“Mother, no—”
“He’ll do well by you,” her eyes said. “And you by he.”
Her tail lashed the darkness once more, a feral grin widening her jaws.
“We will meet again, one day. In a place far better than this.”
Turning away, she stumbled back into the darkness. Limping, alone and in unbelievable pain, she walked, her head proud. She turned her back from the light, away from love and warmth and companionship. Away from the child she died to protect. She brought her lone offspring to the only one she could trust to keep him safe.
Me.
The sound of her paws in the forest died away.
I choked back my tears as Arianne’s, and now Ly’Tana’s, fell freely down their respective cheeks. Even Kel’Ratan scrubbed his face as though trying to will away strong emotion. I saw no few fingers making the sign against strong enchantment beneath the fire’s shadows.
My hand stroked the wolf pup in my lap. Despite the darkness and dancing firelight, I noted his dark grey, almost black, fur. At perhaps a month old, he was also very big. He filled my lap from knee to knee. I remembered hound pups at his age were a third his size. Huge wolfhounds as adults weighed more than two hundred pounds. For a pup just past the age of opening his eyes, he was huge. His mother was massive, bigger than a large pony. I wondered absently how big his sire was.
Lifting his limp, warm body from my lap, I raised him to my face. Ears that would one day perk upright lay folded against his head. So young, his eyes had barely begun to open, his tiny muzzle nothing but a stub of dark grey tipped with glossy black.
Yet, somehow, incredibly, his eyes opened a fraction. His pink tongue emerged to lick his black nose, to further catch my scent. He whined, a faint scree against my sensitive hearing, a delicate protest at this rough treatment.
Deep blue eyes stared into mine. Eyes the color of twin sapphires gazed back at me with calm courage and love. His hind legs curled into a ball, his tail tucked tightly against his belly, he struggled not to escape me but to draw closer to my hands that held him captive.
Within my mind, I heard him speak a word that rebounded within my soul.
Father.
Chapter 5
A Close Encounter of the Brutal Kind
“I need milk,” Raine muttered.
I trotted Mikk beside him as he rode carelessly, his leg cocked negligently over his pommel. He cradled the crying pup in his lap, offering it his fingers in lieu of food. Across, on the other side of Raine’s bay, Kel’Ratan eyed me fiercely, his mustache bristling. I glanced to my left. Witraz also eyed me with speculation in his one blue eye.
“Don’t look at me, boys,” I murmured. “I may have the equipment, but they don’t exactly work like that.”
I glanced back down the line of horses and riders, seeing many eye Arianne sidelong.
“Don’t look at her either,” I called, cross.
Dawn an hour behind us, we’d broken camp quickly, efficiently. We rode out with the new sun warming our backs, our shadows long before us. The pup had slept the entire night within the shelter of Raine’s massive arms. Come the dawn, he woke with an empty belly and a powerful set of lungs. Raine took in the helpless baby with absolutely no knowledge on what to feed him. I couldn’t contribute much help, for my infant expertise went to foals not whelps. Though he said nothing, I knew he worried plenty by the tense set of his massive shoulders. When a parent failed to feed his child….
“I may have an answer,” Rygel said, nudging his black into a rolling canter alongside Raine and his tiny charge. “I mixed some dried beef with water into a soft mush. Feed him that.”
“He needs milk,” Raine answered, exasperated.
“My prince, trust me,” Rygel replied, his tone assured. “He can do without milk as long as he has nourishment. I added a few odds and ends to it, so he has the right stuff in his belly.”
Grumbling under his breath, Raine accepted the small leather bag Rygel handed across to him. The tiny pup wanted to refuse the brown sludge that Raine offered to his lips, his hungry whining pleas loud over the sound of thirteen thundering sets of hooves. I myself might have refused it, even had I been starved unto death. It looked awful.
Raine scowled at Rygel. “He won’t take it.”
“Keep trying,” Rygel urged. “He’ll get used to it.”
Forcing the pup’s small jaws open, Raine placed a tiny fragment on his tongue. The pup swallowed, licked his nose and whined.
“Again,” Rygel ordered.
Raine repeated the procedure. Within moments, the pup eagerly grabbed at all the fingerfuls of mushed meat Raine offered. When he obviously could eat no more, Raine handed the empty leather bag back to Rygel.
