by Jim Galford
The crowd collapsed on Estin immediately, though he could barely see them as he fell to his knees, pressing his palm into the deep gashes in his face that were bleeding horribly. He began to feel pain throughout his body where he had been struck and not even noticed at the time, but his cheek and eye felt the worst. His fingertips told him that he had likely lost much of the skin on that side of his face, possibly the eye along with it.
As praise for his fight was spoken all around him, he gave vague thanks, really not even knowing what he was saying, or to who. It was taking much of his attention to keep the blood-loss from sending him into shock.
It took Estin a minute or two to get the dizziness down to a manageable level, but when he looked around at last, he realized that everyone nearby was of another race. Not one wildling still stood with the group praising him. The only wildlings that remained in the area were the wolves, still being held by various camp members.
“So this is your great victory, no?” asked Yoska, pulling Estin’s hand away, then pressing a thick cloth to Estin’s face. “Apply pressure here, not here.”
Estin sat down on the frozen ground, barely feeling the chill in his current state.
“Not really much of a victory, if my people want nothing to do with me,” he answered, his tongue thick and swollen.
Estin realized that he had bit through part of his tongue and several of his teeth were badly chipped, including one of his canines that had its tip broken completely off. One of the back ones was missing entirely. He pulled the cloth away from his face and saw it was already soaked with blood and bits of his white facial fur.
“Not true,” Yoska answered, pushing Estin’s hand back up to his face to keep the cloth on the wounds. “Some of us knew that this was coming and have already accepted the idea. Others, not so. Give them a day or two and you will know how they truly feel. Even if they hate you, would you rather that she never marry you?”
“We’re not married yet, Yoska.”
“This I would argue,” the human said, smiling broadly. “Long as I have known you both, you were married. You just did not know it yet. I thought sometimes I would have to make you both drink yourselves into stupor and just tell you that you had wed while you were unconscious. Worked for two of my cousins. You will have your ceremony and we shall see, yes?”
Yoska helped him stand, guiding him slowly back towards Feanne’s tent on the far end of camp.
“Can you heal yourself?” the man asked part way across the camp. “You are still bleeding a lot and I worry. I wish to not deliver you to her half-dead.”
Focusing on the whispers of the spirits, Estin felt the wounds close slightly, but then he stopped, leaving much of the deep cuts. His strength was waning and if he pushed himself further, he thought he might pass out, which he could not allow himself to do before reaching the tent.
“I’ll let the rest scar,” he said, pulling away the cloth. He could still feel the cuts oozing, but they would close soon enough and he could see from that eye, which was his larger concern. “This fight meant enough to leave a mark.”
“As you wish.”
They soon reached the tent, where Ulra still stood guard, though now she was alone, her fur covered with a growing layer of snow that she seemed oblivious to.
“Do you come back with news?” Ulra asked Estin, eyeing his injuries. “Or will you confirm that our leader has been replaced by that pup?”
“There will be no change. The wolf is aware that many are most unhappy with his decision to challenge the fox,” cut in Yoska, still helping Estin stand. “Do open the tent. The boy has had a hard time this night and I would have him tended to by more delicate hands than mine.”
Ulra eyed the gypsy, opening the tent as she noted, “Have you met our pack-leader? There are no delicate hands in here, human.”
Yoska laughed and patted Ulra’s arm as he led Estin inside, setting him near the entrance as Feanne, Oria, and Atall scrambled over.
Half-sitting, Estin barely paid attention to the hands checking his injuries and the nervous talk around him. He just sat there, letting himself be poked and prodded, until he saw Feanne’s hand near his face and he took a hold of it, hanging on, trying to cling to her strength.
“So I hear there will be a proper wedding in this village,” Yoska said, almost to himself, though Estin saw Feanne’s eyes dart his way. “When will I receive my invitation to the festivities?”
“It does not work that way,” Feanne told Yoska, cradling Estin’s face. “There will be a public announcement, followed by the allowance for challengers, if I wish it. After that, there is nothing more. We will be together after a few words.”
“This will not do at all. I will be sure the gypsies are ready.”
“Yoska, do not…”
“Is done! I will await your announcement.”
From where he sat, Estin watched Feanne’s face fall, even as the cold air from someone leaving hit his back.
“Can we please throw that man off a cliff?” Feanne asked, touching the edges of the wound on his face again. “It would make my duties that much easier.”
Estin chuckled, but it hurt to even do that.
“If you are here, looking like this, then what condition is Olis in?” she asked him next, her tone serious. Estin could see both of the children perk up at that, as well. “You were to bring him back alive.”
“He ran off. His injuries were far worse than mine.”
Feanne nodded grimly, giving him a smile that did little to warm him.
“You have done well. Tomorrow, we will finish all that we’ve started.”
*
The next morning, Feanne was true to her word, surprising Estin—he had figured that no matter what she had pledged the previous night, it would be several days before things moved forward. Despite the injuries they both still bore, she called for the camp to gather in late morning. There had been some dissent in some corners of the village once the rumors had confirmed what was to happen, but most knew that her order to appear was not a request and by noon, nearly the entire camp stood assembled.
