by Claudia King
Fighting with every strand of her being not to lash out, Vaya dug her nails into her palms until she felt blood.
“I challenge you!”
“I take no challenges from females.”
To Vaya's incensement, she saw pity on the man's face along with his scorn. He believed that he was sparing a poor, weak female from even further humiliation.
Her hand snapped out and wrenched the stick from his grasp, twisting until he let go. The man hissed a curse under his breath. Vaya swung the improvised club at his side, but he caught the blow on his wrist and lunged forward, slamming his forehead into her face. She tasted blood as one of her teeth caught against her lip.
There is my challenge. She grinned through the pain, spitting out a glut of red saliva at her opponent.
Two things stalled the confrontation before it could escalate further. The first was the sharp bark of the woman who had been accompanying the male, now four-legged and fur-clad, teeth bared threateningly at the pair of them. The second was another high-pitched yelp from Pup as he tripped about fearfully between the stomping feet of the two combatants.
“Tasted enough blood for today?” the man panted, scowling at her as he wiped off the smear of spit. “Or do you want some real scars?”
Vaya's muscles hummed with energy, the sudden rush made all the more palpable by the male's acknowledgement of her as a foe worth fighting. She was no woman. She was a warrior.
The pathetic whining of the animal beneath her feet soured the moment, however, and no sooner than it had begun Vaya felt her battle fury ebbing. The clumsy pup would be crushed beneath their heels if it didn't move out of the way.
“Stop it,” the woman said firmly after reverting from the shape of her wolf. “If this goes any further Alpha Orec will hear of it.”
From her tone Vaya sensed that she was reprimanding the male as well. Spitting more blood on the ground, Vaya took a step backward.
“If you ever want to finish this, I'll show you how a true warrior fights. I've killed more Sun People than you've ever seen.”
“Sun People aren't wolves, outsider. Next time you won't suffer my patience.”
The two locked eyes, both of them sizing each other up. There was honour in a challenge, and Vaya would not bow to this man's whims, nor would she forget his look of scorn. After a tense moment she narrowed her eyes and broke the standoff. Pup was scrabbling at her foot again, and despite all of her anger she could not focus when the little animal was getting in the way.
“Finish chopping your wood, boy,” she said, then turned her back on the three of them. Yunau called for Pup as he scampered after her, but the man pulled him back before he could give chase.
“Stay away from that one, Yunau,” he growled. “She's just like that little beast. Neither of them belong here.”
The words stung Vaya more than they should have. Perhaps because there was a truth to them that touched something too deep and dark for her to acknowledge. Or perhaps because she realised, far too late, that she had defied Alpha Orec's instructions already. Less than half a day, and her anger had gotten the best of her.
She cursed herself, averting her eyes from the bathers in the pool as she walked past, trying to escape their reproachful stares. For an instant she wondered whether they were right. Perhaps she did have no honour. No courage. She had given in to her anger and betrayed her loyalty to her pack. For if the den mother learned of what had just happened, both she and Kiren would suffer for it.
—4—
The Mantle of Mentor
Netya's worries remained with her throughout the day. By the time twilight fell she knew her stomach should have been urging her to go down and eat with the others, but all she felt gnawing at her belly was a lurking sense of unease. She should trust Adel, should she not? As harsh as the den mother could sometimes be, she was no fool. Surely there was no real danger of Vaya causing trouble under the watchful eyes of Orec's pack?
Yet still there was Kiren. Tomorrow Netya would take up the role of mentor, and she doubted her apprentice would be an easy one. It was time for her to pass on everything she had learned, recalling her own instruction and imparting it to Kiren, all while winning the trust of a young woman who had already been turned against her.
She sighed. At least her mate Caspian was there with her that evening. He lounged at the entrance to their cave, humming a tune under his breath as he squinted at the bone fish hook he had been carving. Using a small flake of flint he scraped another notch into the hook, rubbing off the excess before examining it again.
Netya smiled. It had been a long time since he fished. Nothing but bubbles swam in the valley falls, and few hunters had any interest in travelling to the nearest suitable river when more challenging prey could be found elsewhere. Wolves were not fishermen at heart, but when Caspian hunted he preferred a different kind of challenge. He liked the slow game of teasing out the line in the water, discovering which coloured grasses and scraps of meat the fish found most enticing, and then luring them in until he could snag them from the water. Patience—a rare virtue among many of the Moon People—was his gift.
She sat watching him for a while, soothed by the melodic hum of his voice. When Caspian was nearby she could almost forget the troubles that lay before her, finding that calm centre within herself from which all thoughts and pathways seemed clear. When her spirit nestled into that comfy place, she felt whole. All the shades of falsehood fell away, and she was able to see clearly the things that her younger self would have overlooked.
A smile touched Netya's lips. No, even though she sometimes forgot it, she was not that naïve young girl any more. So many times she had faced foes worse than Vaya, struggled with challenges more daunting than a disobedient apprentice. She carried a weight in her heart that would never leave her, and while it had dimmed the playful flame of her youth, she did not resent its presence. It was a part of her now, tempering and testing, reminding her of a strength to which her younger self had been oblivious.
