by Claudia King
“I do my best with it,” Pera said, sounding a little indignant.
“Then why is Kiren always out gathering wood for you? Should the men not be carrying that responsibility?”
Vaya cut in before Pera and Kale had a chance to defend their pride. “Why were you out there so long, Kiren? Even you know better than to wander off in the snow.”
Claw snuffled his way over, pawing at Kiren's new cocoon of furs and licking her face as she tried to respond.
“I was—Claw, stop! There was no wood left in my usual clearing.”
“That pup is getting too big for my cave,” Netya said, saving a bowl of seeds from Claw an instant before he managed to step in it.
“He's smaller than our wolves,” Vaya said.
“And without half the sense.” Netya shooed the animal away as he lost interest in Kiren and decided to push his wet nose into the seer's face instead. “Kiren, you may share my firewood if you must. Orec makes sure his seers are always taken care of.”
“We take care of ourselves,” Vaya said.
Netya raised her eyebrows and made a pointed look in Kiren's direction. Either the subtlety was lost upon Vaya or she managed to hold her tongue. With a grunt of frustration the huntress turned back around and made a sharp whistle, calling Claw to her side with a snap of her fingers.
“You rest for a few days, Kiren,” Kin said. “We can take care of the wood. Narolen and his flock are sitting on a whole cave full of it.”
“Why aren't they sharing?” Kale said anxiously. Like Netya, the male sun wolf seemed more concerned by Kiren's condition than the others. Perhaps he had seen his kind maimed by the cold as well. “A clan should look after its own, in winter time more than ever.”
“No hunter would dare hoard food while their pack went hungry, Sun Wolf,” Vaya said. “But wood is different. There is nothing sacred in picking up a stick, not like bringing home fresh kill for your people.”
Kale squinted in annoyance. “That is foolish. What difference is there? My village shared everything when the cold was this bad.”
“We are not Sun People.” Vaya bared her teeth at him, jabbing the young man in the chest with a finger. “Beasts like Claw survive without fire. We did too, in the times before the memory of our elders. It is only your kind who cling to the warmth of the sun that birthed you.”
“What she is trying to say, Kale,” Kiren explained sleepily, “is that our traditions are different from yours. We will not die without fire.”
“Adel's clan survived our first winter with precious little of it,” Netya admitted.
“So Narolen is not honour-bound to share his wood with us,” Kiren continued. “Still, he could have left some in the clearing for me...”
“He is the reason you stayed out there so long?!” Vaya's voice rose in anger, prompting an excited bark from Claw. “Coward's trickery, drawing you into the snow alone! What worse a death is there for a warrior than falling victim to the air itself?”
“Whoever did it cannot have know the snow would come so fast,” Kiren said, but Vaya's temper had already taken hold.
“They knew well enough. Stupid pups. Dishonourable...” Vaya growled something far more venomous under her breath, slamming her fist into the stone wall with an audible thud. Kiren tried to stand up, concerned that her friend might have hurt herself, but a wave of exhaustion overcame her and Netya eased her back down.
“Leave this to us, Kiren,” Kin said, gesturing for her to stay put. Vaya was already wrenching the cave's screen aside, storming out into the blizzard with Claw at her heels. “This is warriors' work, and you need rest. I will be at Vaya's back.” His jaw set with determination, Kin walked out after the huntress and hauled the screen back into place behind him.
With a sigh the seer assisting Netya began gathering salves and stitching sinew, necessary preparations when the arrival of wounded warriors was to be expected. Kiren's gaze met Kale's, and she saw her own concern mirrored in the sun wolf's eyes. He abhorred violence, but did he understand the undercurrent of honour that was so important to Kiren's people? If Vaya challenged Narolen and won, that would be the end of this feud. But if she lost...
Kiren was glad for the frostbitten weariness dragging her down, for she would not have wished to stay awake with her prescient thoughts knowing what might be about to happen.
