by Claudia King
No, it was not her own death she feared most, but the loss of those closest to her. Losing Caspian, Fern, or Adel. Wren. Selo. Any of her clan.
She had been little more than a guest in Khelt's pack when she lived among them, but the trials she had been through with Adel's had bonded her to the small group. She was part of them, and they were part of her. This was her home now, for better or worse, and she could not bear the thought of seeing any harm come to it.
A long, low howl drifted into the valley from the west; a signal from the scouts that all was quiet. When the howls stopped in lieu of three sharp barks, or worse, fell silent entirely, it would be the signal that Miral's warriors had reached the edge of their territory. That was when the bonfires would be lit. That was when the pack would make themselves ready to fight.
When Netya returned to the den it was beneath a veil of sadness, her burst of excitement from earlier having burnt itself out as she settled into the tense limbo of waiting. Teetering on the brink of something terrible. She ate and bathed, though she took no more than a few mouthfuls before leaving the rest of the food for those who needed it more. There had been little time to hunt or forage since she returned, and the pack were already starting to eat into their already scant winter supplies.
Caspian joined her as she washed beneath the waterfalls, and while the sensation of his naked body cupping hers and the kisses he left upon her shoulder were comforting, she could not wrest her thoughts from the impending danger.
"You were like this when you feared your dreams," he said, sensing her agitation. "You will not sleep until you find something to soothe you."
"My dreams have been much kinder lately," she replied, swallowing a sudden tension in her throat.
Caspian slid his arms around her bare midriff, his voice mingling with the patter of the falling water as he brushed his nose along the shell curve of her ear. "Tell me about them."
She shook her head faintly, stiffening as the blue world and the woman contained therein flashed through her mind. "I promised myself I would, but now— It is not right. If we turn back Miral and his clan, then I will sit awake all night long telling you of my dreams."
Caspian kissed her ear, his lips enveloping the cold lobe for a blissfully hot instant. "But if we fail, then my spirit will be left forever wondering."
"You should not talk of such things."
He sighed, bending down to rest his cheek alongside hers as they gazed into the rippling water together. "If not now, then when? There are things we should say at times like this. Things that we may never have another chance to."
"But speaking of them makes them real," Netya said softly.
"Is that why you will not speak of your dreams, because they hold something you fear? I know your heart, Netya. You must have seen something meaningful to be so reluctant to speak of it."
"I have," she replied, lacing her fingers over his as his hands rose to cup her breasts. "It will do no good to dwell on it now."
"I know you are afraid," he said. "I am too. We could let fear take from us what might be our last night together in this world, or we could savour it. Speak the truths that would frighten us on any other day. Say the things we wish we could keep saying forever."
Netya turned to him, resting her palms upon his chest, feeling the warm throb of his heartbeat as he drew her in close. Stray droplets of water pattered upon her forehead as she closed her eyes and turned her face skyward, feeling the dim light of the moon shine down upon her from between the clouds.
"You want to tell me something," Caspian said. "So tell me now. Let tonight be the moment. Do not lose that happiness to fear."
"Do you know," Netya replied, her voice sombre. "I cannot remember the last time I was truly happy. Oh, I am happy when I am with you, for a night, or a day. Or for an evening with Fern. Or a lesson with Adel. But for as long as I have been with your kind, everything had turned back into fear before long. Something always waits to take my happiness away, like a dark spirit circling my heart. It keeps me going. It keeps me strong, knowing that I strive to be rid of it; that one day I might wake in the morning and know that nothing threatens to take away what I love. But still, it has always been there. Whether it is Vaya, or Miral, or my love for you—or even the cold of winter. It has been so long since I went more than a short time without my fears returning."
"The things we care for are powerful when they keep us strong despite such hardships. That is what I remember when I wake with the same worries."
Netya smiled and opened her eyes, gazing up at Caspian's calming face. He had a way of making even the bleakest of things seem somehow beautiful.
"This thing you have to tell me," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Is it good?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "I think so, yes."
"Then tell me. Give me one more thing to care for, so that I will fight through any number of Miral's wolves to hold on to it for another day."
Netya took a deep breath, her fingers working their way up to Caspian's shoulders, squeezing and stroking almost desperately. "Kiss me," she said.
His lips met hers almost before the words had left her throat, stealing her breath away in a deep embrace that brought the warmth of his tongue close to hers and the beat of his heart tight against her breast. She clung to the back of his neck hard, pressing her mouth to his as if she would never again have the chance to kiss him, letting his presence envelop her and draw her in to the safe place where her fears died and her wolf's spirit mingled with her own, soothing away everything but the needs of the moment.
When she was ready she drew back. He only pressed on for an instant longer before releasing her lower lip from the kiss, even though she could feel his manhood rising with need against her thigh.
Calmly, sadly, but with a trace of a hopeful smile, she told him: "I am carrying your child."
Caspian gazed at her, a hundred silent questions in his eyes as he let the words linger in the air. "You know this?" he said at last.
"Adel says I show all the signs. On the night of the summer fires our spirits were closer than ever. I am not surprised it happened."
