by Claudia King
“No,” Netya repeated, more firmly this time. She pressed the butt of her staff against the cave floor, straightening her spine. The fire in her eyes now matched Adel's ice. She could feel Heron there by her side, cool and sombre, reminding her of the day they had first met. “That is not the kind of strength I wish to have. If it takes fear or violence to keep my apprentice, then I would rather fail.”
“You are being foolish.”
“You said this was as much my test as Kiren's. Let me teach her in my own way.”
“Then why come to me for advice at all? How do you intend to make the girl listen if you lack the heart to punish her? Good intentions mean little, Netya, if your will is not strong enough to put them to good use.”
Netya lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed by her mentor. She might not have known what to do at first, but the den mother's talk of dreams and nightmare herbs had given her an idea.
“Sometimes you help me see my own heart more clearly.”
“All I want you to see is the importance of a firm hand.”
“Do you remember that night all those years ago when you tried to frighten me into leaving Khelt's pack?”
Adel glared at her.
“I did not run then, and I did not listen to you until you stopped treating me like an enemy,” Netya said. “I want to help Kiren become a great seer, not force her.”
“You needed forcing when you were an apprentice.”
“I am not Kiren, nor am I you. I must do this the way I believe is right.”
Adel glowered at the cave wall. “So many years and sometimes I still feel like they were a waste. When I asked you to befriend the girl I did not mean for you to treat her as you would Caspian or Fern.” She drew a deep breath. “Perhaps the fault is mine for entrusting you with this task in the first place. Do as you must, but if Kiren continues to defy you then I will see that she is punished myself. I will not have word reaching the other packs that we are weak and soft with our apprentices.”
“Thank you, Den Mother.”
“Do not thank me yet. Prove that you can handle Kiren, then maybe you shall have my approval.”
With a bow, Netya gathered up her gown and exited the cave. She did not yet know whether her idea would bear fruit, but it was worth trying. Anything was better than fretting in indecision. Adel's insistence on more sinister punishments worried her, and it was her duty to ensure that no harm came to Kiren. She was her mentor, after all.
Unlike some of the other seers, Netya did not venture into the spirit world often. She relied on the visions granted by her dreams rather than those induced by wild plants and poisons. The vividness of those journeys was often terrifying, and having her eyes opened to the spirit world in such a way left her feeling sick and drained afterwards. For Kiren, however, she needed more insight to draw upon. Nothing in her recent dreams had seemed as though it was meant for her apprentice. She needed to walk the spirit world with her waking wits about her, seeking out the answers she needed rather than placidly waiting for them to cross her path.
The seers' cave kept a large stock of vision herbs all throughout the year, most of which were derived from the strange-smelling weeds that grew all over the valley. Netya had never cared much for those plants. The smell of their smoke made her feel unwell, and the visions were weak and listless.
Instead she looked through a series of aurochs horn containers stacked up against the cave wall, working loose the wooden stoppers and smelling the contents to determine what was inside each one. In the dim light her nose was all she had to rely on, but many years of working with natural remedies had trained her to identify them by smell as easily as by sight. The rotting odour of fermenting berries emerged from one horn. The bitter tang of the nightwood plant from another. After a few moments of searching she picked up a horn that was lighter than the others, its contents rustling faintly when she shook it. Upon removing the stopper a dry, musky odour filled her nostrils, and she rattled the container gently until a few pieces of dry animal skin fell out into her palm. Adel was the only one who had ever worked with this medicine before. They had traded with Alpha Neman's clan for it the summer prior, and still no one but the den mother seemed able to discern exactly what it was. Either the animal skin itself came from a creature that carried a potent vision poison within its hide, or it had been soaked in some other substance and then dried for easy storage.
Regardless of where it came from, its effects were undeniably potent. A single piece was all Netya needed. She tipped the rest back into the horn and tapped the stopper back into place with a rock, being careful not to crack the container in the process. With the piece of skin tucked into her gown she hiked back up the valleyside to her cave. For once she was pleased that Caspian was not there waiting for her. She needed solitude for the rest of the afternoon.
Dragging an armful of comfortable furs from her cave out to her hut, she settled down cross-legged and closed her eyes, breathing deep of the misty air and letting the playful splash of the falls calm her. Once she had centred her mind, she touched the feathers of her headdress and rested her staff across her lap. She would need Heron's guidance to help her through the spirit world. Her fingers reached for the fragment of animal skin, brought it to her mouth, and let it rest gently upon her tongue.
At first there was only the musky taste of old animal, then her mouth began to sting in protest as a bitter tingle spread across her tongue. Netya focused on the sound of the falls as the veil of the waking world gradually slipped away and she fell sideways into the realm of the spirits.
Heron, come to me. Heron, come to me, she repeated, keeping a grip on her thoughts so that she was not swept away with the tide of uncanny sensations swirling through her body. The vision poison acted fast, but she favoured this one for the control it afforded her over the things she saw. Some journeys through the spirit world were chaotic and harrowing, especially if she could not call Heron to her side in time. Sucking upon this animal skin granted visions of a strangely lucid quality, however.
