by Claudia King
She spent the early weeks of spring fishing or riding out on Fern's back to scavenge the nearby land. The pack slowly rebuilt their strength, hunting critters in small groups until they were strong enough to begin stalking deer.
Having been nothing more than a chaser—the lowest of the hunter ranks—for most of her life, it was with great pride that Fern finally led Briar, Wren, and Rokan in bringing down the pack's first two does, allowing all twenty of them to eat heartily for several days afterwards.
Briar had spent much of her winter knapping new tools to replace those lost in the flood, and she helped the others to prepare the fresh hides that were now being collected, fashioning them into new clothes, carrying pouches, and awnings to repair the well-travelled leftovers of their tents.
The only belongings that were truly irreplaceable were the herbs. Adel had discovered a handful of new plants that she believed contained similar properties in the meantime, but it was a small consolation to the group of seers. It soon became clear that this, more than anything, was reason enough to seek out a new den before it came time for the summer gathering. Seers were nothing without their magic, and it was through the power of their plants that they healed wounds and found their gateways into the spirit world.
By the time the last of the snow had melted and the waters ran free of ice, the pack had grown strong again. They had enough food preserved for their travels, and their other supplies, while diminished, were sufficient to see them through the days to come. Adel announced that they would continue travelling south, where she believed the pine forest would eventually give way to more familiar land.
They contemplated dismantling the shelter to remove any traces of their winter visit, but with Netya's persuasion Adel conceded to let it stand. Perhaps it would shelter other travellers or animals from the cold in the years to come. If the spirits had gifted them with survival that winter, it was the least they could do to offer the same kindness to those who might follow in their footsteps. Perhaps the shelter would simply stand unoccupied until it rotted and collapsed, but perhaps not. Netya liked to think someone else would find use for it before that happened.
It felt good to travel again, especially upright and on two legs. The musty atmosphere of the shelter was replaced with fresh air filling her lungs every day, and the walking helped to restore the strength to her muscles as they travelled south across the rocky, pine-covered landscape. With the weather now reversing its course, their journey became lighter and more hopeful every day. Gone was the looming threat of the changing seasons, replaced with the promise of good hunting and lush terrain to forage. Adel began her collection of black feathers again, replacing those she had lost with a new bundle she kept tied across her back. They travelled easily and made good progress, and they were disturbed by neither sight nor sound of any other wolves crossing their path.
Just as Adel had predicted, the forest thinned out as more overgrown outcrops broke through the surface of the earth, and they entered a land of lakes and valleys as far as the eye could see. The mountains still bordered the horizon to the east, but they too eventually became lost from view as the pack descended to lower ground, winding their way through a maze of hills and meadows. Everything was green here, rich and beautiful, and it began to remind Netya of the lands south of their old den where she used to forage with Fern and Adel.
"How will we know how to reach the great gathering from here?" she asked her mentor one day, as they meandered through a broad field collecting cuttings of plants here and there to add to their collection.
"We know the mountains are still to the east," Adel said. "All we need do is follow them south until they block our path, then find a passage through. The gathering takes place in the land beyond, in a place that only our people can find."
"I am glad our pack is so accustomed to travel. I do not know how you make sense of our direction in such unfamiliar lands."
"We navigate by the mountains. The sun tells us east from west, and the mountains are there for us to follow until we reach the places we remember."
"There were no mountains in sight of my village."
"Perhaps that is why your people travelled so little," Adel said. "They are slow without the legs of wolves to carry them. I am told some of your kind remain in their villages generation after generation without leaving, building their homes larger as they fill them with more children."
"It seems you know even more about them than I do," Netya replied. "We heard only tales from the villages that traded with us. I know there was one very large village, far to the east, that took metal from the ground and made it into tools. I suppose they had no reason to ever leave with such treasures nearby."
"The packs who travel that way tell similar tales also. The Sun People build great villages of wood and clay, home to more warriors than those of all the packs combined. It is only in this land that they are still few enough in number for us to challenge them."
A low howl from half way across the field interrupted them, and they glanced over to see Selo's wolf wagging her tail in the distance, pacing intently around something she had found. The scattered group clustered back together around the young seer, who was poking her nose into a low gap beneath a pile of rocks. Netya crouched down and squinted into the space. Out of the darkness, the skull of a wolf stared back at her.
"Is it one of our kind?" she asked, her pulse quickening.
"No," Fern replied, reaching in to run her hand across the pile of bones, long since picked clean and scattered apart by scavengers. "A feral wolf, but I recognise the scent. It is very old."
"I recognise it too," Selo said, reverting from the shape of her wolf. "This creature's pack once marked their territory in this land. Their scent has lingered on the air since yesterday, in furrows like this and around the roots of trees."
"How old is this scent?" Adel inquired.
Selo glanced at the skull. "As old as these bones, I would say. I fear those who left it have all succumbed to a similar fate by now."
