His sons Cragg and Tok were sitting by the fire. Their faces were grim, alarming Silex. “Has something happened to the pack?” Silex asked anxiously.
The young men glanced at each other. “Father,” Cragg said, “we have seen something repugnant.”
Silex crouched next to them, warming himself. It was still early enough in the day that the light from the fire flickered in his sons’ eyes. “Tell me.”
“There is a man, a Kindred, and he has captured a wolf.”
Silex frowned in noncomprehension. “Captured? What do you mean?”
“The wolf is fastened to a rope that the Kindred carries in his hand,” Cragg responded.
“A rope?” Silex repeated incredulously. “How would a rope save a man from a wolf?”
“The rope encircles the wolf’s neck and perhaps it chokes her air,” Cragg speculated. “We do not know why the wolf does not turn on the Kindred, only that she is forced to remain captive.”
“We stalked them for three days,” Tok added.
Silex sat back, his face a study in disbelief.
“It is an abomination. He has enslaved the wolf,” Cragg stated emphatically.
“Could this man, could he be a wolf as well, Father?” asked Tok.
Cragg shook his head impatiently. “I have been telling Tok that this cannot be. The man is evil, an evil aberration.”
“What should we do?” Tok asked respectfully.
“We must end this horror,” Cragg argued.
“It is unnatural,” Tok agreed, “but I am unsure, Brother, that it is our place to interfere.”
They all looked to their father. Silex rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “An enslaved wolf,” he murmured. “I question whether you correctly interpreted what you saw. Such a thing defies my mind.”
“The man has a stunted leg,” Tok added.
Silex gasped. “Are you sure?”
His sons seemed taken aback by his reaction. “Yes, Father.”
“A lone man with a stunted leg holds a wolf prisoner,” Silex summed up, his face grim. The vision of the hyena in the field made sense to him now. “You can find this man, if you go back out?”
“Of course,” Cragg replied simply. They were Wolfen; they could track anything.
“Then we must go find this abhorrence, and we must kill him and set free the wolf,” Silex answered. “It is the only thing to do.”
* * *
The Kindred were well practiced at moving swiftly upon dawn’s light. Mothers took charge of their children, while the men of the hunt arrayed themselves at the front of the migration. Valid was therefore somewhat surprised when his youngest son, Magnus, trotted breathlessly up to him when the sun was overhead and the Kindred were starting to walk more slowly, anticipating the midday meal. Magnus was eleven summers old and not yet a member of the hunt, so his appearance was irregular.
“Father,” Magnus panted.
“Slow down, Son. What have you come to tell me?”
“Mother said we cannot find Lyra. Your pouch, and our family’s food, is also missing. She does not know how to feed us.”
“I do not understand what you are telling me, Magnus. Where is Lyra?”
“I do not know. Mother said that is what to tell you. We cannot find Lyra and Mother does not know how to feed us.”
Urs approached. “What has brought your son to the front?” he asked Valid.
Valid shrugged. “I am not sure. Sidee has somehow lost our food, and Lyra is once again evading her.”
“It is not unusual for a woman Lyra’s age to have disagreements with her mother,” Urs observed, smiling.
“This is even more true in our family,” Valid agreed ruefully.
“Would Lyra have hidden your food, out of anger, perhaps?”
Valid shook his head. “That, no, does not seem like her.” He turned toward his son. “Lyra might be accomplished at concealing herself from her mother, but you and your friends can easily catch her. I am sure she is lurking nearby.” Valid gestured to the sparse trees, well spaced but thick enough to hide behind. “Tell your friends that the one who finds her will be gifted a wolf’s tooth from my collection.”
“All is good. We will search again.”
Magnus turned to sprint away, but Valid held up his hand. “Wait. What do you mean? Have you already looked for her?”
“It is what we have been doing all morning.”
Valid and Urs stared at each other. Then they both turned and looked north.
“She cannot have run off,” Valid whispered. “Surely she would not do something like that.”
FIFTY-SIX
Sidee had collapsed and Calli was at her side, holding her hand. Word had swept through the Kindred: Lyra had run away.
Valid and his sons Ligo and Magnus were assembling their weapons, and men and women were gathering around to watch. Urs assessed the grim determination in his friend’s eyes. “Valid. You cannot leave. We must continue south.”
Valid shook his head. “I have to do this, Urs.”
Urs turned a furious glare on the onlookers. “Leave us!” he bellowed. They dispersed hurriedly, scattering away and forming smaller groups to eat the midday meal, glancing over at Valid and Urs as often as they dared.
Grat rushed up. “I have just heard,” he declared.
“We leave now,” Valid replied.
“I will go with you,” Grat stated.
“No you will not,” Urs corrected icily. “Valid, I cannot allow this.”
“Please, Valid, you cannot leave me alone!” Sidee pleaded.
“She is our daughter,” Valid snapped.
“She has left to be with the cripple! It is her choice, Valid,” Sidee responded. Grat stared at her, shocked. Calli’s eyes widened.
“Listen to me now,” Urs said forcefully, his voice hard. Valid’s sons stared solemnly at the hunt master, and even Valid seemed unsettled by his friend’s tone. “This is not allowed. You are spear master and needed here, with your tribe.”
