Eyes of Crow

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  Eyes were upon her.

  Something moved through the forest, closer and closer to where Rhia lay.

  Her muscles felt frozen. She listened hard in the dark for any sound that would tell her the direction of the—whatever it was. It seemed to lurk behind, then far in front of her. She sat up and stared into the clearing, which was now and then soaked in moonlight as the clouds dissipated and traveled across the sky.

  Needles on the clearing’s floor seemed to compress on their own, though nothing had disturbed them.

  It moved toward her. Her breath—surely the last of its kind—caught in her throat.

  “Who—?”

  The branches behind her shifted. Something furry seized her, pinning her arms. A hand covered her mouth and a voice growled,

  “Please don’t scream.”

  14

  Rhia tried to struggle, to lash out at the unseen foe, but she was held tighter than a fly in a spiderweb. She shrieked an incoherent rant against the palm clamped across her face.

  “Easy, little Crow,” a teasing voice said. “You’ve been waiting for me.”

  She stopped struggling. “Mmmph mhphmm?”

  “Whatever you said, yes. I come from Coranna. My name is Marek.” The man let her go.

  Rhia twisted to face—nothing. Only the cold wind surrounded her. She flailed and hit something soft.

  “Ow,” it said.

  “Who are you?”

  “I told you, I’m Marek. Coranna sent me.” The voice was soft and smooth. “I hope you’re Rhia.”

  Without answering him, she said, “Where are you?”

  “I’m as right here as you are.” He touched her arm, and she flinched. “Sorry. I’m invisible.”

  “I can see that. Or rather, not see it. Can you stop? Can you show yourself?”

  “I don’t have a good grasp on my Wolf powers yet.”

  Rhia recoiled. “Wolf?”

  “Stealth at night. A nice trick, except I can’t control it. You are Rhia, right?”

  She stared at the place where his voice came from. “Why should I trust you?”

  “If you’re Rhia, you’d probably like some of this.”

  A bag dropped out of nowhere into her lap. She opened it cautiously and pulled out—glorious Spirits, food!

  The rabbit meat smelled fresh and warm, as if it had been cooked that night. A pair of red apples tumbled out of the bag.

  She moaned and shoved the meat toward her mouth. Marek grabbed her wrist.

  “Slowly,” he said, “or you’ll get sick.”

  She remembered her manners. “Thank you. For the food. For meeting me here.”

  “You’re welcome. Now eat.”

  She did, marveling at the tenderness of the meat. Whoever had prepared it bore an uncommon talent. The fruit was crisp and juicy, cooling her parched throat.

  After the first life-giving bites, she glanced around. “Where are you now?”

  “Where I was before,” he said with a chuckle.

  “You really can’t be seen at night, even if you try?”

  “Sometimes, if I concentrate hard, I can produce a shimmer. Wait a moment.” He paused. “Is that better?”

  “You mean, can I see you?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Damn.” He let out a gust of air. “I’ve been trying.”

  “I believe you.” She looked at the remnants of her meal and felt a pang of shame. “Would you like some of this?”

  “I already ate, but thank you.”

  “You’re wel—”

  A cold shiver ran down Rhia’s spine. Had they already met? “You said you were Wolf, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Not a wolf.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “I saw a wolf earlier. It was old and hungry. Alone.”

  “What did you do?”

  Rhia said nothing, feeling foolish to have thought he could turn into a wolf. Shapeshifting was a third-phase power for some Animals—Foxes, for instance—and Marek’s voice sounded too young to be a grandfather. Besides, she’d never met a Wolf, for there were none in Asermos, and she wasn’t sure if they could shapeshift at all.

  “You gave it the rest of your food, didn’t you?” he said. “That’s why you were so hungry.”

  She shrugged. “I knew you were coming.”

  “But you didn’t know when,” he said. “The wolf may have been a test of your compassion, sent by the Spirits. It’ll return the favor someday, you’ll see.”

