Moon Chosen

by P. C. Cast

  “Cammy, hold!” Davis shouted the Terrier’s command, jogging down into the grove with Nik and O’Bryan close behind.

  All three men piled to a halt as they reached the center of the grove and the Terrier, who was sitting under the desecrated carcass, barking an alert.

  “Good job, Cammy. Well done,” Davis praised his Companion as they stared up at the thing hanging from the boughs of the cedar.

  “I don’t understand this waste. Deer are rare, precious. It’s been left to rot. All of that meat. All of that hide and gut. All ruined,” Nik said. “Cut it down. Let the forest absorb it.”

  O’Bryan found the end of the rope that held the carcass in place. With a quick chop of his knife, the body was free, falling with a sickening thud to the forest floor.

  “The heart and liver are gone, and all of the flesh from the deer’s flank, chest, and neck. But that’s it. That’s all they’ve eaten,” Davis said.

  “And why the hell would they eat such thin strips of flesh and leave the rest,” O’Bryan said.

  “Look at the throat,” Davis said.

  Holding his sleeve to his nose, Nik crouched beside the deer. “I don’t see any arrow or knife marks on it at all. Its head has been bashed in, and its throat and belly torn open by what look like bite wounds.”

  “Those aren’t animal bites,” Davis said.

  “No. They’re human,” Nik said grimly. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. I hate to say it, but this reminds me of Skin Stealers.”

  “Skin Stealers! Cuz, no! They never leave Port City,” O’Bryan said.

  “I know, but there’s no denying that part of this deer has been flayed.” Nik paused, looking more closely at the body before adding, “—possibly while it was still alive.”

  Davis was studying the tracks around the clearing. “Males. Several of them. Nik, I hear what you’re saying about Skin Stealers, but these are definitely wide, flat tracks typical of Scratcher males. Though I don’t get why they’d waste an entire carcass.”

  “They’re mad,” O’Bryan said. “How can anyone understand why Scratcher males do what they do?”

  “But this hasn’t happened before, right?” Nik said.

  “No, never heard of anything like this,” O’Bryan said. “You, Davis?”

  “Nope. Never. Not even Scratchers waste a deer carcass. They’re too precious—too hard to find.”

  “The forest is changing. The Scratchers are changing,” Nik said, feeling a strange, crawling sensation under his skin. “This is just more proof of it. We need to get out of here. Now. My gut says we won’t find sign of the girl or the pup near here. If they have enough sense to hide their tracks from us, they certainly have enough sense to stay away from anywhere rabid males hunt.” Nik was giving one last sad look at the wasted deer when Cammy began to growl.

  “Something’s coming,” Davis said. “Something bad.”

  The three men lifted their crossbows and began to retrace their path out of the grove when five Scratcher males seemed to materialize from the shadows.

  They were moving with a feral grace, their bodies hunched, their hands clawed. One, larger than the others, bared his teeth at them as he spoke, his voice so guttural it was almost unrecognizable as human.

  “Now you are the hunted!” His snarl worked like a goad on the other Scratchers. As one, the creatures attacked.

  “Get to that ridge!” Nik yelled as he let fly an arrow, skewering the male that had targeted him. “We can pick them off from there.”

  “Cammy! Up!” Davis shouted, and the Terrier sprinted up the incline, well out of reach of grasping Scratcher claws.

  Nik saw that Davis was halfway up the ridge with O’Bryan close behind him. He turned and took a stand. “Go on, O’Bryan! Get out of here!”

  “Won’t leave you!” O’Bryan cried.

  Nik felt rather than saw his cousin hesitate. “You’re not leaving me! Just get up there and start shooting them!”

  “Got it! I’ll—” O’Bryan’s words were cut off with a shocked cry. “Ahhh!”

  Nik pierced another Scratcher through the neck with an arrow. Gurgling and writhing, the big male went down, causing the other three behind him to hesitate, and giving Nik enough time to see that his cousin was wrestling with another Scratcher.

  “O’Bryan! I’m coming!” With a motion as smooth as water over river rock, Nik lifted his crossbow, sighted, and took down two of the three Scratchers with one shot. The third male, one who looked younger and slightly less bestial, gave a shriek filled with anger before disappearing into the forest.

