by P. C. Cast
“You need Leda?” Mari shook her head. “Sora, you’re a selfish bitch. And guess what—you’re not going to get everything you need, especially now that my mama is dead.”
Sora drew herself up to her full height and thrust out her chin. “You’re upset. I understand that. So I’m going to forget most of what you just said.”
“Don’t!” Mari hissed at her. “Don’t ever forget what I just said. Remember it, and remember to stay away from me.”
“But who’s going to Wash the Night Fever from the Clan? Tonight is Third Night! Who’s going to train me?”
“Figure it out yourself.” Mari turned dismissively from Sora and began gathering Leda into her arms. She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating and readying herself, and then she struggled to her feet.
She almost made it, but her weariness was too great. Mari would have dropped Leda had Sora not suddenly stepped forward, steadying Leda—lifting—resituating her still body over Mari’s shoulder so that she could hold her more easily.
Mari’s head lifted and she was looking into Sora’s gray eyes.
“I’ll help you carry your mama home. Then I’ll help you bury her,” Sora said softly.
“Where are all those men who like to follow you around?” Mari’s voice was equally soft, but filled with venom.
Sora looked surprised at the question, but answered quickly, matter-of-factly, “Dusk is near. I don’t allow men around me after dusk on a Third Night—not unless…” Her words trailed off as her gaze dropped to Leda.
“Not unless Mama’s there to Wash the madness from them. That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?”
Sora squared her shoulders. “Yes. That is what I was going to say. I’m not ashamed of it. I’d have to be more insane than them to want Clansmen filled with Night Fever near me.”
“Then you better get used to being insane, or being alone at night because with Mama gone there’s no one to save you or them.” Mari started to stumble past Sora, but the girl moved to block her path.
“I said I’ll help you bury Leda.”
“You don’t want to help me. You want to use me. I understand the difference. Get out of my way.”
“Mari, you can call down the moon. Leda said so. You have to help me. And us—the Clan. You’re all we have left of Leda.”
Mari narrowed her eyes. “You need to listen carefully to what I’m going to tell you. I do not care what happens to you. I do not care what happens to the Clan. You used Mama until you used her up, and then you threw her away. You won’t do the same to me. Don’t try to find me. Don’t try to follow me. Leave. Me. Alone.” Mari stepped forward, bumping Sora hard with her shoulder and knocking her off the path.
“Mari! Wait! You can’t just leave me out here like this. It’s almost dusk!” Sora cried after her.
Without turning to look at her, Mari said, “Sora, if you follow me I will kill you.”
* * *
Mari couldn’t be sure that Sora wasn’t following her, so instead of taking the most direct way back to the burrow she chose to circle around and around, following one of the mazelike routes that her mother, her mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother before her had spent their lifetimes creating, ensuring their home, and the Moon Women it protected, would remain hidden and safe. Mari worried about Rigel, and the extra time it was taking her to return to their burrow, but as she drew closer and closer to the burrow she held her mother more tightly, with more desperation.
This is the last time Mama and I will come home together. It’s the last time we’ll take this turn—walk this trail—circle around this path.
Finally, Mari stood before the entrance to the burrow. Still holding Leda, she stared at the carved Goddess that served as protector of the entrance to their home.
Why didn’t you save her? Mari stared at the Goddess. She loved you so much, probably as much as she loved me.
As usual, the Goddess didn’t answer her.
“You’re nothing but a pretty piece of art. Nothing more than one of my sketches.” Mari shook her head, dismissing the protective statue. She stumbled forward, opening the door with her shoulder.
Rigel was there, sitting just inside the doorway, exactly where Mari had left him hours ago. With maturity far beyond his short life, he came to Mari, went up on his haunches to sniff Leda’s body, and then he dropped back down to all fours, his head low, waves of sadness rippling from him.
“I know, sweet boy. I know. But we have to put Mama to rest before we can grieve.”
