Sisters of Syr (The Moon People, Book Four)

by Claudia King

  “Rest well, Sister,” he said. “Be sure to send word with Caspian if you need anything of me.”

  She flashed him a smile, nodding her thanks. “I will. Rest well too, Alpha.”

  Wrapping his cloak back about himself, Orec began the descent down the slippery valleyside. The wind picked up, tugging at his hair and blowing rain into his beard until he gave up on walking and took the shape of his wolf. He had wanted to dwell on what had just happened a little longer, but the swiftness of his wolf's paws came at the expense of an articulate mind. Perhaps it was for the best. Gloomy thoughts had a way of taking root on miserable days like this. The alpha hoped that one day Adel would be able to find the same semblance of peace that he had, even if they were never destined to be together.

  Perhaps at the very least she would think of a way to settle the unrest she had stirred among his warriors.

  —15—

  The Wet Season

  Kiren had been ready to leave the day after Adel sent her away, not for her own sake, but for Vaya's. Her friend's passion had gone, extinguished by the rains. For a full day she had sat by herself in Pera's cave, her only companion the small wolf pup she had adopted. Kiren had seen her like this before, back on their journey. Captivity and despair did this to her. Helplessness. The huntress had a warrior's heart, and when she was denied like this her whole being seemed to diminish. Did Vaya truly have anything without her honour? Without respect and status for the deeds she had accomplished?

  She has me, Kiren thought, but getting her friend to acknowledge that sometimes felt like trying to drive a wooden pin into a stone boulder. What Adel had done, turning the moment of Vaya's victory into a source of shame, seemed to have knocked the huntress's spirit loose from her body. Kiren remembered what days of captivity in the Sun People's pit had done to her friend, and she could not allow that to happen again. Yet left to her own devices, Vaya would condemn herself to that very fate out of loyalty to Octavia and her daughter. She would sit and suffer unless Kiren released her from that burden.

  Something unexpected had stayed Kiren's decision on the eve of that following day, however. When she had returned to Pera's cave, a bundle of waterskins and travelling sacks in her arms, it had been to the sound of Vaya's laughter. Not the raucous, bellowing laugh of a warrior, but a gentle chuckle. Quiet and content. It was the kind of noise Kiren had never expected to hear on her friend's lips. She had hesitated, peering in through the cave's opening, and seen Vaya curled up with Claw in her lap. The huntress was making a game of letting the pup tussle with her fingers, oblivious to the world around her. In this quiet solitude, free from the eyes of the clan and the bonds of her honour, she had found something to keep her afloat amidst the upwelling of her despair.

  Kiren had quietly departed then, unwilling to intrude on her friend's moment of happiness. Even if it was just a fleeting spark, it was something Vaya had earned after all she had been through. Kiren set the travelling supplies back inside one of the storage caves and forgot them for the time being, waiting and wondering. The part of her that cared for Vaya wanted to leave, yet if Vaya could find some way to come back from this despair... As much as Kiren hated to admit it, Netya's kindness had touched her when she came running after them that night. Perhaps what the seer said had been true. Might there still be a place for them here after all?

  Perhaps being banished and driven out would have been easier. Now Kiren was lost, plucking hairs from a new roll of sleeping furs as she listened to the sound of the rain outside. She had been so determined to become a seer, ready to endure however many years, however much hardship it took. Despite the initial shock of hearing Adel's decision, part of Kiren had felt relieved the moment she was cast out. The burden of responsibility had been lifted. Now she would go back to being a flighty, listless soul, wandering wherever the wind took her. As strange and unwelcome as that comfort was, it was a comfort nonetheless. After all, she had spent her whole life feeling like a disappointment to her clan. Going back to that would be a return home in more ways than one. At least then she would know where she stood.

  Then Netya had come and told her there might still be a way back.

