by K. V. Wilson
“No one can help! Forgive me manners, but I certainly won’t let yer kind anywhere near my dearest.”
“My kind? Forgive me, madam, but it was far more complicated than that.”
“What’s she talking about?” MacLarty hisses.
“What I’m talking about, boy, is yer Guardian’s betrayal of mine.”
Flint narrows his eyes. “Sorry. Betrayal?”
I raise me hands in protest. “There was no betrayal. Only a request from him and a decline from me—”
“Get out,” the old woman says quietly. “There is nothing you can do.”
I close my eyes, feeling the power rise through my core to the tips of me fingers, the power of the earth and of the sky. Power I’ve felt for years – centuries and centuries afore this one. Power that has both destroyed and healed this land. And in this instance, healing is its focus.
“You are right,” I tell her quietly, me eyes still shut tight. “Because it has already been done.”
“What…?” The old woman’s words trail into nothingness because she has seen what I’ve already sensed: an approaching spirit.
“Love!” her husband exclaims as he speeds down the stairwell and catches sight of the four of us. His voice is laced with surprise and admiration. “I’m cured!”
12
KOYAH
Skye
The clouds overhead are foul and menacing. They’ve been hording the earth’s rain for far too long. The planet thirsts for liquid energy, but such luxuries continually evade its grasp.
I would have initiated the rainfall myself, but my natural power has all but left me for the time being. My heart beats heavily in my chest and my stomach rumbles with a fresh wave of hunger. I am too weak.
It’s the third day of our journey, and even though we travel through temperate rainforests, it’s getting dryer and dryer. Dust flies up from underneath our paws as we traipse through parched meadows, and I shake my head sadly at the bare earth beneath my toes.
Too bad I didn’t bring my bag of seeds – the gift the otter tribe gave me. You’ll have to wait. I can’t tend to you until I regain my strength. I’m sorry.
Sejka’s memories tug at my consciousness at every turn. They’re beginning to meld with my own memories, each one more vivid than the last. Yet they have a different aura to them. Sejka’s thoughts and mine don’t mix – they are unique yet they complement each other. Like oil on water. I try to make sense of them, but sometimes they’re fleeting. As fleeting as the mystic shapeshifter woman herself. She’s gone. Lost to the spirit world. Yet every time I close my eyes I see her face. I feel her thoughts as if they are my own.
It’s been at least four months since Sejka had given her life for me. Four months since her sacrifice had made me the new Ru-Yeva.
I hope we can rescue Sejka’s brother. I hope the serum my uncle developed will do the trick. It worked for Conall’s mother, Lauren. It worked for the Ferals my uncle David had set out to hunt, back when he’d worked as a double agent. He’d lived under the pseudonym Dr. Alastair Hobbes: professor of Chemistry at the University by day and soldier of the Earth’s Covenant by night. He’d told the Covenant the Lycans had been destroyed. What he really did was free them. He freed them from their feral minds so they could think for themselves again.
And this is what I’m here to do: to free Koyah’s mind from its ursine imprisonment.
Conall stops and slowly Shifts to human form, giving me a sad smile. “Getting late, isn’t it?”
I close my eyes, wincing as the familiar discomfort envelops my muscles and bones, pulling them into another shape. My thick fur recedes, making way for long hair and bare skin. My paws elongate, claws shrinking to fingernails. I now stand beside Conall, slipping my hand into his. Damian and Jen Shift as well.
“Sure is,” Damian agrees, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. We remove our backpacks and slip on our clothing.
I attempt to speak but my mouth feels like sandpaper. I clear my throat and try again.
“It’s so dry.”
“At least the nights have been warm,” Jen muses, her eyebrows furrowed. “Can’t you…?” She gestures to the sky.
I sigh, glancing upwards. “I tried. I think it’s because I’m too weak. I need to get my strength back.”
“Remind me why we haven’t hunted in three days,” Damian commands, running a hand through his messy red hair. “I’m sick of dried fruit.”
