Suany Cañarte is an aspiring Speech-Language Pathologist. Her work has been previously published in the 2010 Prism Literary Journal and in Yesteryear Fiction. She also writes and draws a webcomic named Pyraliss, found at **www.Pyraliss.com**.

Wayfinder - Home of the Lýkos (August 20, 2010. Issue 20.)

A lonely howl escaped from the tip of his long muzzle and drifted into the air. He watched as it danced up through the trees and spread out across the sky, a longing feeling pierced his heart. His large pointed ears swished back and forth following the sounds. The trees rustled, in the air the scent of fear, rivalry and tension wafted across his nostrils. The whole forest rang with his abandoned song, and as was expected, no one sang back. He waited a few moments longer before deciding to call out again. Nobody had ever responded to his cries, but he always felt the need to call the others that he knew weren’t there. His second howl resounded a little longer and for a moment he was deceived by a distant echo. The sound was not repeated and he gave up on it for that evening.

He hunched his back over, reached down and wrapped his fingers around the branch below his feet. His golden eyes narrowed and fixed themselves on the ground that was far below him. He considered for a moment what he should do. His body decided before his mind and he careened off of the branch to the ground below, snagging some branches on the way down, and landing in a thorny bush which had not been in his line of trajectory. His fur bristled as the thorns tore into his back leg and side. Panicked, he danced from side to side, not stopping to think about the best course of action. His run became more rampant as he slammed the side of his body into a tree, losing his balance and teetering into a small stream. The sudden feel of cool, running water both calmed the frustration as well as the pain and he sat for a few moments taking in the small, but significant, relief.

The moon rose high over the trees before he decided to pull himself out of the water and consider any plans for the evening. The journey to the other side of the forest had begun two days prior, but he was already feeling the fatigue of unaccustomed exercise take over his muscles. He shook off the water that he now realized was not just cold, but almost icy. His body quivered and he wondered if he should turn back to his comfortable home. There was a cave back there, a cave that had once belonged to a large brown bear. It was waiting for him so invitingly. It was windy and dark but it kept out the rain and harsh sunlight. In the winter a blanket of snow would cover the entrance and insulate the inside. It was perfect, and warm. He began to forget why he would leave a home that he fought so hard to obtain. The entire trek seemed ridiculous and unnecessary. If gone too long another bear would come and try to claim his home. Bears were large, strong, and angry. He was not quite as intimidating, but when it came to brute force, he knew bears came up a bit short. The two had fought for close to an hour before the bear finally conceded and limped off into the woods, looking for a new home in which to tend his wounds.

Remembering the fight, his muscles tensed. The bear had put up quite a struggle, but he had been the victor. The cave was his. The forest was his. If ever there were someone watching over this world, he would surely be seen as a king. He was powerful, he was feared, but in the end he was alone. He only hunted when hungry, which was rare unless he exerted his body extraneously. This led him to spend a lot of time thinking. He knew his brother creatures did not have this pleasure. They were far too concerned about being eaten or what to eat. But he did not have these worries. Nothing would dare hunt him, and food came easily. Carnivorous by nature, he frequently indulged his personally developed sweet tooth by eating fruits and berries when they were abundant. His hunger was so often under control that many animals lived by his cave without fear. Any trepidation towards him would only be equivalent to that of any other predator; therefore he posed no larger threat. Yet, they did try to stay out of his way when he strolled through the trees without a purpose. He was known to be clumsy due to his insistence on walking on his hind legs and many animals were wise to avoid the thrashing of the large, often injured beast. For the most part, though, he enjoyed strolling through the woods.

Often, after the cold season passed and the warmth began to touch the world again, he would find himself entranced by how alive the forest became. Fawns, cubs, fledglings, and a number of other baby animals filled the forest that he often claimed as his own. This was always an exciting time of year for him. The little ones were not aware that they should fear him and he would often engage in play with the small speckled deer or the frail and tiny badger cubs. But it would never be long before the parents would teach their children about the dangers of predators, and he would lose his playmates to the laws of nature. This year, the warm times did not fill him with joy, instead they emptied him. He tried to remember his youth, but he had no memory of the time. He wondered if he was different than his cousins. He seemed to be the only one of his kind. The others did not have his face, or mimic his body. He would call sometimes, as he had been doing since he was a cub. No one ever returned his calls, but still he felt the urge to call out.

