It’s that head tilt that tells me he knows me. DaiSzek may not understand how he recognizes my scent, my eyes, my face…but he does. All of it carries strong, unbreakable ties to his two favorite beings in the whole world.
My parents.
The enormous beast sighs, accepting that I’m not a threat to him or the people he protects. And with that, I lift my hand like I have done all my life and stroke the sleek fur up his snout and between his eyes.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Those eyes filled with simmering coals and ageless awareness share one final look with me before he chuffs, turns away, and vanishes into the trees.
10. Run
Dellilian is gone.
I’m not sure if the interaction with DaiSzek scared her, or if she’s abandoned us for good. But she’s left us alone in the woods, searching for a way to return home on our own.
Niklaus glares back at me as we continue to trudge with sore, aching legs and feet through the pine needles, wild vines, and damp soil from an early morning rain.
“What?” I snap.
His piercing avalanche of a stare returns to the forest ahead. “How’d you know that was going to work?”
I blink at the back of his head incredulously, watching his almost-shoulder-length hair get tousled in the cool breeze. Does he think I’m going to explain that to him? Does he think I’m going to reminisce over memories of DaiSzek? Of the stories my mom has told me about him? About how my blood is her blood and DaiSzek is smarter than he is, clearly, and would be able to recognize the scent alone?
“You’re welcome,” I say.
“Not an answer.”
“Not going to give one.”
Why does he care? He’s never liked DaiSzek. And I’ve never for the life of me understood that. When we were children, Niklaus was kidnapped for four days while he was supposed to be on a hunting trip in the woods with his neighbor and their parents. A few Demechnef extremists killed the family and took Niklaus to a hideout deep in the Emerald Lake woods, and as far as we know…they tried to brainwash him.
On the fourth day, he was supposed to return from the hunting trip with his neighbors, but the sun began to set and there was no sign of him. Before anyone had a chance to even begin to panic, Uncle Warrose took off to the woods to find him. He didn’t waste a moment of speculation to wait around to see if they showed up. My mom told Krimson and me that Uncle Warrose knows the forests better than anyone, knows how to track better than the rest of our family. Well, with the exception of one.
DaiSzek beat him to the woods where Niklaus was supposed to be. DaiSzek had already begun the hunt for who took him. He clearly understood when Aunt Marilynn and Uncle Niles were expecting their son to return, and his instincts told him to act immediately.
When Uncle Warrose made it to the woods to search, DaiSzek growled and barked to get his attention, urging him to follow. It was midnight when Uncle Warrose and DaiSzek raided a condemned cottage to free Niklaus from his captors. And I didn’t realize it then as a child, but my uncle and DaiSzek never brought back anyone living to punish. They clearly took care of the problem themselves.
Niklaus returned completely silent. He wouldn’t speak for several days. Uncle Niles didn’t make any jokes or laugh for what felt like years. My mom blamed herself for not seeing it sooner, for not figuring it out through the void.
He never spoke about what happened. Never told anyone what was said to him. Never spoke about the murder of that family who was killed on the hunting trip. And I used to feel bad for him—and even made him a card and sock puppet to make him feel better. He threw both away in front of the other kids, glaring at me like I couldn’t have been more pathetic for taking the time to make both.
The point is, even after DaiSzek saved him, he still was cold toward my gentle giant. Hardly ever acknowledged him. Not really noticing his presence in a room. And how the hell can that be? I’d forever be grateful to him for saving my life.
“You still scared of DaiSzek?” I break the silence.
I can hear Niklaus roll his eyes from the back of his head.
“I have never been scared of him.”
“Liar.”
“I just don’t like him,” he says.
“Everyone likes DaiSzek.” They are in awe of him. Speechless. Tempted to caress his fur and gaze into his russet eyes. Niklaus is the only one who avoids him even though DaiSzek has never been a threat or shown him harm.
“I am not a fan of animals,” he explains in that dark, baritone voice of light agitation.
“Then you are a sociopath. No other explanation.”