  Marek’s voice felt like a warm breath against Rhia’s neck, even though he was a few feet away. She shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he asked her. “You can have my coat. I don’t need it.”

  “I’ve got a coat.”

  “I noticed.” His voice took on a disapproving note. “Wolf skin.”

  Her face grew warm. “Sorry.”

  “I’m joking. I’ve got one, too. Feel.”

  A furry arm brushed her cheek, and she jerked back.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said.

  “I know.” After all, Crow had declared her escort to be “very good.” With Marek she felt safe, but not in the helpless way of a child with a parent. She felt safe and strong. “You startled me, that’s all.”

  “I do that sometimes.”

  “Why is your coat invisible, too?”

  “If I touch most of something, it disappears, like me. But not if I only touch a bit. Watch that apple closely.” A shadow in the shape of a fingertip obscured part of the apple’s peel. “But if I hold it in my hand…”

  The shadow enveloped the apple, whereupon it vanished. Rhia grabbed the air for the missing fruit.

  “You are a hungry one, aren’t you?” he said. “Just like a Crow.” He took her hand and placed the smooth apple in her palm. When he pulled away, the fruit reappeared.

  “Coranna’s the same way,” he said. “Never get between her and her next meal—the most valuable advice I can give you in your entire training.”

  Rhia turned the apple over in her hands, marveling at its reappearance. “Are you Coranna’s son?”

  “In a way,” Marek said. “When my parents died, about ten years ago, I went to live with her, helped with her duties. I was only ten, not ready to live on my own. We needed each other, so we made our own family.”

  “That’s wonderful. And unusual.”

  “Not in Kalindos. We don’t put so much stake in blood relations. Everyone takes care of everyone else. We have to, or we’d never survive.”

  “I’m sorry about your parents. I lost my mother last summer.”

  “I wondered who had died, seeing your short hair.”

  Rhia twisted the ends of her curls self-consciously. They were only now reaching her shoulders. “Kalindons cut their hair in mourning, too?”

  “We share a lot of the same customs. I think you’ll find we’re not so strange after all.”

  She looked toward him with an odd sense of shyness. “You’re the first Kalindon I’ve met, and I can’t even see you. That’s a bit strange.”

  “You can see me.”

  “How?”

  “Two choices—wait for daylight, when the sun will show me in all my nonexistent glory, or try this.” He took her hand and tugged off her mitten.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Letting you see me.”

  He drew her hand, palm open, toward himself. Warm skin met hers, a cheek with a light coating of stubble, long enough to be soft instead of harsh. Her fingers curved under his chin. She stared hard at the shape they created as they traced his jaw.

  “You’ll see me better if you close your eyes.”

  Rhia hesitated, then followed his suggestion. He was right. The chin was strong but not pointed. She put her other hand under his jaw to steady his head while she explored the area around his eyes. His brows were thin with a slight arch, and what felt like a thick set of lashes grazed his skin. Her fingers continued down t
he bridge of his nose, which tilted up slightly at its tip. Then she stopped.

  “Go on,” he whispered.

  She was suddenly conscious of the closeness of their bodies, and feared to touch his mouth. Instead she pinched his nose shut.

  “Hey!” Marek laughed and tried to pull away, but she kept hold until he grabbed her wrist and squeezed it to make her let go. “That hurt.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.” She heard him rub his nose with his other hand. “What did I do to deserve that?”

  “Nothing yet. Are you going to let go of me now?”

  “Not until you’re finished. For all you know, I’m bald with a harelip.”

  “Then hold still.”

  She reached forward gingerly, making sure to avoid poking him in the eyes. The first thing her hand contacted was his mouth.

  Her mind ordered her fingers to move on, but they disobeyed, tracing the outline of his lips, which parted slightly at her touch. A reckless desire to slip her fingertips inside overcame her, to feel the warm moistness within. She thought she heard his breath quicken.

