by Claudia King
When her anger subsided she realised that the voices above had fallen silent. A peek out from beneath the lip confirmed that Kin and his companions were gone. Reverting from the shape of her wolf, Vaya clambered up and ducked into the cave, blinking in the gloom until her eyes could pick out the shapes of spears and axes propped up in stretched twine racks. There was no sign of a bow or any arrows. The men had already taken them.
The huntress cursed and kicked over a bundle of javelins. Her competitors in the hunt were as tricky and conniving as the witches themselves. They knew these lands, knew the prey, even knew to use weapons that would give them an edge over her.
Vaya picked up one of the scattered javelins and hefted it in her palm, getting a feel for the balance and weight. If her rivals were going to employ cunning and deceit in pursuit of the hunter's prize, perhaps she would have to do the same. The only question was how.
Vaya's answer—or at least the first hint of one—arrived later that evening. Pup was trying his very best to distract her from the goings on of the den, putting his paws on the edge of the bowl of water she was trying to heat up and threatening to spill it every time she looked away.
“You want to keep that food in your fur? Hm? Or do you want me to clean you? Spirits help us, you need a proper mother.” She pushed Pup back toward the piece of meat she had been trying to distract him with and used a pair of sticks to lift another hot stone out of her fire. The bowl of water sizzled as she submerged it, watching the water simmer for a moment before hooking out the previous stone and setting it to warm in the coals once more.
Thankfully Pup stayed with the scrap of meat this time, a high-pitched growl tickling in his throat as he pounced and rolled over with the morsel, more eager to play than to eat. It seemed like he had satisfied his appetite earlier when he made a mess of the other hunters' meal.
Vaya smirked as she watched him tearing the meat apart. “Pup is no title for a warrior like you.” Whether it angered the spirits or not, she had decided that the young wolf needed a name. Pup was already half a name, after all. If the spirits had not taken offence to raising the wild beast already, then what more harm could giving him a name do?
Vaya pursed her lips as she watched him play. A name for a hunter. She was no seer or shaman, but her heart still felt the pulse and throb of this creature's life essence. He needed a strong name. Something that would help him survive and thrive among his kind. A name worthy of an alpha.
“Claw,” she said.
Pup dropped the piece of meat and looked up at her. Perhaps it was just the bubbles rising from the bowl that had distracted him, or maybe the name had sunk its teeth into the little pup's spirit. Vaya smiled.
“Your name is Claw now. Remember it, and maybe one day your brethren will fear you.”
The sound of feet crunching through dry grass drew Vaya's attention away from her animal companion. Those entering and leaving the den often walked past the abandoned hut she had taken up residence in near the bottom of the ridge, but at this time of night most were either busy eating or sharing conversation with their fellow packmates. Her eyes narrowed as a procession of three figures scaled the slope in front of her. Even in the darkness her keen vision could make out the gowns of seers draped over the first two. Behind them walked a wiry woman with her hair tied back in a knot. The first two ignored her, but the huntress locked eyes with Vaya as she walked past.
Fern. One of Alpha Khelt's old flock. Her expression held the same bitter scorn shared by all those who remembered Vaya's name.
Vaya glowered up at her, refusing to break eye contact until the procession passed by and Fern was forced to look away. They came to a halt a short ways up the slope near the first large fire.
“Sleeping herbs for the alpha's nephew,” the lead seer said. She sounded young.
“Thank you, Sister Sephonie,” one of the men replied. “I will see to it that he gets them.”
“He is to eat them with his food. Only a few leaves at a time, or he will sleep till next moonrise. He said he needed something strong.”
“Only to make you worry. He likes to play the wounded warrior around his favourite apprentice.” A few of the others chuckled, but Sephonie's posture stiffened.
“A seer's healing arts are nothing to make jokes over! It is important that he take these herbs exactly as I have instructed.”