  Nik turned and sighted his bow at the male who was in hand-to-hand combat with his cousin. But he couldn’t get a shot. They were too close together. Instead of using his bow, Nik ran, pumping his arms and using all of his strength to reach O’Bryan. As easy as breathing, Nik took the dagger from its resting place threaded through his leather belt. The creature’s back was to him, and he plunged his knife into it, all the way to the hilt. The male crumpled to his knees, screaming in agony, but before he could breathe his last breath, he sank his teeth into O’Bryan’s leg.

  “No!” Nik’s cry echoed O’Bryan’s scream of pain. He flung the twitching Scratcher aside, sending its body rolling down the ridge. Then Nik grabbed O’Bryan around the waist, supporting him, and yelled, “Go! Go! Go!”

  Thunk! Thunk! Two arrows found their marks behind Nik. As he and O’Bryan reached the top of the ridge Davis was there with Cammy growling beside him, crossbow in hand.

  “I got both of them,” Davis said. “I don’t see any more.”

  “Didn’t see the one that attacked me until it was too late.” O’Bryan spoke between gasps for breath as he leaned heavily on Nik. “He raised up from the forest floor. They were hidden, Nik. They ambushed us.”

  “We’re out of here. Now!” Nik said. “Davis, send Cammy ahead. Tell him to warn us if he scents any more Scratchers.” With his free hand Nik held his own crossbow at the ready. “You watch our back.”

  “Done!” Davis said grimly. “Cammy—home! Watch!”

  Connected by blood and friendship, the three men fought their way forward. Two more males attacked them, and those two more males died—one from Davis’s bow and one from Nik’s. They didn’t stop to rest or reevaluate until they reached the creek where it had all begun more than two weeks before.

  Nik’s dagger cut through O’Bryan’s blood-soaked pant leg, exposing the nasty bite wound in his calf.

  “Put your leg in the creek. Wash it out. Hurry, O’Bryan!” Nik said. “Davis, keep Cammy on guard. Tell him to warn us if any more of them are near.”

  Davis murmured to his smart little Terrier, and the canine jumped up on a boulder near the creek bank. From there he kept scenting the air in all directions as his sharp eyes searched the brush for danger. “He’s got it! What can I do to help?”

  “Gather moss from that statue-thing over there, and then rip a strip of fabric from your shirt. I’m gonna pack this, tie the moss on, and then we head for home,” Nik said.

  “Will do!” Davis ran to the Scratcher idol that looked oddly like a woman rising from the earth.

  “Bloody beetle balls, Nik! My skin is broken!” O’Bryan began to claw at the wound, as if he could tear it and the death sentence it probably contained from his body.

  “Stop it, Cuz! Stop!” Nik grabbed O’Bryan’s hands, keeping them from causing further damage to his skin. “It’s not that bad. Let me pack it, and then we’ll get you to the Healers.”

  O’Bryan collapsed back, legs in the creek, and the rest of him trembling on the bank. “There’s nothing they can do—you know that. I’m done.”

  Nik shook O’Bryan by his shoulders. “Don’t you give up!”

  “Here! Here!” Davis tossed a clump of thick green moss to Nik.

  Nik packed the moss into the wound, trying to ignore the deep, bleeding pit of missing flesh. “It’s going to be okay. No bleeders were cut.”

  Davis covered
his eyes with his arm. “It’s not okay. You know that. It’ll never be okay again—not for me.”

  “I said don’t give up!” Nik said, still packing the ugly wound. “Davis, I need that strip of cloth.”

  There was a ripping sound. “Got it.” Davis handed him a long, thin strip of cloth.

  Nik wrapped the cloth around the moss-packed wound, tying it securely. “Drink this,” he said, handing his cousin the water skin.

  With trembling hands, O’Bryan did as he was told.

  “Cammy’s alerting! There are more of them coming. We gotta get out of here,” Davis said.

  “Go without me. Just leave me a crossbow. I’ll keep them busy,” O’Bryan said.

