Into the Desert Wilds

by Jim Galford

  “We will find somewhere,” their mother said, turning back to the window. “Not the den. If your father was foolish enough to get himself killed, it is possible he may have revealed where we have been staying previously.”

  At that, Atall threw the bag across the room.

  Feanne glanced over her shoulder at the noise, before turning back to the window as she said, “Go with your sister to the kitchen. Collect as much food and water as you can safely get from the innkeeper. We will need plenty if we are to be far from town.”

  Before Oria could get to her feet, Atall had stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. She could hear other residents of the inn complaining loudly out in the hallway, followed by Atall’s terse suggestion that they suck a furball.

  “Go with your brother before he gets himself in trouble,” Feanne told Oria, still watching the dimly-lit city below.

  Disgusted by her mother’s lack of loyalty to a mate that had done everything for her—possibly including losing his life—Oria quietly walked from the room after her brother. Closing the door behind her, she stood there, trying to calm her racing heart.

  Though Oria idolized her mother, this had just gone too far. Estin might have been a bit of a fool and careless at times, but Oria knew that all of them owed their lives to him. Despite her mother’s behavior, Oria knew that she loved Estin. Why she was being so belittling to his memory was shocking to Oria, especially with the new kits as a fresh reminder of Estin’s place in their lives.

  She stood at the door a little longer, then started toward the stairs down into the inn. Not more than three steps away from the room’s door, Oria changed her mind and spun back.

  “I’m not going to let her ditch father,” she said to herself, taking a deep breath as she took the door handle. “Maybe she won’t listen to Atall, but she has to see how stupid this is.”

  Softly opening the door out of habit to keep from waking the kits, Oria froze as she leaned into the room.

  Curled up on the floor near the window, Feanne was openly weeping, her face held in one hand. Normally, Oria would have expected her mother to be acutely aware of someone sneaking up on her, but she seemed oblivious to Oria’s presence. Tears poured down her face as she held the three whining kits to her chest with her free arm. Never once had Oria seen her mother crying and now she was so lost in her sorrow that she shook with her sobs.

  Though the kits were far too young to understand their mother’s grief, they still clung and nuzzled against her, as if trying to coax out their once-happy mother again, pawing at her neck with their tiny claws. She just pulled them closer, whispering to them words that Oria could not make out.

  Oria nearly squeaked as Atall grabbed her and roughly pulled her from the doorway, closing it quietly behind him. Though normally she would have struck back at her brother, she stumbled dazedly as he shoved her toward the stairs, where they would be less likely to be heard by their mother.

  “Are you an idiot?” he hissed, keeping his voice low, though he still sounded to Oria as though he were shouting. “She’s grieving. Why do you think she sent us away? We have enough food hidden away that most of it will go bad before we could eat it. This isn’t even the first time she’s cried since he vanished, but you didn’t hear her because you snore so loud. I’m betting she wants to be alone so she can mourn Estin one last time without you sticking your big nose…”

  Oria thumped her brother in the middle of the chest as hard as she could with her fist, putting all her weight behind the blow, making Atall choke and collapse to the wood floor in a heap.

  “You’re right,” she answered, stepping over Atall as he writhed on the floor. “Let’s give her some time.”

  *

  The next week passed slowly for Oria, each day filled with babysitting the kits while their mother hunted for food—mostly to get herself feeling more normal again—and patrolled to ensure they were safe at their new den. She had taken to hunting within days after they left Corraith and each day she returned, she was less exhausted. By Oria’s guess, within another week, she would be as fit as she was the day she had realized she was pregnant.

  Like the old desert hiding hole, this new location was within a couple hours walk of Corraith, but was somewhat more east than the last place they had stayed and less hidden by rocks, though a few small mounds of stone provided a little shade. Oria could have hiked to the old location across the hot sands in about an hour, but it was far enough from that place that anyone looking for them there would probably not find the new den.

  This particular day was no different from the last few, with Feanne out during sunset when Oria and Atall tended to wake. Her strength had mostly returned and her mood—though cool toward everyone since Estin had disappeared—was at least stable. Oria had not been afraid of getting her face mauled off in at least four days.

  Oria had seen no indication that her mother was still in mourning, which was probably for the best, at least in Oria’s opinion. No sense in shedding more tears over a male who got himself killed. She loved Estin as a father, but she recognized that a pack leader like her mother needed to be able to detach herself from such things. To that end, Oria had worked hard to embody that feeling, putting Estin out of her thoughts as much as possible.

  “Now you,” Oria said to the kit she held in front of her face. “You look like a troublemaker.”

  The little female blinked her large blue eyes at Oria, staring back at her a little cross-eyed. She pawed at Oria’s hand and kicked her short legs a little, probably wanting to get back onto the ground with her brothers, who were tumbling about on the sands.

  “We just need to get things straight,” continued Oria. “I’m in charge when mom’s away. Don’t start thinking you’re the boss here.”

  The kit blinked hard and yawned.

  “A month old and she already knows you’re too full of yourself,” Atall muttered nearby. He was seated, leaning against a small outcropping of stone, reading over notes he had made on the blank parchments Estin had left behind.