It was because of this that he had decided to travel to the other side of the forest; Well, because of the new barrenness and a new scent. It had first wafted in on a hot evening, late in the warm season. A cold front had traveled over from the east and collided with the hot muggy weather of this time of year. The two struggled and disputed over dominance of the mild tempered forest grounds and in the process brought its inhabitants an earth trembling squall. He had never taken notice to the severity of storms; after acquiring the cave he would cage himself in through many storms without having to pay much heed. In the worst weather he would allow some smaller rodents to take refuge close to the entrance, so long as they did not get in his way. To him this seemed like just another destructive tempest. But the wind carried with it something new this time, something exciting. The scent burned within his nostrils, to the very back of his head. It was so fresh, so thrilling, and yet there was a faint familiarity in it. It lingered within him, torturing his mind. He breathed in and out as if it were a rapid pulse, hoping that the more breaths he took, the more he could convince his mind that it knew this smell. And there, that very day, he decided that he would follow it, that he would find the source, and that he would quell the apprehension building up inside of him.

He grew weary of sitting in the shallow pool and lifted his body out into the oncoming wind. His fur was tangled and sopped from his encounter with the stream. A foul stench filled the air around him, one that he usually took no notice of. It was a common smell of his fur when it was wet. There was a bustling riverside near his cave and he would often spend his mornings splashing around in the cool running water. It was one of the many simple pleasures that he enjoyed in his life. The smell was bothering him at this particular moment though. It was making it much more difficult to follow the other scent. He shook off as much of the water as possible before deciding that until he was dry, he would have to delay his journey a little longer. He did not want to lose track of the scent, and the stench of his fur was making it much too difficult to keep track of. He now missed the warmth and seclusion of his cavern. It shielded him from the cold and harsh winds.

He began to shiver before long. The searing cold crept deeper into his bones. The muscles that constricted, unflinching, under his protective skin and fur was so taught that he feared they would snap off. He had no love for the cold. It was not an unusual cold for this time of year, but it was colder than he liked it to be. Winters were dreadful for him, and in these conditions he would be huddled up in a corner of his cave, nibbling on some berries or watching the mice gather nuts and other foods that would last them the harsh winters. He never threatened the mice, they did not bother him. He often presented them with his leftovers and they took them graciously. The mice seemed to be the least afraid of him. They knew that such an enormous and ravenous creature would not waste his energy hunting tiny mice that would barely fill a corner of his large belly. He missed them. Their squeaks filled the cavern, along with the nervous skittering made by their miniscule feet. How annoying, it seemed, that his mind would be filled with a longing for the companionship given by vermin.

It wasn’t long before his eyelids drooped halfway over his eyes. Exhaustion was setting in and it seemed that he would never truly get back to his purpose. No, there were too many inconveniences; it was too difficult and fruitless. He would sleep now and in the morning he would return home. He curled up into a ball, draping his tail over his face and keeping in the heat made by his body. No sooner had he closed his eyes than they were open once more. The sun was just beginning to travel through the sky and the warmth left over from the hot seasons was filling the forest again, he stretched his arms out, scraping the dry earth below him. His muscles still felt stiff but he was cherishing the sun’s rays. The air wafted into his lungs and he was wrapped up in the scent again. It seemed that the wave of hot air had intensified the smell; his mind forgot all about the resolutions of the evening before. The smell was just too powerful, too inviting.

The forest seemed to take this wave with stride. The animals were so alive, a fact that shocked him. They seemed so dreadfully oblivious. The storm had left everything so disheveled, but now they were all working towards preparations for the cold season. He could tell that the wind had not quite settled, as if she were catching her breath. He had not noticed but yellow and red tinged leaves were scattered amongst the brush and only the tall proud pines were left untouched by the crimson and golden hues. He continued onward, watching a plethora of squirrels and chipmunks scurry around his feet. Most scurried past him, but some bumped into his clawed paws, looking up at him with intense fear. He grinned down but they skittered off as soon as they recovered their courage. The last of the bunch, a feeble tawny-colored creature with broad black stripes painted like lightning on its back, hissed at him. It amused the large predator as the tiny creature snarled and nipped at the thick, gray and rough padding that covered his paws. The amusement overtook him and he picked up the creature, who tried – far too late – to evade the grubby fingers and scamper off. He looked at the minute thing, and then shoved his nose into its little chest taking a big whiff. He yelped, and let out a large sneeze. The rodent took this chance to escape from his clutches. He shook his head and frowned inwardly. He hadn’t expected the little beast to smell so… ticklish. The mice by his cavern had a much more pleasant odor.

