We watch as different packs of wolverines start to sneak around them, slowly circling them in.

Zen looks worried, but I’m not.

What I want to do is to find out what Zan knows.

“What do you want me to call you?” I ask him.

“What would you like to call me?”

“A chipmunk?” I ask.

He chuckles. “No, don’t call me a chipmunk.”

“You climbed this tree so well.”

“No, really, no chipmunk.”

“How about Shorty?”

He shrugs his shoulders, asks me a question instead of giving an answer. “Do you remember anything?”

“You already said something like that before. Why?”

“You look like you know what is going on. So, do you?”

I sigh. I do not like to lie. But, obviously, not saying anything is equal to saying I do.

“You know what is going on, don’t you?” he persists.

“A bit,” I admit. “I do not know how much, in all honesty. But some stuff I do know.”

He nods his head. “Are all those bad people there? That’s why you don’t mind whatever is to come to them?”

I sigh. It seems he is questioning me and not the other way around. But still, I think I’m figuring things out.

“How do you reckon that?” I ask.

“The same with tracks. Violence leaves marks. They are full of them. Even the smallest of them all.”

I agree. “The smallest of them? He might just be the worst of them all. Othered others to do stuff in his name, stuff that would scare kids to piss their pants.”

“I was in the group with those men… Does it mean… Was I… such a man as well?”

“You really don’t remember?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

I sigh. “Frankly, I do not know your story. I’m telling you the truth. You kept to yourself. But. You have skills.”

“I know. My brain might not remember. But my muscles do.”

“Yeah, that about your brain... it seems they screwed you over.”

“Who are ‘they’ and why would they do it?”

I am facing to answer questions I do not feel comfortable at all answering. Yet, if I'm to let this guy be around me, and that seems to be a okay idea with threats like wolverries, I have to build trust with him. So, something has to give. He seems too smart to fall for any gimmick. Besides, I like to be a straight shooter.

“’They'... refers to this big company. First chance I have, I'll tell you everything I know. For now, they came and signed us all up. Everyone volunteered. Except, I’m not sure we knew what we were volunteering for. And why they have done it? I do not know. No clue.”

“I think it was no accident. If you kept your memory and I do not have mind, that means, it was done on purpose.”

“A reasonable assumption.”

“But why? Maybe to even the odds?”

That made me twitch. “Yeah, thank you. I know I’m not the sharpest tool in the shad, but still…”

“No, I don’t mean you verses I, I meant, like level us all to the same line, you know, all except you.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“But, still, why are you special?”

“Maybe they’ve decided it was more punishment for me to keep my memories.”

Zan let that simmer in his head for a while and then says, “No. That does not seem right. To punish you? No, it cannot be. There must be more to it than that." As soon as I hear him say it I start to agree with him. There really is a lot I do not know.

But one thing is obvious. Obvious that he is way smarter than I.

“It’s strange. All of it," he says, "Do you know why are we here?”

“I…” I could tell him the plan, why we were brought down to this lord-forsaken space rock. Well, could tell him what I was told. Now that I think about it, how much of that might actually be true? I do not want to sound like a dumb ass, so, all I say is, “If I live long enough, I may tell you that.”

He receives that well, even smiles. “I guess then, I have to keep you alive, huh?”

I chuckle. “So, it seems. But… have to warn you, I don’t believe in anything they told me. So much of it has been proven wrong already. In all sincerity, Zan, I think it’s all bunch of bullshit.”

I let that slip on purpose. See if he catches it. Takes only a second.

“So, that’s my name then, Zan?”

“It’s a good name. As good as any.”

“I guess so. Maybe if I do things right here, they’ll let me have my memories back.”

I think about my own memories. Makes my lungs collapse to the point I can hardly breathe. “Be careful what you wish for. Maybe memories are not all that you think they are.”

Zan keeps quiet for a long moment as the wind howls stronger, announcing that the night will be anything but pleasant. After a while he says, “If you didn’t trust them, and thought it was all bullshit what they told you, why did you accept it?”

“Had my reasons. They played me like a guitar. Knew which strings to pull. And pull they did. And, all I could do was sing.”

Zan chuckles again. “That sucks. But then, I guess they played me too. Are they really that good at manipulating people?”

I sigh. “Probably even better. But then, I’m a dumb fuck, easy to manipulate I guess. So, the bottom line here is, we have to pay attention to what we see, not what we think we know. Maybe that’s why they started you with a blank slate. So, you can concentrate on that.”

“That’s… interesting.”

“You see, for all that matters, what I know might be a problem bigger than what you don’t know.”

That makes him chuckle again. I like his laugh.

“It seems wolves are ready for attack,” he says as we see them slowly going down to our old friends. “Are you sure you do not want to warn them?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, “And… those are wolverries… that’s what they are called,” I correct him.

“Wolverries. Well, wolverries are going to have a feast tonight. Do you see them?”

“Yes. Four packs.”

“Oh, I hear the howling from the far left. I think there might be more than four of them.”

