by P. C. Cast
“Who cares about another Scratcher? One less to infest this forest,” Thaddeus said. “Come on, Davis. Bring Cameron up to the bush and we’ll start doing Nik’s job for him.”
The two men and their Terriers started up the bank, but Nik didn’t follow them. Instead he walked slowly to Leda.
“No no no no no,” Mari whispered the only word she seemed able to form.
Nik crouched beside Leda. Hesitantly, he brushed her hair from her face. Mari could see Leda’s face then, and she realized that she shouldn’t have been able to. Her head was at a strange angle—it shouldn’t have turned the way it did.
“No no no no no.”
And then her mama moved! Mari let out her breath in a gasp, and began to scramble to her feet, to push through the curtain of green and run to Leda. But before she could move away from the tree, her mother’s voice carried clearly, easily, over the water.
“Galen! My Galen. I knew we would be together again.” She smiled serenely at Nik, and then a spasm of pain twisted her features. Leda coughed and blood spewed from her mouth, down her chin, across her twisted neck. She closed her eyes, and with a long, rattling exhale, Mari’s mama died.
Mari felt her world dissolve. Her grief was so great that it was like a pounding fist within her, breaking her apart. She stumbled forward into a shaft of sunlight and the heat of it engulfed her.
“No. No! NO! NO! NO!” Mari screamed.
Still crouched beside her mother, Nik turned to look at her, and Mari saw his eyes widen in shock. It was as if she had stepped into the heart of the sun, and she knew it. Understood it. Wanted it and used it. She raised her arms and her despair exploded from her body in a stream of fire, so pure, so hot, that it was golden. With a ghastly whoosh the forest around Mari burst into flame.
16
The whoosh of the flames and the wall of heat that followed snapped Mari from the trancelike state that had gripped her since the moment her mother had landed, broken, on the rocky bank. Mari lifted her hands, trying to shield herself from the heat that threatened to engulf her.
Mama is dead.
The forest is on fire. I did it. Somehow I did it.
Smoke was roiling around her. She could hear the men shouting to one another, but the voice of the fire as it fed on the dry underbrush was deafening. Mari couldn’t see them, nor could she make out what they were saying. She could not see Leda, either.
Mama is dead.
Mari simply stood there, rooted in place by despair and loss as the fire intensified around her. To her right a huge old log was fully engulfed in flame. The heat was causing her skin to redden and her hair to smolder. Mari stared at the log. A small pine next to the log caught fire like a candle’s ripe wick. The long, tendril-like branches of the willow behind her began to curl inward and sway madly on the currents of expanding heat.
Very soon that will be me. I will burn high and hot. Maybe, maybe, I will be with Mama again then. She believed that. She believed we all return to the earth, and to the Great Earth Mother.
It was easy, really. She could just stay where she was. It would be over quickly, almost as quickly as it had been over for her mama. Mari’s shoulder’s drooped. Her eyes closed. She wrapped her arms around herself, pretending for just a moment that she could feel her mother’s comforting embrace.
She felt his presence then—against her left leg. Mari opened her eyes. Blinking through smoke and tears she looked down. Rigel was there, sitting quietly at her side, pressed against her leg. He did not whine. He did not grab her tunic and try to pull her away. He simply waited with her. Mari knew then beyond any doubt that if she chose to end her life, it meant the end of Rigel’s life as well.
“No! Not you, too!” Mari cried and scooped the pup into her arms. She bolted through the willow tree and jumped over a smoldering log. And then Mari ran downstream. She didn’t look back. She focused only on holding Rigel close to her, shielding him with her body from the heat of the fire as well as the prying eyes of the seeking Companions.
When they reached the creek Mari splashed into the water. Only then did she glance back, but the Gathering Site, and the bank where her mother lay, were completely obscured by smoke. She let Rigel swim beside her, keeping a hand on his wet fur, wanting to touch him—to be sure he was safe, alive, still with her. When they reached the far bank he scrambled up it, staying at her side—as if he, too, needed the comfort of her closeness. When they climbed to the summit of the bank, she ignored her weary muscles and lifted the Shepherd in her arms again and then, not knowing what else to do, Mari began to jog home.