Afraid if she put Leda down she would not be able to lift her again, Mari carried her mother into the burrow and took the digging tool from the tidy pile of Leda’s well-kept gardening implements. Then, with Rigel following silently, she slowly climbed the labyrinthine pathway through their bramble thicket up and around to their little clearing.
Mari sank to her knees and gently lay Leda in the soft grass, arranging her arms so that they were folded over her chest, and carefully straightening her neck so that it looked like she might be sleeping.
She approached the image of the Great Mother. This statue was probably the most beautiful, most carefully tended statue in the forest. Her face was lovely, carved from obsidian the color of a moonless, midnight sky. The ferns that made up her hair were lush and bright green. The moss that carpeted her body was soft and thick.
Mari spent no time looking at the statue. She took the tool and, choosing the spot directly in front of the Earth Mother image, she dug.
Soon Rigel was beside her. He dug with Mari, tearing the damp, fertile earth easily, but not with the puppyish enthusiasm he usually showed. Rigel was as silent and somber as was Mari. Both worked until their bodies trembled with exhaustion, and then worked more.
Finally the grave was deep enough and Mari went back to where her mother lay. She crouched next to her and Rigel stayed close, leaning into Mari’s side. Mari touched her mama’s face.
“She’s cold, Rigel. That’s why we have to cover her with the earth. Mama would want it that way. She’d especially want to rest beside her favorite Earth Mother statue.”
Rigel whined softly and nuzzled Leda as if he could get her to move again.
“She’s not going to wake up,” Mari said to herself more than to the pup. “Mama’s going to sleep now. Forever.”
Mari bent and kissed Leda’s forehead, and then one last time she lifted her mother into her arms. Staggering, she carried Leda to the grave and then, oh so carefully, placed her within. She went to the Goddess statue then and picked several of the delicate, lacelike ferns, arranging them gently over her mother’s face before she began to fill in the grave.
When Mari was finished, she sat before the newly broken earth, resting her hands, palms down, on the damp ground. Rigel sat beside her, watching her carefully.
Mari cleared her throat, and her eyes lifted to the face of the Earth Mother’s image.
“Earth Mother, this is Leda, Moon Woman to the Weaver Clan, my mama. My best friend. She loved you and believed in you, and I’ve brought her home so that she can rest with you. Mama said you spoke to her—that she often heard your voice in the wind and rain, trees and ferns, even in the music of the creek. I’m going to believe that you didn’t save her because you love her so much that you wanted her with you. I can’t blame you. I wanted her with me, too. I s-still want her with m-me. P-please take care of her.”
Mari’s voice broke completely then, and as dusk settled over the forest the gray sky opened and rained night’s tears to mix with Mari’s while she sat beside her mother’s grave, and pressed her face into Rigel’s warm, soft neck. Finally, Mari allowed the pain of her loss to engulf her as she sobbed, mourning the loss of her beloved mother while her Shepherd gave voice to his sadness as well and howled his grief into the night.
17
Nothing had gone the way Nik had intended. The day that had begun so bright and full of hope had turned cold and wet and confusing.
“Bloody beetle ball
s, I hope I never see this particular part of the Scratcher forest again.” Thaddeus shook his head in disgust as he used his filthy shirt to wipe sweat from his face, leaving a streaky trail of soot and dirt smeared across his cheek.
“We caught a break with the rain, though. I don’t think fire’s a threat anymore. Should be safe to leave,” Nik said, putting his own shirt back on and squinting up at the darkening sky. “Good timing, too. If we hurry we’ll be back just before dusk.”
“Good? I don’t think there’s been much good about today,” Thaddeus grumbled. Without another word to Nik, he motioned for Odysseus to follow him and the two of them—sooty, sweaty, and disgruntled Terrier and Hunter—moved toward the trail that would lead them back to the Tribe.
Davis, Cameron, and Nik trailed after him more slowly.
“Too bad about not finding sign of the pup,” Davis said not unkindly.
“Well, we didn’t actually get to look for him,” Nik said. “If we had and not found any sign—that would have been too bad.”