“We don’t want to bring attention to ourselves. We have to find Koyah first,” I state with finality. But after this long with no sign, I’m beginning to doubt that we’ll ever find the lost bear.
Damian groans. “One cannot survive on blackberries alone.”
“You guys had jerky. You ate it all,” I retort.
I rummage in my pack for the last bit of food I’d brought from the Yeva’si settlement: a hunk of dried venison wrapped in cured hide. Though I’d been starving for a while, I’d been saving it.
“Oh, awesome.” Conall squats beside me, eyes wide like a deprived child. “You still have some. I finished mine up yesterday.”
“That’s cause you’re part pig, mate,” Damian observes.
“You filthy hypocrite,” Jen grumbles.
I roll my eyes as Conall reaches for my venison. “Go get your own,” I tell the Lycan, tearing off a hunk of the dried meat for him. I begin to nibble on the rest of my share, aware that the others are watching me. I squeeze my eyelids shut as the venison lurches down my throat, satisfying my hunger little by little. It feels so good.
“You’re such a softie, Skye.”
“You’re welcome.” I give him a shove and he chuckles.
“So, Skye,” Jen begins, “have you felt any sign of Koyah yet? Or is that something you can feel?” She tilts her head, regarding me with interest.
“I can feel the spirits around me. It’s not really an actual feeling, or sight, for that matter. But I can sense them somehow.”
“Can you sense that Thirteen hasn’t bathed in a week?” Damian asks, earning him a punch on the shoulder from the other Lycan. He laughs good-naturedly, returning the gesture.
I snort. “Considering you haven’t either, Damian, you probably shouldn’t be suggesting that.” At his girlfriend’s look of disgust, I add, “Just kidding, Jen. No, my sense of smell is the same as before. Same as any Lycan’s.”
My hearing is enhanced beyond what it once was, though, I want to add. But I leave that part out. I don’t want to unnerve them.
“So…” Damian begins, peering at us contemplatively. “What do you say to a little hunt?”
Jen whoops. “I’m in.”
“Same,” Conall nods, causing his curls to bounce. He licks his lips as he finishes off the last bite of dried venison. “I’ve had enough of this old stuff.”
“You’ve had enough, period,” Damian chuckles. “Tsk, tsk. Taking even more of your girl’s food.”
“Hey, she gave it to me. Blame her.”
“Blame me?” I narrow my eyes, grinning menacingly. “Do you care to get struck by lightning? Cause I can enhance those odds.”
“Maybe.”
I sigh. “You three can go hunt, but I want to look at things from another perspective. You know. A bird’s eye view.”
“Go ahead.” Damian waves his arm dismissively, “but aren’t you still hungry? I mean, Thirteen ate most of your food.”
“Only a bit!” Conall whines. “Besides, we can bring something back for you,” he reassures me.
“Thanks. You’re a peach.” I smile at him.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Alright then. Be careful out there, Red,” Damian cautions with a grin, and Jen nods her agreement.
Squeezing my eyelids shut, I focus on the Shift, feeling my arms shortening and my long auburn hair making way for sleek black feathers. Dipping my head in a raven’s goodbye, I push off from the ground, circling higher and higher until my friends are just insignificant specks staring
up at the heavens.
How will I find him? What if I can’t? Or worse…what if he’s passed away? It’s been decades since he’s lived with humans. What if he’s gone forever?
These thoughts run through my mind over and over as I continue on my endless journey to locate the elusive bear.
At least Litu and Xunnu’s insistence upon giving me flight lessons – as well as much-needed archery lessons – had paid off. I groan inwardly at the need for them in the first place. Imagine a raven failing to stay aloft during a slight updraft. I can’t be the only one to get hit by a rogue wind. And as I improve my upper body strength, it will get easier. Hopefully.
I’ve lost all sense of time. Flight does that to you. The only indications of how long I’ve stayed airborne are my shoulders and pectoral muscles – tired and shrieking with overuse – and the sky overhead. When I’d left, the sun had been at its zenith; now it has all but disappeared behind the western mountains.
