Sisters of Syr (The Moon People, Book Four)

by Claudia King

  With a guiding point to focus on Vaya began running all out. Her paws struck half way up the curved wall as her momentum carried her around the bend, then she was leaping past the collapsed rocks and out into daylight. Rook struggled to squeeze his huge body through the gap behind her, giving the huntress just enough breathing room to turn around and face her foe on the shelf outside.

  The bear hurled himself toward her like an avalanche spilling from the cave's mouth, oblivious to anything but the predator invading his territory. Once again Vaya dodged, searching for an opening to strike. Rook's claws skidded against the rain-slick shelf where Vaya had been standing, and before the great beast could stop himself he tumbled over the edge.

  A handful of black birds scattered from their perches as a tree shook with the weight of Rook's impact, but the fall had only been a short one. As the dazed bear tried to pick himself back up Vaya seized her chance. Leaping from the shelf, she dug her claws into Rook's back and lunged for his neck. Blood touched her tongue, but the bear was nothing like any other prey she had brought down this way before. It seemed his flesh was forcing her teeth back out of its own accord, tensing and twisting as thick muscle bunched up beneath his hide.

  There was no question of being able to break his neck. He was far too strong.

  Bellowing his anger to the last of the scattering birds, Rook twisted and slung his body to one side, wrenching Vaya free with the sheer weight of his momentum. She bounced off the ground and rolled over, shaking her head rapidly to clear it. Rook was slow, but not slow enough for her to get away again. By the time she had pulled herself upright the bear was throwing a killing swipe toward her face. In the brief moment before the blow connected Vaya realised she would not able to avoid it in time. Ducking low, she swung her paw up to try and deflect Rook's claws. Better to lose a foreleg than her life.

  Pain shot through her shoulder as her paw met with Rook's, the force of his blow threatening to wrench Vaya's joint from its socket. She felt her claws dig into the bear's skin, then something tore loose and she was free. The huntress had only an instant to stare in amazement at the enormous claw she had just ripped from Rook's footpad before it spun away into the undergrowth. Her leg felt torn and broken, bursting with unbearable pain, but it had survived the blow.

  She threw herself past her opponent as he continued to swipe about in anger, ignoring the way her leg throbbed every time she put weight on it. Once more she leaped atop the bear's back, latching in her claws and clamping her teeth around his neck. Rook twisted to try and throw her off, but his clumsy charge had pinned him against the base of the rock shelf. Senses fogged, his head slammed into the edge of the stone as he spun around. Vaya felt the bear's muscles loosen as he slumped to the ground, stunned. This was her chance. Risking the threat of Rook's jaws, she clambered further up his back to give herself more reach and lunged in for a bite at the side of his throat. Her claws burned as they clung on, pain shooting through her injured leg, but Vaya's resolve had never been stronger. Rook's blunder had robbed him of his strength, and the momentary lapse was all the huntress needed.

  With one last surge of defiance the bear attempted to pull himself back up, but Vaya could feel his blood gushing down the side of her muzzle. She had dealt a mortal wound this time. Before Rook could fall over and crush her beneath his weight she let go, hopping back to let her prey die in peace.

  Breathing heavily, she watched until the bear's flank ceased its gentle rise and fall. It did not take long, but in the moment it seemed like an eternity. Such a powerful spirit was reluctant to leave its mortal body behind. Closing her eyes, Vaya tilted her muzzle upward to let the rain wash her clean.

  Well fought, great warrior. Know that your strength is mine now, and that I bear it with pride.

  —12—

  Vaya's Prize

  Not until the racing of Vaya's heart slowed did she truly realised what she had just accomplished. She had slain a bear. The greatest foe she had ever brought down. Without a doubt, the hunter's prize was hers. Even the pain in her leg could not stop her from letting out a long, whooping howl as she voiced her elation to the sky. She had proven herself the greatest huntress in Orec's pack—perhaps in any pack! This, what she had done here today, was a deed worthy of tales.

