Chapter 22
Poisoning Young Minds
Five years ago...
July 15th, 2115
Nugget approached the clearing and observed the ground, took everything the earth told him into his mind and assembled it into a complete picture. Nugget could see the prey carry the sleeping pack wolf into the clearing and tie the pack wolf to the chair. Nugget could see one of the prey walk back and forth between the restrained pack wolf and the table with the medicine several times, several times this action caused the restrained pack wolf's leg t spasm and kick up dirt. Nugget could see the other prey walking around to the hidden speakers each in turn. Nugget could see one of the prey sitting down in the tree chair. Nugget could see the tracks of the wolfhound that had been waiting in the clearing, patiently, the whole time.
Nugget could see the entry of the other pack wolf into the clearing and could see that pack wolf injuring himself on the caltrop. Nugget could see his increasingly erratic movements and his trips and falls and general loss of balance. Nugget could the dead bodies of both pack wolves lying where they should lie- at the end of their trails.
For Nugget everything was a trail leading to the end of a trail.
Nugget saw words on the body of the pack wolf. Nugget hated words. Words were a trail who's marking didn't go anywhere. But Nugget could track words if he had to. So Nugget read.
Nugget was not surprised that the caltrops were poisoned. The trails had told Nugget that much already. Nugget was surprised that the words claimed the ammunition shed was sabotaged. Nugget understood stealth. Prey and predator alike needed to move quietly and leave few tracks. Why would prey leave obvious tracks. The prey was not acting like prey. Predators leave false trails or use diversions to send prey where the predators wishes the prey to go. Prey do not do this. Nugget was worried, the things at the end of this trail were not prey- not his prey in any event. Many predators are themselves prey for predators higher up the food chain.
Nugget felt a shudder beneath his ribcage, and he scanned the clearing again. Nugget realized that his mind had shifted. Nugget had become prey in that instant and didn't know how to reverse it.
Nugget broke radio silence, "Droogs, Appypolly loggy. I screwed up. This is bad bad baddiwad. We ain't millicents or rozzguys no more. We're prey. They be hunting us. I pony everything the ground tell me. I pony what it all means. They're the hunters, we're the prey. They're going toskeeve us and we won't ever see it."
The radio was silent for a moment. And then the unmistakable voice of Ogre crackled in Nugget's ear, "Nugget, your orders have changed. Find them and kill them. Widow will arrive at your position shortly. The two of you will kill them. They day you cease to be hunter, the day you allow yourself to become prey, is the day your 'droogs' have no use for you. So kill them- or kill yourself."
Nugget was quiet, "I pony. Nugget out."
* * *
Helen was actually working when the explosion ripped through the encampment. She had been helping carry loads of cement up to the latest earth works project. Helen had been thinking about how this so-called 're-education camp' was actually a frontier fortress under construction.
But that was then, no Helen was crouched behind a half finished wall waiting to see if another blast would shake the camp.
The silence stretched on, and Helen stood up.
Most of the other members of the Wallace clan were still behind some sort of cover. There was a single guard trying to get the clan back to work, but the other guards had charged off in the direction of the explosion.
They still rush about like panicked chickens, Helen thought to herself. Winter Wolves were tough and not afraid of violence, but they seemed to like to charge right at the point of violence. And these attackers knew this and were using it to their advantage.
Helen realized that she had become lost in thought, when the guard grabbed her by the hair and yanked her almost off her feet.
"You do no ignore me! When I tell you to get you skinny ass over here, you do it!"
"Just because you're scared of them, doesn't mean we're scared of you!" Helen said, and immediately realized that it was a mistake. Simpson wasn't the only cruel guard in the camp.
"What did you say to me? You skinny little tribal whore! I will split you open from bottom to top if you aren't careful."
"Really brave of you to threaten a thirteen year old who's never been trained. I bet you mount my skull in you mess hall to commemorate my kill. I'm probably the most dangerous thing you've ever faced in person."
The guard hit her with a gauntlet, backhanding Helen to the ground. Helen was tangled in a mass of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, Helen was terrified. On the other hand, Helen was furious.
Helen kicked out at the guard's shin, which she discovered was armored as she bruised her moccasin bound foot. The guard kicked back and connected with Helen's shin. Helen screamed in pain. Her shin bone held, but the pain was excruciating.
"You dumb bitch! First you ignore me, then you insult me, and now you try to fight me. You tribals really are stupid aren't you?"
The guard stomped down hard on Helen's hip. Helen managed to spit out an insult despite the pain.
"If we're so stupid then why are so afraid of the tribals dancing around the camp killing your buddies?"
The guard kicked Helen in the face and she spat out a bloody tooth, noting somewhere in the back of her mind that none of her clan members were coming to her rescue.
"Those aren't your tribals though are they whore? And if they're so damn impressive, why don't we ever see them?"
A straight razor snaked across the guard's neck and then retracted, leaving a trail of red blossoming on the guard's throat. The guard clutched at his throat gasping.
And then Helen heard a voice from behind the guard.
"You don't see us coming, because we're better than you. You don't see us leaving, because you're dead. Simple enough mongrel?"
The guard keeled over, revealing the most gorgeous man Helen had ever seen. He was dressed in burgundy-brown leather armor and knee high moccasins. His face was deeply tanned and might have been chiseled from marble with high cheekbones and a jawline that belonged to an ancient god rather than a mortal. His hair was wild and thick and luxurious. He cleaned the bone handled straight razor was a confident hand and snapped it closed before reaching out a strong hand to Helen.
"My name is Pike, and very few people fight to the last breath like that. I can teach you how to fight effectively. I can help you free your people."
"Really?" Helen could barely breath. This handsome, and a knight, and he would teach her- Helen was certain now that she was unconscious. The guard had clearly knocked her unconscious and she was dreaming. The man, Pike, smiled a roguish smile.
"Come with me, if you want to be free."
Helen to the hand and let the man, Pike, pull her up as easily picking a flower. Helen was afraid that she was blushing. If this was a dream, so be it, she would dream.
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