“What is it?” he whispered.
“Do you hear that? Like something crying out?”
He cocked his head, straining to hear what she did. Finally, he shook his head.
She took a step to the left where, through a particularly dense grouping of trees, she could see a hillside. “It’s coming from this direction. Do you think someone else is in trouble? Hey!” she called out, trying to get Mo’ran’s attention. He’d moved on without them. Yup, something was definitely up there. “I think someone is it hurt over here!”
He returned to them. “What is it?”
“Listen. It sounds like someone’s hurt.”
He tilted his head, eyes distant and narrow. When the cries came again, they widened. “It is a piquet cub.” He jerked a shoulder. “The pack will care for it. And all the more reason to leave this area. Come.” He strode off, cutting through the trees.
Though torn, she set off after him. Forrest followed a beat behind, twisting his head toward where the cries sounded once again. According to her father’s stories, Mo’ran was correct; the piquet lived in packs, and one of the adults would care for this cub. The one that had been killed was probably its mother… Her thoughts trailed off. There was something bothering her, a detail from the story of the Piper Boy. The cub of the one he’d killed had attacked him, and he’d subdued it, taking it home with him. Why did he do that instead of leaving it…?
Blue gasped, stumbling to a halt, Forrest narrowly avoiding her. She remembered now. The Piper Boy had been scouting the area, trying to learn more about the clans. He’d been tracking the piquet, learning their patterns. In this case, there hadn’t been a pack in that area. The mother had moved off to start her own territory, and she had just gone through her first heat…
“Wait! Mo’ran, wait!”
Up ahead he paused, then ghosted back to them, weaving through the trees.
“Is this usually a… piquet territory?” She reached out, her fingers digging into his arm.
“Why do you ask?” His hand crept to the hilt of his blade as he scanned the trees.
“I just remembered something I heard once. What if there is no pack? What if this was a juvenile who went off to find her own territory, start her own pack? What happens to the cub?” Some instinct told her not to let this go.
Mo’ran stared at her stone-faced. Finally, he sighed, a very put-upon sigh, and they backtracked.
“He’s being chatty,” Forrest whispered. “What do you think is going on with him?”
“Maybe he wants to get the hell out of here before we’re attacked again.”
“Yeah, but why was he here in the first place? Alone, I mean. Seems weird.”
Blue chuckled. “Maybe, but I’m glad he came when he did.”
“We could have handled that thing.”
Was he serious? She slapped his shoulder. “No, we couldn’t have. That was a piquet. You read my dad’s stories of the Piper Boy, right? Remember the one of the feral felines that ran in packs? The one where he got the scar on his neck? A cub did that to him, Forrest. The one that was after us was not a cub. We would not have been okay,” she retorted. She softened her tone. “Please, let’s not be reckless, I don’t want to lose you to some wild thing that we didn’t even think of encountering.”
“Let’s not be reckless, she says, right after going through a space portal to a different world and then convincing a grumpy clansman to help her rescue a killer kitten. Sure, pixie, we won’t be reckless.” Forrest almost choked on his laughter, trying to get all that out.
“Shut up.”
They continued through the trees and soon came upon a small hollow in the side of a hill, partially protected by a fallen tree. Mo’ran crouched before it and reached in, pulling out two squirming bundles. They were each about the size of a small house cat with fluffy, white-gold coats that showed a faint indication of the spots they would develop. They squirmed in his hands, sending out faint peeps. Their eyes weren’t even open yet. And they were amazingly cute. Her five-year-old self had once wanted one of these with all her heart. A little bubble of delight welled in her.
One of the cubs let out that squealing cry, the sound piercing now that they were so close. She set the picture down and swung her pack off her shoulders, pulling out one of the thin sweaters she’d brought along. She held it out to Mo’ran. He grunted and took it, handing her one of the cubs in turn. While she held the wriggling bundle of cute, its fur so soft she wanted to rub her face all over it, he carefully wrapped its sibling. Forrest pulled a sweatshirt from his own bag, handing it to Blue, and she carefully wrapped the cub in it.