“Urs. She slipped away just before there was light in the sky, and she must be following our tracks back. She cannot be more than half a day behind us. We will close on her within a day or two at the most,” Valid reasoned.
“And then what? In two days’ time, we will be much farther south. You will not be able to catch up with us for the rest of the migration. No, Valid, you may not go.”
“Urs, do not ask this of me,” Valid begged.
Urs stepped closer. “Valid. I have lost a child and I know the pain that comes with it. I cannot tell you how sorry I am. And I promise you, when we return next summer you may take all the men you want and go kill the cripple, if he survives. Kill him and, if she is alive, retrieve your daughter.”
Calli stared in horror. Urs seemed to have forgotten she was there.
“But for now, this is the way it must be. I must have you with your tribe now, Valid. With the hunt. There will be no going back.”
Calli glanced down and saw triumph in Sidee’s eyes. Suddenly filled with loathing for all of them, she dropped Sidee’s hand and stood. Valid gave her a pained look, parting his lips as if to say something, but Calli walked away without a backward glance.
After the midday meal, the Kindred reorganized and fell back into step. The momentary flurry concerning Lyra was gratefully forgotten—they were migrating, as they always did, and there was comfort in this.
Calli found she could meet no one’s gaze. She plodded along, her expression blank, eyes dark. If Lyra managed to survive and find Mal, the two of them together might stand a better chance of enduring the winter, but then in the summer the men of the Kindred would track them down and kill her son. Either way, her son would perish.
* * *
Lyra spent most of the first day glancing back over her shoulder, watching for her father.
She knew exactly what would happen. At first light, Sidee would notice her daughter was missing and alert her family. The Kindred would pause the migration and Valid would
grab Ligo and come get her.
When he caught up with her, she knew her father would be furious. She would accept his anger and any punishment, but then he would see how serious she was. She would rather come out here and die than marry Grat.
Her father would not let that happen.
She was deliberately slow as she retraced well-tracked ground along the river, lingering for a long time over her midday meal. The farther she went, the angrier her father would be.
At a pretty spot by the stream, she sat and composed herself, waiting. She had rested fitfully the night before and her muscles were tired from days of walking, so it was not long before she had drifted off, sleeping in the sun.
When she awoke, the light in the sky was orange. Shocked, she realized she would have to spend the night alone. She quickly gathered as much wood as she could find, striking her flint so that when night came, she had the stream to her back and the fire warding off the darkness in front of her. She tamped down her fear by reminding herself that Mal had lived alone the entire summer.
She slept a little, but awoke when she heard wolves howling in the distance. She put more wood on the fire and stared at the flames, hugging her knees. For the first time, she allowed herself to contemplate that her father might not be coming.
* * *
Denix found Ovi standing by the river. It was as Silex described it—Ovi seemed to be watching the waters, swollen with recent rains, as if waiting for something. Denix observed her staring, not moving, for a long time before finally calling out.
“Ovi.”
Silex’s wife and sister turned, blinking. She did not respond or raise her hand in acknowledgment.
“I was told you might be here,” Denix greeted, walking up to the other woman. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”
Ovi turned back to look at the water. “We do?”
Denix frowned. Her whole life, Ovi had been such a mystery to her. “Silex advised me he told you about … about my pregnancy.”
A black branch floated slowly past, and Ovi watched it. “Yes,” she agreed softly. “He told me.”
“Ovi, I am sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“All is good.”
“No, Ovi. Please talk to me. Are you angry?”
Ovi gazed at Denix, her expression implacable. “I am not angry with you, Denix. What would be the point? It is done.”
Though it was ridiculous, Denix found herself getting angry. “I have fornicated with your husband and gotten pregnant as a result. I do not believe you when you say you do not care.”
“Oh, I care,” Ovi responded faintly. “You have given me a gift.”
Denix paused, puzzled. “I do not understand. A gift?”
“A release. Is the river not beautiful, this time of year? So deep and dark. Standing here, I often see ice floating on the surface.”
“Ice.”
“Whatever feeds this river must live in winter. Did you know I fell in at the end of summer, when I was a small child?” Ovi asked. “It was this time of year, and here, where it is unusually deep. My father saved me. I remember how numb I was in the water. No pain. No feeling at all. Just the dark current, pulling me along.”
“I did not know about this. It was before I was born.”
“It was a long time ago,” Ovi affirmed wistfully. “Times were so easy then. Not like now, where every day is such a struggle. I am so weary of it all.”
“I was hoping we could talk about what to tell the others. Silex is very concerned that the Wolfen will react badly, but I believe it has a lot to do with how you behave, Ovi. He has shared with me that you and he have never been together as man and woman in your bed. If you would tell everyone that you have no objection to me filling that role, I think my news will not cause the harm that Silex fears.”
An ironic but unreadable twitch touched the corners of Ovi’s mouth. “I think all is good. No harm will be caused by this.”
Denix nodded. “That is good of you, Ovi. Perhaps—”
“I really want to be left alone now,” Ovi interrupted. She fixed Denix with bland eyes. “I like to look at the river.”
