by Lexy Wolfe
He put his hand on Doom’s shoulder. “Not lose Cat-Sister.” The wolflen’s words held as much promise as worried desperation to make it the truth.
“No,” Doom agreed. “No, we won’t lose her.” Yellow eyes gazed at the horizon through the delicate branches. His shoulders sagged. “The sun has set. She’ll be faster if she takes her panther form. Maybe impossible to catch.”
“Tracker knows Cat-Sister’s scent,” the wolflen stated as he stood straight. “Not lose. Not ever.” He inhaled deeply. “This way.”
Some distance from where they had paused, the distant sounds of distress alarmed them, one voice excruciatingly familiar. They started running. The scene they came upon was at once bewildering and daunting.
A gigantic two-legged man-bear, a distorted bipedal monster covered with patched and matted fur, towered over the snarling panther, dwarfing the feline by its shear massiveness. It dragged behind it a colossal stag bearing wounds that the smaller of the combatants had dealt.
Focused on her opponent, Tiwaz roared at the monstrosity and leapt at him. She clung to the arm it blocked itself with, kicking and lashing out with three of four paws. Her claws could barely get through its thick fur. Angrily, the man-bear tried shaking her off, finally flinging her loose. She landed hard against a tree, staggering back to her feet. Dazed, all she could do was cringe as it raised a crude club to strike a finishing blow.
Tracker dropped out of the tree above them, putting himself between the panther and the man-bear. He leapt out of reach, drawing its attention away. He jabbed it with his spear, taunting him. Behind him, Doom swung his quarterstaff as hard as he could across its back. The gromek stared, dumbfounded, as the wood splintered, the weapon shattering. The man-bear only staggered a step, turning rage-filled eyes on the third intruder.
Doom backed away as quickly as he could, but tripped and fell. Tracker jabbed his spear in the man-bear’s thigh hard; it screamed in pain and fury. It swung its arm, breaking the spear in half, leaving the head embedded. The wound hampered its pursuit of the wolflen, but did not stop it. Desperately, Doom felt around in the fallen leaves and found a solid shaft. He grabbed what felt like a long branch, and swung as hard as he could. The need to protect his companions stood in the forefront of his mind.
A deafening crack of thunder and shock wave stunned the trio. When they could focus again, the man-bear had fallen, a huge hole blown through its chest. Tracker dragged himself up to his knees, putting an arm around Tiwaz’s shoulder as she nuzzled him, her relief he was okay obvious. Doom looked at the staff in his hand blankly. “What the hells?”
“Good boom stick,” Tracker said as he got back to his feet. Doom looked askance at him, the wolflen simply grinning at him.
“Smartass,” the gromek grumbled good-naturedly. He looked down at Tiwaz, who dropped her head miserably, avoiding his eyes. He knelt in front of her, putting his hand under her jaw to turn her head towards him. “Ti, what happened? Did you leave because of me? You should have said something, I would have stayed—”
She looked up sharply, aghast at the idea. Contorting in pain, she shape-shifted back to human form, then collapsed in emotional exhaustion against the gromek. He caught her, holding her close. She barely noticed Tracker draping the cloak he had found with her belongings nearby. “Not because of you! Never because of you. Because of me.” She hid her face against his chest. “I am flawed. I diminish you because of my flaws. You could be more without me.”
“What are you talking about?” He caressed her hair tenderly, trying to catch her eyes. “I would be nothing without you, Ti. I’ve told you this since the beginning. Why do you keep thinking otherwise?” He paused, pulling her tighter against him to warm her. “Come on, get dressed. You’re freezing. Tracker found your gear.”
She didn’t move from his embrace, forcing him to remain kneeling with her. “You worry about me because I cannot change to fit in anywhere. You have to take care of me because I cannot do it alone. A friend is not a constant burden. I’ve become your shackles and you should be free! You deserve to be free and I trap you with my failings.”
“No, you don’t,” he stated with more sharpness than he intended, something about her demeanor upsetting him more than anything ever had before. “Stop it! Stop talking like that. There is nothing wrong with needing time or help acclimating to our new life. You don’t need to learn everything right this minute. Alimar is not here. He won’t punish you. No one will punish you.”