  Without removing her right hand from his lips, she ran her left hand over his hair, then gasped.

  It was short. Very short, the length barely two spans of her fingers.

  “You’ve lost someone,” she whispered.

  He hesitated. “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  With a gentle but firm motion, he removed her hands from his head. “That’s enough. You must be tired.” When he let go of her, she felt cold and alone. A blanket was pulled from Marek’s pack. “Sleep on the inside,” he said, “next to the trunk. You’ll be warmer there, and safer.”

  Rhia considered protesting that she didn’t need any coddling, but the rigor of the last few days had taken its toll. She longed to sleep soundly and let someone else take charge of worrying for one night.

  She lay facing away from Marek and heard him settle and draw the blanket around himself.

  “It’s a few days’ walk to Kalindos,” he said, “but tomorrow we’ll get as far as the river where we can catch some fish.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  Her stomach, though nearly full, growled a hearty agreement. Marek chuckled.

  She peeked over her shoulder. His blanket was gone, having absorbed his invisibility. She wanted to tug it off of him, slowly, to see when it would slip into sight again.

  Instead she turned back to the tree and pulled her own blanket over her head, hoping that her breath would generate enough warmth in the enclosed space. Her teeth chattered now that the ground was soaking up her body’s heat. If the temperature dropped further, sleep could become dangerous.

  “If you’re cold—” Marek started to say, but before he finished the sentence, Rhia had scooted over to press her back against his. The night was too cold to fret over improprieties. She held her hand before her face. Still visible. The gesture reminded her of something.

  “When you first got here,” she said, “why did you grab me?”

  “I thought it would scare you less than having a disembodied voice speak your name.”

  “I just had my Bestowing. Disembodied voices have become a regular occurrence. But why tell me not to scream?”

  “Oh. That was for me. I have sensitive ears.”

  Rhia thought about his ears, how they had felt between her fingers, just before he had pulled away. She realized, with a mixture of wonder and shame, that she probably knew the contours of Marek’s face better than Arcas’s. Already her former lover was fading from her mind, which was what he claimed to want. Still, the white stone he had given her pressed her thigh through the trouser pocket where it lay, and she wondered if he slept alone tonight.

  “You don’t like wolves, do you?” Marek said.

  “I’d never met one up close until tonight. Person or animal.”

  “Odd that Asermos has no Wolf people. Kalindos has plenty.”

  Rhia tried to think of a good reason. “Wolves kill sheep.”

  “How many sheep? In a year, for instance.”

  “Last year there was one, a lamb.”

  “And how many lambs froze to death during a blizzard or starved after their mothers abandoned them?”

  Rhia didn’t reply, since the answer was far more than one.

  “I would never hurt you.” Marek’s voice was mild now. “A real wolf would never hurt you, either.”

  “I’ve heard stories. A baby was stolen—”

  “I’ve heard that story, too. It was during a harsh winter. But you have to wonder why anyone would leave an infant alone near the forest unless they wanted it to be taken by wolves.”

  “That’s horrible!”

  “Like I said, it was a harsh winter.”

  “It can’t be true.”

  “Truer than a wolf sneaking into a house to steal a human child. Trust me, wolves fear you more than you fear them.”

  Chastened, she returned to teasing. “Do you fear me?”

  Marek’s laughter rang through the forest. After it died to a low rumble, he said, “Probably someday.”

  15

  Rhia woke later that night, her muscles stiff from the cold air and hard ground. It was becoming a familiar feeling—other than the few glorious minutes in the warm pool, the last five days had given her nothing but discomfort. Now her body felt heavy as well as rigid.

  A thick curl of her hair had fallen across her face, tickling her nose. She untwisted one of her hands from the blanket and reached to push back the rogue strand.

  Fingers bumped her forehead hard. She opened her eyes wider.

  Her hand was gone.

