by Claudia King
“Good,” she heard Narolen say. “Now walk, if you can. There's fire if you can stay alive till the end of this lake.”
Despite the lack of feeling in her paws, she forced them into the necessary rhythm. With a stumbling, staggering walk, she followed after Narolen as he led her away from the thin ice. Claw scampered around her anxiously, whining and nuzzling at her face.
Now now, pup. I'm alive. You shouldn't have... shouldn't have tried to help me.
Frost spread across her coat as she approached the shore, dappling her brown fur with weary white. She did not feel so cold any more, but her body was still numb. Was that good? She heard other voices around her, Murie's and those of Narolen's other companions, but she cared little for what they were arguing about. Help her or kill her, there was nothing she could do about it either way. She just kept on loping forward, dragging her freezing body up the bank and into the trees until she heard the crackle of a fire in front of her.
Steam rolled off her body as she slumped down beside the flames, so close that she was sure her fur must have been smouldering. She lacked the energy to back away. After a moment the others wrapped her in a cloak and rolled her over, rubbing the furry garment against her back until she began to shiver again. Remembering what had happened when she found Kiren freezing on the edge of the den, she resisted the urge to fall asleep. Claw cuddled up against her side, adding his body warmth to her own. One by one the others joined him, creating a cosy nest of bodies around Vaya's back. Slowly, the feeling returned to her limbs. The deep, sapping weariness backed away, but it refused to leave entirely. It lurked somewhere behind her eyes, joining her empty belly to leave her dizzy and lightheaded.
When she mustered the strength to pull herself upright, the bundle of wolves at her back dispersed in an instant. A wry grin pulled Vaya's muzzle back from her fangs. Wolves could say much without speaking. Now that she was recovering, they were enemies once again.
“Should have left her,” one of them said. “Only a fool would fall through that ice.”
“Only a coward would leave a warrior to drown,” Narolen growled. “I need my honour. I must return to the clan with my head held high.”
With a rasping laugh, Vaya reverted from the shape of her wolf. She braced herself on her good elbow, clutching her side as she coughed and chuckled. Perhaps it was just the cold addling her thoughts, but it all seemed very funny to her.
“Where was your honour when you fought me five to one last night?” she said.
After a shameful silence Narolen replied, “I was not myself. I saw the spirits that night. Nothing I did was born of my own will. The den mother's curse is a wicked thing when it twists your thoughts and puts false visions before your eyes.”
“Whatever your excuse, you burned the pack's food. They'll not welcome you back now, no matter how high you hold yourself.”
“No! I did not— Look at me, curse you.” Narolen grabbed her shoulders and hauled her into a sitting position. Vaya continued to laugh in his face. He backhanded her across the cheek, but she barely felt it.
“Beat the last of my strength out of me, warrior.” Vaya spat at his feet. “Then you'll have the only challenge you deserve. Even a pup could best this broken huntress.” She looked to her limp left arm, then to Claw. Her eyes finally trailed up to Murie. She still remembered what had happened last night. “If you try and hurt him again, woman, I'll see you dead before day's end.”
Narolen's mate sneered at her, but even her closed posture could not conceal the hint of fear in her eyes. She cared too much for her own status, that one. All posture, but little bite.
“Why would I bother? It's only a beast.”
“He is Claw.” Vaya wrapped an arm around her companion and drew him to her side.
With a grunt of exasperation Narolen let go of her and stood back up.
“As soon as you are recovered, Huntress, we finish our challenge. No one will get in our way out here.”
“Then what?” one of the others said.
“Then...” Narolen shook his head, kneading his eyelids with a thumb and forefinger. “Then we go back. Explain to the alpha. Tell him we... Tell him that I wandered when the den mother's curse was upon me. If we speak true, if we follow our ways, the spirits will protect us.”
“You'll fight her out here? With no one to see?” Murie said. “What good will your honour be then, when the pack blames you for having to starve through the rest of the winter?”
