by P. C. Cast
“He,” Claudia spoke up. “Mariah says it is a little boy.”
“Well, he then! If he causes problems, it will be me who solves those problems, even if it means bringing him back to these mountains and releasing him.”
Dove pushed through the crowd with Lily. She was still cradling Dash, but the little Terrier had gone silent. His eyes were closed and his head was tucked against Lily’s neck.
Dove stopped beside O’Bryan and reached out to touch his face. She smiled radiantly, and Mari thought—not for the first time—how delicately beautiful she was.
“You will not have to release him. He will be the second greatest love of your life.” Dove spoke with the singsong tone that signified her words came from the Goddess. “You will be greatly blessed for this act of kindness—we all will be.”
O’Bryan put his hand over hers. “Thank you, Dove.”
She shook her head, still smiling kindly. “Do not thank me, O’Bryan. Thank our benevolent Goddess.”
“But I worship the Sun God,” said O’Bryan.
“Is there not room in your heart to love more than one God?” Dove asked.
O’Bryan blinked in surprise. “I’ve never thought of it like that before. Yes! Yes, my heart is big enough to love more than one God.”
“When we stop for the night I was planning on leaving an offering for the Great Earth Mother to thank her for putting this little life in our path. You may join me if you’d like,” said Davis.
“I would. I would like that very much,” said O’Bryan.
As the Pack crowded around Mariah’s unusual family, Mari set and wrapped Dash’s leg, and then, after conferring with Rose, she made a tincture of horsetail for healing and a quick broth from deer jerky and a healthy dose of dried devil’s claw to control his pain.
“That should hold him until we camp and I draw down the moon,” said Mari, caressing Dash’s silky fur as the pup slept soundly in Lily’s arms.
“Lily, you and Dash can ride on our litter,” said Antreas. “It’s not far to our campsite.”
“Yeah, and you and little Dash don’t weigh much,” added Danita, touching the pup gently. “And congratulations, Companion.”
Lily turned her happy, tearstained face up to smile her relief to Antreas and Danita. “Oh, thank you so much. I would like to ride. I’m feeling a little odd.”
“That’s normal,” Antreas said. “When our Companions are hurt or stressed, it affects us. But on the positive side, it also affects us when they’re happy, which they usually are.” He reached down and ruffled Bast’s scruff as the big feline purred.
Just before the Pack moved out, Laru padded ahead and barked sharply, calling to attention every canine in the group. Nik nodded to Laru and then went to Lily where she was resting comfortably on Antreas and Danita’s litter, her sleeping puppy in her arms.
“Lily, do you accept and vow to love and care for Dash until fate parts you by death?” Nik asked her formally.
“Oh, yes! Yes I do!”
“May the Sun bless your union with Dash.” Nik spoke ceremonially, his voice deep and filled with joy.
Lily’s smile was radiant. “Thank you, Sun Priest.”
Then Laru raised his muzzle and howled, the traditional greeting for a newly made Companion bond, and every canine in the Pack—even Mariah’s young litter, minus the kit, who was still nursing, with increasing strength—raised their muzzles and joined their Alpha in welcoming Lily and her precious Companion, Dash.
* * *
That night they camped beside an icy waterfall, where everyone replenished their water stores and Sora made a delectable rabbit stew seasoned with truffles Fala’s sharp nose had discovered. The night was cold, so many of the flaps on the lean-tos of those who had later watches were closed against the biting wind.
Antreas ducked under the closed flap of the shelter he shared with Danita and Bast. He grinned at Danita’s sleepy look as she scooted over, causing Bast to complain, as she had to roll onto a cold spot amongst their pelts.
“How is the little kit doing?” Danita asked around a yawn.
“According to O’Bryan and Mariah, he is perfect. Apparently Mariah says he has lost almost all of his wolverine smell, and currently smells like a canine—which pleases Mariah immensely.”
“I’m really glad O’Bryan saved that baby. I’ll be interested to see what he grows up to be.”