“My thanks,” he murmured, his eyes full of wolf pup.
Curled into a ball of fuzzy dark grey fur, the pup slept, sheltered between the curve of Raine’s enormous leg and the fur-covered saddle.
“I don’t get it,” Kel’Ratan complained. “Why did she come to you?”
“He’s a wolf, silly,” Tor answered brightly, from behind us. “The wolves know their own.”
Corwyn cuffed him sharply upside his head.
“Ow,” Tor yelped, rubbing his tousled curls. “What did I say? It’s true enough.”
“He’s right,” Rygel commented.
Deftly ignoring Raine’s scowl, Rygel gestured toward the sleeping pup. “How did she know? If that isn’t proof enough for you, then you’re as bull-headed a man as I’ve ever met.”
Raine’s scowl deepened. Yet, his behavior piqued my own curiosity. “You mean, she followed him because he’s gai’tan?” I asked.
Raine’s nasty glower turned toward me, but I ignored him as much as Rygel had.
“Exactly.”
“But,” Kel’Ratan said slowly, eyeing each of us in turn. “Why’d a dying wolf bring her whelp to him? So, he shares the wolf soul. To my mind, that’s not enough of a kinship. I think there’s something more to play with here.”
Rygel looked thoughtful. Raine ceased his narrowed, angry frown, but refused to look anywhere but straight ahead between his stallion’s ears. If he knew what that kinship was exactly, he certainly wasn’t willing to admit it. Kel’Ratan’s words made some kind of sense, I thought. He could maybe change himself into a wolf, if he was indeed gai’tan, but what would cause that old girl to trust him with her baby?
Taking charge of her grey mare, with Tor riding pillion behind her, Arianne pushed her way up to ride beside her brother. I reined Mikk to the side, to allow the pair, plus Tor, to ride together.
“Here,” she said, pushing cloth into his hands.
Surprised, Raine accepted the gift, but his quirked brow silently requested an explanation.
Impatient, Arianne tossed her midnight hair from her face and into Tor’s. I grinned as Tor fought free of the heavy mass.
“Carry him in it,” Arianne clarified, gesturing toward the pup. “I made it from one of those gowns Corwyn stole. One day, you’ll need your hands free. Hang him from around your neck, or your saddle. He’ll be comfortable. And safe.”
Opening it, Raine displayed the heavy cloth bag, a thick black cord looped through its netted mouth. He fingered the slender rope. His eerie icy eyes travelled to her wealth of midnight hair.
I, too, reached out, and fingered it. Human hair, all right. She braided it thick, tight and as tough as leather. I had to admire her ingenuity, and courage. Nor could I see where she had cut it from. She had so much, I knew she’d never miss it.
“Thank you, little cat,” Raine said, leaning from his saddle to kiss her cheek.
Suddenly shy, she withdrew behind her midnight hair, freeing Tor from its grip. The grey mare slowed as Arianne reined her back, behind her huge brother. Corwyn, far behind, trotted his roan forward to once again guard Raine’s royal sister.
In the days she’d been with us, I noticed her horsemanship had improved by leaps and bounds. Corwyn no longer lead the beast. Perhaps,
as time allowed, I’d offer her basic lessons of riding and horsemanship. Though she knew enough to guide the mare, she flopped in the saddle like a loose sack.
Tor exhibited a great deal more promise and I vowed that Yuri and Yuras would tutor him in horsemanship as well as weapons. Neither of them could learn much as long as they rode double. Sooner or later, we must obtain another horse.
Raine tenderly picked up the pup, and inserted him into the bag. The dark grey whelp never noticed his change in location, sleeping, oblivious to it all. Raine hung the cord about his neck, the bag lying against his chest. The wolf’s head stuck out, an almost comical sight, his neck limp with his slumber. I know I grinned, nor was I the only one.
“Not a good place if we have to fight,” Kel’Ratan said.
Raine shrugged. “In a fight, no place is safe. But until then, I think we should quicken our pace.”
He returned his leg to a more normal sitting position whilst in a saddle, his boot once more in his stirrup. Slewing around, he gestured to Rannon. With a half salute, Rannon cantered his horse up the line.