"They must have been very strong indeed to leave such a lingering trace," Caspian said. "This territory would have been theirs for a great many years."
"And a powerful pack would have a large den nearby," Adel mused.
Netya shared a glance with Caspian.
"You think we could settle here?" he said. "Why this place?"
"The land is rich with plants. These hills and valleys will hide us from the attention of others, and I feel the call of the spirits strongly here."
"It is a peaceful place," Selo agreed. "And perhaps blessed with good fortune, if such a pack once made it their home."
"Or cursed, if they all fell to the same fate as this animal." Caspian gestured to the skull. "Let us not forget the last cave we entered."
Adel waved a hand in dismissal, and for a moment Netya thought she noticed her man prickle with annoyance.
"We will be cautious," the den mother said. "Seek out the scents of this wolf's pack. Let us see if we cannot follow them back to its den."
The group scattered to carry out Adel's instructions, nosing around the edges of the field in any small crannies that might still preserve the traces of the dead pack's scent.
"Be careful," Caspian said to Netya once most of the others had gone. "Some of this wolf's kin may linger yet."
"I am sure I can fend them off by myself if they do."
"Without the help of your own wolf?"
"I can call on her if I need to," Netya protested.
Caspian raised his eyebrows. "After such a long time?"
"What does it matter? Adel said to be cautious, and I shall. You need not tell me again." Netya closed her eyes and let out a long breath. "Forgive me, I did not mean to be short."
"I am only concerned for you." He took her by the hand. "Your wolf has not been kind to you these past months. Adel trusts you to remain strong, but she is not the one who has to hold you in your sleep."
"Perhaps she has the right of it. It may be better for me
to confront my fears rather than seeking shelter from them. She had no one to comfort her when she faced her own trials."
"You are not Adel," he said. "Nor should you try to be."
"I am her apprentice."
"And you are my woman. The sensitive girl who ensnared my heart. You may want to prove yourself to the den mother, but there is no need with me. Let me walk with you today, and if by chance we happen upon the remnants of this wolf's pack, we will face it together."
Netya was still reluctant. She had felt coddled most of her life, whether it was as a child, a concubine, or a woman in a world ruled by men. Her withdrawal from her wolf over the winter had felt like she was regressing into that role all over again, and, despite the persistence of her panicked dreams, she longed to feel like she could stand shoulder to shoulder with her pack-sisters once more.
"Very well," she consented, resting her spear over her shoulder. "If only to spend more time with you."
Caspian smiled. "I hope we shall be able to spend even more time together soon."
Netya returned his smile hesitantly. It had been a long time since they were intimate together. At first it had been a result of the cold, the cramped conditions beneath the shelter, and then her ongoing sensitivity to the fears of her dreams. Caspian had not pressured her, but she could sense he wanted to lie with his woman again.
She desired his intimacy too, but it was now a different concern that kept her from consummating their love. The herbs she used to prevent herself from falling pregnant had been lost along with the rest in the flood, and her heightened state of anxiety had left her more nervous than ever about conceiving a child unexpectedly.
The burdens of motherhood frightened her now, just as the unpredictable urges of her wolf did. She already had one childlike creature vying for her attention. One that she would eventually have to confront. She did not know whether she would be able to cope with yet another life-changing event on top of that.
The rest of the day spent walking with Caspian was pleasant, however. He used his wolf's nose to sniff after the trails they were following, and she climbed trees to survey the nearby land for any signs of life. That evening they made camp in an open meadow, the warm weather allowing a few couples to slip away into the grass to find privacy together. Available men were in short supply, but that did not stop Fern from coaxing Briar off by herself, and a short while later three of the other women followed their example.
Netya felt Caspian's manhood swelling with need beneath his clothing as he lay with her, but she stayed his hand when it strayed down her lower belly to find the space between her legs. Crawling atop him, she loosened her man's clothing and allowed her lips to pleasure him in all the ways he desired, trailing kisses down his body until she reached his shaft and took him into her mouth. Unwilling to resist the unexpected pleasure, he lay back and allowed her to bring him to his peak, fingers curling into her hair as he panted and spilled his warmth between her lips. He offered her the same pleasure in return afterwards, coaxing her expertly to the brink until she was forced to bite the back of her wrist so that the others did not hear her cries.
It was a good relief, and one they had both needed. Netya was not troubled by unpleasant dreams that night, waking eager and refreshed the next morning.
The search for the old pack's den continued for most of the following day, leading them deeper into the rich new land until they came to a long valley. The faded scents became much stronger, leading them down the grassy corridor that sat between two almost mountainous ridges on either side. A strange mist hung in the air, and it was not until they had travelled farther along the valley that Netya realised it was linked to a dim rushing noise she had mistaken for the blowing of the wind.
White ribbons of water spilled down the crags on the northern side, splitting apart like the fingers of a spider's web and then coming back together in rivulets and short streams. It was the waterfalls that were misting the air with their spray, finally coming to rest in a swirling pool at the base of the valley that gurgled its way back into the rocks that had birthed it.