He continued past the copious amounts of scattered vermin. Their number increased as he pressed on, until the ground below was blanketed with them. His amusement soon turned to annoyance as the little wave of fur and squeaking overcame the entire atmosphere of the forest ground. He had never seen so many rats, mice and chipmunks in one place, they all just ran past him. Some were covered in a light scent of brimstone. Hunched over, nails burrowing deep into the hard earth, he continued his trek through the underbrush. For days it seemed that he was following a continuously dyeing trail. The scent was becoming second nature, becoming more ingrained in everything around him- the trees, the hedges, even the occasional stream of water. The entire forest seemed to reek with it, making it difficult to follow a straight path to its origin. The weariness that this new development had brought upon him, along with the unprecedented early onset of the cold season, slowed his progress some. He often spent hours sitting, placid, in the underbrush and watching nothing in particular as the sun set and rose again above him. He had never gone this far in the forest, and a small corner of his brain irked at the thought that he might never be able to find his home again. He often awoke convinced that he would return, but the fact that he had already come so far and a calling that he did not understand always persuaded him to press on.

An unexpected weariness, a longing for the familiar had come over his furred body. The muscles were tender, the eyes were forlorn. This was no longer a simple journey, a passage; time had taken its toll and the sun had set far too many times. His chest, young, vibrant and full of life grew tight and hollow. There was little end in sight, little beginning to look back on. There was no past, no future, simply the cold horrid present. He knew now what it felt like for the beasts, the mice and deer and other animals he often observed. Instinct, nothing else. That was all they had, they knew to eat, to sleep and to move. Keep moving. That was all they could do, and this was exactly that. A moment of instinct turned a lifetime. Instinct that seized and conquered rationality and thought processes that had taken centuries to manifest. He had abandoned his life for a horrible wanderlust devoid of comfort and routine. His bones began to feel the ache of realization, of cruel memory, and he let his body fall below him in a heap. A new scent. A new scent. A new scent.  

A jade vine curled around his fingers. The unusual behavior distracted him from the fatigue as he followed the source with his empty golden eyes. His fur prickled and he pressed his ears hard down against his head. He knew fear would be logical, that he should be afraid and ready to attack, but his body felt at ease. A thick willow tree curved up above and over him. The trunk captured shades of emerald, ruby, amethyst, like a conflagration of jewels in the sunlight, yet it had no color of its own. A face pointed down at him from the extending limbs. It was unlike any face he had ever seen, it had no muzzle or cavities for breathing, simply a set of long slender sea-foam eyes holding him with intense love and a horizontal parting, a crack, which curled up at the ends. The branches draped around the tree whipping gently in the wind. The wind. It was not the angry, disconcerted wind that had been raping the skies, but a gentle and soothing wind he had not seen since before the horrid tempest. It greeted him with playful grace as it danced around the beautiful tree and swung the branches over his face, embracing him with them. A faint whisper filled his body, a tugging. He could hear her, the tree, as she whispered to him without words or language; without sound. He curled up at her feet, the eyes still fixed on him. The jade vines curled over his body, warming his icy bones. Euphoria and release filled him as he drifted to sleep.

The dawn had rolled in a thick fog that swept over the forest embracing it with ambiguity. He gazed at the willow tree, now dark and dead of the night’s splendor. The bark had grayed; the eyes were no longer there. The wind had quelled her dancing and now stood still, swirling the fog with her fingers in random places. He pressed his hardened face against the colorless bark. Vines sat dead on the ground, the same pallid color of the patches of grass that chose to brave the colder season. There was no warmth, no vibrance, no jewels or fond embraces. All that was left was a cold dead forest, waiting patiently to be given life again. His aches had filtered out of him and he felt neither fatigued nor hungry. The specter had granted him new life, one that she denied the rest of the forest. He would have to continue now. The dragging feeling was overwhelming. He needed to follow this scent. He needed to follow. To move.

At first he had no problem navigating, having become so used to following the scent without aid, but as he traveled deeper into the fog a faint smell of cinder caught his attention. The forest would sometimes acquire this smell after a substantial thunderstorm- some tree off in the distance might catch flame when the heavens decided to part and remind the earth that the sky was an element to be feared. This wasn’t an unfamiliar smell; in fact, it seemed almost pleasant to encounter something he found so connected to his home. As he stumbled through the mist in his preferred but awkward two legged stance, the odor began to grow exponentially. He fixed his eyes on passing trees and noticed the charred trunks. There was a general absence of undergrowth in the area as well. A foul stench that had never touched his muzzle before wafted in and his ears flattened on his head. He dropped down on all fours, preparing to hurdle away if he had to.