“Keeping the forest from burning is a good thing.” Davis grinned and cut his eyes to the trail before them at Thaddeus’s back. He dropped his voice to a mock whisper and added, “And that’s two goods today, but don’t tell Thaddeus.”
“I won’t,” Nik assured Davis, though he couldn’t quite make himself joke and grin like the younger man. The whole damn fiasco was because Thaddeus had refused to listen and set the dogs on that old Scratcher. From that moment on the day had gone completely to shit.
There had been no reason for that Scratcher to die. Nik didn’t think he was being sullen or brooding—he certainly wasn’t as ill-tempered as Thaddeus—but he was having a tough time getting the image of the woman out of his mind. Her twisted neck had been horrible. She’d made him think of a battered and broken doll. But her injury wasn’t what was so branded into Nik’s mind. What he couldn’t stop seeing was the joy that had transformed her thick-featured face from ugly to strangely sweet when he’d bent over her. What he couldn’t stop hearing were her final words, spoken with such utter joy that the echo of it had reverberated through his mind as he fought beside Davis and Thaddeus to stop the fire from engulfing the forest. Galen! My Galen. I knew we would be together again.
What was she imagining as she lay there dying? What had her fading vision seen?
He hadn’t had time then to give it much consideration because directly after the woman had died the girl had appeared—the girl on fire.
Who was she? What was she?
Nik had only seen two things before the fire had roared to life. One was the girl’s dirty, grief-twisted face. The second was her eyes. They had glowed amber, blazing across the distance between them, oddly frightening in their familiarity.
She had been a Scratcher. He’d been sure of that when her cries had pulled his attention from the dead woman. Her hair had been dark and matted—her skin the dirty, earthy color of all Scratchers.
But those eyes. Those glowing amber eyes had definitely not been Scratcher.
Her eyes were Tribe of the Trees, as was her command of fire.
No! What the hell is wrong with me? That couldn’t have been what I saw. Only the most powerful, carefully trained members of the Tribe ever attained the ability to channel sunlight into fire.
The girl was a Scratcher. The fire had to have been an accident. Hadn’t it? How was anything else even possible?
But the events of the day kept replaying again and again in Nik’s mind, each time ending with a blaze of amber and the roar of flame being birthed.
“Okay, now that we’re out of that mess, what the hell happened back there?” Davis interrupted the cacophony of questions that filled Nik’s mind.
Nik lifted his hands and dropped them with a shrug. He didn’t hide his confusion or frustration, but he was very careful as he chose his words. He’d already decided the less he said about what he might have seen to anyone except his father—the better. “Davis, like I told you and Thaddeus before, the Scratcher died and then I heard someone yelling. I looked up in time to see a Scratcher girl standing by the willow where the fire started. Then everything around her burst into flame, and she disappeared.”
Davis shook his head. “I know Scratchers aren’t smart. I mean, they’re great with crops and plants and such, but they need to be taken care of—protected really, especially from each other. Even so, I’ve never heard of them doing anything as stupid as setting fire to their own forest. Have you?”
“No. Never. That grove is obviously some kind of a gathering place for them. Seems likely that in the confusion an untended campfire must have—”
“They’re fucking animals,” Thaddeus interrupted, calling over his shoulder. “No, they’re worse than animals. Animals don’t destroy where they live. That’s what those Scratchers tried to do today.”
“What do you mean?” Nik asked.
“It’s obvious! They set a trap for us. They musta heard you blabbing about that stupid pup and knew we’d be back. They rigged a fire to try to fry us, not giving a shit about what it would destroy if it had gotten out of control.”
“I don’t know, Thaddeus. They’re really just big children. I don’t think they’re capable of that kind of planning, are they?” Davis said.
“Ask Nik. Last night he was chatting up a female Scratcher like she’s a real person.”
Nik scowled at Thaddeus, but in response to Davis’s surprised look said, “She was young and scared. I talked to her to calm her down on the way to the Farm.”
“You looked pretty chummy with her.”
