We rode silently through the Black Swamp, passing where we’d left the others and carried on. Glooscap didn’t look back once. That was new. Was it because he felt there were no threats? Or because he was mad at Chana? After all I’d seen, I settled for the latter.
I tried to make sense of everything that had happened, but the only thing that kept swirling in my mind was Carol and Brodan, neither of whom we’d had the chance to mourn yet. When those thoughts finally rested, the two men I’d killed surfaced like apparitions rising up from the grave of my mind. I’d read about battles in which people had been killed, or watched them on TV, since I could remember. But never did I expect to be acquainted with death so intimately, to be responsible for it with my own two hands, to be haunted by the images of those I’d killed. And I still didn’t believe what Chana had said. I was so sure that those Wendo hunters would’ve killed me, if they had the chance. I would’ve been left on the ground headless, all the choicest cuts stripped away like I was a side of beef, animals gorging on my innards, flies laying their eggs in what was left, scavengers dragging my remains throughout the forest, or maybe worse, if there was such a thing. There was a storm of emotion inside of me. No matter how much I tried to justify it––the killing of those two men––my conscience just wouldn’t let it go. I wasn’t sure if it ever would, if with the passing of time the guilt I felt weighing on me, getting heavier by the moment, would ever subside. It hadn’t with those banks I’d robbed, those people Uncle Hanker and I had traumatized. I wondered how Glooscap felt about the lives he’d taken. Who knew? Maybe he did it on a regular: killing people out of a need for survival. Maybe it was simply a part of life on World of Dawn. Like Colby said, “Life is cheap in some neighborhoods.” And what about the others? How did they feel––stunned, confused, sad, angry? Maybe they were as awash with ugly emotions as me.
When I opened my eyes, my mare had stopped beside Glooscap’s stallion. I’d dozed off. For how long? I couldn’t say. In front of us stood a wall of tangled vegetation––twenty, maybe twenty-five feet high––like a giant hedge that had grown up from the swamp. I looked one way, then the other. From what I could tell, there were no breaks. It was solid all the way along. And here’s that statement which I promised you would hear more of: I’d never seen anything like it before, not in National Geographic, not on Discovery Channel, nothing like it whatsoever. Maroona’s eyes were closed, asleep behind Glooscap. Motionless and silent behind me, Chana’s head was resting against the back of my shoulder. I figured she was asleep too. No one had spoken since we left the scene.
Tooney ran up and down the base of the wall, as though he was on the scent of another animal. Glooscap’s stallion turned to me, nickered, and stomped its front hooves.
“We have arrived,” said Glooscap.
“Where are the others?” I said.
“Inside.”
“Inside where?”
“Inside there,” said Glooscap, tossing his chin. “Behind the wall.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than an eerie, strange noise cracked to life, resounding all around us. Suddenly coming to life, the wall creaked and groaned. The intertwined vegetation shuddered and convulsed. Our mounts neighed, retreating a few steps. Directly in front of us, shoots writhed like worms and withdrew from the top down, faster and faster by the moment. The horses neighed nervously, backed up farther. A break appeared and continued until a ten-foot section of the wall was gone. In its place, a man stood with a rifle over his shoulder. He wore a gray slouch hat that shadowed his face, only the gray whiskers were visible on his chin.
“They said there were two of you,” he said. He said it in all-American voice, with a slight southern twang that made me think of Kentucky or Indiana.
“Two. Now four,” said Glooscap.
“Ah, yes, the screams you went to investigate. Makes sense. Run into one of the swamp’s inhabitants, perhaps?” he said.
“A big snake,” I said. “A really big snake.”
He nodded knowingly and took a few steps forward to scan the swamp behind us, like he wanted to ensure that we hadn’t brought any unwanted visitors along. “They hunt mostly at twilight, sometimes at dawn, lying in wait just below the surface. Dangerous if you’re near the swamp’s edge. Not so much if you know what to look for.”
“We heard a baby crying in the reeds.” said Chana sleepily.
“Or if you know what to listen for,” he said, tapping his ear. “A strategy it employs––inquisitive parties make easy targets.” He reached up to Glooscap and they shook forearms. “It’s good to see you, my friend. And you too, girls.”