“You’re our scout,” Raine said. “Ride ahead, report on anything you see. Enemies, hazards, whatever you think might be important.”
Rannon saluted again and without a glance toward me for permission, galloped his horse out of sight. He summoned Alun next.
“You report on our rear,” Raine said. “Hold back a mile or so and keep watch on our back trail.”
With his own salute, Alun reined his horse around. He galloped off in the opposite direction.
“Yuri and Yuras, you’re the rear guard.”
With twin bows, they also reined back, holding their impatient chestnuts until we rode away.
“Left and Right, you’re the vanguard.”
Twin scowls met his command. I held my breath, knowing they despised being away from me. Would they refuse him, as they, in truth, were not sworn to him? Perhaps Raine had overstepped his bounds and the twins knew it. Technically, none of my people were under any obligation to obey him at all. That they did as quickly and easily as they obeyed me told me a great deal of how much they respected his leadership skills.
Raine’s own scowl darkened. “Just do it,” he barked.
They didn’t salute, but they did as he commanded. Spurring their twin black stallions, they galloped to the front and stayed there. I suppressed a giggle. Kel’Ratan shook his red head in a combination of admiration and resignation.
“What about me?” Witraz asked, nudging his piebald into a canter. “What should I do?”
Raine eyed him slowly up and down, his expression neutral. “What good are you?” he drawled, his voice deceptively bland. “You’re half blind.”
I snorted, choking, trying to rein in my laughter and only succeeded in burning my throat. Kel’Ratan didn’t try to suppress his and Tor howled. Witraz glared, his one eye sparking blue fire.
“Ha ha,” he snapped. “That wasn’t funny. He’s not funny at all.”
“I thought it was,” Corwyn commented mildly.
“Me too,” said Rygel.
Witraz scowled at them. “Go on. Laugh it up, jackasses. Your turn will come.”
He reined his horse in behind Corwyn and Arianne, still sulking. When I looked his way, Raine winked, a lightning fast wink with the barest twitch of his cheek.
“Oh, all right,” Raine said gruffly. “If you need to do something, ride up to the top of the nearest hill and parallel us. We need some eyes—” He choked, half-laughing. “—er, one eye on anything that moves. Got it?”
“Your Highness.” Witraz bowed formally in the saddle, concealing his grin. Reining his piebald about, he galloped away to our left, the south, and vanished.
“I’m thinking a little speed is in order,” Raine said, a faint grin etching his handsome features.
“I agree, m’lord,” I murmured.
The gently rolling hills, bright green with long grass waving gently with the light breeze, were any horseman’s dream. Easy to gallop across with few steep slopes to tire a working horse, they offered not just a smooth ride, but lush grazing and fresh, clear streams. Much like Kel’Halla, come to think.
Following his lead, I nudged Mikk into a smooth gallop, Kel’Ratan and his bay to my left and Rygel and the others following close behind. I glanced up. Bar winged overhead, sometimes breaking away to fly high and scout around before coming back to chirp his reports down. Nothing to worry about. Brutal and his pets still floundered in the remnants of Usa’a’mah’s temper tantrum and the Tongu’s mutts could never hope to keep up on foot.
Rygel’s abrupt voice broke through the peaceful reveries I found myself in, and I squashed the sudden urge to tell him to shut up. “Why did she pick you?” he asked. “Surely you know.”
I glanced across at Raine, the object of his questions. He thinned his handsome lips into a white line and refused to answer.
“Other gai’tan have lived and died without she-wolves plopping their babies in their laps,” Rygel went on. “But she trusted you with hers. Why?”
Raine’s eyes flattened, the chilling icy stare I disliked so much returned to his eyes. Shut up, Rygel, I wanted to say. Leave him be. I wanted peace in the beautiful day, to be alive and on horseback among friends, with a good man at my side. Just shut the bloody hell up.
Rygel ignored my mental command and plowed on. “What makes you so special?”
Raine refused to even acknowledge Rygel spoke. Yet, I felt his anger emanating from him in waves. The dark pup in question mewled, stirring restlessly in the cloth bag against his chest. Raine’s right hand rose to calm his newest charge, to comfort, to soothe. Under his palm, the whelp resumed his slumber, albeit with a bit more restlessness than before.
“Because he’s the Chosen One,” Arianne said.