"And you saw this in your dreams, too?"
Netya nodded. "Ever since we returned from the gathering. I see a girl. A daughter clad in Syr's light. I think the spirits are telling me that she will grow to be a great woman. Perhaps even greater than Adel or Octavia. Greater than any woman of the Moon People."
A flutter of excitement beat at Netya's chest as she saw the look of pride that crossed Caspian's face before he gathered himself.
"Are you sure it is not just a dream?" he said.
"I see it often, and it is always the same. What else can it be if not a vision of things to come?" Her smile remained, and she cupped Caspian's cheek with her palm when he said nothing. "You do not believe in the spirits the way we seers believe, do you?"
He let out a long breath, squeezing her wrist as if he was now the one afraid to let go. "I believe in their power. I believe that they are. But so many seers cast predictions that never come true. So many make rituals that lead to nothing. If there is a way of truly understanding the spirits, I do not believe anyone knows it for sure. Not even Adel."
"Then forget the spirits. She read the signs of my body. I am with child, and that child is yours as much as she is mine. The first daughter of our pack."
Caspian ran his thumb over her wrist, then brought his lips down to kiss her palm. "The first daughter of many things. Thank you, Netya. Whatever may happen, I am glad you told me this."
"I only feared it would distract you from more important things."
He smiled. "Few things could be more important. And yes, it will distract me, but only with another reason to protect you and our clan. At the gathering I chose to be with you, no matter what we faced. That is my calling, in this life and the next. I will never leave your side, or that of our child."
Netya returned the smile, touching his chin with a hint of the playful wolf she felt dancing withi
n her. "I want you to be wherever you are needed when Miral's warriors come. We must both fight for what we love."
"You do not have to fight—"
She shook her head. "I do. Perhaps you are right and my visions mean nothing. Perhaps our child's fate is already set. We will know soon, but until then all we can do is fight to see that moment come." She struggled to still the trembling of her body. "Let fear take nothing from us."
Caspian's smile chased away her doubts. It calmed her, centred her, and made her ready for whatever was to come.
"These are the moments that remind me of why I love you so," he said. They had been standing in the water for so long that Netya had begun to shiver, but the coldness of her body was forgotten when Caspian put his arms around her and drew her down into the moonlit pool, his hands finding her breasts and the space between her legs with the perfect touch to distract her from the evening chill. Her toes curled against the slippery rocks for a moment before she let go and succumbed to the moment, drawing in one last breath as their entwined bodies slipped beneath the surface. The rumble of water muffled her ears. A cold sweetness came between her lips and filled her mouth as she kissed her man. Their bare legs twined and rubbed together as they kicked slowly to stay afloat, drifting in the water as leaves caught upon an eddy of wind.
Netya wanted to stay there drifting for all eternity, floating apart from everything with the water silencing the world's sounds as Caspian's hands played across her smooth skin. Even the need to breathe left her mind until she felt her face rising from beneath the surface, the rush of the water crisp and loud in her ears once again as her shoulders bumped up against the rocks at the edge of the pool. Now it was not the spray from the waterfall, but the droplets falling from Caspian's face that tickled against her skin, alighting against her throat and lips as she arched her back and parted her thighs for him. The caress of his fingertips ran up her stomach, dipping into her navel and along her chest until her breathing became tight and quick, her legs moving instinctively around him until her ankles were behind his back.
With a murmur of pleasure he pressed into her, delving into her core where that tight nub of ecstasy waited to unravel. His thickness spread her open just as satisfyingly as ever, sliding deep until her breath caught and she teetered on the intense brink between excruciating pleasure and discomfort. Pushing her to the edge, but never beyond what she could endure. She shuddered in his grasp as he held himself there, fingers tightening against his damp skin as she clutched the back of his neck and squeezed against him. She could feel every second of it, every touch and brush and tingle. Nothing in the world could take away this intimate moment, not even the fear of what was to come. She intended to savour it; make it clear in her mind like a sliver of crystal, pure and untouchable by anyone who sought to take it away.
Her lips roamed their way down Caspian's neck, tasting as much of his body as she could reach as he leaned over her to brace himself against the rocks. Her tongue scooped the droplets of water from his chest, thighs massaging his hips as her fingertips pressed hard into the toned definition of his shoulders. He swelled inside her with every touch, straining against her core as she pressed back against him, their bodies fighting to merge ever closer with one another. Just like always, he coaxed her almost to the point of desperation. Her kisses grew more feverish, the grip of her folds around his manhood more urgent, until both of them were twitching with need, their breaths coming short and hot in the cold air.
Once he had coaxed her to that peak, once all other thoughts had left her mind and all she craved was the satisfaction of consummating their pleasure, he twined his arm behind her back and gave her what they both desired. The splash of the water mingled with her breathy cries of ecstasy, the heavy huff of Caspian's breath mirroring the swell of his chest as he took her long and hard, putting the kind of stamina into his lovemaking that only a man of the Moon People could exhibit. It was difficult to care that the water was cold, that the rocks were rough, or that her body soon ached from the effort of clinging on so tight. Her teeth squeezed against his lower lip as the first crest of pleasure hit, eyes screwed shut and brow contorted with pleasure as she ground her damp face against his, striving to somehow push her spirit into his own so that he could inhabit every inch of her, join her and envelop her.