Adel wandered ahead of the group, gazing up at the natural stone walls around them. Netya could almost sense her mentor's subdued excitement. It was not just one den to which the wolf pack's scent had led them, but dozens. All around them, from the lowest nooks at the base of the valley to the ridges half way up the sides, the dark entrances of caves opened up in the rocks.
Once they reached the base of the waterfalls Netya approached her mentor and tugged at her clothing. "Do you think this is it?"
Adel nodded slowly. "It would be bad fortune indeed if at least one of these caves was not suited to our needs."
They ventured cautiously into some of the openings at ground level, where the old scents were at their strongest. It was clear, however, that even the occupants of these dens had been absent for as long as the dead wolf in the field. They found more bones, both those of the valley's previous occupants and the numerous animals they had preyed upon, but not a single live wolf emerged from the darkness. The chitter of bats and the fresh scent of a bear in one of the caves farther down the valley were the only signs of habitation they found, and the bear's cave was quickly given a respectful berth as the pack retreated back to the waterfalls.
The valley offered them water, shelter, and a small amount of safe land for foraging. Few of the caves were perfectly suited to housing the entire pack at once, but that too seemed to please Adel.
"Many of us will be able to make our own private dwellings close by," she said, pointing to the series of caves stretching up the north side of the valley. "That one, in the middle, may make for a fine seers' cave. The one below is well suited to storing supplies."
"And these trees," Netya said, gesturing to a distant grove clustered atop the summit of the ridge. "I believe they are of the kind my people used to make tools and houses from. I do not know how to work wood with the tools we have, but perhaps we can learn?"
Briar shook her head. "You will have difficulty reaching them from here. I could find no safe path to the top from this side."
"There will be other trees nearby," Adel said, giving Netya a curious smile. "It is not our way to build houses of wood, but we have abandoned many of our people's traditions already. Perhaps we can afford to embrace some of yours."
—8—
Adel's Pack
It was rare Adel ever paused to enjoy the satisfaction of her accomplishments. She knew that pride was the ruin of many great leaders, and she had grown to despise it in both herself and others ever since she was a girl. Her father had been a proud man, and, much to Adel's resentment, he had passed the trait along to his daughter. She desired respect, acknowledgement, reverence—and perhaps part of her even wished to instil fear in her followers. She had the makings of a proud woman, but she hated to acknowledge that part of herself. Pride had not kept her followers alive through the winter, and it had not delivered them safely to the valley they now called home.
And yet, as much as Adel fought against her prideful urges, for the first time in many months she could not help but allow herself to feel a sense of satisfaction as she gazed down at her pack sitting together around their fire in front of the central cave.
She had not doubted she could lead them to such a sanctuary. Doubt was a slayer of wills, and hers burned as strong as that of any alpha. But she had understood the possibility of failure. It had loomed larger than ever during the winter, and she had felt keenly the suffering of each and every member of her pack. Netya had struggled especially hard with the will of her emerging wolf, but the den mother had faith in her apprentice's fortitude.
She still did not know whether the girl had it in her to one day rise to the greatness of a den mother herself. She was sharp-witted, brave, inquisitive, and had demonstrated a talent for insight on more than one occasion. But she was a young dreamer, still timid from the circumstances of her upbringing, and ignorant of many of the world's harsh truths. Netya would need to ado
pt her mentor's discipline and inner fire if she was ever to become anything more than a competent seer.
In the days that had passed since their arrival in the valley, the pack had set about making several of the caves liveable. Plants, moss, animal bones, and other refuse were cleaned out, bedding was put down, and their awnings were erected around the entrances to keep off the wind. It was not long before the small clutch of caves half way up the northern side of the valley had begun to resemble a proper encampment, and Adel was glad of the opportunity to retreat into solitude again as her pack settled into the tasks of daily living.
She had chosen one of the highest caves on the slope, just beneath the point where the rock face became near-vertical, forming an impassable cliff that stretched all the way to the top of the ridge. There she withdrew into the darkness of her medium-sized dwelling, and finally the den mother found time to think. To scheme, as her former alpha would have put it.
For many weeks she kept largely to herself, puzzling over the looming question of her pack's future, pondering how she would structure the new hierarchy of her people in the months to come, and trying to determine which alliances could be forged—and which enemies might be made—at the upcoming pack gathering.
Along with those plans, however, came the opportunity for Adel to do something she had not been able to indulge in for a long time. Khelt's pack had always believed her aloof and detached from the everyday concerns of the group, caring only for herself and the seers closest to her. The truth of it had been quite different. She had not engaged with the pack, but she had watched each and every one of its members closely. She studied them from afar, listened intently to the gossip bandied about by those with loose tongues, and observed day by day the individual behaviours of those she oversaw. Some were easy to read, some complex, and others were able to keep their hearts and minds closed off completely. But she always watched, and she always listened.
