by Claudia King
“If I take them, it doesn't mean I'm going to stay.”
Netya held up her hands. “I am not trying to trade gifts for your forgiveness, Kiren, but I'd rather not leave a young woman shivering in her cave when the frosts come.”
“I could still have made my own,” Kiren lied.
“I am sure you could, but now you don't have to.” An uncomfortable moment of silence passed before Netya spoke again. “Wren has your new clothing. I am sure you'd prefer to spend today with her instead of me.”
“I suppose. She isn't a witch, after all.”
Ignoring the dig, Netya said, “You may be seeing a little more of her in the coming days.”
Kiren raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
“Adel has been having her and Briar and—well, anyone who can craft, really—working on more bows and arrows. Slings and spears, too.”
“Sun People weapons?”
Netya nodded. “Wren will be bringing them here as they're ready. I think Adel means for the warriors to train with them over the winter. It might give them something to focus on instead of what happened with the hunt.”
“She could have just named Vaya the victor.”
Netya pressed her lips together in perplexity. “Yes, she could.”
“If you disagree with your leader you should stop following her.”
Netya almost laughed. “Your mother leads your pack, does she not? Have you always agreed with her decisions?”
“That is different. I am her daughter. You're one of the Sun People. You aren't tied to this clan by blood.”
“Not by blood, but by spirit. Even if she is not my mother, Adel is the closest thing I have. This pack is my family now.” Netya gave her a hopeful look. “I hope you might become a part of it too.”
Kiren's spine prickled. Despite all of her misgivings, something in Netya's words managed to break through to her. Not that she wanted to call this coven her family, but... she had always been a poor fit among her own clan.
No, it was foolish to ponder such questions. She had come here to become a seer, to finally earn her mother's respect. Her birth clan was the whole reason she had made this journey, and she did not trust these witches at all. That she might ever be able to think of them as family was absurd.
Yet something about Netya felt relatable to her. As a sun wolf, she must have become an outsider to her birth clan as well; someone who could never fit in no matter how hard she tried. Someone, perhaps, who had also ventured far from home and taken up the mantle of seer in hopes of finding her place in the world?
Kiren's brow furrowed. “I never know what to make of you.”
“I hope that is a good thing. Anyway, I have said my piece. Go and enjoy the break in the rainfall while you can.”
Tucking the basket of arrows under one arm, Kiren tied the leather wrapping back around her weapon and made to leave. Netya was her friend today, but what about tomorrow? She followed Adel, yet she was the only one who had stood up to the den mother when Kiren was exiled.
With a grimace of discomfort, Kiren realised that if there was anything that could coax her back into the valley, it was the promise of more days like the one she had spent out on the valleyside learning from Netya.
Before leaving she turned half way toward her mentor, not quite able to form a smile.
“Thank you for bringing my bow.”
—16—
Stones and Spears
Wooden hafts cracked and thudded against flesh. Rocks rattled off stone, filling the chamber with sharp echoes as nodules of slate shattered and flints splintered into fragments. The rhythmic thwap of bowstrings sounded alongside Kiren, shaft after shaft driving into the soft grass targets at the end of the cave.
Over the past several days the weapons training had become the pack's main activity, and the once-quiet stoneworking cavern now heaved with noise. It was by far the largest cave this side of the ridge, just as Netya had said, but riddled with unseen gaps in the ceiling that let the torrential downpour seep in from above. Water constantly trickled down the walls, creating little rivers at the corners of the cave that had slowly eaten channels into the rock over time. Aside from a few drips the spacious interior was well suited to physical activity, however, and along with each new bundle of weapons came a new set of warriors eager to practice.
Kiren's distraction of learning to shoot her bow in the dark had become a clan-wide undertaking, with different areas of the cave segmented off for the use of different weapons. Lamps illuminated the archery targets at the end of one low cavern branch, while those practising with slings cast rocks out at piles of stones set up in one of the cave's less-used entrances. In the middle, around a fire that had been built near the main entrance, men and women sparred with stave and spear, growls of aggression and cries of triumph filling the air as sweaty warriors threw themselves against one another all day long.
Kiren had grown fond of the raucous company, and even Vaya, despite voicing her frequent distaste for the weapons of the Sun People, seemed to enjoy spending her days in the midst of warriors.
The huntress had begun to grow a name for herself in the time following the Rainfall Hunt. The pack had been isolated in their own caves just long enough for stories of her victory to percolate, everyone spinning their own tale of exactly how she had managed to slay Great Rook. Some were flattering, others derisive, but it seemed that almost half the pack now considered Vaya a warrior worthy of their respect. The rest either believed she had killed Rook with dark sorcery, or that Adel's refusal to bless her victory invalidated it.
Even though Vaya did not join in with the weapons training she had made a small hearth for herself off to the side of the archery tunnel, around which a handful of men and women gathered every day to share warrior's stories and ask Vaya to recount the tale of Rook's fall over and over again. Claw was never far from her side, and much to Vaya's amusement he had taken to growling and snapping at anyone who behaved aggressively toward her.