  Kiren slumped against her furs, resting a forearm over her eyes. It was like being back at the gathering again, waiting anxiously to see whether the witches would accept her as an apprentice. She had regressed back to that uncertain time, back before she had come to know her own strengths and weaknesses. Now she was faced with a choice again: place her trust in Netya, or extricate herself and Vaya from this problem before it became any worse. At first it had seemed like an easy decision, then she had seen Vaya with Claw. The very next day the rains had started coming down even harder.

  If only the weather had not turned. Had the choice been forced upon her at a more opportune moment she might have made a decision then and there, but now it seemed she would have to endure the passing of many moons until the weather cleared. Being unaccustomed to travel, she had asked Vaya whether there might be a chance for them to journey home during a gap in the downpour, perhaps when the first frosts came. The huntress had firmly denied the possibility. Travelling during the rains was dangerous, especially in unfamiliar territory. The journey back to Octavia's pack would take many days and several river crossings, and every watercourse would have swollen into a vicious torrent that carved mud from its banks and dragged swimmers beneath its surface. Then there would be the swamps, full of hidden dangers, creeping out beyond their usual boundaries to swallow unfortunate travellers. Winter would freeze over those hazards in time, but then there would be the biting cold to contend with instead. Winter travel was possible, yet not something to undertake lightly. Snow slowed a wolf's paws almost as badly as mud, and the scarcity of prey could result in hunger creeping up unexpectedly. When the alternative was a warm cave and plentiful food, the risk seemed absurdly foolish.

  The cave could be warmer, Kiren thought, shivering from a sudden draft. Pera had been quick to invite her in the moment she arrived, and since the rains had made the outside huts unsuitable for living he had extended the invitation to Vaya as well. Pera was not a man of status, however, and his cave reflected that. The entrance was little more than a shin length high, yet broad and bowed enough that it was difficult to cover with a screen. A central hollow tapered off into a few narrow sconces around the edge, some of which were just wide enough for a person to sleep in. Cramped space aside, it might have been cosy were it not for the awkwardly sloped floor and solid, domed ceiling that precluded the building of a fire. The angles were all wrong to let out smoke without choking everyone inside first. Instead they had to erect a small shelter around the cave's entrance within which to make their hearth, but the wind stole away most of the heat before it could permeate deep enough to warm the cold sleeping nooks. Kiren could not imagine spending a whole winter here. Hopefully any snowfall would be light. Perhaps some of the others might even invite them to share a more spacious cave when it got colder.

  She rolled over, almost banging her elbow against the top of the nook, and watched Vaya playing with Claw. It had surprised her to learn that her friend had adopted the wild wolf pup in her time here, but after seeing them together she could not deny that their companionship might have been the one thing standing between Vaya and the dismal void of her own self-doubt. It gave her something to focus on, even if she insisted that the playful games were only training to make Claw stronger and not frivolities she enjoyed for their own sake. Vaya had still barely spoken about what happened on the night of the Rainfall Hunt, yet Claw, somehow, had managed to coax the huntress out of her stupor. Today she was standing in the centre of the cave, spinning a long piece of twine with a scrap of meat on the end in circles so that Claw could chase it around the bowl-shaped edges of the chamber. He was still a little clumsy, but he was getting faster and more agile every day. By the time spring came the fuzzy little creature would be more than just a pup.

  “What will you do with him when he is fully grown?” Kir
en asked, taking the opportunity to engage with her friend while she was up and about. The more they talked, the less likely Vaya was to slip away from her again.

  “Perhaps let him go back to the wilds. He can find himself a mate, lead a great pack.” Vaya shrugged. “Or he can hunt with me. I may need a strong young set of claws from now on.”

  Kiren looked to her friend's wounded arm and winced. “Is it any better?”

  “The pain is gone, but it still feels weak. Not like a strong limb should.”

  “Perhaps the seers can help mend it if we stay,” Kiren said, finding yet another reason to ease her misgivings about the coming winter.

  “It does not matter. A hunter takes wounds. I am fortunate to have lived this long without suffering worse.” Vaya curled her lip. “I'd not regret it but for the witches' treatment of you.”

