فصل یازدهم

11

The Creatures of the Forest

It didn’t take Vidal and his soldiers long to find the remains of the campfire that had sent the treacherous smoke into the sky. Branches were still smoldering when he got off his horse and knelt beside it, and he could still feel the heat when he took off his glove to hold his bare hand over the embers.

Yes. They’d been here less than twenty minutes ago.

The rebels must have heard them coming. Of course. Vidal stared at the trees, wishing he could hunt as silently as a wolf. He would have torn them apart by now and licked their blood off the moss that was covered with ash from their fire.

Garces knelt by his capitán’s side. Vidal liked the devotion in his eyes. Garces listened to every word from his lips as devoutly as an altar server read the words from a priest’s lips at Mass.

“A dozen men. Not more.” Vidal had learned to track from his grandfather. His father had only taught him that the worst beasts walk on two legs.

“What do we have here?” He brushed a few wilted leaves aside. A small package was lying between the stones that surrounded the fireplace. They had indeed left in haste. The three glass vials, carefully wrapped in brown paper, looked familiar. Vidal rose to his feet. He held one of the vials up and let the clear liquid catch the sunlight. Antibiotics. That probably meant that at least one of the rebels was wounded. Good.

“Mierda, look at this!” Garces grabbed a small piece of paper from the ground. “They lost a lottery ticket!” He laughed.

Vidal silenced him with a gesture. He took a step and listened. They were still here. He could sense it. Those rebel sons of bitches were watching them! He took another step, but all he could hear were the sounds of the forest. Curse it!

“Hey!” he yelled into the trees, holding up the vial. “You left this behind! And what about your lottery ticket? Why don’t you come back and get it? Who knows? This could be your lucky day.” The only reply was the chirp of a bird.

And the rustling of leaves in the wind.

The forest was mocking him.

Again.

No. Vidal turned around. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself by chasing the bastards through this treacherous maze of trees. He would wait for them to come to him, for he had the food and the medicine. The vials were proof they needed it.

Vidal was right.

His prey was watching. The soldiers mounted their horses and followed their capitán back to the mill, the trees painting their uniforms black with their shadows. And a dozen men in ragged clothes who were hiding on a hill above the abandoned campfire were watching their hunters ride away. For now.

Vidal had almost found them this time.

He would find them again.