Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two)

by Claudia King

  Finally there was a lull in the frenzy. Netya swayed on the spot, clutching her arm so tight her knuckles turned pale. It felt as though her flesh would split open and the cutting pain would overwhelm her if she loosened her grip. The sound of heavy, panting breath filled her ears. Somewhere behind them the splash of the stag's hooves echoed as it reached the far side of the creek.

  "Fern," she said thickly, almost losing her balance as she turned and staggered away from Kin. "Pera..?"

  The huntress was cradling the small wolf in the shallows, keeping his muzzle out of the water as he twitched beside her, the piece of antler still lodged in his side.

  "He is barely breathing," Fern said quietly, eyes brimming with tears as she glanced desperately up at her friend, then growing even more fearful as she saw the blood dripping from the limp fingertips of Netya's right hand.

  "Let me check... Let me look at him," she said, her words feeling thicker and woollier by the moment. Her stomach heaved as she knelt in the murky red water beside them, fresh pain blossoming from her knees as they hit the rocks far too hard. The tips of the antler had pierced Pera's body in several places, one of them tearing a gash in his underbelly along the way. Fern moved to touch the broken horn, but Netya nudged her and shook her head, screwing her eyes shut as another wave of dizziness swept over her.

  "No, don't pull it," she muttered weakly. "It might bleed... bleed more."

  "What do we do?"

  Netya gestured to the gash, trying to bend down to get a closer look. Suddenly her head felt a dozen times heavier, threatening to drag her to the ground as she shifted her weight off balance. She put out her one free hand instinctively, then cried out in pain as the throbbing wounds in her arm blazed to life as if her blood had turned to liquid fire.

  "Netya!" Fern gripped her by the shoulders, causing another burst of pain near Netya's elbow, but it was dull compared to the agony she had just awakened by putting weight on it.

  "Check the gash," she forced out through clenched teeth, straining to hold herself together. She was bleeding badly. Someone needed to check her own injury and bind it, but Pera's need was greater than hers. "Is it deep?"

  Fern bent her head to look. "I do not know, there is too much blood. Netya—"

  "Feel with your fingers," she gasped, trying to focus on Adel's teachings, running through the lessons she had spent night after night memorising, branding the details into her mind. Even her vision seemed hazy now, though she could not tell if it was just from her eyes watering.

  Fern leaned over again and Pera gave another weak whimper, his body tensing up for a moment.

  "It does not seem very deep," the huntress said, her voice shaking. "What should I do?"

  "I know the first thing we must do!" Kin's heated voice cut across them as he strode into the shallows. "Kill that filth!" He threw his arm back to point at the pinned scout. "It is his fault this happened! He knew the stag was here, he led us to it!"

  "How would he have known?!" Fern retorted. "Can't you see Pera may die? Look what you did to Netya!"

  "She shouldn't have interfered," he growled. "Let me kill him, blood for blood, it is all he deserves!"

  "No," Netya said, but she could muster none of the previous authority back into her voice. "You won't... kill him."

  Kin shook his head, all but ignoring her as he continued to address Fern. "Our only healer barely has her wits about her. We need to bring her and Pera back to the valley. There's no time, it has to be done now!"

  "No," Netya repeated, but she could scarcely hear her own voice. She swayed, slumping against Fern's shoulder, struggling to tap into the deep reserves of strength that had kept her going. But the well had run dry. Her spilling blood had stolen away the last of her energy, and there was nothing left to give. "Fern," she whispered, shuddering with pain as she pawed at her friend with her numb right hand. "Don't let them."

  "I forbid it," Fern said, glaring up at Kin.

  "Why?!" the young man roared. "He is our enemy! Let him go and he will bring his whole pack down on us!"

  "Because this is not our way," Fern replied, her voice soft but firm. "It is not Adel's way. And I trust my friend to know the den mother's will better than you."

  "You are sick with grief, women, the both of you! You do not know what you say." Kin rounded on the others, making straight for the pinned wolf. "Let him up, he dies now."