I should get back to the others.
I close my eyes and hover, beating my wings gently against the draft that spirals up from the earth. I blink once, twice.
The clouds suddenly part ways to reveal the sun, and the seasons undergo an abrupt and harsh change from spring to summer as my mind enters the spirit world, the world of memories.
The heat was almost stifling and the forest below surged with life. The woods were teeming with young shapeshifters. Many of them were in wolf form, sprinting through the trees and underbrush. They were on the offensive, out hunting for the night’s dinner.
My heart leaps at the strength of the memory.
How I wish to join my cousins once again. It’s been too long. I’ve been away for too long.
The images choke and fizzle in my mind and I struggle to hold on to them. These snippets are all I have. Sejka’s last memories of her Yeva’si childhood before she…
Don’t think about that, Skye. Don’t.
The memory fades, wavering at the edges, and I sigh as the spirits are lost once again amongst the twisting nether of my mind. But as I draw my next breath, something catches at the corner of my eye.
A single spirit follows a narrow wildlife trail east. It ambles along, planting each paw firmly on the ground, one after the other.
A sharp pang grows in my chest. My eyes flash open and I scan the trees for the spirit. I know what it is. I know who it is.
Whipping my wings into a rapid succession of beats, I propel myself upward for a better view, searching for the tiny form I’d seen among the trees with my mind’s eye.
There it is. There he is.
Koyah.
13
BEAR NECESSITIES
Skye
Koyah looks exactly like her. He looks just like his sister Sejka did when she’d stood before me as a snow-white bear. Back when I hadn’t known she could shapeshift to other forms besides that of the wolf.
As I spiral down towards the lone spirit, I struggle to see the sleek form beneath me. The colour of his fur down to the speckles underneath his eyes – it’s all the same. My heart surges at the feeling of getting so close to my old friend once again.
But that’s not Sejka. It’s her brother. Sejka is gone.
She lives in you, Skye. She was the Ru-Yeva before you; her spirit is forever entwined with yours.
It’s not the same, I sniff. I close my eyes for a moment, willing myself to keep my emotions from getting the better of me.
I can’t speak with her. I can’t walk along beside her anymore or look up at the stars with her, pointing out constellations that she – her spirit – had laid eyes upon for generations before my time. I’ll never be able to see Sejka again. But when I gaze upon the white bear, all I see is Sejka. Because this is Sejka’s own flesh and blood, her only living relative.
I alight in a nearby tree to evaluate my surroundings. The ivory bruin pays no heed to the little raven above him. He plods on, his tunnel vision excluding all else from his feral brain but the bare necessities. If only I could trust this bear as Mowgli had trusted The Jungle Book’s faithful Baloo.
But this animal is not the way he should be. His mind has been allowed to wander and has become lost, far from his human beginnings. He could easily kill me if I’m not careful.
I gingerly reach out with my mind, hoping to make contact with the spirit of the lone bear below.
Taking a deep breath, I feel the frigid air flow through my gizzard and into my soul. Lifting off from my perch, I carefully complete the last few feet of my descent, eyes locked on the white bruin.
Koyah has eyes only for the stream in which he hopes to find fish. But it’s clear that he’s had trouble so far. Winter may be over, but the salmon have yet to traverse this part of the tributaries. I feel my pulse quicken at the sight of Koyah’s ribs, ever apparent in the glow of the afternoon sun.
He is getting old. He is struggling to hunt as he once has.
I carefully land on the other side of the stream, perching on the peak of a projecting stone. Regarding the lone bruin with wary eyes, I sidestep to the edge of the rock, wondering whether or not this is a good idea.
Feeling the Shift running through my body and soul, I focus on my wingtips, taking in their every detail as they change from avian appendages to those of a human. As my body elongates, my feet begin to slip from the rock and I hold on for dear life with my fingertips.
I grip the rock more firmly, wincing as the stone cuts cruelly into my palms. I stand up on the boulder, ever wary of the slippery moss that rests beneath my toes.