  “Absolutely no chance of that,” Nik said grimly. “Now give me your hand and get your ass up out of that water. We’re going home.”

  * * *

  They did not see the big man and the two smaller, though no less dangerous, men, watching them from the deepest shadows of the forest. They did not see Dead Eye’s look of satisfaction as he stroked the trident-shaped scar on his arm and imagined the new future that was beginning to unfold before him.

  “You were right, Champion,” said Iron Fist. “The Scratcher males have been infected.”

  “Which means the Others will be infected as well. All we need do is to keep flaying the forest creatures, but as you said, not so far as to take them to the Sacred Place of death,” said the second man known as Stalker.

  “No, we must do as you command, and stop while they still have strength to live—to travel—to be taken by the forest people,” said Iron Fist.

  “And they will destroy one another even more beautifully than they did today,” said Stalker.

  “Exactly. It pleases me that the both of you understand now,” Dead Eye said. “And all is ready with the lure?”

  Iron Fist nodded. “It is as you commanded.”

  “We made sure the Others’ foraging team saw no sign of us, but has been lured to the ambush site,” said Stalker

  “You have done well. Very well,” Dead Eye said. He lifted the snare that held several fat turkeys. “Now, let us take our untainted catch back to Dove and the God. The People feast tonight in celebration of what bounty the morrow will bring!”

  27

  It took until well after dusk—after Nik had seen O’Bryan to the Healers’ Nest, and had Davis and Cammy checked over to be sure they hadn’t sustained any skin-breaking wounds—for his hands to stop trembling.

  “It’s my fault. O’Bryan was only there because of me.”

  “Son, drink this.” Sol placed the mug of warm, herb-infused ale in his son’s hands.

  Nik shook his head. “No, I can’t sleep. I need to get back to the Healers’ Nest and sit with O’Bryan.”

  “Nikolas, drink. Rest. Tomorrow you must go with the foraging party, and you can’t go on no sleep—not if you expect to return, and I expect you to return,” Sol said.

  “Father, I can’t leave O’Bryan here like this.”

  “There’s nothing you can do for him. Only time will show whether he’s blighted or not. I’ll ask the Sun’s blessing on him and tend to him while you’re gone, but the foraging party cannot wait, and you must go with them.”

  “But O’Bryan—”

  “One person is not as important as the Tribe!” Sol interrupted. “O’Bryan knew the risks of hunting with you. He agreed readily. You did your best to protect him. You managed to get a young Hunter, his Terrier, and yourself back to the Tribe, even though you were ambushed and tracked by feral Scratchers. The foraging party needs you, and the Tribe needs the foraging party. You’ll leave with them tomorrow.”

  Nik met his father’s eyes. “Why are we doing this? Is it because of your guilt?”

  “Answer that question yourself.”

  “I don’t know the answer. I don’t know anything anymore except that because I was chasing ghosts my cousin, my best friend, the man I consider a brother, will now probably die a terrible, blighted death after only knowing eighteen winters!”

  “Nik, something has been set in motion here—something that reaches far beyond finding a young canine you wished would choose you, and finding the truth out about a hybrid girl. Whatever that something is—it’s responsible for your cousin’s wound. You saved him, son. You brought him home.”

  “For what? You know what awaits him. We watched Mother die of it. Maybe I should have let the Scratcher kill him—at least his pain would be over.”

  “What if the blight doesn’t infect him? What then?”

  “Father, the wound is deep. You know how slim his chances are,” Nik said.

  “But he does have a chance, and that is because you got him home. Drink,” Sol repeated. “And stay here tonight. Together we’ll visit the Healers’ Nest in the morning before you leave.”

  Nik sighed and gave in to his father, tipping the mug against his lips and drinking deeply. The herbs flushed through his system quickly, causing his vision to blur and his speech to thicken.

  “I wish it’d been me instead of him,” he murmured as his father led him to the pallet he’d prepared by the hearth fire.

  “And I will be eternally thankful that it wasn’t,” Sol said. “Laru, stay with Nik.”