After a playful apology the man took the bundle from her and thanked the trio once more. Vaya's eyes had not left the procession the whole time. When she saw Fern lingering behind to talk with Orec's people she called out to the one called Sephonie as she walked past.
“You, girl.”
She looked up indignantly, glaring at Vaya from beneath her headdress of white feathers. “Sister Sephonie.”
“Sister,” Vaya acknowledged, grabbing Claw by the scruff to stop him tipping over the bowl again. “Are you sure those herbs are safe? The alpha's nephew won't be in danger if he takes too many, will he?”
“Of course I am sure. The den mother would not have permitted me to set the dose myself if I was not.” Sephonie wrinkled her nose. “He will suffer little worse than a very long and deep sleep. Who are you, anyway?”
Vaya smirked. The girl had the look of a jealous lover about her, despite her pleas to the contrary.
“No one you need concern yourself with, Sister. Have a safe journey back to your valley.”
Sephonie shot a distasteful glance in Claw's direction, then lifted her chin and strode away.
Vaya hefted the pup into her lap and began lathering palmfuls of warm water into his fur, scrubbing out the sticky food stains vigorously.
“No mistakes this time, little Claw,” she murmured. “Herbs to make our rivals sleep. By the time they awaken, the Rainfall Hunt will be over.” Vaya pushed her braids back over her shoulder as she washed her companion. The fates were on her side. Time might be against her, but if she could get word of her plan to a friendly seer then perhaps she could obtain more of these sleeping herbs by the time the hunt started. How fortunate it was that her only friend in this unwelcoming clan was now an apprentice to the witches.
—9—
Greater Prey
Pain shot through Kiren's arm as she jerked upright, the sudden motion bringing to life a deep stiffness that had worked its way into her left side while she slept. Blinking hard, she brushed off the hand that had shaken her awake. Probably Netya, ready to reprimand her for dozing off during another taxing night-long lesson.
Instead of her mentor, however, she saw Pera kneeling beside her, the shape of the young man's face barely illuminated by the pre-dawn light filtering into the mentor's hollow.
“What are you doing here?” she asked with a groan, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with balled fists.
“Breaking the rules again. I need to be gone before the sun gets too high.”
“You could've let me sleep. I feel like a rotten old tree inside.”
Pera gave her a teasing look. “Sleep well with your head against a rock, do you?”
Kiren looked down and saw the work slab next to her. The top of her ribs ached from where the corner had dug in. Begrudgingly, she accepted that he had probably done her a favour.
“Alright. What are you doing here?”
“Your friend from Orec's den asked me to come.”
Immediately the weight of Kiren's weariness fell away. “Vaya? You spoke to her? Is she well?”
“Well enough to be frightening. Everyone keeps their distance from her. They think she's mad with the looks she gives people and the way she carries that little wolf pup around all the time.”
Kiren did not know anything about a wolf pup, but the news made her smile. If people were afraid of Vaya then she was still her old fiery self. She had not slipped into despair following Adel's ultimatum. A tension Kiren did not realise she had been carrying eased slightly. Guilt. Regardless of what these people said about Vaya, she was still a good and loyal friend, and she had sacrificed her own freedom fo
r the sake of Kiren's apprenticeship. It was a relief to learn that she was well.
“She's got keen eyes, though,” Pera continued. “Must've been following me into the woods every time I came here. Today she caught me and said she knew where I was going. Asked if the alpha knew.”
Kiren winced slightly. “That sounds like her. She'd sooner scare someone into helping than ask nicely.”
“Well, she said she'd forget about what I was doing so long as I came and found you. She wants to talk at sunset this evening.”
“Where? How? She isn't allowed into the valley.”
“You'll have to go to her.”
Kiren bit her lip. “Sister Netya has me in here day and night. She'll be angry if I run off again.”
“Wren said that didn't stop you last time.” Pera held up his hands when Kiren began to glare at him. “I just bring the message! She said she'll be waiting at the western edge of the valley, right where the trees end by the south ridge.”