  Netya mouthed the word no again, but no sound accompanied it. Everything was growing hot and hazy. Only the desperation she felt at being so helpless kept her awake. Through her numbness she watched as Kin dragged the others aside, picked up the smooth rock from where Netya had dropped it, and raised it high over the dazed wolf's skull.

  —30—

  Mercy

  A thick hand caught Kin's wrist mid-swing as he hefted the rock downwards, halting the blow before it could connect.

  "Let go of me, you great oaf!" the young man growled, baring his teeth at Eyan.

  The larger man's hand remained firmly clenched around his companion's wrist, holding him with a grip as firm as granite. Eyan's brow creased with concern, as though something had made him deeply unsure of his actions. "Fern said no," he stated.

  "And who are you going to listen to, her or me? She is being a stupid female!"

  Eyan shook his head slowly. "Do not speak about her that way."

  Kin made a noise of anger, struggling to wrench his hand free and kicking out at Eyan's leg. He might as well have been throwing his aggression at a slab of rock. Eyan twisted his grip and Kin let out a yelp of pain, dropping the stone and falling to his knees.

  "Fern said no." The larger man held his grip for a moment longer before releasing it. Kin fell forward, nursing his wrist and cursing under his breath, but he made no attempt to grab for the rock again.

  "Thank you, Eyan," Fern said. "Can you help me? We must get Pera out of the water, or he will freeze."

  Eyan's face coloured a little as he gave her an abrupt nod, wading into the shallows and bending down to ease Pera's body out of her grasp.

  "Be careful— the antler," Netya managed to whisper, but she need not have worried. Eyan held the boy so gently it seemed surreal that the same hands had twisted Kin into submission just a moment earlier.

  One of the other males growled from his perch atop the pinned wolf, the sound holding a wordless question.

  "Keep him there," Fern replied as she helped Netya back to her feet. "Kin? Make some use of yourself and find something to bind their wounds."

  "What?" He spat the word out like a mouthful of bitter food.

  "Grasses, leaves, you must have bound your own wounds before!"

  Shooting one last angry look at the pinned scout, Kin took the shape of his wolf and slunk off into the trees.

  The immense relief Netya felt was fleeting, for she knew their situation was still dire, and it had the unwelcome effect of taking the edge off the desperate fear that had kept her clinging to consciousness. As Fern helped her sit down against a nearby tree she tried to give her friend instructions on what to do, how she must check Pera's breathing, not pull out the antler until she was sure—

  But the thoughts became a mumble on her weary lips, the throbbing pain of her arm pulsing in time with the rhythm of her heart, dragging her down into the escape of sleep. Her whole arm was sticky with blood, and it was still running through her clenched fingers. Would Fern know to bind the wound tight so that it would stop bleeding..?

  Her thoughts escaped her as everything faded into blackness, fatigue and injury claiming the last of her strength. She slipped away from the world and into the dark that not even the spirits could penetrate, where the soul retreated to mend, or to die.

  The crackling of a fire slowly crept into her ears. It was nice enough just to sit and listen, clinging to the comfortable weight of sleep that provided refuge from the dull throb in her right arm. Everything was quiet but for the snap and pop of the flames... No, not entirely quiet. She could hear running water somewh
ere nearby, faint, but still audible. The creek. They could not have gone far. She winced with discomfort. Something hard was pressing up against her back, and her legs had fallen asleep. The fire was warm, but the air felt cold. Night must have fallen.

  One by one the events of the day came back to her, but still she found it hard to open her eyes. The ache in her arm was growing stronger by the moment, and she felt sickly and unwell. Sickly like in the mornings with Adel. A gasp left her lips, her uninjured hand moving to her belly suddenly. Her child. Was its spirit still strong within her? She had learned from the other seers that a mother's injuries could wound their unborn child also. Would she be able to tell if her daughter had been hurt? For several moments she remained still, barely breathing, but she could feel nothing beyond the beating pain in her arm. If the sickly sensation was a sign that she was with child, perhaps it was a good thing that it was still there. Comforting herself with that thought, she finally forced herself to move and pry her eyes open.