  “What are you trying to say?” Oria demanded, putting down the kit. The little fox girl tackled her nearest brother with a cheerful yip.

  “I’m saying that you need to stop acting like you are going to lead a pack when mother dies. There is no pack anymore. We’re just a family of wildlings and nothing more. With dad gone, we’re barely even that.”

  Oria hopped to her feet, scattering the kits, who watched her briefly, then went back to wrestling and nipping at one another.

  “Would you stop talking about him every chance you get?” Oria demanded, standing over Atall. A gust of hot wind buffeted her with sand, forcing her to pause a moment, while the kits sputtered and coughed to get the sand out of their mouths. “We need to move on and you’re not helping.”

  “Forgetting people doesn’t make it easier, Oria. Estin wanted us to remember Insrin, even though by all rights he shouldn’t have. He told us grandfather’s stories about people that were long dead, so that they wouldn’t be forgotten. I won’t forget my father just because you tell me to. Even if you punch me.”

  Oria’s arm froze. She had been intending to punch her brother, but the desire to do so faded when he realized what she had planned.

  Trying to find another way to get her brother to recognize that he needed to listen to her with their mother away, Oria noticed the pages of parchment in his lap. Delicate scribbles covered the visible sheets in a style that reminded Oria of Estin’s notebook that he used for his magic.

  “What is that?” she asked, kneeling to get a better look.

  “I found them in with the books that dad left,” Atall explained, lifting a few sheets to show more that were covered with the notes. “I’ve been trying to figure them out. Dad showed me a couple tricks of his magic, but this is really different.”

  Oria made a lunge to grab the pages, but Atall dodged, pulling them to his chest.

  “Give me those!” she ordered, trying to grab again. Th
is time Atall scrambled to his feet to get some distance between them.

  “No way,” Atall argued, shaking his head. “You think magic is dumb, so why would I give them to you?”

  “Because you’ll hurt yourself before you figure them out, dummy.”

  Atall growled at her, baring his teeth.

  “Growl all you want,” she told him, planting her hands on her hips. “I’ll still thump you and take them.”

  Oria expected Atall to try to attack her or maybe run away. Given his temper, she was ready to defend herself when he jumped at her. She even half-expected him to draw his knife, but instead he raised a hand in her direction.

  “What are you…?” she started to ask, as an invisible force slammed into her chest.

  Dazed and hurting, Oria crashed to the ground several feet away and tumbled head over tail, sliding to a stop near the cheering kits.

  “I’ll tear your ears off for that!” Oria roared, wiping sand out of her eyes.

  Again something slammed into Oria, but this time when she slid to a stop on her back, she opened her eyes to find that her mother was kneeling over her, one hand pinning her to the ground. Feanne’s calm blue eyes stared down at Oria and her ears were tilted forward in agitation. Her razor-sharp claws rested lightly against Oria’s upper chest, tapping as a reminder that they were dangerously close.

  “We do not strike at our kin out of anger,” Feanne said in the most even voice Oria had ever heard her use. “Calm yourself. Now.”

  “Let me fight her!” begged Atall frantically, several feet away. “She’s always wanted to prove how great she is. Please let me fight back just this once!”

  Feanne shifted atop Oria, making a slight gesture with her free hand. From the dry sands, dark green vines snapped up, wrapping around Atall like ropes. They yanked him off his feet and flopped him onto his back, holding him firmly, even as he squirmed and tried to bite at a vine near his face.

  Halfway between the older children, the three kits bounced about, giggling and wagging their fluffy red and white tails.

  “Oria, you will leave for the night and go off to explore your ruins you love so much,” Feanne told Oria, slowly climbing off her, and then sitting down hard on the sand beside her. “I do not want to see you back here before you have had time to calm down and get past whatever anger you have toward your brother.”

  “You know about…?”

  “Of course I do. I let you both have your freedom so that you can learn, but I do not turn a blind eye. I also know that your brother has been working on that spell for days specifically to teach you a lesson. He proved his point.”

  Nearby, Atall’s growls turned to whines as the other three kits began clamoring over him, tugging at his fur and whiskers as he lay helpless in the vines.

  “Mom…”

  Feanne shook her head. “Go. You want to be a leader someday, but right now you are just a bully. My own mother would likely have told me that this is some kind of punishment from the old gods, as I certainly was no better, but I will not let you be as bad as I have been. I will deal with your brother, as it’s not your place.”

  Oria felt her ears droop and she took off at a run. Once she knew Atall could not see her, she slowed to a walk, kicking at the occasional small stone in the sand.

  She soon stopped on a sandy rise, trying to decide where to go. Stubbornness made her want to head somewhere other than the ruins, but this far from Corraith, there was nowhere else she knew of. Turning south, Oria headed toward the ruins, her mood becoming even darker knowing that her mother could make her do what she wanted even when she was not around.

  By the time she arrived, it was dark out, but that actually made Oria feel better about the journey, as the sands were cooling quickly under the pads of her feet.

  Hurrying down into the tiny cave, Oria struggled to keep her mother’s words out of her mind. In frustration, she kicked a piece of bone, letting it clatter far down the hall past the farthest point she had explored previously.