  The big Shepherd curled up next to Nik, sending warmth through his body, and soothing him with his love and loyalty, making it impossible for Nik to fight against the blackness. Finally, nestled against his father’s canine, he closed his eyes and gave himself over to dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  “He looks good,” Sol said as he and Nik made their way from the Healers’ Nest to the lift. “As the Healer said, no sign of infection or inflammation. That means O’Bryan has a chance. Plus, your cousin’s positive attitude may very well pull him through this whole and well.”

  “I hope so, Father.” Nik didn’t want to talk about O’Bryan and the truth—that a good attitude or lack of inflammation or infection could not save him. The truth was that six out of every ten Tribe members who sustained an injury great enough to break their skin contracted the blight. The more serious the injury—the better the chances of being infected with blight. The Scratcher had bit a human-mouth-sized hunk of flesh from O’Bryan’s calf. The odds were definitely against him, and Nik didn’t want to discuss false hope with his father. He changed the subject. “How many pairs did you decide to send on the foraging trip?”

  “Six pairs—Wilkes leading with his Odin, of course. I also okayed Monroe and Viper, Sheena and Captain, Crystal and Grace, Winston and Star, Thaddeus and Odysseus. And, of course, you.”

  Nik frowned at his father. “Wait, you approved Thaddeus joining the team, even though you knew I was going?”

  “Nik, because he annoys you isn’t a good enough reason to leave behind the best Hunter in the Tribe,” Sol said.

  “But because he’s an arrogant ass who won’t listen to me at all is a good enough reason.”

  Sol stopped and faced his son. “Thaddeus is arrogant, and the two of you don’t like each other, but he won’t do anything to jeopardize Odysseus’s safety. Besides that, Wilkes is in charge of this trip. He will listen to you.”

  Nik sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “All right. I don’t like it, though. And what about the two women? Should we be risking both of them?”

  “Son, who do you think mapped out the preliminary route for this trip?”

  Nik shrugged. “Figured it was Wilkes.”

  “No. Sheena and Crystal have been teaming up to map the ruins for the past several cycles of the moon. Don’t underestimate them. They know that river better than the Fishers. Fishers avoid Port City. Sheena and Crystal know the waterway there and back as well as they know their own nest. Don’t worry about them needing protection. They’re petite, but that means they can get into places you and the rest of the men can’t squeeze through. And their Shepherds are two of the toughest canines in the Tribe. They’ll protect their Companions.”

  “Okay, you
know best,” Nik said, though he couldn’t escape the gnawing sense of wrongness that already seemed to shadow this trip.

  “Son, don’t let what happened to O’Bryan slant your judgment. Use those powers of observation I know you have, as well as the crossbow skills the entire Tribe knows you have—and work with Wilkes to bring the team back safely.”

  Nik blew out a long breath. “You’re right. This thing with O’Bryan is really messing with my head. Father, there are such strange things going on in the forest. Doesn’t it concern you?”

  “Of course it does. But the truth is there is always something strange going on in the forest. We live in an odd, dangerous world. Son, I think not finding the pup has you down.”

  “Yeah. I thought with Davis’s and Cameron’s help—and having O’Bryan along in the Hunt—they’d ensure that we’d find him. And the girl. Or at the very least we’d find substantial sign of them by now. But all we found was a Scratcher ambush and chaos.”

  “Will you keep looking when you return?” Sol asked.

  “Honestly, Father, I haven’t decided. And maybe that’s what really has me down. I don’t want to give up on him—on the pup. But I’m starting to believe my search may be as foolhardy as the rest of the Tribe believes it to be.”

  “Not all of the Tribe thinks you’re foolhardy. Some of them think you’re loyal and tenacious. Should you ever wonder, I’m part of that group, though I am increasingly concerned with the new behavior the Scratcher males are exhibiting.”

  “So no one else has ever known them to set up an ambush?” Nik said.

  “No. Even Cyril has never heard of that happening. He went through the archived Hunter logs last night, and found no annotation there, either. It seems their strange behavior is unique to the present.” Sol’s eyes looked haunted. “I’m getting increasing pressure to order a clean-out of the Scratcher population. And in light of this new attack, I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to logically tell the Elders no.”