by Claudia King
“Give this to Kin. I'll not need it.”
Silently, she felt Kiren take the trophy from her. Somewhere in the distance the rasp of a heron's call carried upon the wind. The two women looked in its direction, yet only a forest of snowy tree branches greeted them.
Echoing Vaya's thoughts, Kiren asked, “Will you ever come back to finish your challenge with Netya?”
“If she accepted my challenge I could not decline.” Vaya sighed. “Yet I see now why she never will.”
“What happened to you, Vaya?”
“Ask me the next time we meet. If I am to go, it must be now.” She glanced in the direction of Narolen's camp.
With a strained look, Kiren stepped forward and hugged her tight.
“Tell my mother how well you took care of me.”
“Do you remember the place we camped the day before we reached Adel's territory?”
Kiren nodded.
“I'll wait for two days. If she casts you out, meet me there.”
Vaya drew back, giving her friend one last smile. She did not smile often. It was reassuring to feel it happen so easily. With a nod to Kale she turned, beckoning Claw to her side with a click of her tongue. She'd never said long farewells. Whether it was two days or two years from now, she would see Kiren again.
As Vaya took the shape of her wolf and left Adel's territory behind her, she wondered whether it was fate that had sent that frail sun girl to Khelt's pack all those years ago. Perhaps, in their own strange way, the spirits had been guiding her here all along.
—26—
Resolve
“Send out your hunters to find her.” Fury tinged Adel's words as they spilled from the back of the cave like a dark mist. She had occupied Orec's ceremonial seat, taking the position of alpha in his den while he, Netya, and Caspian stood before her.
“My hunters are out hunting our winter food, Den Mother. I could spare one or two to try and track her, but I fear she is too far gone by now.”
“Then send more.” Adel leaned forward, eyes glinting in the dim light of the braziers. “I'll not stomach her treachery a second time.”
“If she was the one responsible—” Caspian began, but the den mother cut him off.
“Why else would she have fled? The girl told you she admitted to it.”
“Kiren did, yes, but let us not lose sight of why this happened.”
Netya could tell her mate was perplexed. Adel might not have picked up on the uncertainty in his tone, but she could tell he doubted the truthfulness of Kiren's words.
“It happened because that huntress has been stirring dissent among my people since the day she arrived,” Adel said. “Rarely am I wrong, but I was a fool to keep her here. In that, Netya, you may consider yourself wiser than I was.”
“She is gone now,” Netya said. “What does it matter? Let her run back home.” In truth there was only one reason she was here. Eyeing her with that cold gaze, Adel plucked the unspoken thoughts from Netya's mind.
“I will not go back on my word. The girl will be exiled for this too. She is fortunate to have remained here so long already.”
“None of this was Kiren's fault!”
Adel held up a hand to silence her, turning her attention back to the men. Netya gripped her staff, squeezing out her indignation into the twine-bound wood. Getting angry would accomplish nothing.
“I want three of your best trackers, Orec. My huntresses will accompany them. Drag her back here in a net if you must.”
“This is a waste of everyone's strength,” Caspian said. “The huntresses could be helping us search for food. Do you think anyone wants to be running after Vaya in this snow? Most of them will be glad simply to see her gone.”
“I value your wisdom as always, Caspian, but the status of our pack is every bit as important as the food we need. One sliver of weakness, one misstep—just the one—and our enemies will begin to circle us like crows.”
“You value my wisdom only when it is an echo of yours.”
“If you long for an empty-headed leader through which to puppet your own pack then perhaps you should have remained with Alpha Khelt.”
“Den Mother, if I may speak,” Orec interjected before the argument escalated any further.
Adel glared at Caspian a moment longer before nodding.
“My pack are your guardians. If Vaya going free means she spreads tales of your weakness, then we will be here to protect you. That is why we came. It is our sworn duty.”