“I will, too.”
As Antreas lay beside her, Danita lifted herself up on her elbow so that she could study him. “Do you really think the kit’s going to turn into a monster?”
Antreas shrugged. “I have no idea—though I do respect Dove’s ability to channel whatever she channels from the Goddess.”
“Are you being grumpy?”
Antreas blinked in surprise. “No! I’m being pragmatic.” Then he smiled. “But I do think that kit is very interesting.”
“It’s amazing how much he looks like a puppy.”
“He won’t stay that way. He’s going to grow faster than a pup, and his body and coloring will change dramatically. I just hope his personality remains puppy-like.”
“I don’t,” Danita said firmly. “I hope he stays a wolverine—but he’s our Pack’s wolverine. Like Bast. She’s not like other Lynxes, because she doesn’t like to be alone, but isn’t she still very Lynx-like?”
“Bast is totally Lynx-like, except for that one thing,” agreed Antreas.
“Then that’s what I wish for O’Bryan’s kit, too. He’ll be our wolverine—and if he needs to be ferocious, it will be in protection of our Pack.”
Antreas smoothed her hair back. “I like the way you think.”
“That’s good, because I’m not very fond of change.”
Antreas barked a laugh. “Not fond of change? You’re changing your entire life by going on this journey and falling in love with Bast and me.”
“That’s different. Where I’m going and who I’m with changed, but I didn’t. At least not much.” She chewed her lip, and Antreas could see she was thinking about the attack that had, indeed, caused parts of her personality to change.
He took her hand. “When you put it like that I understand. And know I love you exactly as you are.”
Danita pulled herself out of her dark thoughts and grinned cheekily. “I do know! And that’s one of the things I love best about you.” She leaned into Antreas and kissed him.
Antreas relaxed, loving the feel and the taste of her. He kept his arms loosely draped around her—understanding after the months they’d been together that he had to be careful not to make Danita feel trapped in any way.
He expected her to stop kissing him as she always did, which was fine. Of course he would rather have continued to touch her—to make love to her—but he did love Danita and it had only been a few months since she had been attacked. It would take patience and love, but that didn’t deter Antreas. Danita was worth it. And he would wait as long as she needed to heal.
But she didn’t stop kissing him. Instead her arms slid around his shoulders and she sighed in contentment as their kiss deepened. Then, tentatively at first, Danita’s hands found his chest, which she explored with sweet, soft caresses. When her lips moved down his neck to follow the path of her hands, he moaned in pleasure.
“That feels good?” she asked.
“Better than good,” he said breathlessly.
She grinned. “That means I’m doing it right!”
“Hey, you couldn’t do it wrong. It’s just us. You can touch me wherever—however you want.”
Her grin widened. “You make this fun.”
“That’s my plan!”
She kissed his neck again, tasting him with her tongue and nipping his earlobe playfully.
He laughed and shifted her so that she was on her back and he was over her. She reached up, pulling his lips down to hers, and Antreas kissed her passionately, his arms tightening around her.
Danita froze, and her breath caught in her throat.
/> Instantly, Antreas lifted himself off her—touching her hair and face gently as he soothed, “It’s okay—it’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe. You’re always safe with me.”
Danita sat up and with a trembling hand wiped tears from her cheeks. This was usually when she became defeated and quiet, though she’d eventually fall asleep and return to herself by morning. But this night it was different—she was different.
“I have an idea,” she said.
“Okay…”
“I like kissing you. I like it a lot,” Danita said.
“I like kissing you, too. A lot.”
“But when you’re on top of me I get scared,” she said.
“Yep. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to—”
She pressed her fingers against his lips. “No, don’t apologize. I want to be in your arms. That’s all you were doing—pulling me into your arms. But what if I did all the pulling?”
His lips twitched up at the corners. “‘Pulling’?”