—20—
Honour
Vaya tried to ignore Claw as he hopped eagerly around her feet, no doubt thinking they were about to go out on a run together. She focused on the cold instead, imagining what it must have been like for Kiren as she slowly froze out in the forest. Then she thought of the people responsible. Her fists clenched, feet punching vicious holes in the snow as she marched toward the training cave. Narolen and his companions usually gathered in there, tussling and dancing all night long to try and stave off the cold.
“Are you ready for this?” Kin called over the wind as he jogged up beside her.
“I have been ready since the hunt.”
“You think now is the right time? What about staying out of trouble?”
Vaya rounded on him, ready to shout her winter lover down, but his expression was questioning rather than accusatory.
“They may torment me if they wish, but I will not allow them to go after Kiren!”
“Even if you are both exiled?”
Vaya shook her head in anger. Some part of her was troubled by the course of action she was taking, but the growing swell of righteous indignation smothered it. Kin, Claw, Kiren—none of them could distract her from what she needed to do now.
“Kiren could be lying dead in that snow if not for us! I will risk exile if it means keeping her safe.”
Kin nodded. “Then I understand.”
Somehow, his compliance annoyed her even more. Was he trying to soothe her fury by agreeing?
“Why are you even following me?! Go and... This is my fight!”
“Why?” Kin scoffed, forcing her to follow as he continued on toward the training cave. “You slew Great Rook, Vaya. What fool wouldn't follow a huntress who could do that?”
“You did not seem to care much for me before.”
“I may not understand the spirits, but I can recognise when someone has been blessed by them. Doing what you did? It would not have been possible without their favour. Whatever anyone else may think, women like you and Adel are always in the right. The spirits work through you, and I know better than to go against that.” He shivered in the cold, rubbing a faint scar on his brow.
Vaya grimaced. “You are wrong. I am blessed by no one, least of all the same spirits who guide that witch.”
“I only say what I see.”
The huntress struggled to be angry at him, glaring into the warrior's back as he walked ahead of her. As Claw's furry tail brushed against her fingertips she felt a sudden urge to be back in Pera's cave, cold though it was, with her feral companion at her side and Kin between her legs. Would that not be more pleasant than—no! What was this softness in her?!
She clapped her hands together so suddenly they stung with pain, gritting her teeth as she willed the weak thoughts away. Those were thoughts for times of peace and comfort, when honour and the safety of her pack were not at stake.
“Out of my way.” She pulled Kin back as they approached the cave's entrance, finding their path blocked by a large screen of branches that creaked and rustled in the wind. Vaya grabbed the edge and hauled with all her might, feeling her weak arm protest with the strain.
I've no time for your weakness, she chastised herself, and pulled harder. One of the screen's hasty lashings came apart with a snap, the whole structure toppling backwards and thudding into the snow with a burst of white. Warm air rushed out past them, inviting a flurry of snowflakes into the brightly lit cave.
Shoulders heaving, the huntress lowered her gaze and stepped forward. A dozen men and women were gathered around a wastefully large fire, most of whom had leaped to their feet the moment she pulled the scre
en down. Narolen was among them.
“No wonder you hide in here playing with the Sun People's weapons.” Vaya sneered at him. “You've no more honour than one of them.”
“It's past time you showed your face.” Narolen's voice boomed off the cavern walls. “You'd stand before us and accuse me of hiding?”
“I am not the one who sought this challenge. I already know which of us is the stronger warrior.” She pointed at her rival, her arm firm and untrembling. “If you cannot accept that, then you come for me, not Kiren!”
Narolen grinned, casting a lazy eye over his assembled companions. Of course he had wanted to bait her out here. The feeble coward needed his own hearth, his own kin, to give him the confidence he needed to face her.
“I'll fight you, Huntress. I've not lost a challenge all winter.”
“You've not fought a warrior like me.”
Narolen's gaze flicked to the bear claw hanging around Vaya's neck, and for a moment his courage seemed to falter.