She gazed down at this vulnerable piece of life, entranced, and lightly stroked its little head, trying to sooth its cries. It was probably hungry. Forrest hovered beside her, a goofy grin on his face.
“Think we can name it Garfield? Or would Sylvester be more appropriate?” he asked.
FORREST
Forrest gazed at Blue and suppressed the urge to kiss her. He’d had to do that quite a bit lately.
She stood there, a few twigs still stuck in her hair, and smiled for all she was worth. Hell, his own grin was likely a mile wide. He’d never really been a cat person, but damn these things were cute. So is Blue.
When he’d first met her, he’d thought the same thing. He’d also worried about her. What had happened the year before had only made it worse. Then, as months had gone by, he’d realized something. Blue was Blue. She had her lists and her plans. You could reason with her, but you couldn’t stop her. She’d once told him that her goal was to become a Cheerful Bulldozer. He’d laughed then, but that was exactly what she had done. Damn, he loved her for it.
Oh, she spoke about her uncertainties and whether returning to Karran was the right thing. Other times, she questioned her decisions and choices. She made noises of self-doubt, but they were just that: noises. It made it hard to worry when he knew that Blue was going to do what Blue was going to do.
Now they stood in a strange forest petting a killer-kitten while a surly clansman looked on, holding out another for Forrest to take. Adventures.
“Here,” Mo’ran said. “Take this one as well. Now, we will get back to the camp. It is still a few hours travel.” Then he turned and walked off again. It was getting annoying how he’d do that. Definitely not just worried about killer-cat territory.
Forrest thought about just letting the guy keep walking, but that would be stupid. He’d promised his mom he wouldn’t do anything stupid. He intended to keep that promise, at least for a few weeks.
He nudged Blue, who continued to gaze raptly at the little thing in her arms. “He’s getting away,” he said, tilting his head to where the clansman was disappearing into the trees.
“Then I guess we’d better catch him,” she said. They quickly shouldered their packs, and he grabbed the tree picture.
BLUE
They’d been walking for an hour or so, and their little charges were getting louder and louder. Blue had been doing her best to keep the one she held quiet, but she wasn’t having any luck. Finally, desperate, she started singing a lullaby. Sure, her voice was horrible. She’d been able to cross karaoke off her list when Phe arranged an 80s night for a joint birthday celebration, and it was not an item that should ever be revisited.
This little lullaby was one her mom would sing, and it had always made Blue feel better. The little guys probably needed food, but the protein bars she and Forrest packed weren’t going to work for this.
“Baby's boat’s the silver moon,
Sailing through the sky
Sailing o’er the sea of sleep,
While the clouds float by”
In a way, her strategy was successful. The cub quieted, and its little body wriggled, trying to bury itself deeper into the sweater. Was it her imagination or did it look horrified? She was about to cease her own squawking noises, when another voice joined in. It was Forrest, who could sing. A slightly rough tenor joined in.
“Sail baby sail,
Out across the sea
Only don’t forget to sail,
Back again to me
Baby's fishing for a dream,
Fishing near and far,
His line a golden moonbeam,
His bait a silver star.
Sail baby sail,
Out across the sea,
Only don’t forget to sail,
Back again to me,
Back again to me.”
They’d stopped walking. Blue’s voice was almost a whisper, Forrest’s strong. As the last notes trailed off, the cub slowly opened its eyes and looked at her. Blue felt something snap into place. A connection. It was similar to what she’d had with Beast, but more… defined. She could feel a faint distress in the back of her mind, along with a warmth. Caring? Safety?...Hunger? What the… Was that the cub? This wasn’t in any of her father’s tales.
“Forrest, I think I just had my first baby,” she said, distracted. The little guy’s eyes were a bright blue fading to silver at the edges. When Forrest didn’t answer, she looked up, only to find him wearing a dazed expression, focused on the little bundle in his arms, mesmerized.