Kiren pondered for a moment, then nodded. Seeing Vaya again was worth a little more of Netya's ire. Now that she had been through the forest once she could probably get to the end of the valley and back without wasting too much time. She just had to avoid the bear.
Pera left before anyone could catch him, leaving Kiren to tidy up the mess of herbs she had been trying to memorise the night before. They all looked different in the light of day. Wrinkled old stalks and bulbs, some of which had split open and scattered seeds everywhere when she fell asleep on them. An itchy rash was creeping up her arm, and the last ember in her fire had died. Had it not been for Pera's news, she would've crawled back into the seers' cave and hidden under her furs till Netya came to shake her awake.
Stifling another yawn, Kiren tried to arrange the scattered herbs back into the horns and pouches they had come from. She had probably mixed them up already. Netya would be disappointed with her again.
Since the runaway trip with Pera and Wren, Kiren's mentor had maintained a cool distance from her apprentice, observing her quietly for most of the day and leaving her to learn by herself through the night. They had still not progressed beyond learning the basic herbs, and Kiren's dejection had started to creep back in. She wished Netya would yell at her again, tell her she was a fool or threaten her with further punishments the way her mother had always done. She knew how to respond to that. This strange detachment unnerved her by comparison. It reminded her of trickery and false friends. When she could not guess at the feelings that lay within a person's heart, she began to assume the worst.
Netya arrived shortly after sunrise with a smile and a bowl of warm tea, inviting her apprentice to drink as she finished tidying up.
“You may bathe, if you like,” the older woman said. “By the look of you your night was not very restful.”
Kiren eyed a spider as it rode a cord of web down from her messy hair. Swiping the creature away, she tucked her hair back behind its headband and accepted the tea.
“I wish to share something with you,” Netya said. “I know your time here has been troubled so far. The den mother thinks I should punish you for neglecting your duties, but I persuaded her otherwise.”
Kiren looked up from the bowl uneasily. “Why?”
“I would rather you learn because you want to, not because I make you, so I have asked the spirits for their guidance.”
“And... what did they say?”
Netya smiled. “The spirits seldom speak in words we can understand, that is why it takes a skilled seer to hear them. Learning their ways is much like learning a different tongue, and when you think you have heard everything they have to say, they come along and say something different. That is why our people so revere their spirit-talkers. If you can learn this craft, you will possess a sight beyond the sight of others.”
It did not escape Kiren's notice that her mentor said our people rather than your people. It was easy to forget sometimes that she was a sun wolf.
“First I still have to learn my herbs,” Kiren said, a trace of bitterness in her voice.
“All in time. I will tell you what the spirits have shown me, but first I must ask a question of you.”
Kiren shrugged.
“What is it that you wish to hear from the spirits?” Netya said.
Kiren had to consider for a moment before responding. “That I will succeed. That my clan will welcome me home when I return.” Her words were the truth, but not all of it. If she could have spoken to the spirits herself she would have asked whether she could trust Netya and Adel. Whether they were honourable and compassionate women, or whether Vaya had been right about them. More than anything she wanted to know whether they were like the last spirit-talker she had crossed paths with.
Netya regarded her carefully, as if sensing the truth left unspoken. Kiren looked away, her cheeks colouring slightly. It was difficult to hide anything from the witches.
“The spirits are confused when I ask them about you,” Netya said. “My visions are a storm of stories and faces. Any one of them might hint at your future, but which? I sense that your own spirit feels lost in much the same way.”
Kiren said nothing. Netya was still watching her intently for any hint of a reaction.
“I saw two women running to this valley with a great dead beast behind them,” Netya continued. “A dark spirit, perhaps. A spectre of the past.”
“An enemy.”
Netya smiled. “Yes, perhaps. Would you like to tell me of this enemy?”
Kiren shook her head, feeling even more uncomfortable. She had never known a seer to peer into her past like this before. What else could Netya see about her?