Reaching into the pool of energy that lies within, I close my eyes as the spirits aid in my healing. The cut on my hand grows smaller, all but disappearing amongst the surrounding flesh. I sigh in relief, but then regret spending so much of my energy on something so trivial. I really should have eaten something before coming here.
A wave of fatigue crosses my body, causing me to shiver involuntarily.
It’s at this moment that Koyah turns his head, finally giving me a second glance.
His eyes are curious and he shows no sign of being threatened, which worries me. I reach into my mind for the right words in his own language – that of the Yeva’si. The words come slowly at first, as my tongue still isn’t used to such a different progression of vowels and consonants. But the language of the shapeshifters is ever-present in the mind of their creator, the Ru-Yeva.
“Hichi kana yoh,” I tell the bear. I know who you are.
And suddenly Sejka’s memories enter my head all at once, soaring towards my senses from all sides. They merge with my mind as if they had always belonged to me.
Koyah was a youngster, playing amongst the trees and rivers. His sleek ursine form bounded ahead of me, and I felt the exhilaration that only a disobedient child could feel.
We were running free.
We should not have been out here, but if we returned soon enough, they couldn’t stay mad at us.
“We’re young – we need to take more risks,” Koyah had told me.
I had reluctantly agreed, but guilt gnawed at my soul like the fangs of an enraged badger. The only way I could justify such actions was the fact that I would be able to protect my little brother. He would go no matter if I followed him or not, so I might as well be there for him.
Anything Koyah got us into, I could get us out of. Any injury we received could be healed just like that. And he knew this.
As much as I tried to keep my true nature from him, I hadn’t been able to. Part of me wanted him to know. I wanted him to know that I was – and always would be – his Guardian. But sometimes he took it a little too far. He knew I’d be there to straighten him out. And it was getting on my nerves.
He’d asked me to join him instead of Xunnu. The chieftain’s son could be fun, but he seemed a little stuck up sometimes; it was to be expected. I only hoped Xunnu’s father Sehwen would never find out about our disobedience. I hoped our own father would not, either. Between the two of them, we would be ripped to shreds. Not
literally, but almost as much. Sehwen’s icy glare was enough to send even the bravest of young Yeva’si back to their mothers.
Koyah was the adventurous one, the one who didn’t mind getting lost in the woods after dark. He could always find his way back. He was an amazing navigator, able to use the stars as his guide even more easily than his sister the Ru-Yeva could. It puzzled me that he could be so proficient at such a life, but somehow, it didn’t surprise me. Koyah had certainly gotten the practice he needed. He’d always be off exploring or trying to unlock a new form. He wished he had my powers. He envied me.
When we reached the fringe of the land, the ocean breeze tugging at my fur, I decided to Shift. The sand between my toes was pleasantly cool, and the water that lapped at my feet was akin to heaven.
This is nature; this is my life, I thought to myself. It always has been, even though I can’t remember much of it, yet.
“Koyah, we should be getting back.”
My brother turned to me, his great white snout eagerly sniffing the air. He took in a deep breath of the ocean air and finally Shifted.
“Sejka. Always the careful one.” He sighed, mocking our father’s voice. “Why can’t you just enjoy this?”
Koyah spun around, facing the sun, eyes closed in pleasure. I reluctantly mirrored his pose, feeling the sun’s warmth on my face. Yes, it felt good.
“We really should—”
“Keep quiet a while. We have the world at our fingertips. What kind of Nature’s Guardian are you? Don’t you want to see what’s on the other side?”
“The other side of the ocean?” I asked, exasperated. “We surely don’t have time—”
Koyah only smiled, Shifting into an eagle. His gold and white plumage shone magnificently in the sunlight as he took off into the air. I felt my skin start to prickle, my eyes narrowing in annoyance.
Ugh, males. They never learn.
I was a young woman of sixteen winters, Koyah having lived through twelve. But due to my experience and wisdom from past incarnations, I liked to think of myself as mature, despite my outward appearance.
