Chapter Twenty-One
Serena steps forward, unaccompanied. There is only silence behind her. Her stomach drops more with every stride, though she keeps her chin high.
Show them you aren't scared, she tells herself. The problem is, Serena doesn't know if she is trying to impress the Undine behind her or the werewolves that may lie in wait in front of her.
Pushing aside shrubs, Serena enters the tree line. Branches and leaves close in behind her as she passes, obscuring the Undine guards from view and blocking out the sounds of the ocean. Her eyes flit to the branches above, craving their safety, but she remains on the ground. If she is to be the link between Society and The Dry then she very well can't stay hidden in the trees like a scampering squirrel. Her footprints leave a long, obvious trail from sea to trees.
The wind picks up, catching a yellow flower. The bell-shaped bloom skips along the ground, turning end over end. As it passes Serena, scales emerge over her ankles and up her legs—a precaution. She pauses, watching it float by. Even the shrubs on the ground seem to lean away from it.
Serena takes a deep breath, waiting for the rest of her scales to emerge. It stings worse when she is in The Dry. When she steps forward, parting the bushes, her tree comes into view. Only some of the wolfsbane scattered on the ground has succumbed to the wind. Most of it remains, along with the braided wolfsbane ropes wrapped around the tree. The end of the ropes have unraveled, and swing loose in the breeze, just like the kelp forest outside of her cave. It feels like home.
Drawing closer, her eyes drop to the ground and she freezes. Just outside of the wolfsbane flowers rests a steady stream of wolf prints. In places, the prints are so thick they overlap each other so there is no way to establish where one ends and the other begins. There is one long, circular path—a border created between her tree and the rest of The Dry. It smells like wet dog.
She bends down, tracing the outline of one of the prints. The tip of her scaled finger pushes through dirt, wet granules sliding across and resettling alongside the impression. Serena moves to another print, doing the same. They are all the same length and width, and each has a deeper groove toward the right side of every other print.
A werewolf spent a significant amount of time here, walking circle after circle, creating a boundary line.
Her neck prickles; she turns, surveying the tree line, but there is nothing.
She grits her teeth together. If I can't take a single tree, how can the Undine expect to take back the beaches? This is my tree. MINE. She won't be made to feel terrified in her own home. Or at least her home away from home. Serena walks into the wolfsbane, untying the basket she left tethered to the tree.
After a quick trip to the wolfsbane gardens, she returns with a full basket. Dropping to her hands and knees, she works as the moon moves across the sky, replacing what flowers blew away and then some. Serena extends the circle, covering each footprint with at least five flowers. After the yellow petals cover a large span past the wolf-made border, she pauses, looking at the tree stump. It is the stump where the wolf sat as he introduced himself.
"Liam of Clan Werich," Serena says to herself, out loud. She is surprised she could remember the foreign words. "Well, Liam—I suppose I can allow you some entrance into my court."
The wolfsbane has just reached the stump. Here, Serena extends it farther, elongating one side so her perfect circle has become a lopsided oval. Then, she removes enough petals to clear a narrow path from the outside to the stump.
A grand entrance, she thinks. Or grand enough for a hound, anyway.
She smiles and turns, surveying the tree. Now—time to do something with these swinging ropes.
Serena decides to go with the kelp effect and gets to work tightening the existing ropes and constructing new braids. When the first is done, she removes an arrow from her quiver and ties the braid of flowers to the shaft.
She looks around, Murphy's words nagging her. We don't want to give your enemies a chance to observe you. Serena shrugs. This isn't exactly target practice.
She nocks her arrow, then raises her hands, aiming into the sky. The string is tight, but she manages to pull it back to the corner of her mouth. Easy…easy. Relaxing the fingers of her string hand, she releases the arrow. Serena watches it take flight, dragging the braided line of wolfsbane behind it. It arches up, and at its apex, a thin, silvery line slices through the silhouette of the moon.
The rope catches over one of the higher branches and the line goes taut, the arrow jerking back. It bounces a couple times before settling into a futile swing back and forth in the wind.
Perfect, Serena smiles.
She climbs two branches to retrieve the arrow, then she does it all over again with another line of flowers. By the time the moon sinks into the ocean, and the sun rises to take its place, the tree is adorned in dozens of yellow tendrils, swaying aimless in the wind.
Serena retrieves her arrow from the last strand of wolfsbane, and replaces it in her quiver. Standing on a low branch with one foot slightly in front of the other, she raises her chin. Her strong stance is interrupted by the slow-moving strings of poison blowing in the breeze as she leans around them. Even though she is fully scaled, she doesn't want to take any chances.
