Marianne hurried back to the fire. The weakness still squeezed the muscles of the legs, but the closer the evening approached, the less the pain was. Marianne felt better and better and did not feel sleepy at all.
“Do you think, Migny,” Marianne said to his companion, “is it a good idea to hit the road at night?
Mignis sat on the branch of a tree overhanging the fire, and dozed, inhaling the smell of smoke. But then she revived.
– It is possible at night. If you walk along the coast in the same way, then it is even quieter at night. It’s harder to see us at night.
– Yes, that’s right. But we’re heading north. Here the coast goes to the northeast. We’ll have to go through the forest. Have you heard of Wolf Mountain in the north?
“I don’t remember…” Mignis answered after a minute. – Is there a big and warm house?
– Yes, of course, that’s exactly what I’m going for. Look for protection in it. – And he figured that he did not know anything about this place. Only the fact that they had to find refuge on Wolf Mountain, that there were people like him, not like ordinary people, but werewolves, inspired great hope. And that Mignis would like it there, Mariann had no doubt.
“At night, so at night,” said the mouse. – It’s up to you.
– It will soon get dark. Let’s wait a bit and go.
The wait was unbearably boring, but Marianne decided to rest his legs before the long journey.
New branches were required for the fire. The weather was good. Mignis also went with Marianne, sitting on his shoulder. She wanted to see the forest. Marianne got carried away collecting branches and went deeper from the parking lot than he expected. The fact is that he noticed a large old spruce, the branches of which hung low over the snow. Coming back, Marianne went straight ahead. He was approaching his fire from the opposite side when he saw…
– Mimarian! Squeaked Mignis. – Look!
“Traces! Fresh”.
They were located above the parking lot, were sheltered from it by high snowdrifts, which protected the fire from the wind. Marianne dropped some of the collected branches, wanted to pick them up, but then caught himself and threw them away.
Mignis left her place on her left shoulder and climbed to the top of the hood.
“There’s someone here. Traces left by man. A robber?”
A small step, probably someone crept up and watched Marianne, did not come close, kept a distance. Then this unknown person went back on his own way. Marianne moved to the track of the footprints, looking around carefully. He thought of the knife and felt for it in his pocket. Who could it be? He was sure that he had left his pursuers and now scolded himself for being naive.
The tracks were large, shapeless. Of course, this observer was in snowshoes. And where did he go now? Maybe he left this place, or maybe he hid until dark in an ambush. It’s not safe in the camp now. And there you need to return for a backpack and then run from here. Now Marianne was faced with a new choice: to return to the camp in the way in which he came here, or to follow the trail, see where they will lead him.
The first option seemed safer. If you follow other people’s tracks, there is a very high probability of coming face to face with an unknown observer. There was a third option, but it still did not seduce Marianne: go straight through the snowdrifts to the camp. Fortunately, the haze of the fire is visible. But then he will be caught between two fires. On the one hand, the enemy could enter the back, on the other hand, the same enemy could already be waiting in the camp or near it.
Marianne hastened to leave the way he had come, and, before picking up the backpack, decided to carefully study the situation around from afar. The branches he collected were left to lie in the snow and were striking. It came to Marianne’s mind too late when he made a detour around the trees and turned around for the tenth time. In vain he did not sprinkle them with snow. He did not go back to them – every minute was precious – and hoped that the branches on the opposite side were not so noticeable.
Mignis got down from Marianne’s head and sat on her shoulder. Marianne saw, when he turned around, how she stood up on her hind legs and moved her long mustache. Mignis was his eyes from behind.
– Do you see anyone? Marianne whispered, barely audible.
Mignis crawled to her ear and said:
– Nobody.
Marianne nodded. Mignis’s tail slid across her cheek, and the mouse was gone. The young man crept up to the lake and looked around his camp.
“And really nobody. Where has this man gone? Gone or is hiding somewhere nearby?”
Behind, from behind the lake, there was a prolonged howl. Wolf. A deadly cold ran over Marianne’s skin. This guttural sound burst into the peace of the forest like a thunderclap on a sunny day. It seemed that needles fell from the branches of the fir trees.
The source of this sound was nearby, somewhere behind the trees on the other side or closer.
Marianne ran to his backpack, forgetting about the fear of entering the camp. He threw it over his shoulders and rushed to the spruce. It seemed to Marianne that this was the only way out.
To his surprise, Marianne very soon found himself almost at the top of the tree. It was impossible to climb further – the branches bent dangerously, bent down and cracked. The palms were scratched, the jacket was covered with snow and small spruce needles.
Marianne looked down. Through the many branches below, the place of the fire was guessed. A faint haze rose from that place. The fire was almost extinguished. An excellent view of the lake opened up from the tree. No one around. No wolf, no man.
“Maybe the wolf will pass by?”
Marianne had no idea that he was afraid of wolves. Suffering to panic, Marianne forgot about everything. Now he found composure.
– Blink? – She is all right. Her nose was visible from a hole in her pocket. In addition, Marianne had to cover the fire with snow and hide the traces of his sleepover. Wolves can probably wait a long time under a tree if they realize where it has gone.
And then a cry came to Marianne’s ears. Quiet at first. Then a loud cry of pain. It was the voice of a man, not a wolf. And he called for help. Without hesitation, Marianne rushed downstairs. He flew from the tree, hitting thick branches and scratching against the rough bark, ran to scream. It was not far away. A man lay in the snow.
“Rogue!”
Judging by the clothes, one of them. The snow beneath him was scarlet red. The man floundered on his back and wheezed, holding on to his throat. A dog-sized animal was sitting on the robber’s fur coat. His fur shimmered with a silvery sheen as it fluttered. A giant fish with the paws of a lizard tore the robber’s chest with its paws and mouth, and he tried to throw off this creature. Marianne quickly took out a knife. Shouting: “Get out! Go away! " – rushed to the lizard fish and swung his knife. When he slashed the creature across its shiny back, it jerked, bristled, and grabbed even harder into the arms and neck of its victim. Marianne struck again and again. The creature’s body arched and fell into the snow. A bloody mouth with long, sharp teeth appeared in front of Marianne’s face. The creature screeched disgustingly, turning into a whistling whisper. Marianne stepped back, stumbled, and fell to his elbows. The lizard fish crawled away with unnatural movements, leaving a bloody line behind it. Marianne jumped to his feet, knife held out in front of him. But the creature didn’t think to attack. She crawled away and still hissed disgustingly. Marianne felt something pressing on his chest. It was Mignis who could not find a place in her breast pocket.
– Hush