  An immense relief spread through her. Gone would be the derisive looks and the scornful words. What right did they have to call her anything any more—shamed, traitor, coward, woman—if she did not allow it?! This was a victory that went beyond the rules of the witches and their kin. This was primal honour, to be respected and revered by all.

  Reverting from the shape of her wolf, Vaya fell back panting against the nearest tree. For the first time in many days, laughter spilled from her lips. In moments like this all the burdens of her past seemed light as air. She was a huntress, proud and victorious. All of the other hunters would still be out stalking their prey, yet she had taken the greatest prize of all before it was even noon. This was a good day indeed. The first good one since arriving in Adel's territory.

  Still basking in the glow of her victory, the huntress looked down to examine her aching arm. It felt hot and bruised, tingling near the tips of her fingers. Despite her initial fears there seemed to be no breaks, but her muscles had strained to the point of tearing. Perhaps she would need the healing help of the witches. Vaya let out a deep breath and looked back toward the bear. No matter. Whether Great Rook had wounded her permanently or not, she would never claim a more glorious kill than this. She could live with a crippled limb content in the knowledge that the sacrifice had been worth it.

  Finding that she had nothing long enough to use as a sling, Vaya untied her thick braids and knotted them back together around her wrist. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but it hurt less than carrying her arm at her side. It would be a long trek back to Orec's den without the speed of her wolf. The huntress grimaced as she approached Great Rook's body again. Even without her wound it would have been impossible to drag the carcass back by herself. After a moment's contemplation she bent down to search through the scattered twigs until she found the claw she had torn off during the fight. It was a fearsome thing indeed, bloody and tufted with fur where it had broken near the base. This would be proof enough for Orec's clan. They could come and find the carcass themselves afterwards. Perhaps Rook's pelt would make a fine adornment for the alpha's den, just like the one Khelt had displayed atop his seat. Vaya smiled ruefully as she thought of her old alpha. He would regret having lost such a fine huntress when word of her deeds spread at the next gathering.

  Gritting her teeth through the pain, she tried to favour her shoulder as much as possible as she hiked back toward the end of the valley. Cold, uncomfortable, and soaked through with rain, Vaya left the forest more content than she had been in years.

  The return journey took long enough that several of the other hunters had already arrived back at the den ahead of her. Most notable was Kin, hunched beneath the dripping shelter of a hut as he played with a broken arrow.

  “No buck for you,” Vaya commented as she walked past.

  He looked up with a frown. “How did you know we were going after him?”

  “You're not quiet when you talk.”

  The man huffed in annoyance. “Well, shooting a bow is harder than you think. We'll get the buck next time.”

  “I needed no bow to bring down my prey.”

  Kin turned his palms outward and made a show of surveying the surrounding area. “Where is it, then? Do you have a wood mouse stuffed into your clothes?” He flinched back as Vaya tossed the bear claw at him, snatching it out of the air just before it could strike his face. After studying it for a moment his eyes widened. “Where did you get this?”

  “From the bear I slew.”

  Kin shook his head. “No, there are no bears here. Only Great Rook.”

  Vaya smirked at him. He looked to her bruised arm, then back at the claw.

  “Go and see his body for yourself,” she said. “Bring so
me friends so you can butcher him. You won't be able to drag that beast back through the forest.”

  “You can't have killed Rook.”

  “How do you know what I am capable of?” She held out her hand for the claw. “Go. I can wait a little longer for my victory.”

  Hesitantly Kin returned the trophy, giving her a sidelong look as he rose to his feet and called over to his hunting companions. Vaya tucked Rook's claw back into her waist wrap and headed up the ridge, searching for a healer to examine her arm. Orec's pack always had at least one witch present to tend any unexpected ills. Injuries on the day of the Rainfall Hunt were probably common.