"Where are you, Liam of Clan Werich?" she asks aloud.
I will listen for your call. Serena remembers what Liam told her. Then there was Murphy's piece of information. You have a very distinct call.
Serena didn't think there was anything unique about her clicks and whistles, but then again, she never had to use them much. There just wasn't anyone to call.
She opens up her gills along her neck, sucking in cool air and expending it through her mouth. The sound starts as a low hum in her throat, then breezes past her lips in a whistle. Her throat rhythmically closes and opens, adding clipped clicks to the song.
She stops, listening for the echo. The birds and insects of the forest have gone silent, as if they are listening, too. It comes back to her, distorted and murky, as usual in The Dry.
Serena readjusts her breastplate and quiver, waiting. She counts out the span of fifty breakers, then tries again. The birds and insects do not resume their noisy, early-morning chatter. Instead, Serena hears footsteps. She can imagine Liam, in his wolf form, leaning harder to his right side than his left as his prints showed her. Like Ervin—only opposite.
He noses his way through the bushes and Serena stands taller, watching his every movement. He doesn't seem as big this time, and the teeth hanging through his lips not nearly so long. But it is definitely Liam, his crescent moon-shaped marking bright among the rest of his facial fur.
The wolf approaches the wolfsbane, pausing every few feet to sniff at the circle, cringe, and look up at Serena. Around the side of the tree, his path wavers as he moves in and out, as if the circle might retract when he comes closer. This time when he disappears behind the tree, Serena does not strain to look.
She hears popping and groaning, and the rustling of leaves—then Ungainly footsteps. When he comes back into sight, Serena looks at her nails, pretending to pick at them. It is useless because her fingers are covered in scales.
"Bringin' your home to work with you?"
She purses her lips. "What?" Serena finally looks at him and sees he is wrapped in his cape again.
Where does he hide that thing?
"You made your point with the wolfsbane." He moves to kick at one of the flowers sticking up out of the ground, then thinks better of it. "But did you really have to turn your tree into a giant jellyfish?"
Serena smiles, her eyes lighting up as she looks around. He’s right. With the umbrella-shaped canopy pulsating in the wind, and the trailing tentacles that come complete with their own sting, she brought the oldest multi-organ sea animal with her to The Dry.
She looks back at the wolf. "Happy birthday."
There is a split second, where his eyes widen, almost with shock, and his face splits open in a grin—then laughter.
Serena doesn't understand the humor; it was meant as sarcasm. She's been witness to more than one Ungainly birthday, celebrated on the beach, always with gifts and games. It struck her as odd, more than once, how many of them prefer to be close to water when commemorating their birth event.
His laughter trails off as Serena shifts on her branch. The bow still feels awkward in her hands.
I wish I still had Kai's trident.
The wolf readjusts his cape, then saunters over to the tree branch. He makes a show of sucking in to attempt the narrow path to his stump. When he reaches it, he has to back his heels up against it to keep his toes from hitting wolfsbane.
"I guess you didn't realize just how big my feet are," he says, with a nervous laugh.
"Hmm." Serena grunts, channeling Ronan. She at least knows exactly how big his wolf prints are—she'd spent almost the entire night filling in his prints with wolfsbane.
He finally sits, knees up into his chest to avoid flowers. "So, Serena Moon-Shadow. What would you like to discuss?"
"Discuss?" Serena asks.
The wolf puts one hand over his heart, and holds the other in the air. "I propose a temporary truce, in order that we may confer." His voice is high and nasally, mocking her.
Serena steps forward. "I wouldn't call forcing a border between my tree and the rest of your lands a truce, exactly."
His eyes narrow. "And I wouldn't call shovin' a wolfsbane-laced trident in my face a truce, exactly."
Serena presses her lips together. "I was protecting myself. I didn't know your intentions—I still don't."
"And I don't know yours."
She crosses her arms, resisting the urge to stamp in frustration.
"Maybe," the wolf taps his chin, "we can just start by asking each other questions."
Serena shrugs. "Okay, I'll start—since you must still be recovering from that trident that nearly touched your face what…two moons ago?"
The wolf's face goes blank. He is masking an emotion, and Serena doubts it is more humor.
"Where do you hide your cape?" she asks.
He furrows his eyebrows. Thick, they almost touch each other in the center. "That is what you want to know?"
Serena sits down on her branch, legs hanging down from either side. "I thought we'd start simple."
"The answer…is not exactly simple. In fact, I'll take a pass on that question."