“How much time do you need, Doom? How much time before you see I am hopeless?” she begged. “It hurts so much. Even you and Tracker cannot keep it at bay anymore. How long do I have to suffer being alone before the pain ends?”
Doom drew back, blinking down at her then meeting Tracker’s worried, puzzled eyes. “'Alone?’” he echoed, the quality of the word hinting at something deeper.
“Maybe priest healer can help,” Tracker suggested. “Knowing more than Shaman about such torments. Helped others before.”
“No!” she snarled, eyes flashing with vehemence. “Priests are liars. I will not talk to deceivers. I will kill them if they touch me!”
“Shhh, relax, Ti,” Doom crooned soothingly as he held her tight. “You do not have to talk to anyone you don’t want to. But we want you to come home. Everyone is worried about you. Everyone in Bralden.” He tilted her chin up. “Pack Leader had come to the forge looking for you because he is worried. Even Shaman is worried. Please. I won’t go hunting anymore until we can figure this out. You are too important to me to risk losing you again.” She sighed and nodded wearily, relenting.
“Doom-Not-Demon,” Tracker called as the pair stood, Doom helping Tiwaz to stand so she could dress. He waved to the stag. “Cat-Sister caught…legend.” With a grunt, he turned the deer’s head so Doom could see the antlers. The gromek understood the wolflen’s awe at once. “Gift of ancestors!”
Now that the danger was past, he finally saw what he ignored before. “Fifty points? I thought it was just a larger breed from the Northern Territories!” He looked at Tiwaz. “How in the world did you land this?”
She did not look up as she wrapped her feet before sliding them into her boots and lacing them snugly. “I had become a panther and was going to run as fast as I could for as long as I could.” The males said nothing, nor did she elaborate. “Then I smelled him and I could not help but think about the children of both tribes of Bralden. I wanted to make sure they were okay.”
Her cold-tinted cheeks turned redder. “I did not think about how to get it back. It is too big for me to move alone. And I ignored the fact that I’m lost and don’t know the way back now.” She glared at the dead man-bear. “But it was my kill. I worked hard to bring it down. It tried to take it from me!”
Doom could not help but chuckle. “You and your pride, Ti.”
Tracker went to her, touching his brow to hers. “Next time, hunt with pack. Not alone.” She nodded, unable to speak against the knot in her throat. He looked to the gromek. “Need find shelter. Night too cold, dark. All need rest.”
She pointed to a large mound in the distance. “It was heading there. I guessed it lived there and I did not want to have to try fighting it in close quarters.” She rubbed her head. “It was hard enough out here in the open.”
“You did good, Ti. The whole village will eat well because of you. But let’s see about getting everything secure before we end up drawing scavengers.” They dragged both the monster stag and the dead man-bear to a large tree and hoisted them up to hang from heavy branches. The trio turned their attention to the giant mound.
Tiwaz drew back in disgust when they pulled back the raw, rotting pelt that served as a door. Tracker yanked it down and threw it far from the half-natural, half-constructed dwelling. The smell barely improved. She stopped short, barely far enough inside for the two larger males to enter. Doom put his hand on her shoulder in concern, then followed her stare.
In the darkness at the back was a massive stack of b
ones, skulls, and various personal items. She picked up a wolflen knife near her foot, staring at it, then held it out to Tracker. “This is Daymark’s, isn’t it?”
Tracker took the knife, growling deep in his chest. “Daymark lost last moon. None know what happened.” He looked at the pile, then away in grief. “Tracker see weapons of many lost. Humans’ weapons, too.”
“Seems we know what had been causing the herds to avoid this area and what happened to Bralden’s missing hunters now,” Doom said grimly. “We can hope with that thing gone, the herds and other animals will return.” Noticing the forlorn expression on Tiwaz’s face, he took her hand in his. “Ti. We’ll figure out what Alimar did to you and fix it, I promise. Together. I need you.”
“Why do you need me? You can do everything,” she asked dismally.
“I need you because…” He paused, fumbling for something meaningful. He held up one massive hand. “Because I can’t skin rabbits.” She blinked at him, then burst out laughing so hard and so long, she started crying. He just held her close, nodding to Tracker as the wolflen began to set up camp in the cleanest part of the dingy dwelling.