“Make a proper challenge of it, then,” Narolen's mate said. “Before the whole clan. They will see where the true strength in this pack lies.” She gripped his shoulders eagerly, eyes bright with excitement. Her mate's status was her own, after all.
Bolstered by his woman's enthusiasm, Narolen set his jaw and nodded. “Not here in this cave, but soon.”
“Two nights from now,” his mate said. “Out on the ridge, at the hearth beneath the overhang. We will clear the snow and build a fire.”
“What if the alpha forbids it?” one of the others asked.
“He is not the den mother,” Kin replied. “He only puts a stop to meaningless challenges.”
“He wants to see a true victor to the Rainfall Hunt as much as any of us.” Narolen's mate said.
“I do not care who is there to witness it,” Vaya growled. “I want this finished.”
“Better to fight him in front of everyone,” Kin said under his breath, putting a hand on Vaya's left arm. Despite the lightness of his touch, the sudden pressure awoke a jolt of pain that had been lying dormant, cramping up Vaya's muscles so suddenly that she flinched.
“Nervous, is she?” one of the others laughed. “Maybe Kin should fight for her.”
“Shut your mouth,” Vaya hissed, barely able to keep the discomfort out of her voice. Her arm was trembling, a deep throb pulsing through her muscles. She had exerted herself harder than she thought when she tore down the screen, and now Great Rook's vengeful spirit was digging its claws back into her wound.
Kin stepped in front of her before the others could glimpse her moment of weakness. “You'll be the next one she turns on if you don't watch your tongue,” he said to the speaker.
“What kind of a man threatens others with his female?” Narolen's mate taunted. “My mate could face you both down.”
Kin's fists clenched, but he resisted the bait. “You fools have started enough stupid fights this winter. Don't you know what'll happen if you keep defying the den mother like this?”
“How do you know the den mother's will?” Narolen said. “Until she comes here and commands me herself, I will keep on honouring the traditions of our people. She named me victor of the hunt. It is my right to defend that victory.”
“I have been with this clan longer than any of you—” Kin began, but Narolen cut him off.
“When have you ever claimed the hunter's prize? Always trying, never succeeding. Accept it, Kin, you are the kind of male who will always be second to his woman.”
Vaya could sense her lover's anger boiling. Another dig from Narolen might push him over the edge.
“This is my fight, you fool,” she said, pulling him back with her good arm and fixing their adversaries with a glare. “Two nights from now I'll silence your cowardly tongues for good. Come near Kiren, Kin—any of them—and I won't wait that long.”
Narolen's mate smirked, but she gave Vaya something resembling a nod of respect. “We will settle it then, Huntress. Put our screen back up when you leave.”
Vaya snorted at her and stomped out past the screen without so much as glancing at it. As soon as she was out of sight she curled forward in pain, cradling her throbbing left arm to her chest.
“Move,” she growled at her fingers, struggling to make them clench and unclench through the trembling.
“Vaya?” Kin's voice came from behind her. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing. Be quiet.” She straightened up, trying to ignore the pain, but there was no way to hide her shaking arm from Kin.
“You hurt yourself pulling down the screen, didn't you?”
“It is just the cold. I am fine.”
“You cannot fight Narolen with one arm.”
“Why not?! I could beat him with my fangs alone! Do not tell me what I cannot do.”
Though his tone was still heated from the confrontation in the cave, Kin's posture slackened in the face of Vaya's anger.
“You had best hope you heal again by the night after next,” he said. “You carry more than your own status upon your shoulders now.”
“I know.” Vaya felt Claw's wet nose nuzzling at her fingertips, and she bent down in the snow to pet him. Again the strange feeling of longing swept over her, and she wished she was back in Pera's cave. It unsettled her. Was she growing weak? Cowardly? Or perhaps this was the work of Great Rook's spirit haunting her heart the same way he haunted her wound. Maybe Netya or one of the other witches had cursed her to feel this way. Well, she was stronger than any curse.