Serena crosses her arms. "We are not getting off to a good start here."
He plays with a frayed edge of his cape. "Shall I—?"
"I get another question," Serena interrupts. "Two, in fact. For every one that you don't answer."
He sighs, readjusting the placement of his feet, trying to keep them as far from the wolfsbane as possible.
"You can shift anytime, not only under the full moon?" she asks. The answer is obvious, given the form he arrived in. But right now Serena just wants to get him talking.
Liam looks up into the sky. The moon is a solid crescent tonight, the shape of the birthmark on his face. "Yes," he says.
"Is it the same with all werewolves?"
He pauses for a moment, debating how to answer. "No."
His hesitation was enough; Serena can't fully trust his answer.
The wind picks up and a braided rope swings precariously close to Serena. She leans out of the way.
"Is wolfsbane poisonous to mermaids, too?" Liam asks.
"It's Undine, and is that your question?"
He pauses for a moment. "Yes."
Serena leans away as the braided rope swings back through. She frowns, not wanting to reveal wolfsbane is harmful to Undine, too. They could find a way to use it against her people. This little game is getting more complicated than she expected.
"Two questions for every one you don't answer," taunts Liam.
It is Serena's turn to sigh. "This isn't going to work."
"Ah, and so the tables have turned."
Serena frowns at his statement, looking around. There are no tables, and the only thing turning is the earth they stand on.
Liam stands, brushing off his cape. "We need to start with somethin' a little less damnin’."
Some of his vocabulary can be confusing. She rubs her temples and feels warm light hit her back. The sun has crested the treetops. She doesn't have much time left. Dry sun is harsh on Undine skin and scales, plus it brings out the Ungainlies. "How about we start with a favor?"
Pausing, Liam looks up at Serena. "What kind of favor?"
"Show me your camp." Holding her breath, Serena holds his gaze, trying to put off an air of composure.
"Why?" he asks.
Serena blinks. Oh no—I don't answer this question very well, she thinks of the denial to visit the King's Library after the king himself asked 'why'. She tugs at the bottom of her breastplate, stalling. She could go with the truth, that it is a task assigned to her as a punishment or that Society wants to learn everything they can about the werewolves, but neither of those sit well even with Serena.
"Well," she starts. "The Undine created werewolves. During caste lessons we learned that maidens watched over you, just as you watched over us—in the beginning, at least."
So far so good, Serena judges Liam's reaction. His eyes seemed to have softened a bit.
"I know things have gone terribly wrong, but I believe there is a general feeling from each side that we want to fix this." Serena doesn't know that to be true, but she hopes it is. If the ocean is delivering the Undine ashore in order for their species to survive, it needs to be in the hands of allies, not enemies.
"The maidens are…concerned." Serena remembers Isadora and her request. Now that she thinks about it, was that desperation lining Isadora's eyes as she asked about Alaric? She looks back at Liam, resolve in her voice. "They want to know the werewolves are alive and well." Serena either believes her own lie, or it is no lie at all.
After a long pause, Liam stands up from his stump. He makes his way out of the wolfsbane path, then turns with a flourish. "I swear by my life, all of Clan Werich is alive and well."
Serena shakes her head. "I must see it for myself."
Running a hand through his hair, Liam huffs. He paces back and forth, constantly looking at Serena as if her true intentions might be written on her face.
He needs more convincing.
"I will be in the unique situation of being the only Undine to view the werewolf camp, at least so far as I know. I will pass on only as much information is as needed to convince my king and council to take the peaceful path," Serena says. "That's what you want, isn't it?"
He huffs again but stops pacing. "Okay, I'll take you. But you must stay hidden, and your arrows stay here."
Serena stands, frozen to the tree branch, momentarily stunned by her victory. She has convinced him to trust her, but she still isn't sure if she can trust a werewolf. This is the very species that killed my parents, Serena reminds herself.
"Well, little bird?" Liam taps his foot on the ground. "Are you going to fly down?"
His nickname for her makes her feel vulnerable, and leaving her only weapons behind isn't going to help that. But he is giving her an ultimate sign of trust by showing her the camp, she can at least return the favor.
Serena drops her bow and arrow set on the tree branch and jumps down. A puff of yellow petals rise up at her landing. They float back to the ground like sand after it is picked up by a tumultuous wave.
Bending down, Serena plucks a wolfsbane flower out of the ground by its stem. She twirls it in between her thumb and forefinger, bringing it up to her nose. From over the top of the petals she looks over at Liam, her mind made up.
"Okay. Show me Camp Werich."
The Rising Page 25