“Solve our failings through more spilt blood?” Adel curled her lip in disgust. “You are a threat to keep the other packs at bay. I'll let you fight Sun People when they wander into our lands, but not our own kind. Our status is more powerful a weapon than any fang or spear. Allowing Vaya to go free will open up a crack in that weapon.”
The debate eddied back and forth, but it was clear that Adel would not be swayed. She was adamant that Vaya be found, brought back, and punished. Then, on the den mother's own terms, she would be exiled along with Kiren. Caspian and Orec, too pragmatic to waste time arguing all night long when there was work to do, abandoned their efforts once they realised it was a hopeless cause. They left to pass on Adel's instructions and assist the hunters in preparing the scarce few animals they had managed to catch that day.
Netya remained behind, arms folded, standing quietly off to one side.
“What is it, girl?” Adel snapped. The exchange had clearly tried her patience as much as Caspian's.
“All of this to avoid going back on your word?”
“I am always true to my word.”
“You have been wrong before.” Netya took a step toward Adel's glare. “You said as much yourself. And what about the night you fought Khelt? You let your pride get the better of you.”
“A moment of shame I have not forgotten. Why is it so hard for you to see, Netya? Is your heart still so soft? Everything I do is in atonement for those moments of weakness. All of my cruelties are to prevent violence like that from ever touching our pack again.”
Netya pressed her lips together. “And all of Orec's food being burned? Was that a price worth paying to stop one challenge?”
Adel snarled at her. “I cannot see the future, girl. You'd blame me for the actions of Vaya?”
“I'd blame you for not understanding why it happened. You used to listen to everyone in your pack, remember? You watched them from afar, made sense of their desires, looked to the spirits for ways to guide them. That was what made you wise, not this. You may not have forced the culprit's hand, but you pushed Orec's pack to this point.”
“Teaching warriors to change is slow and difficult.”
“Then you are teaching them the wrong things! Or at least... you are doing it the wrong way! What we abhor, they respect. When they tell the story of what I did to Miral,” Netya swallowed, shaking her head, “they are proud of me for it. Even people like Vaya. Are they wrong in doing that? I do not know, but it is their way.”
“Listen to you. You are speaking as the other alphas do—of winning status through blood and slaughter.”
“Listen to me? I wish you would! That is not what I am saying! There is... It does not have to be a war between your way and theirs. Can you not see a middle path? If Orec's people must sometimes fight, then perhaps you should let them. Punish Vaya if you must, but do not force that cruelty upon Kiren too.” She looked to her mentor imploringly. “You cannot shape the whole world in your image. Please, just let some things be.”
Adel's forehead rested against her clenched fist, her jaw working back and forth in consternation. When she spoke again her tone was that of a mother explaining something to a petulant child.
“I have let the world be. I have lived without power. The way of the world is cruel, and careless, and it will bring that cruelty down upon you unless I am there to prevent it!”
“But where is your hope? Where is the kind heart you used to have?”
“Some things never return, girl, no matter how many
years you spend pining after them!”
A chill crept through Netya's body. She hesitated, wondering whether she was about to say something very foolish. But she had to. Nothing else was reaching Adel.
“Like Jarek?”
The den mother's expression froze. Something terrible drew across her face, washing her skin a shade paler through the darkness.
“Get out,” she said. “Leave me.”
“I heard the story.”
“Leave this cave, girl!” Adel yelled, the echo of her voice startling Netya as it bounced off the walls. The intensity of the den mother's stare was unbearable. Her knuckles had turned white against the edge of Orec's seat.
Gripping her staff to stop her hands from shaking, Netya tried to find the right words. What could she say that would not enrage Adel further? It had been a long time since anyone pushed the den mother this far, and Netya feared what might happen if she pressed on. This was not what she had wanted.
Turning around, she put one foot in front of the other until she was free from the cave's oppressive atmosphere. Had she made a mistake? Was there any way of reaching Adel any more? She took a deep breath, bracing herself against the rocks outside. Her mentor had been furious, just like on the night she fought Khelt. Did she dare risk that fury again? Not for her own sake, maybe, but for Kiren's...
