The Evil Within the Woods Read online

  “How will I know which side to choose, Da?”

  “You will know,” Sivic would say, looking at him with solemn, but smiling, eyes. “You will know.”

  “Tell me about life in the warenne, Da, before the black strips.” The young ‘un knew it was one of his da’s favorite things to tell. Indeed, it was one of his favorite things to hear. Sivic would tell tales of what seemed a more innocent time gone by, or perhaps launch into the exploits of the great rabbit hero Kebarra. The young ‘un would scoot closer to his da, letting the rhythm of the older buck’s gentle breathing lull him to sleep. In his dreams, the young ‘un would run free, like Kebarra himself, without fear of anything.

  The young ‘un had almost reached the black strip now. He trembled. He could hear the odd sounds now, louder. They at once seemed distant, but not far away, all accompanied by the sound of the “elahs slah”, or “man-speech”. The elahs were another mystery to him. The young ‘un still did not know that much about the elahs. Whenever he would ask, Sivic would skirt around the issue, and answer in riddles:

  “Who can know what the elahs are capable of?”

  “Somehow, the most intelligent – and simultaneously deceived – of all creatures.”

  But deep down within, this young nuad – a “he-rabbit” – was haunted by an inescapable sense that his day with the elahs would come. He now wondered if it would be sooner than he’d imagined. He parted the nettles and peered onto one of the ominous black strips, swallowing hard.

  Whenever he saw the black strips, he froze – afraid, yet reverent at the same time. They were smooth and flat and geometrical. Anyone could tell by looking at them they were made by the elahs.

  Straight. Everything natural was crooked, and bent.

  God doesn’t build in straight lines, someone once said. But the things made by the elahs were always straight and defined, as if in their making they somehow tried to oppose all that had been divinely created.

  The young rabbit felt the dull, oppressive heat of the black strip. He placed his forepaws at the very edge of the black strip and leaned out the tiniest bit more, craning his neck in the direction of the sounds. He couldn’t see anything, just moving shapes. Still, the sounds came. The sounds were unlike anything he had ever heard before—big sounds, powerful sounds. The elahs slah was raised to be heard above the sounds. A warm breeze came from the direction of the sounds, and he noticed something else: a pungent smell; hot and acrid, foreign and unsettling. He recoiled. After breathing it in a few moments, his stomach began to feel funny and his head ached. He blinked.

  Then the crow appeared.

  It landed upon the ivy-covered stone wall on the opposite side of the black strip. At first, the rabbit wasn’t sure if what he saw was real or some kind of hallucination induced by the noxious smell of the black strip. The crow perched beneath a towering yew tree with its red, poisonous berries and cawed loudly. In the growing dimness of the evening, it was difficult to tell just where the outline of the bird left off and the dark background of the yew tree began. One of the blood-red berries made it look as though the great bird had a single red eye. It seemed to look directly at the rabbit, mocking him. Slowly, the young ‘un sank back into the tall grasses, unsettled. He was certain the crow was real and not some phantom. The crow strutted back and forth arrogantly upon the wall. It never spoke, but went on looking at the rabbit, as though offering some ineffable and ancient challenge. Something about the bird was ominous. A feeling, like something black and living, began to smother the young rabbit, threatening to close in all around him. Without realizing it, a single word tore from his mouth: “Da!”

  Then he was off, slicing through the thick grass for home as fast as his hind legs would push him. From behind, he still heard the sounds of the elahs. But over all of it now, the sound of the crow chased him—cawing, mocking, laughing.

  CHAPTER 2

  “A Dangerous Choice”

  The young ‘un erupted into the warm, safe den of their home to find his ma lying on her side. “Da!” he cried between labored breaths.

  Jola looked up, not surprised at the young ‘un’s enthusiasm; she had seen it so many times. She waited quietly, grinding her teeth in satisfaction.

  “Ma,” he panted loudly. “Where’s Da?”

  “He’s gone to forage,” she sighed. She lowered her head again and closed her eyes. “What is it, young ‘un?”

  “D-don’t know,” he puffed. “Trouble, I think.” Without offering a more detailed explanation (something which Jola was used to), the young ‘un darted back up the run. Jola smiled and chuckled to herself.

  As the young ‘un broke into the night again, he couldn’t help but notice how wonderful the evening was. The temperature was just right, the breeze gentle, the scent of jasmine strong, with just a hint of distant rain approaching. The last holdouts of slowly-dying summer bugs buzzed lazily through the air, unaware of any tension in their world. It was the kind of evening the young ‘un could envision him and his da staying up late into the night, talking about all kinds of things.

  But to find his da was the priority.

  The breeze brought Sivic’s scent from the direction of the east black strip – the same direction from which he had just come. The young ‘un shot off like a bullet.

  He didn’t know why, but he knew he had to find his da and tell him about the elahs and the strange smells and sounds he heard; sounds he could still hear, even closer now. The pungent, acrid smell hung like a cloud upon the night. As he tore through the high grass, the young ‘un became frantic, looking everywhere for his da. A sense of not knowing if he had come in the right direction welled up within, threatening to give way to sheer panic. The grass went go on forever. He wanted to scream.