TIWAZ AWOKE WITH a start, sitting upright between Doom and Tracker. Her sudden movement startled the males awake, both grabbing weapons. Seeing nothing untoward, they looked at their pack-mate. Despite repeatedly asking what was wrong, she ignored them, heading to the pile of bones and beginning to dig through them.
“Tiwaz!” Doom shouted loud enough to make small clods of dirt fall out of the ceiling. “What are you doing?”
“Magic,” she stated distractedly. “I smell magic. Like your new staff. Nothing like what Alimar ever had. I did not before. It is like it just awoke from a long sleep.” She stopped to stare for a heartbeat, then began clearing bones from the top of the pile while Doom examined the humorously-named Boomstick. The males stared when her efforts revealed a very large skull buried beneath the other bones.
“Dragon?” Tracker asked in disbelief. “Man-bear killed dragon?”
She ran her hands over the surface, then shook her head. “No. The other bones have its claw and teeth marks. This is very old. But I can still sense the magic it once had.” She looked back at the others. “Help me move it. There’s still something else under here. It will drive me to distraction until I find it.” Excavation complete, she pulled out a heavy two-handed sword. She held it possessively as she examined it. “It is still sharp after so long neglected.”
Tracker considered the weapon, then looked at the pile of bones. “Many lost hunters’ weapons.” He began to gather the various items. “Cat-Sister keep sword. Deserve more, but sword good.” He crouched by the pile of bones. “Sad knowing hunters dead, but glad knowing what happened. Now mourning howls can be sung. Must take man-bear to shaman to free souls of dead.”
“We still need to figure out how to get that stag back,” Doom stated. “The winter has been too lean to leave anything behind, but I can’t haul either of those things far.”
Tiwaz looked outside and sighed. “Travel will be even harder, too. It snowed while we were sleeping.” She looked back to her companions. “It comes up to my knees now.”
Doom stared at the dragon skull in thought and snapped his fingers. “I have an idea.” The other two looked at him with quizzical curiosity.
THE EXCITED BLARE of a horn drew wolflen and humans both outside to the main road. Everyone started talking in shock, amusement, and awe at the sight that greeted them. Hitched like a horse, Doom pulled the upside-down dragon skull, his cloak’s hood fallen and head fully exposed. Inside were the corpses of the man-bear and the stag.
Between his greater body heat and the cold weather, it appeared as though smoke rose from the gromek’s head, adding to his unearthly appearance. At the other end of the skull, side by side, Tiwaz and Tracker pushed to ease Doom’s burden. If that were not enough to set tongues to wagging, the sight of the stag’s magnificent antlers caused a considerable stir.
The trio stopped in the town center, followed by most of Bralden’s population. Kerk approached, his expression a mixture of relief to see them and bewilderment. “We were beginning to think we should send hunters out to find you three. What in the hells happened out there?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder as Pack Leader and Shaman joined him.
Doom and Tiwaz traded uncertain looks, neither wanting to publicly reveal her personal troubles to the town. Tracker stepped forward, offering a gesture of respect to his chieftain and sire as well as the shaman. “Cat-Sister hunted stag by self. Man-bear tried taking stag, nearly killed Cat-Sister. Doom-Not-Demon and Tracker kill thief.” He crouched, upending the backpack filled with the personal items he had gathered. Family members of the lost cried out in dismay as they recognized items, realizing what had happened to the missing wolflen and human hunters. “Blight on Bralden gone now.”
Shaman squinted, approaching the stag to inspect it. He touched the antlers with deep reverence. “First hunt alone earns adult rights in tribe,” he stated. He looked at the woman, troubled. “Still much needing learn.”
Tiwaz lowered her eyes in respect. “I know, Shaman.”
He grunted. “First kill as adult usually goes to tribe. Cat-Sister,” he stated slowly, “not wolflen.”
She took a deep breath, avoiding looking at Kerk, Doom, or anyone else. Her gaze drifted towards a mixed group of young humans and wolflen standing together, all with wide, awe-filled, eyes. “Bralden is my tribe, Shaman. All of it. I give my kill to my tribe to feed all of the children of Bralden, and those who protect them.” She met his eyes. “My pack killed the scourge that bled the life from town and land. We protect our home.”