  Night had fallen, as she suspected. A small fire burned a short distance from where she sat. She was propped up against a tree, but not the same one she remembered passing out against earlier. Four other figures occupied the small camp. Directly across from her sat Fern with Pera's small wolf beside her, his muzzle resting in her lap. He made no more whimpers of pain, but after squinting for a moment Netya saw that his side was rising and falling with shallow breaths. The antler had been removed, and padded dressings of leaves had been bound around his body with twisted lengths of grass. They were crude, and the leaves were not a kind that was good at warding off infection, but they were not poisonous either. Feeling up her arm, she found that a similar dressing had been applied to her own wounds. It was tight and firm. No more blood was seeping out from the gashes beneath, but from the dried reddish-brown stains caking Netya's arm she could tell that she had bled for a long time.

  One of the other males lay with his muzzle resting on his forepaws, tail wagging anxiously behind him as he stared across the fire at the camp's final occupant. Miral's scout, no longer in the shape of his wolf, sat against another tree, hands behind his back, presumably bound by the same length of bramble that had been looped crudely around his neck. The other end of the bramble was wrapped around a low branch, threatening to tug the spiked noose tight if the man attempted to pull free. Long and greasy hair fell across his face, tinged with the same patches of thin grey that marked his beard. He had a weathered look about him, ragged but hardy. The man did not speak a word, only staring back across the fire at the other male with hollow eyes.

  "Fern," Netya whispered, swallowing painfully at the dryness in her throat.

  The huntress looked up, her weary expression suddenly marked with concern. "Bring her some water," she said softly, and the other male, still keeping one wary eye on their captive, reverted from the shape of his wolf and brought a cupped leaf filled with water to Netya's lips. Fern extricated herself gently from Pera and hurried over to tend to her friend, pressing a palm to her brow and examining the dressing on her arm.

  "How is he?" Netya said when she had finished drinking, leaving the male to return to his watch over the captive.

  Fern glanced at Pera, bobbing her head hesitantly. "He has gotten no worse, but his breathing is weak. He bled when we took the antler out, but he was in so much pain he would have pulled it free himself if we waited any longer. It was all we could think to do without you to guide us."

  "I think you did well," Netya replied. Her voice was still weak, but it was less difficult to speak now. "Where are the others?"

  "Nearby, keeping watch. Kin spent the whole day hunting." Fern gestured to the shapes of two small roasted animals warming on sticks beside the fire. "Once he came to his senses I think he realised what he had done. He has not spoken a word since."

  Netya closed her eyes, nodding. She was desperately hungry, but more than hunger she felt the inevitable weight of something else bearing down on her. If only Caspian were here. He would know what to do. A longing almost as painful as her wounded arm swept over her, dragging her spirit in the direction of the valley, aching for her man's touch and comforting presence.

  "What are we to do?" Fern whispered, echoing Netya's thoughts as she nudged her head in the direction of the bound man.

  "I do not know. We cannot bring him back with us," Netya replied, switching hurriedly into the language of the Sun People. She did not want to risk their captive overhearing them.

  Thankfully Fern followed her lead, continuing the conversation in Netya's native tongue. "He will tell Miral what happened."

  "Then perhaps we must let him. What other choice do we have?"

  "You don't want to take him back to the valley?"

  Netya shook her head. "It would take too long. And what if he tried to run? We would have to watch him night and day. Pera needs the den mother's healing skills as soon as possible."

  "But the den mother might know what to do with this man also. Perhaps she could put a spell on him, make him forget what he saw?"

  "I have never heard of any magic like that." Netya gazed over at their captive, taking a moment to swallow down the nausea rising in her throat. "Has he said anything?"

  "Not a word. I think he expects us to kill him."

  "I wish we could tell him otherwise, but maybe it is best if he thinks the worst of us for now. We can do nothing until Pera is well enough to be moved."