Feanne waited in the middle of a hastily-constructed platform that gave them enough height to be seen by those who had come. She had hardly moved since they had arrived, her bear skin cloak moving only slightly in the winds as she watched the villagers gather.
Estin stood just behind Feanne on the platform, with the kits leaning in boredom against his legs. He shivered in the cold winds, thankful that at least the snow had stopped falling for the moment, and his fur-covered mantle gave him some protection from the chill. He had a suspicion that the kits were so close to him mostly for warmth, rather than out of affection.
“He’s going to do something,” whispered Feanne nervously, watching the crowd as she held her still-aching stomach. The wounds had closed, but Estin had caught her wincing at times when she moved too quickly. “I can feel it.”
“Who?”
She gave him a dark look and answered, “Yoska.”
Estin could just laugh, knowing she was likely right, but there was little he could do about it.
Once the majority of the camp had arrived from every faction and group on the site, Feanne stepped to the front edge of the platform and looked over the collected people.
Finth stood at the front of the crowd, grinning and giving Estin occasional lewd gestures that he was actively trying to ignore or feign ignorance of. Estin hoped that meant the kits would not understand them, or might not notice, so he just ignored the dwarf.
“I have called all of you here to act as my witnesses,” Feanne announced. “Today, I wish to take a new mate and as the leader of this pack, this affects every one of you. I would ask that if anyone challenges my decision to have a mate, they come forward now.”
A low murmur through the crowd was all the reply she got.
“Very well. I hereby announce that I have chosen Estin to be my mate, for the duration of our lives. I have asked for no challenger or terms
to his acceptance. If there are any concerns, I want to hear them now.”
The murmur turned into angry jeers from various points in the crowd where wildlings had gathered. From what Estin could see, most of those groups were largely predatory breeds and none of them looked the least bit happy. Their angry looks were split quite evenly between himself and Feanne.
Estin tightened his jaw and attempted to maintain the look of dignity, even if he did not feel it.
“I object,” called out a voice farther back in the crowd. “Will you hear me?”
Estin squinted at the group where the voice had come from, seeing people parting quickly as Olis walked through the crowds. Though he had clearly been healed by someone in the valley, the wolf’s face was badly mangled, deep-set creases from the edges of the stone Estin had hit him with creating the look of a dent in the side of his skull.
Not actually turning around to see what was coming, Finth gave Estin a questioning look and pulled out a dagger. Estin shook his head and Finth just sighed and turned to watch with everyone else.
“I will hear anyone who will speak their concerns,” Feanne told him, her tone hard. “However, you have issued a different challenge already that bears resolving.”
Feanne glanced back at Estin, motioning him to move the children back away from the front of the platform, which he did. He had no idea what Olis might try, so he pushed the kits behind him to shield them.
“I just wanted to show proper respects,” Olis said, loud enough for the crowd to hear him clearly as he neared the platform. “It is only right, given the recent…disagreements. Perhaps we can resolve this in a more civil fashion.”
Feanne nodded, though from where he stood, Estin could see that she was tense and ready for an attack. He could feel the same tension in the kits through his hands on their shoulders.
“I pledge to serve my better for the good of the pack,” said Olis, standing directly in front of Feanne. With the extra height of the platform, she still stood only a breath taller than him.
“Then make your pledge, if it will resolve your earlier challenges.”
Olin grinned crookedly, his scars twisting the expression. He began to bow before Feanne, then spit on her feet, turning instead to Estin and completing the bow.
“I pledge my respect to the one worthy of it,” he stated, his voice carrying through the camp. “I will not bow my knee to some spoiled pup who thinks she can command me because her father held a pack together. You and your little mutts will find your way into a zombie’s mouth if I ever catch you alone.”
“You will need to stop talking now, Olis. If you wish to challenge my position with this pack, then say so, otherwise you will need to move away from me.”
“Yes,” Olis agreed, taking a short step back, though he was still easily within range to strike at Feanne. “I do challenge you. I challenge your right to lead. I challenge your decision to take what should be your prey as your mate, rather than killing and eating him like a proper predator. I challenge anyone who believes you possess the common sense to lead others, when you stand here with your mutts, disgracing this pack with your little ceremony.”
Estin tightened his grip on the kits as both tried to run at Olis. He could hear them both growling, but doubted anyone farther away would even notice with the chatter and murmurs in the crowd—at least he hoped Olis could not hear them.
“Do you wish to resolve your challenge now, or later?” Feanne asked calmly, still not backing down. “I am rather busy today…”
Olis grinned again, looking over at the kits.
“I was thinking about grabbing something to eat first, but if the mutts are going to stay so far out of reach, we may as well resolve things now. If all goes well, I can have all the wildlings in-line and all the other races scattered to the hills by nightfall.”
The two stood there several more seconds, then Olis made his move, reaching for Feanne. His hand never connected as she moved, darting past him as her cloak fell where she had been standing.
Had Estin not known the gravity of both of their injuries, he would never have guessed by watching them. The two wildlings circled and slashed at each other, moving easily through the combat with no hesitation.
