out where a few heads of fungus poked about the roots.
Not that they’d catch light easily. She still kept her bag round her waist. All the clan wore them, even the children, for who knows when they would be in need of a knife or some tinder? She didn’t need to feel for it to realise that the cloth would be sodden and the scraps of dried fungus ruined.
At least her flints would have survived. Carefully she cats-pawed her way across to the fungus. Cursing the fact that her own supply was useless, she picked at an outcrop, her blade trembling as she muttered the ritual words of gathering. At least it wasn’t too wet. Maybe it would catch light, and there were plenty of leaves and twigs about.
Now that her eyes had become more used to the dark, she began to make out the landscape. She was closer to the river than she’d realised. Nor was the forest as thick as she’d imagined. She must be close to the bend and she couldn’t be that far from the camp,