Many recent footfalls had trampled a clear path through the snow outside Orec's den that day. Following the muddy strip of ground down the ridge, she made for a lone fire that still glowed beneath the overhang. On a night this cold everyone should have been inside their dens, but a hardy few were still preparing the last of the meat from the day's hunting. Hunger would make for an uncomfortable end to this winter. Netya reminded herself to have more food sent over from the valley as soon as she returned. As much as they could spare.
Orec's broad figure sat bundled in thick brown furs, Caspian leaning in alongside him as they conversed in low tones. Netya saw her mate flash her a smile as she walked by, but his conversation with Orec quickly absorbed him again. Some distance away, tucked in beneath the shelter of the overhang, Kiren and Kale shared a heavy cloak around their shoulders. It seemed unlikely that they had stayed up to help with the food. Netya knew her apprentice had greater worries keeping her awake that night.
“She will not let me stay, will she?” Kiren said when her mentor approached.
Netya shook her head. “Her heart is set, but I will do everything I can to change it. There is still time before spring.”
“Don't waste the effort. I will leave tomorrow.”
“Kiren, no. Not on your own. This winter will kill you out there. Do you not remember the night they dragged you into my cave half-frozen?”
“I'd be a fool to make the same mistake twice.” She lowered her voice. “Besides, I will not be alone.”
Netya sighed. “Vaya?” It would not surprise her to learn the pair of them had made plans to leave together.
Kiren nodded.
“Even with her help you may never make it back to your mother's territory,” Netya said. “Please, at least stay until the snow begins to melt.”
“If the den mother does not want me then I have no place here. I'll go tomorrow at dawn.”
Desperation gnawed at Netya's resolve. She had thought she had more time. Another moon, at least, to let Adel's temper settle. It was not just the loss of her apprentice that she feared, it was so much more. If Orec's scouts caught Vaya, what then? And if she escaped, met with Kiren, and guided her home safely, what did that mean for the future of their two packs? Kiren had been a chance to mend the rift between them, not as a usurper the way Adel had seen her, but as a friend who could extend a branch of sisterhood to Octavia's clan. If she left like this, it would only deepen the animosity between their packs.
More than anything, though, Netya did not want the girl to suffer any more. She had been through enough.
“Do you still want to be my apprentice, Kiren?”
The girl looked off to the side for a moment, then said, “Before she left Vaya said she still wanted to challenge you, but she knew it was pointless to stay for something that would never happen.” She looked back at Netya. “So why does it matter whether I still want to be your apprentice? Adel will never allow it.”
Netya felt her heart sinking. Had they really crushed her hope so thoroughly? Despite Kiren's struggles, she had been determined. Passionate, even. She had wanted to become a seer. But how could Netya blame her for turning her back on it now? All her short-lived apprenticeship had resulted in was Vaya's suffering. Kiren had tried, yet the bitter old hatreds of others had buffeted her back and forth until she was tired of trying.
Netya remembered the way Adel had dragged her through her own apprenticeship, pulling her up every time she fell until she stumbled wearily on to the seer's path. Was she the same kind of teacher as Adel? Did she want to be? No, she did not. But there had been pride and purpose in the way Adel taught her. An uncompromising, immutable resolve. Regardless of her methods, Adel had believed in her. If there was any hope left for Kiren, Netya needed to be that kind of mentor right now.
“Wait for as long as you can,” Netya said. “I will be back before dawn.” Gripping her staff firmly, she drove the butt into the snow and marched back up the path. Her heart fluttered as she walked. Could she brave Adel's anger? Should she? No one matched wills with Adel and won. And her, a timid little sun girl, thinking she could try. The years might have emboldened her, but she had backed down once already. She was not strong the way her mentor was, nor as practical and cool-headed as Caspian. Yet... she did possess something. Something that had made Adel choose her over all the other would-be apprentices. Whatever that spark was, she prayed it would come to her now.