That did it. Rygel, Kel’Ratan, Corwyn and even Tor fired question after question at him. What do you mean, Chosen One? What is the Chosen One? How did you become the Chosen One? Questions he, least of all, had answers to. I felt his rising panic, sensed that if they didn’t cease and desist with the rapid fire questions, he’d bolt. Kick his horse into a dead run and outdistance us all. I daresay I didn’t blame him. Whatever the Chosen One was or is, he didn’t ask for that particular assignment. The fact that he was scared him to his bones. Someone had to do something.
That someone was me.
I took his hand.
I stole his hand from the pup’s head and squeezed hard. He glanced over at me, the chill in his weird, cold eyes departed and naked fear stood forth. Whatever or whomever the Chosen One was, he wanted nothing at all to do with the position. He didn’t need questions he had no answer for. He needed someone to calmly take his hand and say—
“’Twill be all right.”
The gratitude that filled those strange icy grey eyes warmed my heart. The panic in them vanished. The rapidly voiced questions fired at him might have drifted past, unheard, for all the attention we paid them. I saw nothing but his anguished eyes, felt nothing but his fear, sensed nothing but his uncertainty. He ignored those about us and saw only me.
For my part, all I wanted was for him to gaze deep into my own eyes, raise my hand to his lips and say—
“You are the most precious creature on earth.”
I melted. I may have been in my saddle, on my horse, but right then I melted like so much butter over an open flame. I felt my heart ooze slowly down my breast, over my quivering belly, and pool in my lap. Messy, of course, but it felt oh so wonderful. His eyes held me captive, his prisoner, a slave to his will. Had he commanded it of me just then, I would have slain myself at his bidding. Damn, my father better reconsider his decree. No one should keep me from the man I want. I want this man.
We might have ridden thus to the end of the earth and toppled over its edge, staring deep into each other’s eyes, had Rygel not broken the spell with his obnoxious demand.
“Are you even listening?”
Raine might have curbed hi
s anger, but I’d no such compunction. I whirled on Rygel with my hand raised to knock him flat off his horse.
“That’s bloody enough,” I snarled.
Rygel’s mouth dropped. His amber eyes bulged. His throat worked as though trying to speak but not a syllable emerged. He slowed his gelding, fell into line behind me and shut his mouth. Kel’Ratan opened his, then snapped it closed when I spun toward him. Corwyn blanched, finding his reins suddenly fascinating. Tor hid behind Arianne’s hair. Arianne alone matched me angry stare for angry stare with the same courage and stubborn tenacity of her brother. She tried to cower me with her blazing grey-blue eyes and will alone.
“You know not what you do,” she grated. “He must accept what he is or all is lost.”
“Why?” I demanded, undaunted. “You seem to have all the answers, but you say precious little. Until you, little sister, come clean, you’ll leave him be.”
“It’s not for me to tell him.”
“Then who is?”
An intractable mule had nothing on tiny Arianne when it came to sheer stubbornness. Her mouth thinned into a tight white line, her hands on her reins clenched into tight little fists. If she had long ears, they’d no doubt be pinned flat. I flipped my hand at her in disgust and turned away.
Silenced, Arianne still glared, but as long as she glared without speaking, I didn’t much care. I tried to find the peace and companionship I had with Raine until a moment ago, but that, too, departed on swift hooves. Raine refused to speak, and found the scenery much more interesting than my face. I sighed, looked toward the green horizon, and kept my hands to myself.
We rode on in sullen silence, the lot of us, the joy having disappeared from my morning. We trotted and loped for several leagues, the sun chasing us across the gentle green valleys and thickets of trees of the graceful Plains of Navak. The light breeze rippled the long grass, creating from the stalks a silver-grey undulating wave. Mikk’s legs disturbed honey bees, busy gathering the sweet nectar of the abundant flowers fountaining their incredibly fragrant scents into the air. Brown rabbits fled, their white tails flashing dire warnings as they bolted from our hooves and our presence. Thickets of dogwood and hazel cradled the nests of sparrows, starlings and tiny wrens, who shrieked in panic as we brushed past them. Daisies, primroses, buttercups, wild lilac and even wilder roses blossomed amid the endless green and silver plains.
Catch a Wolf Page 23