  Oria hurried past the more worn sections of the passage, slowing only when she finally reached the parts she had not gotten to before. She smirked as she passed the place where she had beaten up the big-eared fox that had tried grabbing her. Somehow, thinking of that gave her some peace from the anger at her brother.

  A little farther down the burial-alcove passage, she reached a large square room with new tunnels to either side. Unlike the entry hall, this area was dark enough that she struggled to see. Still, she assured herself that she could see well enough to go a little farther and if she had to get more light, her mother had taught her how to make a simple torch from things she knew were in the hall behind her.

  Sniffing, Oria realized that someone had been through the room recently. Possibly multiple people.

  Turning between the two side-tunnels, Oria yelped and took a step back when she faced the right-hand passage and found herself staring at a human, who was pointing a crossbow at her. The weapon was drawn and ready to fire and there was no chance she could reach the man before he could wiggle his finger.

  “Back again?” called a voice behind her. It was familiar and Oria groaned, realizing who it likely was.

  Keeping her hands visible to the man with the crossbow, Oria turned slowly, seeing the large-eared fox standing a little way back up the tunnel she had entered through.

  “I have never seen a woman of these lands fight the way you did, not that your patterning indicates you as being from anywhere near here,” the fox said, keeping well back from her as he leaned against the stone wall. “I decided not to risk being humiliated twice and brought a servant.”

  Oria turned back to the human with the crossbow. The thin man watched her carefully, keeping the stock of the weapon just under the long hair of his beard. Had he not been pointing a weapon at her, Oria thought she might have laughed at him for the pure foolishness of a human trying to grow proper fur. Dwarves could pull it off, but not a human.

  “Do I have to knock you around again?” Oria asked, though she kept her back to the wall, wondering if she really could find a way to avoid the first shot. At this distance, even she had no desire to test herself. “Wait…a servant?”

  “Phaesys still has rights to my family, no matter what’s changed,” the human said softly, keeping his cheek along the stock of the weapon. He was not taking an eye off Oria.

  “You are my guest, until we figure out why you keep poking around down here,” the fox noted, gesturing toward Oria, then at the other tunnel.

  From the other dark tunnel, two elves emerged, rushing at Oria and grabbing her arms. She shrieked and tried to kick and bite her way free, but they overpowered her quickly, forcing her to the ground. Ropes were snapped tight on her wrists and ankles and when she tried to scream for help, they wrapped a thick cloth strap around her muzzle, tying her mouth shut.

  “I do apologize,” the fox that had been referred to as Phaesys told her, kneeling just in front of Oria, while the two elves knelt on her to keep her still. “This is for the best until you calm down. Once you relax, we can discuss the situation like two rational people.”

  Hissing and growling, Oria did what little she could to resist as the men pulled her off the floor and began dragging her by her shoulders deeper into the tunnels. She tried everything, even attempting to dig her footpads and claws into the rough stone floor to slow their pace, but aside from getting burns on her feet, she accomplished almost nothing.

  Phaesys led the way, carrying a torch that one of the men lit as they approached him. The group said nothing as they went, making their way swiftly through passages that Oria would have guessed were abandoned had she found them alone.

  After several minutes of travel, one of the elves holding Oria shifted his grip on her. Without a word, he slammed his elbow into her side, knocking the wind from her lungs, effectively stopping her struggles.

  “Did she finally relent?” Phaesys asked soon after, his face still toward the darkness ahead.


  “Yes, sir,” answered the man that had struck Oria, giving her a malicious smirk. “Calmed right down.”

  Struggling for breath through her nose, Oria felt herself begin to go faint. Any other time, the elbow to her ribs would have been painful but bearable, but with her mouth tied shut, she could not get enough air. It did not take long before she drifted from consciousness, wishing her mother, father, or even Atall were there to help her.

  *

  “Are you waking, little one?”

  Oria groaned and curled into a fetal position. Her senses were coming back to her quickly and she used her body’s initial reaction to move her head around and gauge what her current predicament was under the guise of rolling about in pain.

  While still curled up, she checked her wrists and moved her feet, making sure that the bonds were gone. Even the strap around her mouth had been removed. That was a very bad decision by Phaesys or whoever was standing over her, she thought, managing not to smirk as she let out a fake groan.

  “Child, please tell me if you are okay,” came Phaesys’ voice again, as his hand touched Oria’s shoulder.

  Snarling, Oria rolled to her feet, grabbing the male’s wrist as she came up. With a twist, she shoved him face-first against the room’s nearest wall, with his arm far up between his shoulder blades.

  “Let me go home to my mother!” she barked into Phaesys’ ear. “I will break your arm if you ever touch me again.”

  “We may have started on a bad footing,” the male said very quickly, trying to turn his head to look at her.

  Slamming her shoulder into the back of his, Oria drew a choked yelp from Phaesys and he stopped trying to move.

  “Fine, I yield,” he told her, moving his free hand up to where she could see it. “I have no weapon on me. I do not wish to hurt any woman, you must believe me. I will not fight you.”

  “You drew a sword on me the first time we met.”