She looked into Orec's cave and found it empty. The alpha's seat sat unoccupied, the feet of its wolf pelt drape swaying gently in the draft.
“She is gone,” a male voice said from behind her. Turning, she saw Narolen hunched there in the gloom, shivering and pale.
“I can see that. Where?”
Narolen pointed up the path that led to the top of the ridge. “Back to your valley. Sister Netya,” he called after her as she turned to leave. “If the den mother is angry at me, there is nothing I would not do to earn her forgiveness.”
“Earn it by being a man of your pack, Narolen. Hunt with the others. Keep your people fed this winter.”
The man bowed, his expression drawn tight. “As the spirits will.”
Netya wanted to spare a moment of her time for him. He was torn by troubles of his own, but if she did not pursue Adel now she feared she might lose both her apprentice and mentor forever.
Seeking out Adel's tracks in the snow, she took the shape of her wolf and gave chase.
—27—
Netya's Gift
As fast as Netya ran, Adel had run faster. Even with her night eyes she could make out no trace of her mentor up ahead. She reached the crest of the ridge, squeezed through the narrow pass, and began descending into the valley beyond. A partial moon shone from above, sliding past wisps of cloud in its journey through the night.
My guiding moonlight, Netya thought. Heron. Wolf. Please, be with me.
Dawn crept closer with every step. The run was long, and a generous stretch of the night had slipped by already. How long would Kiren wait?
She raced down the lower slopes and across the bottom of the valley, past the stag skull cairn and up into the den. Was the sky still darkening, or had the next day begun its approach? She glanced upward, but the sheer angle of the ridge obscured the moon from view. Adel's fresh tracks led past her cave and farther up the slope. Up, up, until Netya's breathing grew heavy and her legs began to ache. She followed her mentor's trail into the cave of paintings, padding cautiously through the darkness and into the sloping chamber beyond. Adel's scent was strong and fresh, infused with the same anxious tang Netya felt squirming in her own gut. Fear. What was Adel afraid of? Why had she run so far and so
fast?
Feeling her way up the boarded steps, Netya stepped back into moonlight as she entered the hidden glade. The lake had frozen over, but the falls still gurgled with water spilling up from deep within the earth. Everywhere else was white. The trail of Adel's pawprints finally took on the shape of moccasins, dappling two uneven lines across the snow until they reached the edge of the lake. There stood the den mother. A soft wind teased the few loose threads of her black hair that had spilled from the knot bundled over her shoulder. She did not turn as Netya approached, standing as stiff as the bare trees behind her.
“I told you to leave me be, girl.” Her voice was fractured ice.
“Why do you still call me that? Is it so you can pretend I am just an ignorant apprentice?”
“I've no need to pretend when you act like one. This is the last time I will tell you. Leave me.”
Netya drew in an shaky breath. It helped little, yet she did not turn away. If standing there was all she could do to make Adel listen, then she would do it.
“Do you think you can defy me because I said you might one day take my place?!” Adel turned, her mouth twisted in anger. “You are no den mother, Netya, you never have been. Only the best of a flawed pack. And all of you—all of you—would be lost without me!”
Perhaps Adel was right. Netya did not argue. She had already tried once that evening.
“No, I am not you,” she said. “I am who you wish you had been.” Silence. It was too dark to read the subtle emotion in Adel's expression. She took a step closer. “You saw yourself in me, but I have never become like you. Why?”
When Adel spoke she no longer sounded angry, but her tone was still bitter. “Because I have protected you as best I can. I let you keep the things you love and pushed away those that would do you harm. I cannot share your tender heart, Netya, but I can let you hold on to it for as long as you are able. You have never understood what life is like under the other alphas. You do not realise the freedom I have given you.”