“Nurse to a pup,” one of the men spat as he walked by, provoking a growl from Claw. Vaya shot him a malicious look, holding the pup back by the scruff for a moment before releasing him and letting out a sharp whistle. Claw bounded forward, snapping at the man's leg so suddenly he leaped back with a yell. Before he could aim a kick at the little wolf a spear tip was resting against his chest, holding him off with a warning tap.
Kin gave the warrior a smile from his spot on the other side of Vaya's hearth, lounging back on his furs as he held the spear out in a casual grip.
“I'd not do that, friend, unless you want to lose your claws to Vaya next.”
“Keep the beast in your lap,” the warrior growled, storming off to rejoin the others around the main fire.
Vaya snapped her fingers and made a clicking sound with her tongue. Claw scurried back into her lap.
“How do you make him do that?” Kin asked.
“I watch and listen to what he does. It is no different from hunting with a pack. You learn to speak without the need for words.”
“Hm.” Kin pondered. “I always thought ferals were too stupid for that.”
“Even a wild wolf knows to listen to its alpha.”
Kiren loosed her last arrow into one of the targets and unstrung her bow, walking over to sit with them while she waited for the others archers to finish shooting.
“Are you sure you won't try?” She offered her bow to Kin.
“Oh no.” The warrior shook his head. “The Rainfall Hunt taught me I have no business handling a bow.”
Kiren held out her weapon to Vaya, already knowing the answer. The huntress shook her head.
“You've never even tried it,” Kiren said.
“No reason to.” Vaya flexed her left arm, frowning as she wiggled her fingers. “This arm couldn't hold it straight anyway.”
“Maybe you could learn the sling then, like Ilen—” She faltered as Vaya shot her a glare, realising that it was a bad comparison to make.
Kale, also seat
ed at their hearth, broke the uncomfortable moment by motioning for Kiren to hand him her bow.
“You're getting better,” he said as he examined the weapon, making sure the limb was still supple and the string unfrayed. “This is a good one. I think it should last you a long time if you handle it well.”
“Your people know how to make bows better than ours. It's only good because it came from one of them.” Kiren gestured to a pile of broken weapons near the cave's entrance, all of which had been snapped earlier that day thanks to the rough handling of overzealous warriors.
The sun wolf looked sheepish at being reminded that he too was an outsider, but no one else paid much heed to it. With Vaya and Kiren here, he was far from the strangest member of Orec's pack any more.
A stir of commotion near the centre of the cave drew the group's attention before they could converse any further. Claw leaped up barking, forcing Vaya to take a moment to calm him down. The sharp scent of blood hit the air. As the crowd parted, Kiren saw two male wolves squaring off against one another, one of whom was already bleeding from a heavy gash in the side of his face.
“Finally,” Vaya smirked, “the men have dropped the staves and taken out their claws.”
Kin stood up quickly. “What are the fools doing? They'll bring the alpha's wrath down on all of us if they don't stop.”
Jeers and calls of encouragement rang out from the crowd as a circle formed around the two combatants. A courageous few attempted to intervene, but they were quickly pulled back by the others. These warriors were thirsty for a real fight.
When Kiren took a step forward to try and join the voices of reason she found her way barred by Kin's spear, the warrior shaking his head in warning.
“We want to stay out of this. No need to start another fight.”
“He's right,” Vaya said, much to Kiren's surprise. “You keep me out of trouble and I'll do the same for you. Let them finish this on their own.”
Gripping the handle of her bow in frustration, Kiren forced herself to stand and watch as the two wolves crashed against one another, tearing at fur and gnashing at ears as both sought to force the other into submission.
“I will never get used to this,” Kale murmured, his command of the Moon People's language faltering as he added something else in his native tongue.
“You don't come from a warrior people,” Vaya stated bluntly. “This is the way of things. They probably fight over some woman, see?” She gestured to a female standing near the edge of the circle. She had her hand clasped over a growing bruise on the side of her forehead, glaring intently at the tussling males.
“Of course,” Kin said with a roll of his eyes. “That's Narolen's mate. Trust him to pick a fight the moment she gets hit by one of those staves.”
If Narolen was the more aggressive of the two wolves, then he seemed to be winning. His opponent was already bleeding from a face and neck wound, while he had only suffered a few scratches by comparison. It looked like the challenge was to be a short and decisive one.
“Does he do this often?” Kiren asked.
“You don't know?” Kin replied. “Orec named him victor of the Rainfall Hunt after the den mother took Vaya away. More a curse than a blessing if you ask me. Now he thinks he has to prove himself to anyone who says he didn't deserve it.”
With a hefty blow to the side of his opponent's head, Narolen sent the other wolf reeling. He prowled forward, teeth bared and bloody, but the dazed warrior dropped to the ground and rolled over in a show of submission before the fight could escalate any further. With a huff of satisfaction Narolen reverted from the shape of his wolf, putting an arm around his mate as his companions congratulated him.
“We'll see more of that,” Kin mused, “especially after the way the hunt ended. You and Vaya will be lucky if you don't have men fighting over you before long. Winter's a cold time without someone to share your furs.”