She didn’t slow until she reached the edge of the brambles. There she collapsed with Rigel on her lap. He stayed curled there, panting with stress, but otherwise not moving, only watching her with amber eyes that suddenly seemed bottomless and wise.
Mari could feel his love—feel their bond.
That was all Mari could feel.
A tremendous sense of numbness sank through her veins, pumping through her body in time with her heartbeat.
“Mama is dead,” Mari told Rigel, speaking the words aloud. Tasting them. Trying to digest them.
Rigel didn’t respond. He didn’t even tilt his head with the playful listening pose he usually took when she talked to him. He just watched her with wise, old eyes.
She’d said the words. She’d seen Leda die. But it was just so fantastical—so very, very hard to comprehend—harder to comprehend even than one of her mama’s stories. Mari squeezed her eyes closed. I’ll sketch her alive! I’ll sketch her alive! I’ll make it my reality.
“Rigel!” Mari opened her eyes to peer intently at her canine. “What if I misunderstood? What if the reality is different from what I thought I saw? What if Mama is just hurt and not dead?” Rigel made no sound. “I have to go back. I have to see. If she’s hurt I can heal her tonight when the moon is fully risen—I know I can! And even if she really is dead I can’t leave her out there, by herself, to be eaten by the swarm.” The more she spoke, the more Mari believed. She had no choice. Whether Leda was dead or alive, Mari had to go back for her mama.
Mari gently moved Rigel off of her lap, and then stood slowly on legs that felt liquid. Acting more on instinct than true understanding, Mari turned to the west and faced the sun.
“With me, Rigel. I need your help.” Rigel turned with her and stared up at the midday sky. His eyes immediately began to glow. Mari stretched her hands over her head, reaching for the burning, yellow orb, and, for just a moment, felt its warmth and power sizzle through her body. It was over as quickly as it had begun. Feeling stronger, she dropped her arms and found Leda’s staff. Leading Rigel, she parted the brambles so that they could follow the labyrinthine path to the burrow’s entrance. Inside she set to work immediately. First, Mari gave Rigel water and drank long and deeply herself. She felt as if the fire that had somehow exploded from within her had left her utterly parched. Then she went to her mother’s room. Mari didn’t allow herself to think of anything except checking the Healer’s pack that Leda took with her every night. Within the neat woven bag were bandages and ointments, herbs and liniments. Mari made sure there was plenty of numbing salve, as well as her mother’s most powerful internal pain relievers. Then she drew a deep breath, and faced Rigel.
“You have to stay here. I don’t know if the Companions will be gone. I—I can’t let them see you. I can’t lose you, too, Rigel.” Mari began strong and sure, but as she spoke the pup began to whine and pant in distress, and her voice broke. She went to her knees, cupping his face in her hands and staring into his eyes, willing him to understand. “Please don’t be sad. Please don’t make any noise. Please just wait for me. I promise I’ll come back to you. I promise. You’re all I have left. I can’t lose you, too, Rigel,” she repeated. Still holding his gaze, Mari sketched within her mind a picture of Rigel curled on their pallet, watching the door, waiting for her.
She hugged him then and, before she began to shatter from the inside out, Mari kissed
him, stood, and hurried to the door. She knew he followed her. She knew that she closed the door in his face, but she couldn’t look back. She only hesitated long enough to mimic her mother’s actions by touching the Earth Mother image carved into their arched doorway. Mari stared at the lovely Goddess and prayed silently and earnestly. You don’t have to speak to me, Earth Mother. I understand that I’m different from your people, but Mama isn’t different. She belongs to you. So for her, not for me, I ask it of you. Please—please save Leda—your Moon Woman—my mama—my best friend.
Mari didn’t allow her thoughts to wander as jogged along the little deer path. She could not think of Rigel back in the burrow, filled with worry and sadness. She could not acknowledge that in leaving him behind she had also left behind a part of herself—perhaps the best part of herself. She would not think of might have beens or maybes. She would not feel. There would be time enough for thinking and feeling afterward—after she’d brought her mama home.