“Yeah, like this.” He was on his back, half propped up against the pelts behind him. Danita leaned into him, putting her arms firmly around him and pulling herself to him, and then kissing him thoroughly. When she sat up she asked, “How was that?”
Antreas sounded like he’d been sprinting, but his answer was swift. “Wonderful.”
“Oh, good. Let me practice. But would you please keep your arms by your side and let me do everything?”
“It would be my great pleasure to let you do anything to me,” he said.
And Danita did. She kissed him and explored his body. She even pulled off his shirt, but hesitated when she got to the waist of his pants.
“I—I don’t think I can go there.”
Antreas opened his mouth to respond, but again Danita shushed, this time by pressing her lips to his and whispering, “Yet.”
Finally, when the night grew long and they both became sleepy, Danita curled up on Antreas’s chest. Her arms wrapped firmly around him, she fell asleep with her lips lifted into a smile and Bast purring loudly, pressed against her back.
Antreas’s heartbeat slowed. Moving carefully, he draped his arms around her—in sleep able to hold her without causing her to panic. He kissed her forehead, breathing in her scent and loving the way she melted into him, proving nightly that she truly trusted him—truly loved him.
Just before Antreas drifted off to a contented sleep, he realized that never in his life had he been so thoroughly happy.
CHAPTER 24
THE ENTRANCE TO THE ROCK MOUNTAIN PASS—DEATH’S ARMY
Ralina longed for contentment. She didn’t long for happiness. She couldn’t imagine her way to happiness anymore. But contentment—that Ralina could still imagine, though just barely.
Death’s army had finally beached at the base of the Rock Mountains as the sun rose into a clear summer sky. Ralina was one of the first to leave the boats, as Death expected her to be near Him for anything He might consider monumental, so she saw the familiar little group of stripped boats that had been beached before them.
“These are ours!” Thaddeus growled, kicking one of the canoes.
Death chuckled cruelly. “Do you not mean they were yours?”
Thaddeus’s mean little eyes glared at Death, but as usual, the Hunter held his anger against the God, choosing to spew poison instead.
“That means the bitch was here with the traitor, Nik, and those other cowards who followed him. They stole these boats that night they escaped the Tribe.”
Death looked at his Blade, Iron Fist, who nodded and said, “These do appear to be the craft I followed.”
“Wait, you followed those fucking traitors and didn’t do anything about them? Didn’t say anything about them? We could have gone after Nik and that bitch—and I’ll bet that’s where O’Bryan and Davis, as well as Wilkes and Claudia, disappeared to. What the hell is wrong with you?” Thaddeus shouted at Iron Fist.
Ralina bit the side of her cheek to keep herself from speaking the truth—that Thaddeus was the traitor, not Nik and not the lucky Tribe members who had the good sense to follow him. But she didn’t have to say anything. Nor did she have to wait for Thaddeus to be reprimanded.
“Thaddeus, my Blade was following my orders. Do you presume to question my command?” Death spoke in a deceptively calm voice that Ralina recognized all too well as the precursor to terrible violence.
Thaddeus recognized it, too, because he paled and bowed quickly to the God. “Of course not, my Lord. I was just surprised. I assumed you would have shared information about the traitors with me.”
“Why?”
“Because they are traitors to my people!”
“Your people are now my people,” Death said. “And I have a very special way I like to deal with traitors. We will catch them, and I just might let you observe how I admonish them.”
“They are traveling to the Plains of the Wind Riders, too?” Thaddeus asked.
Death glanced at Iron Fist and nodded.
The Reaper answered Thaddeus. “They are. They plan to begin anew there by forming something they call a Pack.”
“That’s a lucky coincidence—but not for them,” Thaddeus said cruelly before he walked from the neatly beached group of boats to stand at Death’s side. “My Lord, should the Hunters and I go into the mountains and try to track and hire another Lynx guide?”
Death laughed. “No, my eager Hunter. That will not be necessary.”
“But we are going to travel through the mountains, aren’t we?”
“We are, indeed,” Death said.