Shaman grunted in acceptance, then looked to Kerk, Bralden’s de facto human leader. The blacksmith chuckled and held up his hands defensively. “Far be it from me to argue with such a gift.” He looked over to the town butcher. “You need a hand with butchering this beast to divvy up between everyone?”
The man looked at the stag, scratching his head. “Don’t think my shop be tall enough to hang it,” he said ruefully. “Lucky if a five point comes in here.”
Pack Leader’s barking laughter drew all eyes to him. “We have a place in our camp that should suit. My mate’s pack will help you.” Three wolflen approached, heaving the stag out of the dragon skull, waiting for the butcher and his apprentice to get their tools to follow.
The grim shaman stated as he looked to the beast that had taken so many lives. “Souls of dead must be freed.” He waved to the junior shaman. “Must prepare.” Two took the man-bear. The third reverently took the items Tracker had retrieved, placing them on a large piece of suede. She moved among the gathered so they could claim the tokens of their lost ones.
Despite the shadow of grief for those lost, the relief of Bralden’s inhabitants overwhelmed that. Cheers filled the air, sparking an impromptu celebration by both humans and wolflen. Doom startled when a young woman jumped in his arms and kissed the corner of his jaw. “Thank you for saving us!” she told him brightly, looking at him with absolutely no trepidation in her demeanor.
“You’re, uh, welcome,” he replied, putting her back on her feet with care. Several other young women did the same, and some younger men grabbed his hand in gratitude. He finally managed to back out of the thickest part of the crowd, bumping into the wolflen chieftain.
Pack Leader looked amused. “It seems you are now fully accepted as one of Bralden’s people by everyone, not just us wolflen.”
Doom managed a weak smile. “I have never had anyone but Ti look at me with no fear in their eyes. I like it! But it feels…strange, too.” He looked at the revelers in bemusement. “Now I know how overwhelmed Ti feels in crowds.”
“You should go enjoy it! Sounds like well-deserved adoration,” a familiar voice said on Doom’s other side.
He turned in happy surprise. “Gareth Tavarius?” He clasped forearms with the bard. “What are you doing here?”
The bard grinned broadly. �
�I told you I’d come looking for you and Tiwaz when I could assure you both that bastard was going back under his rock.” He glanced at the humans and wolflen dancing together as those who could play instruments came out. “Causing a ruckus, I see. Where’s Tiwaz?”
Doom looked around and saw the reclusive woman had slipped away without anyone’s notice. Kerk waved him down, whispering in his ear. He sighed with a rueful smile. “She’s in the forge. Not much for close crowds like this.” He began to turn to leave. “I should go check on her.”
“Nonsense!” Gareth smiled, making a shooing gesture. “Go on! Enjoy your newfound acceptance and get to know your neighbors. You deserve it. I’ll go tell Tiwaz I’m in town.” He turned and nearly walked into Tracker.
The wolflen crossed his arms, blocking Gareth’s path. Tracker looked the man up and down, sniffing the air to judge the bard’s scent. He frowned in suspicion. “Doom-Not-Demon trust outsider?”
Gareth looked from Tracker to the gromek, his arched eyebrow a silent question to the moniker. Doom nodded. “Yes, I trust him. He helped keep me and Ti safe.” Accepting Doom’s word, the young wolflen nodded and moved out of the way, returning to the conversation he was having with his family who had gathered around him. Their distrustful gazes on the human changed at a few words from him and they proceeded to ignore the bard in favor of Tracker.
Doom caught Gareth’s arm, leaning down to speak in his ear. “Tiwaz’s temper is not good. Be careful. I don’t want to lose her again.” The human looked up at Doom with a faint frown, but did not ask for details in the public place. He simply nodded and headed to the forge.
THE SMITHY’S HEAVY main door stood open wide enough to allow fresh air inside. The rhythmic sounds of a hammer hitting an anvil drifted out. Gareth stood with his back against the door, listening. His frown of concern deepened, hearing within the nuances of sound what Doom spoke of so vaguely. Before walking inside, he knocked on the door. He repeated the gesture until he earned a distracted response. “Enter.”