Mari smelled the smoke before she heard the voice of the creek. She slowed and left the path, creeping silently forward, pausing often to listen. She heard men’s voices and slowed even more, concentrating on using the plentiful underbrush to conceal herself.
Finally she reached the edge of the steep bank. On her stomach, Mari crawled forward and slowly, slowly, looked down.
The forest wasn’t ablaze as she thought it might be, though smoke still darkened the Gathering Site, obscuring much of her vision. As the wind shifted and the smoke eddied, Mari caught glimpses of the three men. They had taken off their shirts and were beating at the smoking foliage with their clothes. She could see that her willow was charred, and the brush and bushes closest to it were completely burned, but that was the worst of the fire. It seemed as if the men had contained it and were now working to defeat it. The two small Terriers were by their Companions’ sides, busy digging fresh earth and letting it fly up behind them to cover what the men had already beaten out, as if they knew to be sure even any coals were smothered.
Of course the Terriers know. Rigel would know. Rigel would be working beside me to put out the fire, too.
As soon as the thought came to her mind, Mari’s hand went to the space beside her, seeking the warmth and comfort of her Companion. His not being there was an open wound in her battered heart.
Mari dug her hands into the damp earth and steadied her thoughts. Then she looked down to her side of the creek’s bank. She found Leda right away. She hadn’t moved at all. Mari couldn’t see her face. Leda’s neck was twisted too far in a wrong-looking angle.
It doesn’t matter. She might still be alive. And all I need is just the smallest spark of life and I might still be able to heal her.
Mari focused all of her attention on her mother, willing her to move—even a tiny bit.
Leda remained still.
“Nik! Thaddeus! I need your help over here. I’m losing this tree.”
Mari’s gaze was pulled from her mother as the youngest of the men motioned frantically to the other two as a broken cedar tree near the charred bones of the willow burst into flame. Nik and Thaddeus rushed to help him battle the fresh blaze.
Mari didn’t hesitate. Staying as close to the ground as possible, she scrambled over the edge of the bank and half ran, half slid, down to Leda. She reached her mother and knelt beside her, touching her shoulder gently.
“Mama?”
Leda’s shoulder was cold and already stiffening.
Her mother was dead.
“Come on, Mama. I’m going to take you home.”
Mari emptied her mind, focusing only on lifting Leda—gently, carefully. She didn’t try to carry her up the bank. Instead she moved quickly and silently with the current, following the creek downstream in the shallows, until she emerged ghostlike from the drifting smoke.
Mari paused then, breathing heavily. The day that had begun so bright and warm had turned overcast and cool. All around her mist began to lift from the warm, damp forest floor until, looking behind her, Mari couldn’t tell what was smoke and what was fog. With a start of surprise Mari realized it was well into the evening, and not too many hours until sunset. She shifted her mother in her arms, collecting her limbs. Leda’s head tilted close to Mari’s to come to rest on her shoulder. For a moment Mari let her forehead tilt down and she breathed in the familiar scent of the rose water Leda always used to rinse her hair.
“It’s okay, Mama. I have your back. I’ll always have your back,” Mari whispered. “It’s getting late, but you don’t have to do anything but sleep tonight. You finally don’t have to do anything but sleep.”
Resolutely, Mari stepped out of the creek, easily climbing the soft lip of the bank. She turned to the south, found the deer trail, and began the long, slow journey that would bring Leda home forever.
* * *
At first her mother’s weight had seemed childlike and easy to manage, but it wasn’t long before Mari’s arms began to ache, her legs became heavy and awkward, and her breath came in gasps. The sun was veiled by clouds, and Mari didn’t know how to reach its burning power. Leda’s unrelenting stillness was a gnawing pain within her daughter’s heart that soon grew to be an almost unbearable burden on the rest of her body. Mari stumbled on, forcing her legs to keep carrying her forward, afraid if she stopped, even just a moment to rest, she would never begin again. Night was coming, and though Mari didn’t want to think about it, the truth was that after dusk her mother’s body would become a beacon for the worst of the slithering, swarming forest scavengers.