As the group began to bicker Vaya stared down into Claw's eyes, smiling as her gaze immediately brought a stop to his growls. Flitting from aggression to contentment in the blink of an eye, he yipped at her and licked her face.
It must have been the lingering chill of the lake. It must have been. Why else would all Narolen and Murie's talk of honour seem so... small.
To Vaya's foggy mind all that mattered in that moment was the adoring pup she had raised. The one who had been willing to fall into the lake to save her, and for whom she would have gladly let herself drown. He did not care who she was. He did not care what she had done to prove herself. And for the first time in Vaya's life, neither did she.
She listened to Narolen and Murie talk, so frantic, so bound by their concern for honour. She was just like them, was she not? It was that same bond, that knot of stone around her soul, that had driven her to chase after them. Because when honour was all one lived for, what other choice was there? She had never desired the life of a woman. Never been granted the status of a man. Always grasping, never finding. Just like Narolen was now. Before, it had frightened her, even driven her to despair when she reflected on the things she did.
She thought back on Kiren's words about how she would care for her even if she was the weakest warrior in the clan. Part of her finally felt like it understood what Kiren had meant. Or perhaps it was all still a delusion. The shock of her mind trying to grasp the ignoble death she had been a hair away from facing. Maybe she had drowned in the lake after all, and this was the dreaming of her spirit as it crossed over into the next world.
Narolen knelt down and gripped her by the chin, forcing her to look at him.
“We must finish this.” His eyes burned with single-minded determination. “Vaya, I challenge you.”
Oh, how angry it had made her back then. How furious, the time she had lost the most important challenge of her life. Now that her own honour seemed so small, she almost felt a grudging admiration for the little sun wolf who had bested her.
“No,” she said. “I'll not fight you.”
Narolen's face contorted in confusion, then anger. “I challenge your honour, Huntress! Fight me, or you are a coward!”
“Then today, perhaps, I am.” She shook her head. “Why did I ever care what a clan of witches' thralls thought of me?” And to Vaya's own surprise, she realised that she meant it. She had come here for Kiren. For Octavia. And in the service of her own pride, she had sown the seeds of all this trouble.
No, this had started long before that. For her own pride she had poisoned Adel like a coward. Allowed Netya to force her out of her birth pack.
For once those memories no longer made her ashamed of who she was, only for who she had been. For the woman who turned down Narolen's challenge was no longer that same person.
She began to laugh again. “No. Hahah-! No. Is it not so simple a word that bests you?” She looked at Murie. “Threaten to hurt my pup? Then—then—I will challenge you. Dare to hurt my friends? I will tear you apart for trying. But for my own honour? Mine? No. Not today.”
“If hurting your friends is what it takes,” Murie murmured, only to be silenced as Narolen cuffed her across the back of the head.
“We are not that kind of filth, woman! If this one desires it then let her suffer in her shame. She submits. I am the victor.” The male still seethed with anger, but his words rang true. He would not get the challenge he craved. A victory, yes, but any true warrior knew that this was not the same. It was a half-honour. People would a
lways question it, always wonder what would have happened had Vaya fought.
“Go,” Narolen growled. “Run back to the den, or better yet to your own pack. No one wants you here.”
Vaya picked her stiff body up off the ground, leaning against Claw for support.
“And remember your shame!” Murie screeched after her. “You lost! This will always be the day of your failure!”
Her words prickled something within Vaya, but when she looked down at Claw the anger rising within her seemed to blow away on the wind. Perhaps she would feel shame. When the chill was gone from her swollen muscles and the shock of the lake had faded, maybe she would regret this. Yet for now, she felt nothing but relief. Narolen and Murie's pride bound them to their anger. Vaya had shed hers back beneath the surface of the lake.
Like the grain of the ice beneath her feet, a cold, crystalline clarity had settled over the huntress. She clenched and unclenched her left hand, petting Claw's head with her right as they walked. Even the chill clinging to the damp parts of her hair felt fresh and crisp; a welcome reminder of life.