“All is good,” Denix replied. “I will let you have solitude.”
Denix withdrew. Ovi turned back to the river, nodding. “Solitude,” she repeated to herself. It was a good word to describe what she craved. She stepped out of her garments, wincing as she waded up to her ankles in the shockingly cold water. She stood for a moment, then took another step. The numbness came after a time, encouraging her to go deeper, swim out into the currents.
Solitude.
* * *
On the second day, Lyra added wet wood to her fire and let it cloud the air with thick black smoke that rose high, visible for miles. Now her father would know exactly where to look. As the day grew long, though, Lyra ventured north, remembering some small caves where her tribe always made camp during their migrations. They were farther upstream than she recalled, but there was still enough sunshine when she came upon the place to allow her to find wood for her fire. After eating from her dwindling supply of food from her father’s pouch, Lyra crawled into a small cave and put her hands over her face and sobbed until she slept.
She awoke and faced two choices: go north, back to summer quarters, and try to find Mal, or trek south in pursuit of her tribe, taking her past the entrance to the Cohort Valley. Either way, she would likely run out of food, and she had no way to hunt for herself, though she knew some trees along the stream would still have fruit on them.
She could no longer be sure of her father’s support in her stand against marriage to Grat. He had not come after her! Grieving, she remembered sitting in his lap and singing him songs when she was a little girl. Her tears turned bitter, though, when she thought of her mother. Perhaps Father had not tried to find her because Sidee would not let him.
She made up her mind and went north. Mal knew how to survive in the wilds on his own. He would take her in. She smiled when she imagined how he would react to her unexpected appearance.
Then her eyes widened as she let her thoughts float farther along on the fantasy. They would spend the winter together, perhaps in Bellu’s cave. It would be as if she were married to Mal, instead of Grat.
Married to Mal. No council to prevent it, no mother to trade her off like an elk hide. Was that what she wanted?
When Lyra thought of her life, Mal was always there, entwined into her memories like the delicate flowers woven into the vines around her wrist. He was a man like her father, thoughtful and kind. He had Dog’s smile and seemed so wise compared to others his age.
When the Kindred returned and she rejoined her family, there would be no question of Lyra marrying Grat, because she would be married to Mal.
Yes. It was what she wanted.
She began singing as she walked, interweaving “Mal” and “marriage” into her happy tones. Breaking free of Sidee had liberated her feelings. She was on her way to be with Mal.
She abruptly went quiet when she heard something large rustling in the woods. Unbidden, scary stories from her childhood came to mind—though she was far away from the river junction that marked Cohort territory, the fierce man hunters were said to be lurking everywhere, seeking to snatch the defenseless and take them away. She was far from home, a woman alone out in the forest. Heart pounding, she peered into the thick trees, catching her breath when something big and dark moved ponderously, snapping a twig underfoot. A cold eye regarded her and she exhaled—just a reindeer, a big male. Some females became visible with their motion as well. Just a herd.
Then Lyra remembered something her father told her—where there were prey animals, there were often predators tracking them.
She was not safe here.
Lyra ran and her terror ran with her, pursuing her like a hungry lion. She imagined wolves and bears and horrible fangs and vicious claws. She wanted her father, her brothers, her tribe to come save her. She wanted Mal.
She found a place where she co
uld lean branches on some rocks and crawled in underneath and lay trembling. The fire she built did not quite give her comfort, and thinking of Mal no longer warmed her. Nothing was worth this, not even being able to marry the man she felt sure she loved.
She had made a terrible mistake.
* * *
She barely slept—every noise in the night had been something coming for her, and the leaping shadows from her fire seemed deadly living things. No singing, this day. She could only keep marching forward, with no thought but getting to Mal.
The next day presented her with a choice: the stream bent away from her, off to her woman’s side, but the Kindred always marched straight along the path. Her father once told her that if they stuck to the stream it eventually rejoined the path, but they always chose to spend the day away from water, though mothers would soak elk hide and squeeze it into their children’s mouths whenever the sun was hot.
She could last the day without refreshment—she needed to make progress. She hated, though, that this meant leaving the trees. She strode along under the cloudless skies, exposed in yellow grasses that came up to her knees in some places. Any predator could see her, here.
She had settled into a dull plod for some time when she glanced back to check her progress, and she gasped in surprise. Far in the distance, some men were coming toward her. Father? She held her hand up to shield her eyes and stared. There were three of them.
They were not Kindred. Even at this distance, she could see that their garments were crude, simple flaps of hide tied at their waist. They carried clubs and at least one spear, and they were running. Running straight at her. Their faces were oddly black, as if rubbed with dirt or ashes.
She realized who they might be.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Dog focused intently on Mal’s hands. It was a routine they had gone through countless times over the summer, and Dog clearly looked forward to it, looked forward to the praise and food she would receive for doing a good job.
Mal swallowed. This was it, their first try at the strategy he hoped would help him hunt this autumn, building up food supplies before the snows came and drove away all the game.
The Dog Master: A Novel of the First Dog Page 37