  She found Meadow—another familiar face from Khelt's pack—binding the cuts of a few young hunters who looked as if they had chased their prey through every single bramble patch in the forest. Aside from a reproachful frown the seer did not comment on Vaya's presence, examining her arm in silence once she was done with the others. She had always been a timid one. The warmth of the fire in her cave was welcome, though, and by the time Meadow had finished binding up Vaya's arm in a tight sling the huntress had stopped shivering.

  “Keep that on for as long as you can,” Meadow said. “If your arm hurts then stop using it. And don't take the shape of your wolf.”

  Vaya grunted in acknowledgement and took a sip from the cup Meadow offered her. The water was warm and steeped with herbs.

  “For the pain, and to help you sleep,” the seer explained. “Excited warriors always make their wounds worse if you let them celebrate.”

  Only mildly incensed at having been drugged, Vaya slumped over on the other side of the cave where several other hunters were dozing. The pride in her victory made it difficult to feel angry at anything. As the drowsiness began to take hold she heard a pattering of small paws enter the cave, then Claw was scrabbling up her chest to welcome her home. She laughed as the pup licked at her face, lifting him back down with her good hand.

  “I only just got dry, you little fool. Take your muddy paws off me.” She ruffled the fur on his back till it stood up in damp spikes, then let him nuzzle contentedly against her stomach. Claw understood what it was like to be an outsider among others, didn't he? Of all the souls in this pack, he was the one she felt most content sharing her victory with. Sliding Rook's claw out of her wrap, she let her feral companion sniff at the trophy and lick the dried blood from the end.

  “Perhaps it was the spirits' will for me to name you as I did,” she mused. “Now let me tell you a tale, little Claw, of a huntress who slew a monster.”

  Vaya dozed through the rest of the day, waking at twilight when the raucous hunters outside grew too loud to ignore. Easing a slumbering Claw off her stomach, she rubbed her eyes and staggered upright. The drowsiness of the herbs had faded, but so too had their pain-numbing magic. Her arm felt terribly stiff and swollen, as if it was trying to burst out of the sling that held it.

  Vaya's injury was of little interest compared to the celebration outside, however. Whoops of laughter leaped out amidst the dull roar of conversation. Fires crackled with the distant scent of sizzling meat. Somewhere nearby the boy Pera was singing the tale of one of his friends' hunts, pausing intermittently to make up each new part. For once Vaya did not feel excluded from the jovial atmosphere. When she stepped out of the cave she saw that leafy shelters like those atop the huts had been erected all around the upper part of the den, creating a huge celebration area around a bonfire that had been built at the base of an overhang. It was the same fire Vaya had been brought to with Kiren when she first arrived, the black soot of its flames streaking the rock above like long shadows. A ceremonial gathering place, it seemed. She could not see Alpha Orec among the crowd, but one built-up shelter with logs and furs beneath it shrouded a handful of figures from view. It had been placed in a position of prominence near the fire, and the others were maintaining a respectful distance. No doubt Vaya would be the first one chosen to approach when her victory was announced.

  It was impossible to keep the smile off her face as she strode out into the pack. The first ones to see her dropped their conversations immediately, staring at the huntress with a mix of awe and fear. Pride swelled in Vaya's chest as the trophies of the day's hunt hove into view, the most prominent of them arrayed in a line beneath the shelters on the area's western side. Pairs of antlers, severed paws, claws and teeth of predatory animals—but pride of place, held aloft by half a dozen heavy wooden poles, was Great Rook's enormous pelt, spread so wide it could almost have been a tent. Everyone in the pack knew of her victory by now. She saw it on their faces, some begrudging, some disbelieving, but all holding the same mutual reverence for a huntress who had proven beyond any doubt that she was their equal.

  Kin, still playing with his broken arrow from earlier, greeted her with a wry smile when she approached the trophies.

  “I don't care who you are or what they say about you, Huntress. I must know the tale of how you slew that beast.”

  “You went and butchered him for me.”

  Kin nodded. “His meat roasts in the fire as we speak. You and the alpha will be first to share it when your victory is announced. The bear's bones will make tools for every hunter in the clan so that we may all carry a piece of your great courage with us in the seasons to come.”