Death had never frightened her before. Even beneath the lake she had resisted the tug of fear. Instead she had felt something else. Sadness. Regret. Every time she had faced such danger before it had always been during the heat of battle or in the midst of a hunt. Without that anger, that fire, she had been able to focus more clearly on what she would be leaving behind.
Closing her eyes, Vaya felt herself smile.
Enjoy this. Enjoy the freedom while it lasts.
Unlike the previous night, this distance from herself felt good. She wanted to enjoy the sun. Enjoy the cold. Enjoy wandering across this beautiful, snow-dusted valley without the cares of her pride to distract her. On her way here she had never even paused to admire the landscape. Her feet carried her along another frozen creek, meandering this way and that until the sound of voices yanked her from her lightheaded stupor. Had Narolen and his friends decided to follow her after all?
She turned around, squinting against the sun. Three figures approached. Two had already reverted from the shapes of their wolves, but the third was charging forward as if the snow was a fire beneath her paws.
“Kiren, you silly girl.”
Her friend stumbled as she rose up on two legs, leaving her wolf behind and tumbling into Vaya's arms.
“I knew you would be here! I knew it even before we caught your scent.”
“You and Claw, I can't be rid of either of you,” Vaya said, returning the girl's breathless embrace.
The other two hurried up in Kiren's wake. Caspian and Kale. Vaya frowned.
“Where is Narolen?” the older male said. “We caught his scent alongside yours.”
Vaya jerked her head in the direction of the camp. “Not far.”
“Did you fight him?” Kiren asked, trepidation creeping into her voice.
“I meant to. But when he challenged me... I no longer saw the point.”
Caspian seemed less than convinced. “You must come back to the den, all of you. The winter food is gone, and sooner or later Orec's people will need someone to answer for it.”
Vaya had almost forgotten about the food. Like everything else, it seemed far less important now.
“Let them blame me if they must.” Vaya shrugged. “I am sure half of them already do.”
Caspian frowned at her. “Is that the truth, then?”
“I did not set the fire, but Narolen will tell you the same.”
“Then the pack will go back to fighting over who to believe.”
“So blame me.”
“No, Vaya!” Kiren said. “I won't let you be punished again for something you did not do.”
Vaya snorted. It was all still very funny, was it not?
“I do not care, Kiren. Let them think of me what they will. You know the truth. That is all that matters to me.”
With a hand on his hip Caspian turned to look back the way Vaya had come. He ran his fingers through his hair, a weary sigh on his lips.
“The three of you wait here,” he said, looking to Kiren. “Make sure she does not run off again. If Narolen needs talking to it is best I do it alone.” Once he had taken the shape of his wolf he hurried off toward the trees, leaving Vaya alone with her two companions. Kale was still standing back, arms folded and eyes on the ground.
“You can go, Vaya,” Kiren whispered. “Run back home. I don't want you to suffer any more for my sake.”
“Ha. Let the witch do her worst. She can take away my honour, but I won't let her steal yours.”
“I don't care what happens to me! Vaya, you fool, listen to my words.” She looked her in the eye. “If my becoming a seer means Adel trampling you beneath her feet, I do not want it. Curse Adel, curse my mother—curse all of them! They are the ones who drive us to this. Why should we suffer because they think they can decide what is right for us? I won't let them force me to bring this punishment upon you.”
Vaya regarded her steadily for a moment. “The witch will cast you out for good this time. That was her promise, should I ever run away.”
“Then let her. I am done with spirit-talkers tugging us this way and that like fish on a line.”
“She shouldn't have to go.” Kale spoke up at last. “Not in winter. Not like this.”
“I can manage one more moon of winter on my own,” Vaya said. “Claw, too. He's become a stronger little hunter than I thought.”
“But you did nothing wrong.” The sun wolf averted his gaze suddenly, his tone growing quiet. “You didn't set the fire.”