When Netya opened her eyes the world looked as if had been stained a deep crimson. The sky was black, and the sounds of the valley around her jumped and snapped like the calls of wild animals on a still night.
For a moment her chest tingled in fear. Heron was not there with her. Then she felt a comfortable weight pressing down upon her scalp, and she smiled in relief. Heron had been there the whole time. Silly her, she had forgotten she was wearing him upon her head.
Rising to her feet, she found that her moccasins had become stuck to the floor of her hut. She eased her feet out of them, only for the wood to begin sucking at her bare toes instead. A newcomer to the spirit world might have struggled in panic, but Netya knew that the rules of this place differed from those of the waking world. All it took was a simple decision to leave her toes behind, and she left them wiggling in the wooden floor as she stepped away.
One did not really need their toes here.
Her feet slid across the grass as if it were a thousand tiny caterpillars pushing her forward, and when she reached the edge of the falls the rock gripped her firmly to prevent her from slipping. She thanked the rock spirit, placing her palm upon its rough surface and allowing it to suck the fingers from her hand in exchange for the favour.
Heron cawed softly, and she looked up to see figures and faces dancing in the spray of the falls. They had always been there, it seemed, twisting and twining with the current as the water spirits came cavorting down the valleyside. Now that Netya could see with the eyes of a spirit herself, a vortex of sights and sounds tempted her in.
It was easy to become entranced in the moment, her legs melding gently into the rock beneath her as she watched the spirits dance. What were they saying, she wondered? Some seemed to sing. Others took the shapes of leaping animals, while more still threw spears. Hunters, perhaps? Or huntresses, like Kiren? As she thought of her apprentice the visions seemed to change, telling her stories of pups and mothers, grass rushing in the
wind, trees bursting into bloom. It was all a mystery her, fragmented and esoteric, yet she focused on committing the visions to memory. She could make no sense of what she saw right now, but a seer's wisdom came in piecing together the meaning of these things later. Adel had taught her never to take anything she saw as a memory of the past or a premonition of the future, but rather a story that could mean many different things to many different people. Once she had gathered that wisdom from the spirits, it was her duty to impart it to the person who would benefit from it most.
She only hoped the spirits could show her something that would help Kiren.
—8—
The Huntress's Plan
The air tingled restlessly with the promise of rain. Orec's camp bustled as warriors came and went, all of them excited for the Rainfall Hunt. Routine scouting patrols and foraging trips had become excuses to scour the nearby land for elusive prey that others might overlook.
Vaya watched and listened carefully, scratching the top of Pup's head as he nestled in her lap. Either out of fear or at the behest of his elders, the boy Yunau had not come near her since their first meeting. With no one to take the wolf pup off her hands, she had begrudgingly adopted the task of caring for him.
Pup was not her concern today, however. Now was time to prepare for the hunt. She could not possibly hope to learn the lay of Adel's lands better than the other hunters, so she relied on their knowledge instead. Where did they congregate? Where did they avoid? She ignored the talk of deer and aurochs—common prey like that was not going to win her the glory of the hunter's prize. She needed to find a mountain cat, or perhaps a mighty horse. Something unusual to these lands, yet also dangerous for a lone hunter to face. Maybe if she took a whole pack of wild wolves by herself it would be enough to impress the others. She had smelt faint traces of her people's feral cousins in the forests nearby, but they were old scents, most of them tucked away in crannies that held long-dead bones.
On the few occasions she had followed the other hunters out into the wilderness they had failed to lead her anywhere interesting. For a few days she had stalked a boy named Pera who always seemed to slip out on his own, thinking he was tracking secret prey in some well-hidden corner of the forest. When she had finally followed his trail to its destination, however, she realised that he was simply looping back upon himself before heading into the witches' valley. At that point Vaya's curiosity had evaporated. The boy could keep his secrets. Whatever reason he had for sneaking into the valley, it was not worth risking Kiren's safety if she was caught following him.
And so Vaya had started listening more closely, discerning which hunters were worth following and which were simply a waste of her time.
“He is twice the size of any buck, maybe bigger!” one of the men said. “Too fast for any of us to catch.”
“Eyan came close two summers ago,” the blonde-haired man named Kin replied. “We had him cornered. Scattered the other animals all along a stretch of forest until the trees grew too tight for him to escape. Eyan was the only one big and brave enough to face him.”
“And the great horse left him with a broken paw and a bleeding snout. If Eyan couldn't best him, no one can.”
Kin pointed to the man he was speaking with and one other hunter sitting nearby. “The three of us together could. Any horses will be in the creek valley this time of year. If the white buck is with them, we could bring him down.”
The other man shook his head. “He will just run through the water again. Horses know that our legs cannot keep up when they do that.”
“Probably.” Kin grinned. “But why not try? It will be a great tale to tell, even if we cannot slay the beast.”
Pup barked, drawing a suspicious look from the men. Vaya lowered her gaze, trying to seem inconspicuous as she ruffled the animal's ears till he settled down.