There was a very real temptation that played with Mari’s grief-numbed mind. As if observing herself from afar, Mari considered what would happen if she were caught out in the open forest after dark, carrying death in her arms. Mari wouldn’t have to do much of anything. She could just sit down and hold her mother close. She could close her eyes and finally rest. Maybe even sleep. She was so, so tired. Darkness and the forest’s insects would take care of everything else. If she didn’t reach their burrow—didn’t get within their shelter—Mari would never have to know what one dawn, then another and another without Leda, would bring, because her life would end with her mother’s.
But if she didn’t make it back to the burrow she knew what would happen to her pup. As surely as if Mari had sealed him within a tomb, Rigel would die—slowly, alone, frightened and in despair.
Mari couldn’t do that to her Shepherd.
So Mari stumbled on, even after her aching arms became numb and her leaden feet were hardly able to move forward. The little path branched and Mari found herself standing still, breathing heavily and trying to rub the sweat out of her eyes. Which way? Which way? She blinked, orienting herself. Of course she knew where she was. She knew the forest as well as she knew her own home. To the right. She must keep moving always to the right.
Mari turned to the right, and as she did her foot was caught by an exposed root and, with a cry, she fell forward heavily, automatically twisting her body to try to shield Leda from the fall. A sharp pain splintered through her left wrist, and Mari cried out, collapsing in a crumpled pile—her mother’s body twisted around her.
Mari tried to get up. She rearranged Leda’s heavy, motionless limbs, collecting her in her arms like a beloved child—like Leda had so often held Mari and comforted her after she’d fallen and scraped her knees, or cried because she wasn’t like any of the other Earth Walkers and needed her mother’s reassurance and love.
But Mari couldn’t stand, and Leda couldn’t comfort her.
“I’m not ready, Mama.” Mari smoothed Leda’s hair back from her pale, cold face. “I’m not ready to lose you. What do I do now?”
Not far up the trail a branch snapped and Mari’s heart fluttered with a primal rush of fear. Supporting her mother with one trembling arm, she felt frantically inside her pack with the other, trying to find her slingshot and to ready herself for whatever further horrors this terrible day would bring.
The young woman who emerged from the fogg
y path didn’t see Mari at first. She was too busy glancing nervously behind her. When she did finally notice Mari, crumpled on the ground, holding her mother’s body, she stumbled to a halt, eyes wide and startled.
“Oh, no! That can’t be Leda. It simply can’t be!”
Mari’s anger felt pure and righteous, and so, so much more bearable than her grief.
“Sora, what are you doing here?”
The young woman ran forward, her gaze riveted on Leda’s still, pale face.
“Oh, Goddess! She’s dead? No, please no!” Sora’s face twisted in a mixture of horror and disbelief and she leaned down, staring at Leda and ignoring Mari.
Something within Mari snapped. Of its own accord her hand snaked out, clamping around Sora’s wrist. With a little shriek, the girl’s gaze met Mari’s, and what Sora saw there had her trying to pull away, face flushed with shock.
Mari held on to Sora’s wrist, twisting it purposefully, painfully.
“Answer my question, Sora. What are you doing here?”
“I—I was looking for Leda, of course,” Sora said, obviously trying to recover some measure of the arrogance that usually was so prevalent in her manner. “I am apprenticed to her, and dusk is nearing.”
“No one is apprenticed to her anymore. Go away, Sora.” Mari let loose her wrist, shoving her away.
Sora stumbled, but righted herself quickly. Gentling her voice until it was almost a whisper, she asked, “Mari, what happened?”
Mari met Sora’s eyes. “You left her to die, and she died.”
Sora blinked. “What are you talking about? I didn’t leave your mother to die.”
“Do not lie to me!” Mari shrieked her rage at Sora. “I was there. I saw everything. When the Companions overran the Gathering Site you called the men to you, telling them to save you. Then you ran, all of you, and left Mama to die!” Spittle spewed from Mari’s lips as her anger bubbled over.
“But I thought she’d run, too! I didn’t mean for anything to happen to her. How could I?” Desperation crept into Sora’s voice. “The Clan needs Leda. I need Leda.”