The Kingdom

Chapter 9

Don was a nervous wreck. He had spent a whole night alone in the forest, alone and encased darkness. Jack had all the supplies, so Don was left to his imagination. Which wasn't so great. He slept in a tall tree and had woken up at the slightest sound, usually an oversized raccoon sizing up whether or not it could eat him. Cringing as he scuttled down from the tree Don, stared around him at the green,friendly looking forest. He knew it was anything but. Wandering towards the sound of a river, Don thought of his options. He could either spend weeks, or even months, searching the forest surrounding the kingdom for his lost companion, time that could be spent freeing his sisters. He could forage ahead alone and in need of weapons to the jail, where he would most likely be shot down on sight. Or he could forget about both Jack and his sisters, and just become a hermit, living on his own in the wild.

Don was astonished and a little ashamed to that the last option had a sort of sick appeal. Shaking his head, he scratched at his blond head and stumbled to the water of the river, his throat dry and sore. He unceremoniously dunked his head into the freezing, dirt-flavored water. He pulled his head out when he had his fill. His stomach felt slightly swollen and his teeth were cold.

Don sat there for a dozen minutes, staring at nothing and thinking nothing. It was peaceful and quite, such a change from Malai's constant chatter or Theresa endearing, slightly annoying baby-noises.It was different than Jack's strained silence. The day was getting hottest when Don decided to continue on his unknown journey. His plan was to just wander the woods, searching for Jack.

That plan only lasted for twenty minutes. As Don was climbing carefully over moss-bitten rocks, he felt an uncomfortable tugging in his left leg and then an unbearable pain. Long, shiny silver metal spikes were digging into his leg, almost drawing blood. There was a spring attached to the end of the spikes. It was a trap, probably for wild game. His eyes were misty with pain as he clawed at the device,his ankle screaming with renewed vigor. It was bent at an odd angle, broken.

Hissing, clawing, spitting, eyes wild, Don ripped at the nasty thing, shrieks bubbling in his throat. His teeth clenched when he saw his blood, his own blood, streaming from the places the fangs had dug into. After ten minutes, Don stopped his face turned away from the stomach-turning sight. He lay on the ground, sweat sticking his hair to his head. He was a sitting duck.

Jack was having an off day. He couldn't find anymore rabbits (the meat in his pack was nearly gone,) the giant dog-jackal wouldn't stop trying to trip him, and he couldn't find Don. Munching on mint leaves to ease his hunger, Jack almost walked straight into an almost silent pond. Stuffing the rest of the leaf into his mouth, he squatted into the damp, squishy mud and leaned as far over as he could without falling, a gasp leaving his mouth. The half-chewed herb fell from his mouth and disturbed the swimming nymphs. Jack thought they were beautiful, in a childish sort of way. They had long, lightly colored hair, almost down to their feet. Large, vague eyes that stared through him, a fragile body-frame. If they were standing, they would only reach his knees. Jack bet that he could probably snap one of their necks in a matter of seconds.

Standing slowly, not wanting to upset them further, Jack reversed,his hand clutching firmly at the scruff of Jackal-dog's neck. He dragged the unwilling dog-thing away, a faint smile stretching his lips. If anyone was to walk by at that moment, they would think Jack had a Mona-lisa smile.

As they walked along a beaten path, Jack stared at the dog, a look of consideration on his face. "What should I name you?" The jackal's ears flicked, his nose twitched, his tail pricked.

"What do you think of Twitch?" There was no obvious change in the creature's demeanor, but Jack had an inkling he didn't care for the name.

"Fife?" At this the dog flashed his teeth.

"Horace?" The dog pricked his ears.

"Ok, Horace it is."

It was almost an hour later when Horace nudged his head against Jack's leg, his hackles raised in alarm. He stood stiffly, his ears flattened to his head, before he shot forward, sprinting towards something that Jack could not see, or smell, or hear. Racing after the wild animal, his long legs pumping, Jack tried to catch up, but as fast as he was, Horace was faster.

Jack ran for several minutes, dodging trees and bushes. He almost went flying onto his face after tripping over an unseen log. His shoulder smashed against a tree, almost knocking his head against it. After that, Jack decided to just walk.

Jack heard them before he saw them. Horace was sitting next to Don on a stretch of rocks. His leg was propped out in front of him, his foot twisted in a strange angle. Stepping closer, Jack couldn't tell what his eyes were seeing. It didn't want to register in his mind.There were large spikes digging into the meat of Don's legs. They were so sharp, Jack thought of them as teeth. Blood was slolwly oozing out of Don's leg, dripping onto the mossy rocks. There wa salready a large puddle forming.

Jogging over to his trapped traveling companion, Jack took his puny hunting knife out of his back pocket. "Don, are you okay?" Jack knew it was a ridiculous question, Don knew it was a ridiculous question, even Horace knew it was a ridiculous question, but there really wasn't much else to say in a situation like this.

Don gave a strained nod, his face pale and drenched in sweat. He was breathing hard and Jack thought he looked like he was going to pass out. Crouching next to his friend, Jack examined the trap Don had fallen into. It reminded him of a regular bear trap his dad had set when they had gone hunting on occasion. There was sensitive plate in the middle, which if stepped on, would trigger it and it would close with a harsh snap! The only real difference was the spikes were enlarged and sharpened. It was a spider hiding, waiting for it's prey.

Scratching at his dirty, sweat-soaked scalp, Jack stood up and started searching the forest floor for a large, thick tree branch. Don whined miserably, thinking his only friend would leave him. Jack was stil linsight when he stooped over and grabbed a sturdy branch from the ground and jogged back to Don. He tensed as he grabbed the ends of the spikes on both sides of the metal jaw protruding from Don's leg before pulling at the metal with all of his diminished strength. He wheezed and struggled with it for what seemed like forever, and Don had a fearfully vivid thought of having his leg bitten off by the sharp metal teeth.

Scrambling for the branch, holding the trap open with his own broad shoulder, Jack shoved the branch into the spikes and hurriedly removed both Don and himself. The trap closed on the branch with aloud crunch. It splintered in two. Blood was slowly trickling from the large puncture marks in Don's leg and he was howling in agony. He clawed at the dirt, his eyes screwed tightly shut. Jack stared at the angry looking wound, dumbfounded and unsure of what to do. He looked down at his ripped shirt and shook his head. It was a rag to beginwith. He tore a piece of the fabric from his shoulder and looked back down at Don. He needed to clean the wound before he could wrap it. Scooping Don into his arms as gently as he could, he carried him hurriedly deeper into the forest, away from the kingdom. He carried him away from his waiting sisters.