  “I do not know if we can trust them, no matter what Netya says.”

  Vaya stopped spinning the twine, leaving Claw to pounce on the morsel at the end and devour it at his leisure. Mentioning Netya's name had begun to have a strange effect on the huntress ever since the night of Kiren's exile.

  “Has she come to speak with you yet?”

  Kiren shook her head. “Maybe she'll come when there is a break in the rains.”

  “I should not be here when that happens.”

  “Do you not want to challenge her again?” Kiren smiled slightly, hoping to stir up her friend's competitive spirit. Even an angry Vaya was a Vaya she could talk to.

  “One day. When she is ready to agree to it. Perhaps we will be old by then. For now, what can I do but exist alongside her?”

  The huntress's pragmatism surprised Kiren. “That sounds very wise.”

  “Not like me, you mean? I know my temper makes me foolish sometimes.” The same look of resignation Kiren had seen on the night of her banishment crossed Vaya's face. This was what had changed about her friend. The anger... it was still there, but now it seemed to doubt itself, as if Vaya realised she had pushed herself too far, risked too much, and paid too great a price. “I don't wish to cause any more trouble for you.”

  “Maybe Claw will find a rival of his own, then you can teach him how to fight instead.”

  For the first time in days, Vaya almost seemed to smile. “With my help he'll be able to best any alpha.”

  Kiren watched the huntress and the pup play for a while longer before rolling back over and trying to sleep. With the rain hammering down outside there was little else she could do to occupy herself. Back at home she had always spent these dour seasons chasing the other youngsters up and down the longtent, devising games with some and getting into fights with others. Then, when she was older, she'd taken to sneaking off to explore the unoccupied dwellings of her packmates. Poking her nose into the forbidden seers' tent for the first time had been an exhilarating experience. She cringed a little at the memory, hoping she hadn't offended the spirits somehow by doing so.

  Pera returned from a dismally rain-soaked expedition for firewood later that afternoon. Accompanying him with another armful of logs was Kale, the young sun wolf Kiren and Vaya had met on their journey here. The three of them had been through much together, and if nothing else Kiren was glad that her banishment allowed her to spend time with him again. He was as much an outsider as they were, and Pera had been more than happy to welcome him into the cave too. He seemed to have a fondness for outcasts and misfits, or perhaps he just liked the songs of the Sun People Kale shared with him, one of which was soon filling the cavern chamber once they had a fire going outside.

  Despite the cold, Kiren had to concede that the company could have been much worse. Even Claw brought a much-needed sense of energy to the cave, uplifting dreary days into bearable ones. It was nice not having to get up at the break of dawn. Instead of the tentative hostility of the other apprentices, she awoke in the company of friends. While Kiren's and Vaya's hopes for the future had been stifled, there was still some happiness to be found in the comfort of simple living. It was something she had missed for a long time, and something she sensed they both needed.

  The rains continued for many days, interrupted only by brief respites of drizzle in the midst of the heavy downpour. Occasionally Kiren glimpsed hunters butchering fresh kill beneath the shelters outside, but for the most part the year's hunting and gathering was over. Orec's pack had withdrawn into their caves, leaving the outside den lonely and quiet. Aside from a handful of lookouts—at least one of whom always seemed to be keeping an eye on their cave—it was rare for Kiren to cross paths with anyone when she ventured outside.

  When at long last a clear day arrived it was as if spring had come early. The entire pack emerged to enjoy the weather, misty and damp though it was, lighting new hearths beneath their shelters and attending to outside tasks that had gone neglected for many days. Seeing all of the warriors in one place made Kiren realise that Orec's clan was far larger than she had originally assumed. In the heat of summer a good portion of a pack was always outside the den at any given time, but now they were all together. She counted perhaps four dozen adults with a handful of children alongside them, but barely any elders. Not the largest of the Moon People's clans, but certainly a strong enough pack to prove formidable, especially when one considered the abundance of males and the hardened warrior-set of their women.

