by Tasha Black
She glanced up at the door to his room. It couldn’t have been more than three meters away.
But it had felt too far away to him.
She swallowed over the lump in her throat and straightened.
Colton banged his head into her chest.
She tiptoed down the hall for the kitchen to fix him a cell of milk and find herself some breakfast, too.
Last night, Odin had cooked them a huge meal of root vegetables and some sort of local fowl, whose name she had forgotten. Liberty had eaten until she was stuffed, which made it easier to drag herself to bed without being tempted to invite Odin to come with her.
Easier, but still not easy. How was she going to make it twenty years?
“No point worrying about it,” she told Colton as she prepared his meal. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”
When they both were fed and the kitchen was sparkly clean again, she looked around.
The shelves were covered in books, but it didn’t seem right to sit around reading when there was a farm to tend to.
“Let’s make you a sling,” she told Colton, grabbing the table cloth from a small table in the entryway.
She was glad she had been in the Physician’s Brigade. Baby carrying across the system was done in many different ways. She had seen women making slings and carriers out of all kinds of things. The little tablecloth made a perfect baby holder on the first try.
She slipped Colton in and he snuggled in immediately.
“Good job, buddy,” she told him.
But he was already too sleepy to squeak back at her.
She slipped on her boots and headed out the front door.
The mountain was lush and green in the murky morning light.
Mornings were usually hard for her. They were when she thought most about Wyn - how they would drink their coffee together and plan their day.
But with Colton’s help, she had awoken and made it all the way through breakfast without the usual weight of loneliness.
Look at me, Wyn, she told him inwardly. I’m doing just what you wanted. I found someone to love.
She kissed the top of Colton’s fragrant head and looked up at the sky.
But not a single mote of sunlight made it through the clouds.
Next time, she told herself, gently patting her pocket.
A school of silvery birds winnowed past, chirping brightly. She watched them go all the way up the mountain, hugging the tops of the trees on the way.
When she glanced down again, she caught a flash of cream-colored fur and muddy paws coming at her at full speed.
She managed to step aside just in time.
“Keerah,” she said firmly to the tree-hound. “You can’t knock me over when I’m holding the baby.”
Keerah crash landed at the foot of a hemlock and cocked her head to the side as if trying to understand.
“Now I’ll bet you need your breakfast,” Liberty told her.
Keerah panted happily but didn’t lead the way to anything.
“Where is your food?” Liberty asked.
Keerah cocked her head sideways again, trying to understand.
“Well, I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Liberty told her. “In the meantime, you can have some leftovers.”
She pulled a packet from her pocket, opened it and placed it on the ground.
Keerah approached it joyfully and ate it in one bite.
“Wow,” Liberty said. “I’m going to make finding your food priority number one after we check on the sheep.”
Keerah wagged her mighty tail in agreement.
“Show me the sheep,” Liberty said.
Instantly, the creature was at attention again, trotting purposefully down the path, just like the night before.
Liberty followed her, taking in the sight of the orchard and the birds and ground animals again.
Now that they were in as much full daylight as Lachesis seemed to ever have, she could see more. There were tiny crustaceans on the tree trunks, and she caught sight of a turtle nosing in the soil of the orchard.
At last, they rounded the bend to the grove. The grass was almost impossibly green - it was deeply satisfying to look at. And she noticed tiny, light blue flowers growing here and there.
But there were no sheep to be found.
“Show me the sheep,” she told Keerah again.
Keerah stared at her for a moment with her large, violet eyes, and then barked once, crisply.
Liberty felt her heart begin to pound. She had been a farmer for less than twenty-four hours and her whole flock was gone. The sheep were valuable. This was supposed to be Colton’s farm, the proceeds meant to keep him fed and clothed and safe.
She had failed him in one night.
I should have stayed up all night with that farming book. I should have slept in the grove…
“Good morning,” a deep voice said from behind her. “So you wanted to check on the flock at sunrise. You were born for farming.”
She spun around to find Odin smiling at her.
“They’re gone,” she said, her heart breaking at each word. “They’re all gone.”
He shook his head and pointed up.
She looked up to see a sight so strange she couldn’t believe her eyes.
One of her sheep was in the tree above her.
Not in it, but floating beside it, taking big bites of the tender leaves, its wool sparkling indigo whenever the mist shifted to allow the muted light to hit it.
“Wh-what’s she doing up there?” Liberty asked.
“They absorb starlight when the cloud cover clears,” Odin explained. “Usually that’s very late at night. When they absorb enough, they float.”
“Incredible,” she breathed.
“Floating allows them to reach the top of the tree canopy, which has the nutrients they need,” he went on. “They eat all day, and by afternoon, they begin to sink, and the glow becomes more pronounced.”
“So they’re all up there, in the trees?” she asked.
“Most likely,” he told her. “But we’ll count to be sure.”