  Vaya resisted the urge to gloat. Once a shamed outcast, now a heroine of the pack. Her name would linger on in this clan's history for years to come. Let Den Mother Adel try and work that into her wicked schemes. No witch, no matter how cunning, could trick her way around the simple purity of such an honour. This was something warriors understood that a seer could not.

  “I will tell my tale to the alpha when he is ready,” Vaya said. “Now bring me something to drink.” She raised her injured arm slightly with a wince. “I want to stop feeling this wound for a while.”

  Kin inclined his head respectfully. “As you say, great huntress. Do you see any other prizes that take your fancy this evening?” He gestured to the surrounding clan, all of whom were now looking in her direction. It was common tradition for a celebrated hunter to have their pick of lovers on the night of their victory.

  Vaya returned the young man's look. “You'll do. You may not have the wits of a buck, but I hope you have the stamina of one.”

  “I'll take what victory I can in surviving a night with a woman who slays bears.” He reached for a waterskin and tossed it to Vaya. Biting loose the knotted leather stopper, she poured the fiery contents down her throat, savouring the burn and shudder it brought. Much better than a healer's herbs.

  There was only enough time to share a few mouthfuls of food and drink with the others before the last light of day shrank from the heavens and the alpha's booming voice rolled out across the assembly.

  “The hunt ends! To the victor, our clan's honour. Vaya, step forward.”

  Tossing aside her waterskin, she drew herself up tall and strode toward the bonfire. Orange light radiated off the stone overhang, casting the huntress's shadow far into the distance behind her. The pack fell silent, then began to clap their hands together in time with her footsteps. The rhythmic crackle of noise pushed her forward, filling her with the strength and courage of the entire clan. Vaya could no longer feel her wound. She let her eyes close briefly, savouring every breath. They were clapping for her. Her honour. Her victory. Her vindication. In this moment she was nothing less than their champion. She was Vaya, hunter of hunters.

  A smile spread across her lips, untainted by any cynicism. She circled around the edge of the bonfire to the alpha's seat. There sat Orec, his beard and hair braided, a cloak of thick brown fur about his shoulders.

  Vaya's smile froze, bringing a halt to her mounting joy. Seated in a position of equal prominence alongside the alpha was Den Mother Adel. Her long obsidian knife rested across her lap, as cold and wicked as the blue of her eyes. Unlike Orec, she was not smiling.

  “A surprise indeed!” The alpha roared, rising to his feet as he cast his voice out into the cr
owd. “Not the champion we expected, but who are we to argue with the slaying of a mighty bear? Truly, such a feat must have been willed by the spirits themselves. Vaya, you have earned your place as victor of the Rainfall Hunt.” Orec lifted his hands into the air, and the whole clan began to rise. “Let us stand and honour our huntress.”

  A handful of cheers rose from the crowd, but within a few moments they fell silent. One by one the warriors of Orec's clan realised that a single figure had not deigned to join them in their show of respect. Adel remained seated, the fingers of one hand curled beneath her chin.

  “Den Mother,” the alpha said softly. “Your blessing for our huntress.”

  Adel ignored him, maintaining eye contact with Vaya.

  “There was one thing I forbade you from doing,” she said at length. “Great Rook was part of my valley.”

  “I did not come near your witches,” Vaya replied. “The forest is nowhere close to your den.”

  The crowd began to murmur uncomfortably, straining to hear what was being said over the patter of rain.

  “If I wanted Great Rook dead I would have seen to it myself,” the den mother said. “He was a guardian of our sanctuary. A strong and treasured spirit.”

  Orec frowned. “Den Mother, this was our hunt. You know it is important to us. You made no mention of sparing the bear.”

  “I never thought one of your hunters would be foolish enough to try and fight Rook.”

  “You cannot deny our huntress her victory,” Orec said, his voice grating with forced restraint.