The heat of her pleasure flowed between their legs as peak after peak hit, Caspian's lovemaking as skilful as ever as he reeled her back from the point of exhaustion time and time again, his mouth and his tongue and the spots his fingers found working their own kind of magic upon her body. The moonlight rippled upon their skin, and before long Netya found herself staring skyward at the white goddess whose face shone brighter than any other spark in the heavens. She seemed to watch them, bless them, gift them with the same light that had joined their essences together on the night of the summer fires. Syr's gift had been the daughter Netya now carried, and she would fight to keep the moon spirit's kindness alive.
—33—
Miral's Attack
When the sun had set and night drew the following day to a close, a wolf barked three times in the distance. Those gathered around the central fire looked up, threads of conversation trailing off one by one as they each stared into the darkness. The air in the valley tightened around them. Miral's scout had been true to his word. Three days, and a few hours longer to track Netya and her companions back to the valley. The alpha had not wasted a second.
Adel rose to her feet, the bowl of powder she had been mixing forgotten. Her voice quiet and steady, she broke the silence. "All of you, to your tasks. Hurry now."
Netya could already see the glimmer of flames flitting between the trees where the bonfires had been lit. Those waiting nearby had known to light them as soon as they heard the warning.
She squeezed Caspian's hand, their eyes meeting for a brief moment as he kissed her.
"Spirits protect you," he said.
Netya clung on even as she felt him pulling away. "They will."
With one last smile he touched her cheek, then turned to join the other men in gathering their spears and stacks of javelins.
"Good luck, Netya," Fern's voice sounded softly from behind her, and she turned to embrace her friend in a hug that was far too brief.
"You too."
Then Fern was gone as well, hurrying down the slope in the shape of her wolf with Briar and Wren accompanying her, the trio making for the caves on the opposite side of the valley. Pera, who was back on his feet, but still troubled by pain and laboured breathing, attempted to limp after them before Adel pulled him back.
"You cannot help tonight, boy. Wait in the caves and stay silent."
"I cannot!" he gasped. "I must fight with you."
"Test your bravery by finding the courage to do as I ask. Now go. I will waste no time telling you again." Without a backward glance Adel let go of the boy and disappeared up the slope, a heavy bundle clutched beneath one arm as she made for some of the larger caves closest to the top of the valley.
As Netya looked around her she realised that almost the entire pack had dispersed. Only Meadow and Selo remained, and they looked to her for guidance. Adel had entrusted her with leading the two of them in the task they had been given. Taking a deep breath, she glanced one more time at the orange flames flickering between the trees, allowed the chill of fear to grip her for a single moment longer, then fought past it.
Giving the other two women a brief nod, she took the shape of her wolf and bounded into the dark, trusting her paws to carry her over the steep rocks as she led the way up the valleyside and to the west, away from her packmates and closer to the danger that approached them from somewhere in the distance.
* * *
Alpha Miral's belief in the spirits was stronger than most. Stronger, perhaps, than that of any of the four dozen warriors at his side; the full strength of his pack. He had heard their whispers of fear when Nekare returned from his scouting trip, bedraggled and bloody, with the tale of how a witch and h
er guardians had captured him in the eastern valley. They thought it a bad omen, calling for the seers to cleanse Nekare of whatever curse the witch had placed upon him, for why else would she have allowed him to return back to the den unharmed?
But after Miral had pressed the details from his scout he knew better than to fear any curse. The witch had been a sun wolf, and he knew of only one girl among Adel's followers who bore that particular deformity of spirit. He could not recall her name, but he knew the one. The one who had convinced him that Adel was desperate, gathering anyone and everyone—even the weak of spirit—to her side. He had seen the fear in that girl's eyes when he confronted her the morning after the summer fires. The lack of conviction. The wooden pendant he had taken from her still hung from his leather waist tie as a reminder of the disrespect her clan had shown him. He had decided long before then that they would be made to regret their actions, but he was patient. For many days his scouts had been prowling the edge of his territory near the western valleys, waiting to come across the traces of some trail that would lead him to Adel's den. He might have waited even longer, set his mind to devising a plan that would ensure he caught the witches with no chance of them slipping away, but if Nekare's words were to be believed then time was of the essence. Clearly Adel had gathered more warriors to her side since leaving the gathering, and he would not give the woman any more time to prepare for his arrival.
No, the sun wolf was too timid to have placed any curse upon his scout, and no spirit magic would deter him from accomplishing his goal. He believed in the spirits, and he understood the limits of their power. Unlike his warriors—who whispered in hushed tones about the enemy they travelled to face, as if they were about to pit themselves against the full might of Alpha Khelt or Gheran's pack—he feared no spirit, for he had fought and defeated the creatures that dwelt beyond the waking world.