Kiren looked around the cave, realising that there were at least twice as many men present as there were women. As a clan of warriors it stood to reason. Kiren had grown up among a female-dominated pack where all roles were shared, but she had always been taught that males were more likely to embody the warrior spirit of their wolves.
“Let them fight for me,” Vaya said. “I'd welcome a real man between my legs for once. In Octavia's clan the women are the only ones with any fire in them.”
“You think that's wise?” Kiren gave her friend a reproachful look. “You keep me out of trouble, and I'll do the same for you, remember?”
With a grumble of annoyance Vaya grabbed Kin's tunic and yanked him down hard enough that he stumbled into her lap. “Then this one will do. Let everyone else know you'll be the only one I'll have in my furs this winter.”
“With pleasure, great huntress—” Kin began, before a rough kiss from Vaya silenced him.
Leaving the pair to their distraction—including a much-confused Claw trying to wriggle his way out from between their bodies—Kale stood up to join Kiren as she watched the aftermath of the fight from a distance.
“Moments like this make me wonder whether...” He trailed off uncertainly.
“Whether you belong here at all?”
The sun wolf nodded, gazing toward the defeated combatant. “I could never do that.”
“Liar. I've seen you fight before.”
“That was different. It was life and death.” He shuddered. “And I would rather never face that again.”
“Then I think you should stay here. At least Orec's pack won't try to kill you for being what you are.”
Kale sighed. “I know. Please stay when the spring comes, Kiren. You are one of the few people here I can call friend.”
A pang of indecision pulled at Kiren. She had grown fond of Kale after their journey together, it was true. As a male he would not be able to come back with her to her mother's pack... and perhaps that was for the best. After everything she had seen since leaving, she was unsure whether Octavia's treatment of males was a good thing any more.
“This pack may be right for you, but I do not know if the witches' valley is right for me,” she said. “The den mother, she is the same as Ilen Ra.”
Kale fell silent, seemingly at a loss for words. He had many conflicting feelings of his own about the Sun People shaman who had manipulated them both.
“What if this happens again?” he said after a while, pointing toward the bleeding warrior. Someone had run off to fetch whichever seer was in attendance that night, but in the meantime no one had moved to help him.
“Then the witches will have to think of something better than bows and spears to keep their warriors occupied.”
While she did not share in their competitive aggression, the atmosphere of unease surrounding the pack's warriors insinuated itself into Kiren's thoughts over the coming days. It was impossible to ignore. Like a haze of hot mist boiling off the sparring men and women, it wafted to and fro within the cave, stirring up dissent in one corner before swirling off to aggravate another.
The day after Narolen's challenge the alpha himself appeared to keep watch over his warriors. He joined a few of them in sparring with staves, but most of his time was spent stalking between the groups of warriors, interjecting loudly whenever anyone threatened to spark a disagreement. Kiren admired his dedication, but if anything Orec's presence only stifled the simmering tempers, resulting in them burning all the hotter once he was gone. The next day he was replaced by Caspian, who seemed to fare a little better. Rather than quashing disagreements before they could happen, the tactful male organised small competitions between rivals, suggesting rewards for the victors and forfeits for the losers—most of which took the shape of duties that would keep the two separated for the next few days while they cooled off.
Yet Caspian could not be everywhere at once, and in his absence the warriors began to fight again. The schism caused by the Rainfall Hunt had unearthed other buried animosities, and as the wet season wore on two more men were left savaged and ble
eding in the wake of their challenges, one of which had involved Narolen again.
The fighting began to frustrate Kiren. Even though it was in her people's nature to resolve disagreements through violence, these were not gatherers or craftsmen matching wills; they were strong and prideful warriors. Drawing first blood was not a guarantee of submission, and when she saw Narolen almost tear his second opponent's ear off she struggled to hold herself back from intervening.
It was not that she deplored their violence, nor did she fear it. Matched wolf to wolf, she suspected she could hold her own against many of the warriors in this clan. Yet where they saw pride and victory, she saw memories of another group that had torn themselves apart when animosity was allowed to fester. The desire for more—whether it took the shape of glory or respect or valuable possessions—had turned the Sun People she had met on her journey here against each other. And now, without a conclusive victor to the Rainfall Hunt, many of Orec's warriors felt like they had much to prove. Much to gain. They wanted more.
“We keep our heads down,” Vaya reminded her. “Their fights aren't ours. They aren't our pack.”
Pack or not, Kiren was beginning to understand why the competition of the hunt had been so important. Whenever she caught a glimpse of Alpha Orec he looked weary and perplexed. In the wake of the third challenge he called a halt to the weapons training entirely, yet within two days another bloody fight had shattered the peace of the pack. Restless wolves were even more dangerous than men with weapons in their hands, and soon thereafter they were allowed to return to their training in the cave.
More people had begun congregating around Vaya's hearth, further stoking Kiren's unease when she overheard them talking.
“You should challenge Narolen yourself,” the mate of one of the recently defeated warriors insisted. “Him and the others who came from Gheran's pack are making trouble for all of us. If you put him in his place no one would doubt which one of you was the real victor of the hunt.”
Vaya thumbed Great Rook's claw, now hanging from a thong about her neck, before responding.