  With a mixture of horror and fascination, Rhia brought her indiscernible hand to her face again. The mitten’s fabric felt cold against her warm cheek. She removed it but saw nothing. The moonlight is playing tricks with my vision, she thought, blinking hard.

  She remembered Marek then, and tried to turn over to alert him to her invisible state. But she was pinned by something heavy across her waist and against her back. Had a branch fallen on her? Wouldn’t she have noticed, even in her sleep, if she had almost been struck dead by a piece of tree?

  Nothing lay on top of the blanket, so she felt underneath. Her hand brushed against fur. She yelped.

  The weight lifted immediately, taking the blankets with it.

  “What is it?” Marek said. “Something out there?” He sounded as groggy as she felt.

  “Something crawled under my blanket.” She sat up and felt the ground for the creature, who by now must have skittered off into the forest. As she did so, her hand reappeared. She held her arm in front of her face, grateful to see it again.

  “There’s no animal.” He sniffed the air. “I would hear it or at least smell it.”

  “I felt it.” Her hands flailed, and brushed the same furry object. This time she seized it. “There it is again.”

  “That’s my arm.”

  “Oh.” She held on to it a moment longer, then realized what had happened. “Oh.” She let go.

  “You were shivering in your sleep. I was cold, too, so I rolled over to warm us a little.”

  “You turned me invisible.”

  “To warm us a lot, then. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

  “It didn’t—not physically, at least.”

  “Good.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments. Rhia already felt cold from exposure to the air. She wished she hadn’t cried out.

  “I guess we should go back to sleep,” Marek said. Her blanket appeared. “Here, I took this when I sat up.”

  She lay down on her back and heard him settle into his original place a few feet away. She tried to relax into sleep, but the cold kept her muscles tight. Her skin seemed to cry out for him—for his warmth, she told herself, though she knew it wasn’t the complete truth.

  Her teeth chattered again. She tried to clamp her mouth shut, but it made her jaw ache, and she worried she would bite her tongue. She
curled up on her side facing Marek, holding in her own heat as much as possible. It didn’t work.

  “Please come back,” she said, not knowing how to ask him in any way but a plain request.

  He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  “Very.”

  He shifted close again. His blanket appeared and covered hers, then he crawled underneath to join her cocoon. She laughed—with relief at the warmth, and with more than a bit of nervousness.

  “Much better.” Rhia nestled against him, her head tucked under his chin, and placed her cold hands against his chest, which she barely felt through his thick coat. Marek wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her closer. She sighed, a little too loudly.

  “Is this all right?” he asked.

  She nodded against his collarbone, trying to ignore how well their bodies fit together. “It should feel strange,” she thought out loud.

  “But it doesn’t.” He tugged the blankets over their heads to create a cave of warmth, so dark it didn’t matter anymore that they were invisible.

  “Good night again,” she said, half hoping it wouldn’t be.

  Marek didn’t reply. His hands were tight with tension on her back, and she wondered if he were going to push her away. Did she smell bad? If he smelled animals from a distance, how would her scent invade his nose, without so much as a handspan between them? And what about her emotions? The hounds at home could smell fear; wolves must have twice their ability.

  But fear was the least of her feelings. Knowing that she merely had to tilt her chin to bring their lips together, that with a few slight maneuvers her fingers could slip inside his coat—such thoughts fueled the heat building beneath her skin.

  “I get stiff lying on my right side,” she lied. “I need to turn over. Sorry to disturb you.”

  Marek lifted the blanket so Rhia could roll onto her left side, then looped his arm across her waist and pressed against her again.

  This new configuration was not an improvement. If anything, it was more maddening, for now his hand was splayed on her stomach, only a few fingers’ width in either direction from places that begged for his touch.

  They lay perfectly still for what felt like an eternity, the only sound coming from their shallow, guarded breaths. Finally her legs grew tired of their tautness, and she stretched them with a sigh. The motion pushed her hips against his groin. He let out a gust of air.