  "And how long do you think that will be?" Fern raised a sceptical eyebrow.

  "I cannot say. I need to examine him properly, can you—" Netya tried to climb to her feet, but her numb legs and a wave of dizziness sent her stumbling back to the ground.

  "Pera is not the only one who needs time to heal!" Fern said anxiously. "You must eat something and rest. If he gets any worse we will wake you."

  Netya tried to get up one more time, but her arm protested at the slightest movement. With a weary nod she slumped back against the tree, rubbing her legs with her good hand to try and bring them back to life. Fern brought her one of the cooked animals, presumably a roasted otter, and she tucked into the strange-tasting meat until her belly was full and her lips warm with grease. The others brought her more cupped leaves filled with fresh water from the creek, half of which she drank, and the rest she used to clean some of the blood from her arm. The wound likely needed washing too, but it still throbbed too much for her to risk peeling back the bindings.

  Eyan emerged from the darkness a short while later and bent down to murmur something in Fern's ear, to which she responded with a smile, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. The other wolf watching their captive curled up to sleep as Eyan took his place, and the camp settled into silence once more.

  "What is your name?" Netya asked of the bound man eventually, reverting to the language of the Moon People. His eyes slid in her direction, but he said nothing.

  "I am sorry we must do this," she continued, "but you are of Miral's clan, are you not? I am sure you are loyal to your alpha. You would take word of us back to him."

  The man remained silent for a while before finally saying, in a gravelly voice: "You are the leader of this pack?"

  Fern and Eyan looked up, tensing at his words.

  "Why do you think that?" Netya replied.

  "The rest are no alphas, not even the other woman. If you are who I believe you are, then your pack is led by females, is it not?"

  "Our leader is a woman, yes," Netya said, but she held her tongue cautiously before revealing any more. She had to be careful with her words in the presence of one of their enemies. "I am Den Mother Adel's apprentice."

  "Witch," the man growled, a hint of fear creeping into his dull eyes. "Give me an honourable death. Do not make me a sacrifice to your dark spirits."

  Netya opened her mouth to speak, and it took all of her restraint to keep herself from reassuring the man that she had no intention of killing anyone. Fear might be the only thing keeping him from attempting to break loose. The ring of brambles encircling
his neck was a deterrent, but she suspected he could snap through it despite the pain if he took the shape of his wolf. Instead, she tried asking their captive something else.

  "Did your alpha go to fight Octavia's clan in the west?" She raised her eyebrows hopefully, but the instant she said it the man's eyes turned glassy again, and he went back to staring into the fire in silence. She should have known by his appearance that he was a loyal, time-hardened warrior of Miral's pack. He had to be, to be trusted with scouting so far afield on his own. Nothing that passed his lips would betray so much as a hint of his alpha's intentions.

  "Are you hungry?" Fern offered, gesturing to the one remaining roast animal. The man did not even register her voice, continuing to stare blankly into the flames.

  As the night wore on Netya occasionally heard the sounds of Kin and the other male moving through the undergrowth nearby, but she caught no glimpse of them before her head started to droop and the welcome relief of sleep numbed the pain of her arm again.

  Her rest was deep, but no longer dark. She returned to the blue vision, saw the gathering, glimpsed her daughter wreathed in Syr's light, and then drifted back into dreams of meaningless shapes and sounds. At least the vision was still strong, and so her unborn child must still be strong too. She was fearful of the fate that awaited her, but it no longer held the same edge of uncertain panic as before. She accepted what was to come. The destiny was hers to fulfil, and she trusted in the moon spirit. When she returned to the valley, she would keep it a secret no longer.

  The hours spent propped up against the hard tree left Netya numb and stiff again when she awoke, but the pain in her arm had lessened considerably. It looked to be mid morning, judging by the light shining through the patchy canopy above, and Eyan was roasting fresh meat over the fire while Fern slumbered next to Pera. The boy was still alive, but it worried Netya to hear how weak and ragged the sounds of his breathing were. His body should have started to mend itself by now, especially in the shape of his wolf.