  Something huge and heavy suddenly slammed into him from the right.

  The young ‘un tumbled end-over-end and cried out loudly.

  He was up in a flash, ready to lunge or bolt, but found himself dwarfed by a looming shadow. The young ‘un bared his teeth. Slowly, the large apparition stepped forward and one of the last lingering rays of sunlight revealed the smiling face of Sivic. “Da!” the young ‘un cried, and hugged his Father’s frame.

  Sivic laughed. “You’re going to have to be more alert than that, if you’re to watch after your ma while I’m not around!”

  Ignoring his da’s attempt at play, the young ‘un looked up at him. “Da,” he panted, “there’s trouble.”

  Immediately – as though on cue – a crow cawed from overhead. The young ‘un shrank from the sound, and searched the dusky sky. It struck him that the sky seemed no darker than it had been when he first heard the elahs sounds. And yet – to him – it seemed as though hours had gone by.

  “Trouble?” His da rose up on his hind legs. “What mean ye?” The look on Sivic’s face and the tone of his voice was not anger or surprise. There was an expectant, matter-of-fact quality about it.

  With his faced still turned toward the sky, the young ‘un swallowed hard and stammered: “I’m n-n-not s-s-sure, Da. Elahs coming.” He looked at Sivic and whispered, “Elahs ichto.”

  “Yes,” Sivic sighed, and looked away in the direction of the elahs ichto – the man-sounds. “I know.” His voice was different now; stern and thoughtful. And in his eyes, there was . . . something. The breeze kicked up, alive with a kind of electricity. Sivic raised his ears and sniffed the air.

  “You’re not going to forage . . . are you, Da?” The young rabbit looked at his Father, but already knew the answer.

  “What’s that?” Sivic looked at him, but the look on the young ‘un’s face told Sivic it was pointless to put up any kind of façade. He smiled. “I see Ma’s been covering up.” Sivic grunted approvingly and lowered himself onto all fours. He looked away into the night again. “Walk with me, young ‘un,” he said simply, and started off in the direction of the east black strip.

  It was amazing the effect his da had on him. Just moments ago, the young ‘un had been panicked and fr
ightened. Now, he was calm, serene; safe again, with his da. As they hopped along, Sivic spoke in a serious, but matter-of-fact way:

  “Watershine – my old Teinche – has called an estaclah. He sent a scout to ask me to be there. He senses that something grave has come upon the chendray. Something big, that will affect all chendrith. A time predicted of old.” Sivic paused. The young rabbit knew not to interrupt, but to wait. “I must admit,” his da continued. “I have sensed it, too. Something has come,” Sivic whispered. “Something with the fall.”

  Sivic looked up, surveying what could be seen of the median strip of Route 29, as if, lurking somewhere within the shadow of trees, or amidst the heather and nettles, lay an answer. His eyes made their way to the horizon where the black strip lay. From the same direction, the elahs ichto came and the night sky was brighter, artificially illuminated by some device of the elahs. Huge shadows moved, as if in dance with the lurching sounds of the man-things. Sivic sniffed the air.

  The young ‘un followed his da’s gaze and suddenly understood. He looked up at Sivic, alarmed. “You’re crossing . . .?” The young ‘un tried to mask his concern. Whenever his da crossed the black strip, it made him uncomfortable. It was true that the black strips had become less populated in recent days. But, still, you could never tell when one of the elahs might come thundering along in one of their elahs-peilo and –

  “Blast living on this island!” Sivic cursed. He referred to the median cut of land located the two paved roads (for, that is what the ‘black strips’ were). The idea was an accurate, if not poetic, description. The young rabbit dropped his gaze and looked away to the black strips. An awkward silence hung between father and son.

  Though the young rabbit could not have guessed, Sivic was once again questioning his own wisdom at having chosen to remain at Tanglewood when Watershine and the others had left. Sivic thought – rather longingly – that if Watershine invited him to come and join the others at Firhouse warenne tonight, he would return home, tell Jola, and tomorrow they would all be off for a new life together.

  “I must go,” Sivic sighed proudly. “Come,” he smiled at the young ‘un.

  The two walked in silence a moment longer, and began to make their way up the slight slope that led to the black strip. Sivic was pleased the young ‘un did not speak, but waited quietly. The young rabbit was learning.

  The loud sounds of the elahs ichto ricocheted like cannon blasts across the fields. The two rabbits lowered their ears. For Sivic, this was merely a sensory reaction. However, judging from the wide, searching eyes of his son, Sivic could tell that the sounds completely unnerved the young nuad. Rather than pretending everything was all right, Sivic stopped. As a Father, he had learned that it was sometimes better to get the young rabbit to open up and talk about what was going on inside his head. It was healthy. It would help the young rabbit digest and process his thoughts. By discussing it, at least Sivic would have the opportunity to shape and mold the young ‘un’s thinking.

  “Have you sensed something, too?” Sivic asked, and waited.