“Forrest?” Blue tried again.
“Hmmm?”
“Do you also have the feeling that we suddenly have kids that we don’t know what to do with? I don’t think we’re going to be able to give these little guys back.”
Forrest looked back down at his ball of cute and grinned. “Nope. They’re stuck with us now.”
Both of the little cubs had quieted. Blue tried to project thoughts of safety and future food, but she had no idea if she was successful.
“What did you do?” Mo’ran’s whisper pulled her attention to where he stood at the edge of their barely-there path, wide-eyed.
“What do you mean? Oh, they opened their eyes. Look!”
He sighed, then shook his head. “No, it is nothing. Come. If we are to make it to camp before dark, we must hurry.” He turned on his heel and started out. He also, pointedly, did not look at the piquet cubs.
“Methinks there is something fishy, Denmark…” Forrest whispered.
No kidding. Her father’s tales said nothing about animals with mental abilities. Maybe the Dean had never told him that part. But why keep it a secret?
Mo’ran faded among the trees. “Damn, what is going on with him?”
“I don’t know, but I agree. Let’s get to the camp. We’ll sort it out there.”
Forrest and Blue both quickly tucked their new charges in close to the warmth of their bodies and hurried after Mo’ran. They were now doubly motivated to make it back to the camp; they had little ones to feed.
It took at least another three hours before they hit the camp. Anticipation warred with fatigue, and she had struggled to keep her thoughts calm, not wanting to upset the cubs. She was a bundle of over-sensitive nerves, though. Speculation on what had caused Mo’ran to become so surly fought her nerves on seeing Mo’ata again. She was so close…
They broke through the tree line, and the camp was laid out before them. Nothing had changed. How was that possible? The same square tents were decorated with colored streamers and sparkling glass ornaments. The healer’s tent stood in its place, the white of its fabric like a beacon. The dining tent stood about thirty yards away, directly in front of them. Clan members hurried about on their various tasks, a few pausing to stare at them before continuing on. Farther out would be the corrals and Beast. Would he have gone on to another rider?
Mo’ran signaled to a clansman, who rushed off in the direction of D’rama’s tent. Well, Blue thought that was where he went, if the layout really hadn’t changed from last year. A breeze gusted by, bringing with it the scent of cooking meat and something roasting.
Stew? Her stomach rumbled just as Garfield and Sylvester let out yowling cries. Three clansmen mending armor nearby stiffened, and their heads shot up. Eyes wide, their gazes locked on Blue and Forrest. Mo’ran signaled with his hand, held low near his leg, and the men relaxed, though she could see them shooting side-eyed looks at the bundle she held.
“So,” Blue started, then had to pause to get a more secure hold on her squirming bundle. “So, Mo’ran. Why are you so… grumpy?” She needed to focus on something. Other than her urge to scream at him to take her to her clansman—probably not something that would go over well—his mood was foremost in her mind.
Forrest rolled his eyes and leaned into her, whispering, “Think there could have been a more tactful way to ask that?”
“Maybe,” she whispered back. “Give me a break. There’s a lot going on. And my arms are tired. Damn, these little guys are heavy.” They were. They also weren’t all that little, since they were about the size of a small house cat.
Mo’ran’s expression remained stony through this byplay. At the end, a hint of sorrow entered his expression, a slight tightening of his eyes, furrowing of his brow, and Blue’s throat tightened.
“It’s not Mo’ata, is it? He’s okay, isn’t he? I know you said he wasn’t with you, but I kind of assumed you meant just then, like he was here at the camp—”
Mo’ran held up a hand, cutting her off. “As far as I know, Mo’ata is well. He is not here at the camp, though. He, Levi, and Felix are still searching for your friend.”
Still? She’d thought that would be over by now. “So then, tell me why you’re such a grumpy-face.”
He raised a brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Grumpy… face? I may need to remember that.”