“Can you not stay silent for one moment, you stupid thing?” she murmured. When the hunters went back to discussing their plan it was in hushed, secretive tones, and Vaya found she could no longer hear them.
This was the third tale of a great beast she had overheard so far. There was a stag who had wounded one of Orec's people near-mortally in the past, distinguished by a missing antler that refused to regrow, then a boar with a hide so tough he was said to have torn the claws of hunters who tried to catch him, and now this great white horse who dwelt in a creek valley to the west.
For all of the whimsical tales being spun about them, none of these seemed like the prey Vaya wanted. Yet her time was running out, and she had to pick one. Her experience with similar animals told her that the stag and boar had likely just been lucky, and luck had spiralled into legend. She would face fierce competition going after those two, such was their infamy among Orec's pack, but the white horse Kin spoke of seemed less well known. Either that, or the others feared the beast too much to consider him an option.
Perhaps she could follow these three out to the valley on the day of the hunt. If she let them tire out the horse while she waited nearby...
Vaya grunted in annoyance. She did not want to reap the reward for someone else's efforts, yet she had to win this hunt. The surly looks from the others were becoming maddening to endure. She was an outsider among them, watched day and night. Every time she ventured outside the den the muffled footfalls of two or three hunters were never far behind. Sometimes she managed to lose them in the undergrowth, but more often than not they clung doggedly to her tail. She did not even want their friendship. She needed no camaraderie with those who served witches. All she desired was for them to look upon her with the respect she deserved. Being watched over like a temperamental child was an insult to her honour. She had almost preferred being a captive.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Kin and his hunting companions rising to their feet. The three of them were talking in earnest now, the playful banter of their previous conversation forgotten. They really meant to go after the white buck. Yet rather than heading out into the forest as she had expected, the men sidled across the camp until they were standing outside the cave reserved for foraging tools and weapons.
Vaya ground her teeth back and forth. More than ever she longed to know their plan, yet someone would notice if she made an obvious move to follow them. Slipping into the shape of her wolf, Vaya stretched and let out a long yawn, making as if to return to the rickety hut she had been sleeping in. As she hopped down from her rocky perch, however, she flicked her tail sharply to one side. It was a motion she had used many times over the past few days to send Pup scampering after mice and voles, teaching him how to hunt whenever there was a lull in her exploration of Adel's territory.
The flick had the desired effect. Yipping in excitement, Pup bounded directly into a group of hunters sitting nearby. Laughter and frustrated cursing alike erupted from the assembly as Pup spilled cups of water and dived into someone's meal, eager to sink his little teeth into the tastiest smelling morsel he could find now that his pack-sister had given him permission to pounce.
With the group distracted, Vaya turned around and slunk behind a rocky lip just below the eating area. She pressed her body as deep into the narrow space as she could manage, nestling between the rocks on her left and a tangle of unruly grass on her right. So long as no one farther down the ridge looked up at her, the lip would allow her to sneak back into earshot of Kin and his companions without being seen.
They would probably think I am just a youngster hiding in the grass anyway, Vaya thought, suppressing a growl at the indignity of it. What did it matter? Her pride was already in shreds. They treated her like an infant anyway. Winning the hunt was all that mattered now.
Loose moss tumbled over her back as she scraped up against the overhang, edging forward until her ears caught the sound of Kin's voice. Pup was still yipping somewhere behind her. The clamour of raised voices made it difficult to listen, so she pushed on until she judged she was almost directly below the cave the trio had stopped outside.
“None of us even k
now how to use a bow,” one of them muttered. Had it not been for the sensitivity of her wolf's ears Vaya doubted she would have been able to overhear their conversation at all.
“It cannot be hard. We have time to practice.”
“There is only one bow in the cave, Kin. Why should we get to use it when our packmates cannot?”
“What rule is there against using the Sun People's weapons in the hunt? We've done it with spears before.”
“Spears are different. It doesn't take courage to shoot prey from afar. This is not our way.”
“I am not saying we slay the beast outright,” Kin explained patiently. “Just wound him. Try to hit him in the flank so that he cannot outrun us. Then we take the kill with tooth and claw.”
“It still seems wrong. If the others had bows to use too...”
“The quickest and smartest hunters get the best prey, do they not? Well, we will be quick and smart in taking the bow before any of the others think of it.”
“What about arrows? I only see three in there.”
“Ask the sun wolf Kale. He must know how to make more.”
Vaya suppressed another growl as she listened to the men discussing their plan. So using the weapons of the Sun People was considered fair in this contest, was it? Wounding prey from afar was a coward's way of hunting. Even using spears and javelins always left a bitter taste in her mouth. The Sun People had to use such weapons to overcome their weakness and fragility. When the Moon People did the same it seemed like an admission that they shared that weakness. No, it was worse. Vaya's kind knew that they were strong enough to fight without weapons, yet some of them willingly chose not to. Cowardice within cowardice. At least the Sun People used bows out of necessity.