  The young rabbit hesitated and looked toward the horizon. He shook his head. “I don’t know, Da. It’s just . . . the elahs ichto.” A loud series of clangs and bangs suddenly punctuated his words from somewhere away and above them. The young rabbit crouched to the ground. “I - I’ve never heard anything like them before,” he stammered. “And the smells!” He looked to his da.

  “Aye,” Sivic nodded. “The very things that preceded the coming of the black strips.”

  “What?!” the young ‘un blurted. “More—?!”

  “No,” Sivic shook his head. “I don’t believe so. This time the elahs are up to something else.” The older rabbit looked down at the anxious eyes of the young ‘un. The youngster found reassurance in the calm certainty of his da. “However, one can never tell,” Sivic finished. He forced a smile, and the young ‘un seemed to ease a bit.

  They stopped a short distance from the black strip itself. Sivic turned and looked squarely at the young ‘un and spoke soberly. “Keep your eyes and ears open. If you see the elahs coming, gather your ma and run. Run as fast as you can.” Another loud sound – closer this time – made Sivic look away. “They are unpredictable, these creatures.”

  “But Da!” the young rabbit protested.

  “I will return home later,” Sivic continued, seeming to take no notice of the young nuad’s apparent concern. To lead us to a new home, he wanted to add, but did not. He would leave that news for later. Instead, he looked once more at the young ‘un and leaned forward. They pressed noses. For a moment, their eyes – alive and alert in the shimmering light of the first few stars – locked together. Something passed between them; something which words could not have expressed, but something so deep and real that neither could words have denied it.

  Sivic turned to climb the last bit of the slope up to the west black strip, where he would cross over and meet Watershine and the others of the Firhouse Estaclah at the Council Oak.

  The young ‘un watched his da go. For a moment, a great sadness welled up within him. At the top of the slope, he saw his da’s rump – a wiggling mass against the evening sky – silhouetted for a moment. Then his da disappeared. The elahs ichto reached a horrible crescendo. Afraid and alone, the young ‘un bolted to the top of the slope and peered through the grass just in time to see his da disappearing through a hole in the base of the stone wall on the far side of the black strip. Without realizing it, the young ‘un released his pent-up breath.

  Everything is going to be all right, he thought, in an attempt to reassure himself.

  From somewhere down the black strip, the elahs ichto raged on, the pungent odor seemed stronger than ever. Bright lights sliced upward through the night with artificial beams. Great, mammoth shadows lumbered back and forth; dark shapes the young ‘un could not make out.

  And, from somewhere out of the mysterious grey that loomed overhead, a crow gave out another single, loud caw.

  CHAPTER 3

  “The Estaclah”

  “Something has come,” Watershine announced.

  Only bucks were present at the Estaclah – the closed council. Watershine wanted it that way. It wasn’t that he did not trust the does, or value their input (some of them, in fact, he found to be more clearheaded than the bucks!). He simply knew that this discussion had the potential to become emotional, heated even. Until they had a clear understanding of going forward, he saw no need in upsetting the does unnecessarily. As Teinche, Watershine knew the Firhouse warenne well, one of the greatest leaders they had ever known.

  “Of that I am certain,” he finished.

  He circled, looking at those gathered in the Council Oak. It had once been a grand oak, standing tall and strong for many years, at least as wide in diameter as the height of a man. It had long since fallen back to the earth, and, over time, sank about a foot into the soil. Who or what had hollowed out the inside, and when they had done so, Watershine did not know. The resulting cavity was – both in size and function – to the rabbits what a fair-sized hall would have been to you or me. Some of the scouts discovered it not long after they set up the Firhouse warenne. When they found it, it was obvious the large, hollowed-out tree had been used to host a variety of other creatures before them. After waiting some time (and after repeated inspections), Watershine and his scouts had discovered that – for now, at least – it was vacant. They eagerly went about setting it up for their own use. Located near the edge of the wood – away from the warenne itself – the old, thick, hollow oak was perfect for the estaclahs. There was only one entrance, and a single scout could be posted to make sure no one was spying or eavesdropping (with rabbits – one never knows!).

  So many of them, Watershine thought as he looked around the room—so many longing eyes, looking to him for answers. How many had been with him when they left Tanglewood? How many had helped dig the burrows and runs at Firhouse? How many helped make the raids to the Clancy Farm a mile south? Water
shine sighed and closed his eyes, feeling tired and old. He wanted to go sleep next to his doe. When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking into the eyes of an old friend, and smiled. He was glad to see Sivic had made it to the estaclah from Tanglewood. Sivic was a good friend, and a trusted ally. Watershine knew Sivic would listen intently and have valuable input. Secretly, he hoped Sivic might change his mind and decide to join them at Firhouse. Upon seeing his old friend, Watershine went on. “A danger,” he said soberly.

  “What kind of danger?” a voice asked. The voice was high and thin, close to breaking; a voice that sounded as though it would prefer to remain anonymous; a young voice, someone not used to the setting of the estaclah, where dire decisions had to be made. This was like the old days. There had not been an estaclah of this nature since the decision to leave Tanglewood.