They leapt and bit, slashed and kicked, trying to land a solid hit on each other. Often, Feanne would catch Olis with her far greater speed, but these were glancing hits that did more damage to fur than to flesh. He could not even touch her as she danced about, moving under his swings and outside his reach.
Unfortunately, Estin could see Feanne tiring quickly. Her injuries from the previous night were taking their toll, gradually slowing her. He doubted she could continue to avoid Olis much longer, and judging by the grin on Olis’ face, he was aware, too. Each time he lunged at her, he came closer to connecting, still showing signs of endurance that would not fade anytime soon.
Olis rushed Feanne again and she ducked under his arm, his claws raking her back as she stumbled away from him. When she got her feet back under her, she inadvertently put a hand to her stomach, where the earlier wounds had broken open. Red lines stained the thick woolen shirt she was wearing.
Whispers through the crowd were loud enough that Estin heard some expecting that the next time Olis struck, Feanne would die. Not all of them sounded entirely disappointed.
“Come on!” growled Olis, spinning on Feanne again. “You intend to run away until I’m tired? Either stand and fight, or tuck-tail and run from camp.”
Rounding on him, Feanne tried to lunge, claws leading, but Olis’ greater reach let him catch her mid-jump. He held her off the ground, his large hand clamped over her left shoulder and part of her neck.
“I’ll break your neck before you can do your little changing act,” he gloated, tightening his grip until Feanne let out a grunt of pain. “You can stop this. Your mutts don’t need to see you die. Just say the words and I’ll send them away before anything is done.”
Feanne brought her legs up quickly, pushing her feet into Olis’ chest. With a kick, she dragged the claws of her feet from his upper stomach nearly to his groin, spraying blood as the wolf bellowed in agony, dropping her.
“Now, we are even,” hissed Feanne as she got her feet under her again, one hand pressed to her own bleeding stomach.
She reached out swiftly to catch Olis by the throat, digging in her claws as he staggered, clutching his ravaged stomach. With a tug, she hoisted him back to his feet, pulling his face level with hers.
Olis growled, clutching at Feanne’s hand, trying unsuccessfully to pull it away and only succeeding in leaving bloody gouges when her claws did move. He then tried to use his weight to pull himself away, but Feanne grabbed his torn stomach with her other hand’s claws, keeping him from moving without further injury.
“My father only killed three people in all his time in charge of the pack,” Feanne said, her voice low but carrying through the still of the crowd.
“I don’t care about your father,” snarled Olis, his voice choked somewhat from the pressure on his throat. “His pack and legacy can burn for all I care.”
“Two were found guilty of murdering other members of the pack out of anger,” continued Feanne, dead-calm as she ignored him. “Those, he had his guards execute publicly. One was his own brother.”
Olis twisted and tugged, making feral noises that sounded to Estin as though he were losing his mind, trying to get free of the grip on his throat.
“The third I can still remember. He stood in front of my father the way you stood in front of me. He yelled and he mocked my father. I could not understand why Lihuan let him keep talking. My father’s guards were ready to strike him down where he stood, but my father held them back the same way I held Estin back, demanding that he be allowed to speak his mind about any matter regarding my father’s leadership.”
With a twist of his body that clearly was meant to keep his neck and stomach intact, Olis tried to punch at Feanne’s body, but she just moved aside, pinching with both hand
s to make Olis howl in pain.
“Twice before he had challenged my father’s leadership and lost. My father had the right as the victor to kill him, but always refused. It was when the young fool said that the next time my father turned his back, he would have my sister and I skinned and put on display to prove that my father couldn’t protect us that my father finally changed his mind. Lihuan had nearly taken his head completely off before he calmed himself again.
“Would you like to reconsider threatening my children, Olis?”
“You couldn’t kill me last night,” grunted Olis, still trying to pry her hand free. “If you do it now, you’ll just rile up all those who think you need to go.”
“Maybe I was not clear. Are my kits safe in this village, or are they not?”
Olis reached up and grabbed at Feanne, his hand wrapping nearly around her neck. He was fighting to get a solid grip on her throat.
Feanne released her grip on Olis’ stomach and grabbed the thumb of the hand he held her neck with to keep him from tightening his grip, then twisted sharply with her other. Her claws cut cleanly, ripping Olis’ throat out. She hardly moved as he collapsed at her feet, choking on his own blood.
“Whether I am the best choice to lead and whether or not I continue to lead,” Feanne announced loudly as she stepped over Olis’ body, “I will not tolerate anyone in this pack threatening to kill children. I do not care whether those children are my own, those of other wildlings, or those of anyone else who has come into the protection of this valley.
“If anyone cares to challenge me, please do so. I would much rather be raising my children and living out my days with the mate of my choice. Instead, I stand here as your pack-leader, not by my own choosing, but because every single person that has offered to lead has done so either with intentions to drive off any they see as undeserving, or to have the right to harm those they dislike.
“All of us are undeserving of survival. While the lands around us are dying, we live here in relative safety. We survive because we work together. The moment someone like him takes this pack apart for their own ends,” she pointed down at Olis for emphasis, her claws dripping as she did, “we will all die, scattered across the world like everyone else.”