Vaya narrowed her eyes at him. Kiren looked back hesitantly.
He took a shaky breath and said, “It was me.”
Anger rose in Vaya's chest. Sun wolves. Again one had forced the ire of a pack upon her. Tricksters. She should—
But why? She allowed her tense posture to slacken. The growl of annoyance huffed free from her nostrils, vanishing into the air. Why did it matter whether it was Narolen or Kale who had set the blaze?
Perhaps, as much as she hated to admit it, she cared ever so slightly for this sun wolf who had helped them on their journey.
Kiren voiced Vaya's thoughts first.
“Why would you do something so foolish?!”
“I told you!” Kale said. “It was just like the last time, with Ilen Ra. Everyone was ready to fight. They were just waiting for an excuse to turn on one another.”
“So you made things worse?”
He shook his head desperately. “I just thought... they needed a reason to be a pack again. They were never like this before winter, when there was hunting and—”
“Remember when we set the fires around Ilen Ra's camp?” Vaya spoke over him, her tone calm. “The fools stopped fighting one another and turned toward the greater threat.”
Kale slumped to his knees, sounding on the verge of despair. “Exactly. Last night... I could not sleep. I had to do something. I couldn't— I could not again—” He stumbled over the words of the Moon People's language, shaking his head miserably.
It made sense to Vaya now. Once she pushed away her anger, she felt that she understood. The boy had lost his birth pack the day the Moon People's blood mingled with his own. Then he had lost Ilen Ra's band. When he thought the same was about to happen to Orec's clan, he had done something desperate to try and preserve his last source of security.
It was a tale that seemed all too familiar now that she thought back on many of the decisions she had made in her own life.
“On any other day I would make you regret admitting that,” Vaya said. “Thank the spirits that I am not myself right now.”
Kiren looked between the two of them, then went to Kale's side. She tried to put an arm around him, but he shrugged her off.
“I will tell the alpha,” he said in a dry voice. “I thought it would help draw the pack back together. I was wrong.”
“He came with us when he heard you and Narolen were missing,” Kiren told Vaya.
“I c
ould not sit and pretend,” he said. “If one of you had killed the other...”
Vaya dismissed his concern with a grunt. “You will be the one they cast out if you tell the truth. You are already an outsider, just like us.”
“We can talk to Orec,” Kiren said. “Netya, too. They will understand.”
“But no one else will,” Vaya replied. “Treachery deserves punishment.”
Kale nodded, taking a deep breath. “I will face it. If someone had been hurt, or if the hunting is bad—”
“Shut up you fool,” Vaya said. She realised why his admission had angered her, and that realisation had made her path clear. “You saved me from Ilen Ra's spears. I never thought I would owe a sun wolf such gratitude.” Turning away from them, she looked down the valley to the west. In the candescent sunlight she could see animal tracks on the far slopes. Somewhere in that direction, across peaks and forests, lay the edge of the great water. “Tell them it was me. Take a second chance at making a place for yourself here, if that is what you desire.”
Saying it aloud was like cutting the final notch of a carving. She knew now that this was how it had to end. Beyond Orec's den lay freedom. Returning meant tying herself back into the bonds of honour. And sooner or later, those bonds would drag her back beneath the surface of a lake or into the den of another mighty bear. She no longer wanted to cast her life away like that. Other people needed her more than she needed her honour. This might be her only chance.
Let go of it all, or return and embrace it.
It hurt her almost more than she could bear to unfasten the hastily tied leather thong from around her neck. She felt her body resisting, screaming, telling her she was a fool. Why had she fought so hard, struggled so long, only to give it all up? Yet if she did not do it now, while her spirit was loose and reeling, she never would. Huntress Vaya had accomplished many great things, it was true, but they had rarely led anywhere good. They had never made her feel the way she did now, on the day she had finally turned down the challenge of another warrior.
Pulling Great Rook's claw from her neck, she held it out to Kiren.