“Thaddeus, you’re out of line. Last night I did what you told me to do—I took charge of the newest captive and stopped her crying. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Well, I can tell you that after today I’m not going into Scratcher territory without Warriors and Shepherds backing me up. That is unless our Sun Priest, your father, commands it. Then I won’t have any choice. Just like I didn’t have any choice today.” Thaddeus sent Nik a disgusted look.
“You smartass bastard, you had a choice today!” Nik’s temper finally broke and the words he’d kept swallowed and silent exploded from him. “You could have chosen to stick to the plan. You were only supposed to track the pup. Instead that chip you carry around on your shoulder—the one that’s bigger than your canine—got in the way and you made the wrong choice. Because of your choice there’s a dead female Scratcher—at least one. Because of your choice we had to spend the rest of the daylight hours containing a fire instead of what we were really supposed to be doing. Because of your choice my pup’s trail is one day colder and one day harder to track.”
Thaddeus stopped and faced Nik. “That’s roach shit and you know it.”
It was Nik’s turn to lace his words with disgust. “Why? Because of the big, bad Scratcher trap?” He laughed sarcastically. “That’ll make perfect sense to my father and the Hunters who have been tracking and capturing Scratchers through more winters than we can count and who have never been trapped by them before.”
“Well we were trapped by them today!” Thaddeus shouted into Nik’s face.
“No! What happened today was a Scratcher died. A girl screamed. A campfire burned out of control. None of those things would have happened if you had just done what you’d been told to do, which is exactly what I’m going to report to our Sun Priest, my father.”
“That’s right, you spoiled fucking child, run to Sol and hide behind him. The whole Tribe knows you have no power of your own, just like you have no canine of your own.”
Nik lunged for Thaddeus, but Davis was there between them, holding them apart, shouting, “No fighting among the Tribe!”
Thaddeus smiled and stepped back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not breaking that rule. It’s Nik who’s having trouble controlling himself. Maybe someone should mention that to Sol when we give our report.”
“No damage was done. No one struck any blows,” Davis said, sounding nerv
ous.
“Only because you were here.” Thaddeus chuckled humorlessly and clapped Davis on the back. “You two ladies can stay back here and gossip. Odysseus and I are out of here.” Then he turned and, whistling for his Terrier, took off down the path at a fast jog.
“I wouldn’t have hit him,” Nik said to Davis. “I would have liked to, but I wouldn’t have.”
Davis ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Imagine him being your mentor for the Hunt. Believe me, from time to time all young Hunters have wanted to hit him.”
“He shouldn’t be mentor to anyone,” Nik said.
“He’s the best Hunter of the Tribe. That’s undisputed.”
“He’s an arrogant ass.”
“That’s undisputed, too.”
Nik exhaled a long, tense breath and then laughed softly. “We’d better catch up with the ass.”
“Let’s do one better. We’re younger and faster. Let’s beat him back.”
* * *
Living high in the ancient Sugar Pines, far above the dangers of the forest floor, surrounded by people who were more than family—who were Tribe—made it easy to forget, or maybe take for granted, the serenity and beauty that infused almost every aspect of the Tribe of the Trees. Returning to the Tribe that evening, covered with soot and dirt and sweat, exhausted and frustrated by the unexpected events of the very long day, Nik felt a surge of gratitude as the three men and two Terriers jogged wearily up the well-worn trail that led to the uppermost ridge of the forest. The sun had just dropped below the gray western horizon and the light rain that had begun earlier at the Scratcher site had steadied itself into a comforting rhythm of pattering against the thick canopy of pine green.
Nik paused, breathing hard, taking in the loveliness of the torches being lit above them so that, within just a few moments, the pines stretched before them decorated with light and warmth and laughter.
“Hey, hear that?” Davis grinned as he turned to Nik.
Nik paused, listening. Then he blinked in surprise as he realized he was hearing celebratory music drifting from the Tribe, in perfect accompaniment to the spring rain. “It sounds like the whelping song.”