Thaddeus sighed in exasperation. “Then we’ll need a guide. I’m not going into those Sun-be-damned mountains near the end of summer without one.”
Death rounded on him, using one massive hand at Thaddeus’s throat to lift him off his feet.
“Then do not enter the mountains!” the God roared, raining spittle onto Thaddeus’s face. “Remain behind, like the Saleesh women and children, good only for temporary amusement, but not strong enough to complete the journey!”
Thaddeus tried to speak, but all he could manage was a squeak.
Ralina tried not to enjoy Thaddeus’s humiliation too much. Sadly, she was sure Death wouldn’t kill the Hunter—he was too valuable as long as they journeyed. He led his Hunters and Warriors in daily hunts, being sure there was always fresh fish or game, which was a good thing as the Reapers were terrible at hunting. And the Milks? So far they were only good for killing and dying.
And they had died—by the boatloads in the lake crossing, most especially as they’d traveled past the last ruin of the Golden Man.
Ralina shuddered at the memory. She didn’t think she would ever get rid of the vision of Mouths and Monkeys swarming capsized boats and pulling the shrieking Milks under the water.
They’d lost almost half of Death’s army during the lake crossing—and still there were hundreds of them crowded onto boats, their white eyes staring at the horizon as they murmured strange, fragmented things to one another.
Thaddeus’s Hunters and Warriors had only lost one small boat, though, and that was early in the journey. Thaddeus was a cowardly monster, but he was sly. After the first disastrous ruin crossing he’d taken to following in the wake of Death’s boat when they passed any ruin.
Death’s Reapers, too, had survived the water crossing with only a few losses, as they never strayed too far from their God’s side.
Death dropped Thaddeus, and the Hunter gasped for air, fishlike.
“Now, ask me why a Lynx guide is not necessary,” Death said, sounding reasonable, even fatherly.
Ralina had decided one of the most frightening things about the God was His ability to appear compassionate. The truth was, Death was utterly amoral. The only reason He ever showed compassion was because it either amused or benefited Him.
“W-why don’t you need a guide?” Thaddeus rasped on cue.
“Ah! Good of you to ask and not assume!” Death said as if He had not j
ust almost choked the life from Thaddeus. “I do not need a guide because I already have one.”
Thaddeus frowned and glanced behind Death at the armada filled with Milks. The Tribesmen had already beached their craft, followed by Death’s Reapers, but the Milks waited, always gazing at Death, watching for Him to give them a command.
Death followed Thaddeus’s gaze, threw back His enormous head, and laughed. “Not the Milks, though you are partially right.”
It had only taken Death’s hearing Ralina refer to the awakened dead as “Milks” for him to adopt the name. Ralina had been surprised. She’d expected Him to chastise her, as they were His army, and completely loyal to Him, but the God had found the nickname amusing. He’d laughed and commended Ralina’s imagination. Since then they had officially become “the Milks.”
Death turned to his Blade. “Iron Fist, while I conjure our guide, call the Milks to shore. Have them abandon their boats close enough to the beach that they can carry the supplies to dry land without soaking them, and then command that they swim back and break holes in the bellies of the craft. Sink them all. Then, after the Reapers unload our supplies”—Death nodded in the direction of the Reaper craft, as well as the beached boats that had carried Thaddeus and his Hunters and Warriors—“fire the boats.”
“Yes, my Lord. Your craft as well?”
Death’s boat, the largest and most opulent of the armada, had run aground several yards before the others. Currently the Reapers were carrying Death’s harem of Attendants from the craft, as well as the piles of supplies He and His army had stolen from the Saleesh after consuming them, swarmlike.
“Mine as well. All of the boats! Including these.” Death gestured to the little group of craft Nik and his people had carefully left behind so that others could make use of them. “No one runs from Death. I will have no one using any of these boats to try to flee me.”
“Yes, my Lord!” Iron Fist said, and rushed back to the waterline to begin shouting Death’s commands.