“Come on,” she said, whistling for Claw to follow as she headed back toward the seers' cave. The freezing air had started to numb her, and it was making the ache in her arm even worse. “Perhaps Kiren knows a plant that can take the pain away without fogging my mind. I may need it for the challenge.”
“Spirits help us,” Kin sighed, but he followed without further complaint.
By the next day Kiren had recovered from her night in the snow without any lingering ill effects. With begrudging acceptance, Vaya found herself glad that Netya had been there to help her. She kept her own pains hidden, however, refusing to let her old rival glimpse any sign of weakness. While the intensity of the ache in her arm dulled a little overnight, it refused to go away entirely. Her grip was weak again, and her arm trembled whenever she tried to exert force with it. Thankfully she could still take the shape of her wolf and walk upon her left foreleg, though it was not without a noticeable limp. If she did not recover by the next day, her claws would be useless against Narolen.
“Do you know any medicine that can help?” she asked Kiren quietly the next day, once they were back within the relative privacy of Pera's cave.
Kiren shook her head. “I did not learn that much before Adel cast me out. Netya would know.”
“We need no help from her.” Vaya grimaced, giving her friend a sideways glance. “You think I am being a fool, I know, but this has to be done. You could have lost your life last night. I will not bring that news back to your mother, even if it means we are cast out of this pack for good.”
Kiren hesitated for a moment before responding. “Perhaps you are right. Orec said there might be wisdom in this challenge too. If it can settle the tempers of his pack then maybe it is the best way. But Vaya, if you cannot fight, please do not make yourself.”
“I can fight. What else am I good for if not this? It is my duty to protect you.” She looked down at Claw, whose head had been planted firmly in her lap ever since she sat down. “It is my duty to protect all of my kin.”
“We are glad to have you, and not just because you protect us,” Kiren said. “You are my friend, and you still would be even if you were the weakest warrior I knew.”
Her words stung Vaya like a splinter of wood to the heart. At first she was angry. Was Kiren pitying her? What worth did she have if not as a warrior? But anger was not all she felt. There was something more. Deeper. The pinch in her heart was one of longing. Of fear. Questions that she had never dared to ask. For an instant she p
ictured herself as an elder, the strength of her youth wasted away, but with Kiren still there, a loyal friend at her side.
I will die a warrior's glorious death long before that, she reminded herself. She did not need these strange, haunting thoughts at a time like this.
“If you know of no herbs then bind my arm up so that I cannot move it,” she said. “Maybe it will heal by tomorrow. But do it under my clothing so that no one can see. If Narolen knows I am wounded he will use it against me in our fight.”
Kiren did as she was asked. She could not yet bind a wound as well as a seer, but her effort was enough to keep Vaya from straining her arm again by accident. Now all she had to do was wait.
Over the next day word began spreading through the pack of the impending challenge. People began to emerge from their winter dwellings, braving the cold to gossip and prepare. It had been a trying winter, and many saw the challenge as a chance to relive the excitement of the Rainfall Hunt, if only for one night. Snow was piled upon leather sheets and tossed down the ridge, clearing a patch of ground beneath the overhang Narolen's mate had named as the site of the duel. A pile of dry wood rose over the ashes of last season's hearth, and several shelters sprang up to keep the snowfall off those who would be gathering to watch. It seemed a small celebration in itself.
Wasteful, Vaya thought, but perhaps wasting some of the pack's winter supplies was worth it. Dried meat and preserved forage swapped hands as packmates who had barely seen one another for most of the season mingled, exchanging the rations they had grown sick of for ones that were fresh. Even the hostility between Narolen's supporters and those who had sided with Vaya took on a more jovial atmosphere, with wagers of food and promises of favours being exchanged based on the outcome of the fight.
This was the right of it, Vaya thought. No more petty squabbles. No underhanded bait. There had been a divide in this pack ever since the hunt, and now was the time to seal it. What kind of a fool had Adel been trying to deny Orec's clan the right to settle their disputes via combat?