“I guess we better take my blankie out and make ourselves comfortable. And trust me, enjoy the show. Nobody is there that deserves to live anyway.”

I make myself comfortable, even open up the water canister and taste it. It’s cold and refreshing. No taste. Just right.

“How about you, do you deserve to live?”

“No, Zan, not at all. And I’m the first one to admit it. Probably least of them all. But, it’s not about who deserves what.”

One of the convicts ventured close to the trees to gather some fallen branches, unsuspecting anything, a bit too far away from the group. He was the first they got. He screamed when they grabbed him by his leg, tried to fight them off by hitting them with his fists. But one of them jumped on his chest, knocked him down, and a second later the screaming stopped as the beast’s jaw went for the man’s throat.

I watch as the rest of them suddenly drop whatever they are doing, stand there, and look dumbfounded, not knowing what to do. Two of them decide to timidly approach to see what just happened, carrying sticks in their hands, and the whole group slowly follows.

But once they get to the spot, all they can find is a bloody trail leading into the trees.

Not time to think about anything because a few of them have stayed behind, and suddenly they are screaming with a dozen of wolverries attacking them all at once.

The convicts shriek in panic and terror, Big Garden wrestling a knife from a small fella who seemed to have found it somewhere.

The guy protested of course, but Big Garden would have nothing of it and grabbs him by his waste, throws him way out of the ring that the convicts have formed, and a running pack of wolverries jumped on him and took half of the man’s head before he could utter another complaint to Big Garden or the rest of them.

“Form the circle,” someone from the convicts screamed, “Stay together!”

Wolverries circle them swiftly, numbering them now almost two to one.

Big Garden impulse seem to work right. He wrapped a blanket around his left arm, extending it, his other holding a knife. I see at least seven more people doing the same, and wonder, what happened to the knife that I was supposed to get? Or did I reach for the rucksack that only had flintstones inside?

The wolverrie who appears to be the biggest of them all, maybe a leader, charges at Big Garden. One beast against another. Big Garden lets him have his blanket but stabs him with the knife in the neck, does not let him get away as he jumps on his back and then slices half of his head off. I admire that. I think I could not have done it better. Well, probably a little. Would have put a piece of wood between my arm and the blanket because those teeth I knew had to tear inside Big Garden’s arm.

But he does not care. He yells at the other wolverries and grabs the dead body of the beast by his legs and throws him away.

That makes the other beasts cautious and careful. It takes them a while to get organized, circling the convicts, looking for the opening. But with convicts sticking together, there is no opening, and their hunger seems to be getting the better of them as they start to get closer and closer.

When they strike again, they do it with a dozen beasts attacking at the same time. Convicts stand and fight, nowhere to run. Those who have knives stab, those that don’t try to fight off the beasts by waving their sticks.

I see Rickon being pulled out of the group by a beast. He breaks the stick over its head, but then pierces it in the eye with the sharp splintered end, causing the beast to let go as it whimpers away. And Rickon

“Lucky bastard,” I mutter to myself.

Pick, who is in no way smaller than Big Garden, stabs three beasts that were too hungry to think that maybe the biggest piece of meat might be the most expensive one as well.

When it’s all done, I count only about a dozen convicts still remaining. There are a lot of dead wolverries laying around and blood trails leading away from the circle.

The day’s light is wasted and shadows grow tall. The night is here. And so is cold. The one you just can’t shake away.

“So, what now? Do we stay in the tree all night?” Zan asked me after a while.

“No. We will probably freeze. I can already feel the cold coming through the blanket. It will not help us any. I spotted some rocks further up. Might be a cave there or something. Let’s hope it’s a cave. Wolverries might have fed enough for now, but I would not bet we’d be safe. So, will have to make a run for it.”

“It would be crazy to go empty-handed,” Zan says and taps me with something

I look up and see a knife. A good, ten-inch-long hunting blade.

“Where did you get that?”

“It was in the bag I picked. I guess you don’t have one, do you?”

“No. I got a flintstones.”

“Well, I got a spare one.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a smart fella, aren’t you?”

Zan chuckles. “I went through like five rucksacks before you guys even got up from the ground.”

“Shit, You’re fast. So, you’ve got some spare ones, don’t you?”

“I know. And two more blankets and water bags.”

“Well, thank you. That can help make some decent spears. Help when those beasts come.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure how much damage a spear can do. I trust more to my running abilities.”

I don’t know what to say to that. My athletic abilities are not even computed yet. Maybe in this world, things work differently. And as I take a finger-thick branch off and sharpen it, I decide I do not want to bet my life on something I do not know.

Before we are ready to climb down, I check my status again.

Update:

Reputation: +1 By providing valuable information to another being, you have raised up from the void.

Wisdom: +1 For staying quiet and not drawing attention to yourself.

Karma: -10 For not informing the others that they are facing a deadly threat

I have a mixed feelings about that. But, I am sure as hell not sorry for not helping those convicts, bad karma or not.