Bloodfang

The Map

Feral

Feral sat perched on the limb of a ponderosa pine, high above the boy, watching him. It had been three days since their encounter. Three days since he had learned he could hold a conversation with the kid. Three days of observing him, learning him, protecting him. The silly child was risking his safety and disobeying rules by venturing into the woods again in hopes of another chance encounter with Feral. Feral was not ready to meet again but that did not mean he would leave the kid to his own devices. Who knew what kind of trouble the boy would get into if, Feral did not watch over him.

The morning after their encounter Feral had followed his instincts and had ventured back to the spot where he and the boy had talked. He had lifted himself with little thought or effort high onto a thick branch and waited. Possibly forty-five minutes passed but the boy did not come. Feral remained patient. He knew he boy would come. When another thirty minutes passed Feral had to acknowledge he had been wrong. The boy was not coming.

Angry with himself and the foolish disappointment he had felt, Feral had sprang off the branch with wings extended and headed back to his lair. On impulse he had whisked himself in a more northerly direction and had taken a less direct route. It was one that took him closer to the boys dwelling.

As he had flown a movement below suddenly caught his attention. As stealthy as he could Feral had flown lower, ducking through a clutter of branches that had suddenly opened up into a small clearing of a sorts. There was no grassy field just enough space for a young boy and an opening from above to let in enough sunlight for the boy to draw by. And that was what he had been doing.

Ricky had been sitting there with his back propped up against the bark of a tree, his knees bent, and his sketch pad laying against his thighs as he worked. As silent as he had been able to, Feral had settled himself on a low lying branch thick enough to take his weight and thick enough not to shake as he landed. An unexpected sensation of relief had coursed through him. As much as he had not wanted to admit it he was glad that he had been right about the boy.

It had suddenly dawned on Feral that the boy had most likely had no idea how to get back to the same place. He recalled the boys request for help getting home. He was obviously not good with directions and had wandered through the forest and simply picked a spot to plant himself and wait. Feral's relief turned to frustration. The boy needed to be more careful.

Now, three days later, Feral was still learning, still observing, and still protecting. He had learned the boy was getting better at directions because he had somehow made it back to this same spot three days in a row. He had observed that the human was almost as patient as he was when it came to waiting. And Feral had, unbeknownst to the boy, protected him every day until he was safely out of the woods.

Since that first morning, Feral made a point of arriving before the human woke. He sat in the tree outside his window and sat vigil until the boy stirred and got out of his bed. Seeing the boy walk out of his room, supremely oblivious to the golden eyes watching him from outside the window, Feral made his way to the outskirts of the yard and waited patiently. He listened for and suddenly heard the sound of an engine starting and the crunching sound of tires as they traveled down the graveled driveway, rumbling its deep mechanical growl further and further away from the house.

The return to woodsy silence, Feral knew, would signal the imminent arrival of the boy on the front porch steps. And like clock-work there he was dressed in jeans, t-shirt, and hiking boots with his army bag flung over his shoulder.

The boy's arrival outside spurred Feral on. Feral made his way to the same branch he had perched on over the last few days. He waited for the arrival of the boy. Within a short span of time, Feral could hear the boy making his way through the woods to this semi-isolated clearing. Feral noted that as usual, the youth's stride was hesitant and careful so unlike most humans he had observed who rushed everywhere they went.