Just then, the clansmen he’d sent off ran up, halting beside Mo’ran and speaking low in the clan tongue. Giving the man a sharp nod, he dismissed him and gestured for Blue and Forrest to follow him. “The Mamanna will see you.”
Straightening her shoulders, Blue prepared to meet Mo’ata’s mother. Again.
Chapter 3
BLUE
They were halted at the tent entrance. Mo’ran and the guard spoke, and soon two men took Blue’s and Forrest’s packs from them. One tried to take Sylvester from Forrest, but the little guy put up such a fuss no one tried with Garfield. More words were exchanged, and someone, a woman with time, headed off to the cook tent as the men carried off the packs.
The guard held open the tent flap, allowing Blue and Forrest to enter, but she hesitated. Mo’ran didn’t join them, and she looked back, only to find his gaze fixed on a woman. She sat bent over, working on something small, though Blue couldn’t make out what. Then the woman sat back, and her eyes locked with Mo’ran. They widened then narrowed, and she twisted her head away. Mo’ran let out a sigh that Blue felt all the way to her toes.
So that’s it. She definitely understood romantic-y things making you grumpy. “Mo’ran, you coming in with us?”
“No. The Mamanna requested an audience alone with the two of you first.” He gave her a small, brief smile. “I will be here when you are done and see you to your tents. Welcome back, Blue, Forrest. I—” He swallowed and shot another look at the woman. “I am glad you are here.” And then under his breath, “Someone has to get who they want.”
This was more the Mo’ran she remembered. “I am glad to be back, too. And I am very glad you were where you were earlier today. She’s an idiot, by the way.”
Another small smile. “It is not that straightforward.” He gestured to the tent entrance. “Do not keep the Mamanna waiting.”
The interior of the tent was the same. Colorful cloth rugs scattered over the floor. Hangings separated the interior into different spaces, while additional streamers and glass decorations adorned those cloth walls. A heavy wooden chair—you couldn’t quite call it a throne—sat foremost in the entry space, imposing. The Mamanna was not seated there, though.
The older woman sat on a cushion at a low table to the side. The same table she’d used when meeting with Blue the year prior. Two more cushions had been placed opposite her. If Blue remembered correctly, the layout was reserved for more intimate audiences. A small knot of tension s
itting in her stomach dissolved.
“So,” D’rama began. “You are back.”
Forrest shifted beside her and cleared his throat. Ignoring him, Blue answered, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Why?”
A simple question. She had thought the answer simple as well, but when confronted like this, the words wouldn’t come. Forrest shifted again, and she latched onto him as a distraction. “You didn’t meet Forrest last time, did you? Forrest, this is D’rama the Mamanna of the clan. D’rama, this is Forrest. Oh God, was I supposed to do that the other way around?”
Forrest’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. After a moment he spoke, his voice strained. “It is lovely to meet you. We come in peace.”
Blue shot her hand out, slamming it into Forrest’s stomach. “I apologize for him. And for me. I… came back because I…” She took a breath then plunged onward. “I came back because I wouldn’t have been happy where I was unless I took a chance and found out what this world held for me.”
“Including my son?”
“Including your son.”
Her gaze shifted to Forrest. “And this one?”
Blue hung her head. “Yeah, and that one.” Then she looked up with a grin and shrugged. “He’s got his good points.”
The corner of her mouth turning up, the older woman gestured for them to sit. “You will want to be stern with that one. He will be trouble.” As they settled she continued. “Mo’ran was supposed to send for food. We will… catch up, is the phrase, yes? We will catch up and enjoy a meal together.”
“I would like that.” She eased Garfield to her other side, giving her right arm a rest. “Have you heard from him? Mo’ran said he was still looking for Phillip?”
“Is that the boy’s name?” She sighed and sat back. “My son has never been very good at informing me of his actions and whereabouts. I last heard from him just after you left, nearly two months ago.”
Beyond Blue Frontiers Page 3