“What if that perfect hook breaks?” she called to Caspian. “All this time you've spent on it will be for nothing.”
“Then I'll make a new one,” he turned his head to smile at her, “and spend more time sitting here with you.”
“I don't think Adel cares very much for fishing. Have you ever seen her eat a fish?”
“No, but I've seen her eat snakes. Do you think I should learn how to catch those instead?”
Netya laughed. “Stay with the fish. They're much less frightening.”
“A heron would prefer fish, wouldn't she.” He reached up as she shuffled over, stroking the blue feather braided into her hair at the end of her beads.
“Heron hasn't visited my dreams for many days now,” she said with a frown. “I hope it comes tonight. I may need its guidance.”
“I may be responsible for all this, I fear. The girl who arrived last night, her name is Kiren, isn't it?”
Netya nodded. “Adel named me her mentor.”
“I was beginning to think she had gone back home. She was at the gathering this year seeking the witches. You will not believe how determined she was to win our favour.”
“Nothing would surprise me any more today.”
Caspian sat up, putting his crafting project aside and leaning back against the cave wall. “She approached the circle of alphas all by herself, just like Adel did five summers ago. Not quite so fearsome—and she didn't walk through the fires this time—but after seeing that kind of courage I could not let the others turn her away. It was not my right to invite her into the clan as an apprentice, but perhaps I may have...” he swirled his fingers disarmingly, “...suggested she follow us home.”
“So you are the one I have to blame for this.”
Caspian raised his eyebrows at her. “She has promise. If you've met her, you can't deny that.”
“Perhaps, but not as a seer.”
“Did Adel think you had any promise when she taught you?”
“T
hat was not the same.”
Caspian grinned. “She doesn't know everything, and neither do you. Try teaching Kiren for a few days, then decide whether she will make a good seer or not.”
Netya threw her hands in the air in mock-exasperation. “Yes yes, you always know best, my love. But she does not seem the type.” Her brow furrowed again. “Back at the gathering, did you know who she was travelling with?”
Caspian shook his head. “She was alone when I spoke to her.”
“Vaya.”
His confident expression faltered. “Vaya?”
“She is with Orec's clan right now. Adel wants to keep her here with us.”
“Of course.” Caspian released an exasperated breath and rubbed his forehead. “Octavia's clan. Where else would Vaya go?” He began to rise to his feet. “I must speak with Adel, then Orec. They cannot let her stay here.”
Netya grabbed his hand and tried to pull him back down, but he was resolute. She had learned long ago that the only thing capable of shattering Caspian's calm demeanour was a threat to his mate. And as endearing as it was, she did not think any good would come of him butting heads with Adel right now. When it came to stubbornness, the den mother was unmatched.
“Her mind is set,” she said. “Speak with her tomorrow if you must, but not now.”
“Orec will listen though. I will be back before dawn. Try not to worry.”
“I would worry less with you here by my side,” she said patiently.
Caspian's hand tensed up for a moment, then he relented. “Am I being a fool?”
“Perhaps a little.” Netya smiled at him, but the concern in her eyes belied her otherwise warm expression. Caspian had been a hero to her in so many ways over the years, but the subtle huskiness of his voice and the scars on his neck still reminded her of the one time he had thrown himself into danger without concern for his own wellbeing. She had thought him dead, and nothing was worth tempting the dreadful emptiness of that feeling again.
Caspian leaned forward, squeezing her hand. “I am not about to fight Vaya for your honour,” he said softly.
“No, but you may find yourself fighting Adel. Stay in the cave with me tonight.”
“It is not wise to keep someone like Vaya here.”
“Perhaps she has changed.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No, but I do not know everything, do I?”
“Tomorrow, then.” Caspian slumped back down beside her, putting a hand about his mate's shoulders. “I must speak with Orec anyway. A summer away at the gathering and I barely know what is happening in our own pack any more. Vaya arrives in our territory, Kin has become a responsible young warrior, Fern is with Terim...”
“Fern would be with all of us if she could,” Netya said, glad for the change of subject. “You know her well enough by now. She isn't one to bind herself to a single mate.”
“I thought she and Eyan made for a good pair.”
“They still do. But Fern is like the bird who flies away with the change of seasons. She could not survive staying in the same place forever.” Netya's fingers crept up Caspian's side. She brought her lips close to his ear. “We both enjoyed that winter she spent in our cave, didn't we?”
The tension in Caspian's body eased as he chuckled. “That is not fair. No male could have refused such an offer.”
“Then let Fern go about making everyone happy. This season it is Terim's turn.”
“Well, you know her better than I.” Caspian turned to kiss her, and the pair of them relaxed into a comfortable embrace.