  Wren and some others from Adel's clan arrived later in the day, apparently just as eager to get out of their caves and mingle as Orec's people were. Kiren leaped up when Pera spotted them, grinning and waving to Wren when she made out the girl's red hair among the crowd. Orec's pack parted, showing reverence for the procession of newcomers. Several animal headdresses stood out among them, and Kiren's excitement curdled when she caught sight of blue heron feathers.

  “Time for me to take Claw running,” Vaya murmured. “Remember not to trust anything she says.”

  “I will be cautious,” Kiren said.

  With a grunt of satisfaction Vaya clapped her on the shoulder and departed, whistling sharply for Claw to follow. Leaving Pera and Wren to greet one another, Kiren stepped aside and made her way around the group until Netya noticed her. It would be best to get their meeting out of the way quickly.

  With the knot of people congregating around the new arrivals it was easy enough to find privacy in one of the lopsided huts farther down the slope. The rain-swollen wood flexed beneath Kiren's feet as she stepped inside, half the floor strewn with damp grass that had fallen in from the roof. A few moments later she heard Netya's feet creak the boards behind her.

  “This thing will have collapsed by spring,” she observed coldly. “Why do you even build them?”

  “Orec's clan have much to learn in the ways of woodcraft,” her mentor replied. “All of us do. My people used to build whole dwellings of wood. I do not think there is a special word for it in the Moon People's tongue, but we called them houses. After the traders first brought metal tools to my village, my uncle's father had a great longhouse built for us to share in the winter.” A wistful smile crossed Netya's lips. “It can be difficult, leaving so much of your past behind to find a new place in the world.”

  “You still want me to stay.”

  “Of course I do. I meant what I said.”

  “You aren't the den mother. What does she say?”

  Netya frowned. “She is... difficult to talk to sometimes.”

  “Then I am still banished.”

  “She has asked Orec's people to watch you and Vaya. If neither of you cause any more problems through the winter, she says she will consider allowing you back.”

  “Why won't she just let Vaya go? Does she enjoy tormenting an old enemy more than teaching a new apprentice?”

  Netya's posture tightened. Unlike some people Kiren had known, it was not difficult to judge when the seer was holding something back. Not a lie, perhaps, but... something.

  “Try not to dwell on what the den mother thinks or feels. She has her own reasons.”

  Kiren snorted, ref
using to grace her mentor with a response. For a moment Netya looked distressed, then she held out a leather-wrapped bundle she had been carrying under her arm. Kiren took it silently, undoing the twine and unwrapping the leather. Inside was her bow, complete with a basket holding a dozen arrows and three freshly waxed strings. She thumbed the grip, brushing her fingers along the distinctive feather that had been woven into it.

  “I thought you would like it back before the winter,” Netya said. “Something to keep your hands and mind occupied through the dark season.”

  “I have nowhere to practise.”

  “Orec has a long cave his people use for stonework. It's too damp for sleeping or storage, but if you light a fire you'll have warmth and room to shoot. The warriors used to fight in there during the winter, till Orec put a stop to it.”

  Kiren made a show of checking the new strings, even though she lacked the knowledge to judge their quality. She hadn't even known to keep her bow unstrung until Kale told her.

  “I barely know how to shoot anyway,” she said after a while. “Maybe I'll try and learn.”

  Netya smiled. “I brought you some clothing too. You can't keep wearing those leathers all winter.”

  Kiren looked down at her stained, travel-worn jerkin. The stitching at the side was still half torn. She couldn't remember when it had happened, only that her clothing had endured many hardships during the journey north. She'd gotten used to the chill every time the wind blew through it.

  “You're right, but I can make my own.”

  Netya gave her a patient look. “Don't be foolish. I had Briar stitch a new set of furs for a girl your size. She won't let me bother her with any more crafting till next season.”