14
Odin
Odin watched as Liberty wandered the grove, counting her charges, with Colton asleep in his makeshift sling.
Seeing her wonder at the flock and the farm ignited his own, as if he were seeing it all for the first time himself.
“I’ve got sixteen,” she said, returning to him. “Do you see another one?”
“Let’s start from here and count together,” he suggested.
They began with the first sheep she had seen afloat and covered the whole grove.
“Sixteen,” he said at last. “You’re right. Someone is missing.”
“What do we do?” she asked.
“It seems odd that Keerah didn’t alert us,” he told her. “She has excellent senses.”
Keerah trotted over at the mention of her name and smiled at them, panting.
“What could have happened?” Liberty asked. “Would it have wandered off?”
“They live in groups, even wild sheep do,” Odin said, shaking his head. “I’m guessing a predator.”
“That seems unlikely with them up so high in the trees,” she said. “What would have taken it? A bear?”
“I’m thinking it could have happened before they began to float,” he said thoughtfully.
He closed his eyes, allowing the dragon a little closer to the surface.
“Odin?” Liberty said, sounding worried.
The dragon stretched out his senses, seeking…
“Odin,” she repeated.
He opened his eyes and she gasped and stepped back slightly.
The dragon retreated, allowing Odin back to the surface of their consciousness.
“Your eyes,” she breathed. “They were red.”
“That’s the dragon,” he said gruffly. “I let him come to the surface, to taste the air for predators. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
He didn’t tell her she had
no need to fear the dragon, since he had vowed to never let it be truly free again after what happened the last time he’d shifted.
“It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “Now that I know what was going on, I actually think it’s kind of cool.”
He grinned in spite of himself. This woman was everything he was not - easygoing and happy about surprises. He wondered if he would ever get used to it.
“Did he find anything?” she asked. “Or did I ruin it?”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured her. “And yes, we scented something at the edge of the forest.”
“Where?” she asked.
“Come on, we’ll check it out,” he said. “Don’t worry, the scent was cold.”
He headed for the forest and was gratified to sense her right by his side, half a step back, as if he knew right where he wanted her - close but protected. Keerah trotted happily just a few steps behind.
Just as the full shade of the trees closed in, he spotted what he had been looking for, and crouched for a closer look.
“What is it?” Liberty asked.
“Webbed paw prints,” he said. “Looks like a jaguarootte, maybe even a flamelikk.”
“What are those?” she asked.
“Big cats,” he told her.
“Like the lions and tigers in the storybooks from Old Earth,” she said thoughtfully. “I guess one of those could easily carry off a sheep.”
“Unfortunately, yes,” he replied. “But it doesn’t explain why Keerah didn’t respond. Maybe she was overwhelmed with us being here.”
Liberty nodded and reached down to stroke the tree-hound’s shaggy head.
“So do we go after it now?” she asked.
“You don’t go after it at all,” he told her. “And I don’t go after it until the farm tasks are done. We still have sixteen sheep, an orchard, and plenty more to take care of.”
“Yes, and I need to feed Keerah,” she said, endearing herself to him.
“Yes,” he agreed. “We’ll get everything squared away and then make a plan to figure out what’s going on with our feline neighbor. Even if it’s too late for our one missing sheep, we need to protect the others, and ourselves.”
“I’ll send a transmission to Crispin,” Liberty said decidedly. “His daughter can watch the baby. We can’t bring Colton on a hunt for a big cat.”
“I don’t know about that,” Odin said. He didn’t exactly want Liberty hunting a big cat either.
“She’s very skilled,” she said. “They both said so. And she knows how things work around here better than either of us.”
“Let’s get our day started,” he suggested noncommittally.
She nodded bravely and they set back for the farm together.
But everything was far from fine.
While he had made things sound simple for Liberty’s benefit, Odin was actually pretty angry about the whole situation. Big cats were notoriously entitled when it came to nearby farm animals. They could be fiercely territorial, and they played with their food.
This was going to be a battle - one he hadn’t planned on, and one that he didn’t want to fight with Liberty around.
15
Liberty
Liberty was surprised to hear the chime on the door panel fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.
She and Odin had spent the day scrambling to complete their work around the farm so that they could go into the woods to search for the predator.
He had gone from quiet and grumpy to downright surly as the hours passed.
She wasn’t sure if it was the missing sheep, or that he disliked farm work, or if it was something she had done, but he was less fun to be around with every passing moment.
True to form, he was stalking to the door and opening it before she could even ask who it was.
“Good evening, your honor,” a girl’s voice said loudly from the doorway. “I’m Cora, Crispin’s daughter, and I’m here to safeguard your child.”
Odin’s eyebrows went up at that, and he stepped back to allow her inside.
In spite of the large voice, she was a tiny, wiry girl, with a cloud of dark hair around her head that matched her freckles. She carried a bag nearly as big as she was slung over one shoulder.