“And you as well,” said Glooscap.
“You must be Tanner Kurtz,” said the man, shaking my hand. “My name is Ambrose. You two look more tired than the others. The burden of responsibility tends to do that to a person, but then adversity is often as needful––”
“As a dose of medicine,” I said, finishing the saying.
He smiled at me, nodding approvingly. “Come in, we don’t want to keep your companions waiting.”
And with his invitation, we passed through the opening into his property, leaving behind the unknowns and dangers of the swamp. The shuddering started again and the vegetation wall began to close up behind us.
“We were attacked by a party of Wendo hunters,” said Glooscap, lowering Maroona to the ground.
“Yes, the others told me––sorry to hear about Brodan. He was a great man,” said Ambrose.
“They attacked again when we were fighting off the snake,” said Glooscap, getting off his stallion. “Dejunga led them.”
Ambrose cocked his head slightly, and said, “Dejunga? I thought he was killed last time the Sawnay fought the Wendo?”
“So did I,” said Glooscap.
“Sick, sick man. Strange, Wendo never travel this far north. But then many changes are happening.”
Glooscap nodded and sighed wearily as if he was all too familiar with those changes.
“There will be plenty of time to discuss all of this later,” said Ambrose. “I see that you still have Dolly.”
Glooscap reached around to his back and withdrew the bowie knife from its sheath. He held it up, rotating it back and forth, the steel reflecting the moony light before he sheathed it.
We headed toward the center of the property where three thatched-roof cottages were situated, a light glowing in the windows of the center one, which was also the largest. I had that same strange feeling that I’d had the day before in the thunder horses’ glen, like I’d been there before or seen it before. Voices carried across the property. A tantalizing aroma of spice wafted in the air, causing my mouth to water, stomach to grumble.
“How’d you know my full name?” I said to Ambrose.
“A little birdie told me,” he said, and winked. “Let’s put these horses out. We’ll have a late dinner.”
The creaking and groaning from the vegetation wall had stopped. I turned back. It looked like it had always been there.
“Ah, you’re captivated by my stockade. Simple once you train it. An excellent way to keep out the less friendly critters,” said Ambrose.
When I didn’t speak, he said, “There is much to this world which appears bizarre at first.”
“Appears bizarre? It is bizarre,” I said.
“Once you’ve been here for a while, it’s all quite normal,” said Ambrose patiently. He led us past a large kidney-bean-shaped pond full of lily pads that was fed by a creek. As we passed some colorful and fragrant flowers at the pond’s edge, my mare tossed her head.
“Smells nice, don’t it,” I said, giving her a pat.
Overhead, the Three Brothers shone brightly. I could see that Ambrose’s “stockade” encircled the entire property, which was about the size of a soccer field. At the far end, some animals milled about, others were bedded down. There were five or six goats, a palomino horse, four thunder horses, and a gaggle of geese.
“Twice the horse of even the best on Earth,” said Ambrose, patting my mare’s front quarter. “Especially when frightened,” he added with a wink.
“She’s been a good partner,” I said, and scratched her ears.
“Similar to the painted horses of North America.”
“Yeah, only bigger with a whole lot more horsepower. Well, that and they fly.”
We both chuckled softly.
“How do you know horses?” he said.
“Spent a lot of time with them, I guess.”
We stopped near the largest cottage, Colby and Anna’s voices could be heard clearly through the window. Glooscap’s stallion began to whinny loudly. One of the horses at the far end of the property responded, erupting in kind. The big stallion took a few trots forward, but then stopped to look back at my mare. She nuzzled my hand, as if she didn’t want to leave me. “Go on now,” I said. “Go ahead. Go with him.”
She and the stallion trotted off side by side toward the others. All the animals seemed calm and comfortable, right at home, confirming my belief that we were in a safe place, a sanctuary. “It’s like they’ve been here before,” I said.
“Astute assessment,” said Ambrose. “They’ve been here many times.”
We dropped our bundles beside the others at the entrance. Ambrose opened the wooden door and stepped aside to reveal the glowing warmth of the cottage, the glowing warmth of our companions’ faces.