“I also saw a child and a mother dancing around one another. I could not tell whether the child was giving chase, or trying to escape.” Once again Netya paused to gauge her apprentice's reaction. Kiren's face had lost a little of its colour. “But what I remember most clearly was a vision of a girl trying to swim up the falls of this valley. She tried and tried, but each time the water beat her back.”
“Of course it did,” Kiren said. “No one can swim up a waterfall.”
“And yet still she tried, even though it must have seemed impossible. Visions are not always as plain as the things our waking eyes behold. There is hidden meaning behind everything the spirits say.”
“So what meaning is there in swimming up a waterfall?”
“Do you not feel a little like that girl right now, Kiren? Struggling with a task that seems beyond you, beaten back time and again?”
Kiren's heart sank. “Then the spirits told you I am to fail, just like her.”
Netya shook her head. “I watched my vision for so long I felt I had been sitting there for years. Yet it was fascinating, in the way visions often are. I kept my watch, never turning away, and eventually she swam to the top of our falls.”
Unbidden, a hopeful hand lifted the sinking feeling from Kiren's chest before her cynicism could swat it down. For a brief moment Netya did not look disappointed, she looked proud, and it made Kiren's stomach curl up with pain as she forced herself not to give in to her warm feelings. She had been made to feel this way before. Respected. Encouraged. All to the ends of wickedness and deceit.
Yet despite her best efforts, a small sliver of Netya's hopeful vision worked its way into Kiren's soul. What if it was true? What if this seer was her friend, here to help her become a wise and proud witch? For a moment Kiren felt tears prickling the corners of her eyes as she imagined what it might be like to be such a woman.
With great guilt, she crushed those feelings back down into her stomach, remembering Vaya's warnings.
“Thank you, Sister Netya,” she said stiffly. “I will try my hardest, I promise.”
Netya laid a hand upon hers. “As will I. Perhaps we can walk the valley together today? I do not know what herbs we can hope to find still in bloom, but I am sure there must be something I can teach you.”
Kiren nodded. “I would like that.”
And like it she di
d. For the first time since she arrived, Kiren became absorbed in Netya's teachings. Her mentor knew the valley as if she had been born there, leading the way up hidden paths and into secret crannies all around the den. There were damp nooks where mushrooms grew—shaggy ones that could be eaten raw, and tall thin ones that smelt bad and were good for nothing beyond upsetting a stomach. When they came across a squirrel rooting around the base of a tree Kiren readied herself to leap into the shape of her wolf, eager to snag a quick meal. Netya stayed her shift, however, clasping a hand on her shoulder and whispering for her to watch.
“There is more to learn from animals than what they taste like,” she said, nodding to the trees. “See the nuts in their branches? The crop from these ones is often weak and sickly, but if one of them has managed to produce good nuts this season then the squirrel will know.”
They watched the critter until it picked a tree to climb, then left it to hide in the higher branches while they picked the leafy green nuts from its lower boughs. They sat down at midday to crack open their fresh forage upon on a rock, and while a few of the nuts were full of empty shell-fluff, most had soft, tasty flesh inside.
Kiren would remember that trick the next time she was out in the wilds. The nut trees in the swamps of her mother's territory were often sickly as well, and more often than not she had wasted half a morning collecting shells only to find nothing edible inside.
Just like the day she had spent with Wren, Kiren's time out in the valley taught her more than she had ever learned cooped up in the mentor's hollow. It may not have been the important herb-lore that she needed to master, but it all seemed interesting and useful nonetheless. Just like when she was out hunting with Vaya, she learned how to make a friend of the fickle wilderness; to understand and commune with it, learning which plants wanted to be left alone and which would reward her with aid if she handled them appropriately. Netya knew how to touch stinging weeds in a way that soothed their angry spirits, allowing her to pick them with an ease that seemed miraculous to Kiren. When she learned that it was as simple as applying a firm touch in the right direction, the magic of a seer almost seemed within her grasp.