“You must be the baby’s mother,” she said, striding up to Liberty.
“Uh, yes, nice to meet you, Cora,” Liberty said, a little taken aback at the amount of confidence exuding from such a tiny package.
The girl thrust out her arm, as if they were about to go into battle together, and Liberty clasped it automatically.
“I want you to know that I’ll protect your child with my life, madam,” Cora said with a quiet intensity. “I’ve completed the volunteer cadet program with the Lachesis emergency service squad, so I’m trained in infant CPR. I’m also skilled with a bow and arrow and trained in two forms of hand-to-hand combat.”
She patted her bag, which Liberty presumed must contain a bow and arrows. Or possibly the bodies of the girl’s enemies.
“I like her,” Odin said, walking over with an admiring expression.
“If you want a demonstration, grab my wrist,” she invited him, without acknowledging the compliment.
He actually looked torn.
“That’s fine, Cora,” Liberty said quickly, before Odin decided to attack her. “We believe you.”
“Sure,” Odin agreed. But he looked a little disappointed.
“Does the child have any allergies?” Cora asked him.
“None that I know of,” Odin said. “But he’s been exposed to very little.”
“No tree nuts, no stag milk, no myrox seasonings,” Cora said, noting it down.
“Why would he want myrox seasonings?” Odin wondered out loud.
“It’s none of my business why your son wants what he wants, your honor,” Cora said, her holo-pen stopping mid swipe and fixing Odin with a very serious glare. “It’s my business to keep him safe.”
“Damned right it is,” Odin agreed heartily. “What else do you need to know?”
“Does he have any particular fears or phobias?” she asked.
“None that I know of,” Odin said again. “But he gets anxious if you don’t feed him right away when he’s hungry.”
“That won’t be a problem,” she told him. “How many milliliters of formula would you say he eats at a sitting? And does he have any troubles with reflux?”
“I’m just going to grab my things,” Liberty said.
They didn’t even notice her go.
When she returned with her rucksack and cloak, they were talking about the frequency and color of the content of Colton’s diapers.
“Madam, you have nothing to worry about,” Cora said. “Your son will be safe with me.”
“I’m sure of it,” Liberty said with a smile. “I’ve never met a more committed steward.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Cora said proudly.
“We’ll talk more about that consistency you were explaining when we return,” Odin told her.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Cora said. “I’ll be sure to report back to you on any emissions during your absence, of course.”
Odin held out the tiny bundle, showing his confidence in this one wordless gesture.
“He’s lovely,” Cora said, smiling down at Colton and suddenly looking like a regular teenager for a moment.
“Yes, he is,” Liberty agreed. “If you need us, we’re only a transmission away.”
“Thank you, madam,” Cora said, but her eyes never left the baby.
Odin grabbed his duster and they headed out the door.
True darkness had fallen, and Liberty was taken aback by how strange the landscape looked in dim starlight.
“What is it?” Odin asked worriedly.
“Nothing, it’s just… so dark,” she said.
“Dammit,” he said to himself.
“What?” she asked.
“I should have remembered you wouldn’t be able to see,” he to
ld her. “My dragon can see in the dark. Maybe you’d better stay.”
“Not on your life,” Liberty said.
“You want to be out after dark in predator-infested woods?” he asked.
“I’m not going in there to have my bowel movements analyzed,” she retorted.
Odin made a strange barking sound, which she belatedly realized was a laugh.
“Look, it’s my farm,” she told him. “I need to learn how to do all of this, not just the fun parts. Besides, I have my view screen.”
She lifted her wrist and touched a button on the side of her bangle.
A laser image lifted from it in the form of a screen, showing her the night farm in full detail. The infrared scanner lit up the shape of a bird in a tree nearby.
“That’s cool,” Odin allowed.
She swung it his way and the screen brightened so much that she was afraid it was malfunctioning.
“Oh wow,” she said.
“Infrared heat sensor?” he guessed.
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess you’re… pretty hot.”
He raised one eyebrow.
She gulped.
He turned and marched toward the woods.
Well, at least it seemed like he was okay with her coming along. He seemed less angry than before too.
She took it as a good sign. If Odin could drop his grumpiness, then surely they would find what they were looking for.
16
Odin
Odin didn’t like leaving Colton, and he hated bringing Liberty into harm’s way.
But Cora seemed like the right kind of sitter - serious and ready for trouble.
And Liberty, in spite of her lovely manners, was as equipped for a trek through the forest as any Terran could be.
Not to mention that he was with her. He would protect her at all costs.
The night air blew cool and sweet through the trees, and the stars glowed through the cloud cover in a way that made Liberty’s darker-than-ebony hair shine almost purple.
It was hard to remember they were looking for a big cat, not a private place to make out in the woods.
He remembered his youth before joining the Invicta and the pretty girls he had snuck off with when he was a teenager.