A large moss-covered boulder was planted amongst all the blackened trees. It stretched far above his head and seemed to taper off into the mist. He hesitated at first, but the logic of being above this mist in the situation at hand won over his innate trepidation towards the large stone. He let his ears lift, pointing them forward, back and to the sides. The only sound he could make out was a gentle rumbling, the bustling of a nearby river, as the sound was far too substantial to belong to a bear or any other large woodland beast. With quiet agility, he fastened his clawed fingers into a protruding groove in the stone and heaved his body up. He reached the top, with many stops, but nothing seemed to have stirred as he climbed. Above the mist he stood on what seemed like a mossy ridge growing above the forest alongside the trees. The ground here had a leathery feel to it and it rumbled slightly below his claws. He walked forward, swaying his head and eyes, hoping to catch any peculiar movements. The horrible stench grew unbearable. He swayed, dizzy from the putrid toxicity of the air.

His eyes were not the first to catch the movement as the ground below him shifted and he broke forward into a dash. His head collided with what he thought was a tree. A moment’s confusion was torn by an ear piercing roar that echoed the forest walls and seemed to reverberate below him. A large green scaled head was perched atop the tree that was attached to what he had taken to be land. He stood on the back of a large reptilian creature, colored a vivid green. He watched as the scales below his feet took on a deep violet then brown. These were the colors of the poisonous lizards that lived in the trees. They were shy little scaled reptilians whose toxins could kill a full-grown buck. This reptilian was much larger and probably carried much more poison.

Panic struck as the creature became aware of her unwelcome rider. He dug his claws deep into the neck of the large reptilian, fearful that she would knock him off in her wild thrashing. She screeched and lashed as a translucent ichor escaped from within her body drenching the foliage below. Trees were trampled and torn down by the violent whipping of her tail and head. His fingers burned and hissed in the fluid, a thin line of steam spreading out. He was thrown off of her back and into a thicket of thorn bushes. He clambered to his feet, searching the sky for a view of his former mount, rolling away as a large scaly tail soared down onto where he stood. Then, there was stillness- unimaginable stillness. His lungs tightened with air and he felt the earth below him shake. He backed away from the large reptilian as she filled her lungs with air. Spines that protruded from her head, back and legs turned a deeper shade of purple. And then, a flash of gold and heat covered the forest. He had begun running before the flames had left the mouth of the hell-beast but the light was so bright that he was blinded for a moment. Much of the sprint was spent crashing into trees and breaking through shrubbery. He ran and ran until his legs gave way at the bank of a river, miles apart from the incident. He tumbled, rolled and crumbled at the edge of the bank. The water licked his fingers with a gentle murmur.

His fur was becoming more and more matted as the thick red blood caked black against his skin. The dark crust clumped hair together and it tore without relent at his new wounds. The heavy odor of brimstone and ash burned the inside of his nostrils. His breathing had become so labored that his lungs seemed to burn with the cinders. In the distance he could still hear the reptilian wailing and tearing the forest apart. His body lay crumpled, the flesh repairing itself without tiring as wounds were torn back open by the occasional spasm of his muscles. Time passed and at some point, when the forest was blanketed with a dim purple light, he heard the reptilian settle down and disappear into the forest in a direction opposite his own.

A pang of realization ebbed into him as he lay there. Not only had he lost the scent, as well as the ability to find it again, but he had also been thrown completely off trail. He had run so violently through the trees, turning in random places and weaving through the undergrowth, that he could not even imagine finding his way back by sight alone. A wave of new pain crashed into him, his body contorted, filling his healing wounds with dirt and fallen leaves. He wailed and whimpered, rolling into the earth. Anger replaced the mourning and he found the strength to rise. He stumbled up onto his hind legs, stumbling into the water’s edge. Looking off past the river to the opposing bank he could not truly appreciate how far the water spread and began to trudge through the muddy cache into the moving rapids. The sound flooded his ears, pulsing deep against his throbbing temples. The water beat against his legs, pulling at him, wanting to take him.

Without any explanation other than habit he lifted his muzzle high in the air and let out a loud, clear howl. It rang through the forest in its usual way, resilient and empty. It echoed and returned to his erect ears. The sound made his body cringe into the water, another howl bubbled deep and he let it crack and slide through the folds of his mouth. Then, the mounting exhaustion crashed upon his body and he collapsed. The water forced itself over his body, washing away the residue acquired in his previous encounters. He could hear the water rushing around him, his muscles relaxed and let the river cleanse him. He forced his eyes open, his head just above the rush and fixed upon figures moving in the distance. Far off, beyond the opposite bank deep in the trees, he watched. A soothing tranquility filled him then drifted away while voices, as melodious and longing as his own, finally called back.