Netya missed her mate when he was gone. It seemed that winter was the only time they could spend together without Caspian being called away, and so she had come to quietly anticipate the cold season in recent years. The valley was a place of witches, and Caspian was no witch. His talents lay elsewhere, in the guidance and counsel he could offer to leaders like Adel and Orec. The den mother was a stubborn and self-assured woman, and so it had been Orec with whom Caspian spent most of his time since the guardian clan formed. That meant long days spent away from the valley, often leaving her alone overnight when he had disputes to resolve. The guardian clan was brave and loyal, but they were a warrior caste drawn from many different packs across the land. Disagreements were common, and it had been a miracle that the diverse group had stayed together at all after they began living together south of the valley. Only Orec's firm hand as alpha and Caspian's keen understanding of people had allowed them to channel that volatility into strength. Now competitive challenges and celebrations of skill kept the warriors in check, fostering a deeply ingrained sense of honour between them even when they were at each other's throats. While Netya often found herself alone back at the cave, she had no doubt that Caspian's absence meant he was doing greater good elsewhere.
She wrapped her hands around her mate's chest, snuggling into the warmth of his body. If nothing else, his absences made her appreciate their time together all the more intimately.
The only thing she feared was waking in the night without him there to hold her, when the nightmares returned. So many years on, and still the memories of rushing water troubled her dreams. Often her heron spirit came to pluck her from the churning tide. Other times it was a white wolf, still somehow finding its way to her side through the infinite darkness of the spirit world. But there were nights when neither of them came, and she was lost to the cold water until it filled her lungs and stole her breath away. Then she would wake, drenched in cold sweat, shivering and sobbing as she remembered a shard of blood-soaked stone clutched in her hand, and a daughter who had never been born.
She curled herself tighter around Caspian, willing the memories of those dark nights away. He was here with her now. If she woke in fear, he would be there to soothe her back to sleep.
“You will make a fine mentor,” he said, stroking her hair. “One more step along the path of the seer.”
Netya stared at the flames rolling over one another in their hearth. “I hope so.”
No dark dreams troubled Netya that night, yet still she awoke with a jolt at the break of dawn. The sun's first rays were creeping up the rocks at the cave's entrance, turning the dusky stone white as they moved. She disentangled herself from Caspian's arms, groaning as she worked the stiffness from her body. Their comfortable embrace had meandered into lovemaking before sleep found them, and she had drifted off beneath him with only a thin hide mat to protect her from the hardness of the earth.
As she twined her long black hair into a loose knot over her shoulder the tension in her stomach reminded her that she had still not eaten since yesterday morning.
There was no more time to worry. No more time to ponder. She needed to prepare herself for the day ahead, and she had an apprentice to teach.
Finding that the embers of their fire had grown cold, she threw her gown around her shoulders, took a handful of kindling from their wood pile, and headed outside. The latesummer spiders had spun their webs across the cave's entrance again, catching a few moths in their strands that twitched and fluttered as Netya ducked by. She would have to clear those up before Caspian awoke. Sister Lyucia relished the taste of the fat insects seasoning her broths, and they would make a fine morning gift for her on the way to rouse Kiren.
Once she had struck a fire in the outside hearth she filled one of her stiff hide pots from the waterfalls and set it to boil. She would have to ask Adel to send Orec's people searching for fresh clay again soon. It had been hard to come by near the valley, and while Craftsmother Briar was adept at making many things, the art of fire-hardened pottery had always been difficult for her. As a result clay vessels had become increasingly valuable among the clan. No one wanted to drink teas that took on the leathery taste of hide pots. Alas, Netya's one good pot was still encrusted with the leavings of a stew from two nights prior, and she had neglected to soak it so that the flies would stay away.
She ate a quick meal of boiled grains and dried fruit. Tasteless as it was, it filled he
r empty stomach, and after rinsing her hair in the falls the chill of the wind began to wake her up. Once her other morning chores had been seen to she donned her headdress, picked up her staff, and set out down the valleyside.
Netya's gown fluttered behind her as she walked, the wind making swooping whorls of the soft deerskin. Moist and fragrant, the morning air carried the scent of grass and trees from the far end of the valley. She found a few of her pack-sisters stirring the coals outside the seers' cave, but almost everyone else was still asleep. The darkness of deep caves made it easy to forget the sun, and it was not uncommon for noon to pass by before the whole clan was awake.
Netya paused for a moment, touching one of the charms hanging from the cave's entrance. Perhaps Kiren needed her rest. It could be difficult sleeping among strange people for the first time, and the girl had just finished a long journey.
Did Adel allow you to sleep the day away when you were an apprentice?
Netya set her jaw and stepped inside. None of the other mentors coddled their apprentices. They were here to learn, and great seers did not sacrifice duty for comfort. Making her way deeper into the gloom, she followed the line of mats around the left hand side, trusting the texture of woven grass beneath her feet to lead her around the heaps of clothing, racks of drying herbs, decorative animal pelts, and unattended work slabs.
She did not spend much time in the muggy cave herself, preferring the peace of her own isolated nook, but it was here that most of the seers congregated to carry out their daily work. Reaching out toward the wall, her fingers brushed the edge of a wooden frame. A curtain of beads hung across it, conferring a minimal amount of privacy to the group of young women who slept in the chamber beyond.
“Kiren,” Netya called into the darkness. “Are you awake?”
A hand lifted the lid from a clay lamp, spilling its oily luminescence into the corner of the cave. Kiren sat there alongside the sleeping apprentices, knees tucked up to her chest. She turned toward Netya's voice with a surly look, but said nothing.
