by Jim Galford
“No,” she repeated. When Raeln did not back down from staring at her like she was lying, she put the claws of one hand down on her other forearm. Before Raeln understood what she was doing, Feanne slashed her own arm, leaving long bleeding gashes that dribbled blood all over the brush. “I haven’t felt anything.”
Startled, Raeln grabbed her arm and hurriedly wrapped a cloth over the wounds to slow the bleeding and help prevent infection. He looked over his shoulder and found Estin over near the other two cooks, apparently unaware of the exchange that had just occurred. The man was filling bowls with steaming soup and attempting to stack several atop one another.
“We need to have Estin look at these,” Raeln said once he had the makeshift bandage tied off. He would have to somehow tell Estin that he had cut her by accident or Estin would be beside himself with fear for Feanne.
Feanne snorted and pulled her arm away. “On’esquin says that he can hardly heal a bruise,” Feanne snapped, but then closed her mouth and lowered her eyes as Estin made his way over to them, carrying two bowls of the hearty soup.
Estin said nothing, as had become his habit when they were training. He went straight to Feanne, pausing briefly as his eyes drifted over the bandage on Feanne’s arm. Raeln could see Estin’s jaw tense, but he kept quiet, walking right up to Feanne and raising her bowl to her, partially bowing as he did so. Meekly, he focused his eyes on the ground as he held out the food and did not look up until she had taken the bowl gruffly from him.
Half-heartedly, Estin shoved the second bowl into Raeln’s hands and walked away.
Raeln recognized the manner from other wildlings growing up…Estin was offering a potential mate food in a way meant to show her he was putting her before his own meal and interests. Wolves might have handled things somewhat differently, but Estin was not ignorant of how to approach a predatory breed and make the appropriate gestures. If Feanne understood, Raeln could not see it in her blank expression each day. Each time Estin would hurry off, saying nothing, but looking more hurt.
“Why does he stay?” asked Feanne once Estin was far enough away that he would not hear. “He doesn’t belong here. The rest of us are warriors. He isn’t…not a warrior by breed or by training. Even the fae woman can hold her own, though I have doubts about her value as well. He could at least fight with us to try to pretend like he has some value here.”
Raeln sat down with his bowl, trying to think of how he wanted to phrase things. He knew full well how badly the loss of Feanne’s memories was hurting Estin, and he did not want to make matters worse. Given how little Estin had told Feanne about their past, he had to pick his words carefully. Estin had not explained much to him, but had briefly mentioned his desire not to spring anything on Feanne that she had not already figured out somewhat on her own.
“Feanne…he cares about you. He honestly cares about all of us, probably more than he should.”
Holding up her bowl, Feanne replied, “He belongs in here, not walking around and acting like we’re old friends. Every instinct in me says that I should chase him off or kill him for food.”
“He is our friend.”
“He’s your friend, not mine,” Feanne answered, taking a bite of the meat in the thick soup before adding, “I remember nothing that would make him matter. If he can’t heal, he can’t help us. Send him away or I’ll put him down before he gets us all killed.”
“Estin gave you back your life and saved mine. We owe him a lot more than sending him away because his magic is diminished.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t grateful. I said he wasn’t my friend. I have no reason to consider him anything but a rodent that continues to try to draw my eye. I may not remember my past, but I’m not an idiot…I see him watching me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.”
“The heart knows what it wants,” Raeln replied without thinking. He had not meant to say anything that might hint at Feanne and Estin’s former relationship.
Feanne either did not understand what he said or simply ignored it as she watched him. “Enough about Estin,” Feanne said, smiling as she idly scratched at the white patch of fur that ran up her neck and down between her breasts. “You draw the eye far more easily than him.”
Raeln’s ears shot up and his skin prickled. He knew that tone and realized the danger he was suddenly in. He had heard the female wolves back in his village speak to—or about—him that same way. Ishande had very nearly mauled him with that same look in her eyes. Uncomfortable did not even begin to describe his feelings.
“Not a chance, Feanne,” he replied, eating some of his soup. When he looked up again, she was still studying him.
“I’m not asking you for anything permanent, maybe just to keep warm at night. It has to have been a long time since you found anyone…I’m guessing longer for me. I don’t want to be your mate for life, just a bed companion. If I need to be forceful…”
Raeln struggled to swallow his food. He was caught somewhere between panic and outright laughter. “Trust me in this,” Raeln told her as firmly as he could manage. “There is no one here that interests me.”
“No one?”
“Absolutely no one.”
“You only have interest in other wolves, then?”
Raeln nodded, trying to keep from saying more than he already had. There were enough conflicts and hard feelings in the group that he had no desire to add to them. Telling her that she was the wrong gender was hardly going to go over well.
Sighing, Feanne went back to eating, saying nothing further, though Raeln caught her watching him from the corners of her eyes. She was plotting something and he knew it would be a problem when she acted on it.
Eating quickly, Raeln excused himself the moment he finished his food and hurried toward the wagon where the others were waiting. He made it almost halfway before Dalania intercepted him, stepping out from the trees where she had managed to be nearly invisible. She fell in alongside Raeln, motioning him forward to keep him from stopping.
“Is she well?” the woman asked, taking care not to give any gesture that would be visible at a distance. “She appears lost in thought and I hoped…”
“No, she still remembers nothing. If anything, things are worse. She apparently thinks I’m the man she’d rather bed than Estin. She’s made it pretty clear that I don’t get a say in the matter and she’ll keep trying.”
Dalania’s eyes widened and she looked past Raeln toward where Estin stood near the other men. “Do not share this with him,” she warned, lowering her voice. “It will break his heart. More importantly, rebuff her offers or this entire group might descend into more infighting than it has already experienced.”
“That, I can do.”
Nodding absently, Dalania added, “Go and see that the others do not waste their time squabbling. I’ll see how Feanne is doing and try to steer her away from you. She might listen to another woman.”
Raeln reached out to touch the woman’s arm in thanks, but Dalania flinched away so sharply that Raeln wondered if she thought he meant to strike her. Before he could ask, she hurried back to join Feanne, leaving him wondering.
“Are all of us broken?” Raeln asked himself softly, watching the dryad go. “I sure wouldn’t bet on us making it across a street together, let alone to Turessi. There’s more baggage here than a wagon can carry.”
Shaking his head, Raeln continued toward the wagon. The three men there hardly seemed to even notice he had arrived. On’esquin and Yoska were shouting at one another, the gist of which seemed to be that On’esquin believed the meat was overcooked and thus spoiling the taste of the soup, while Yoska believed On’esquin was an idiot. Estin was involved in none of it, leaning against the wagon nearby, holding his notebook of magic, though Raeln could see he was staring at it without seeing what was in his hands.
“Estin, do you have a moment?” Raeln asked, and Estin jumped a little. Nodding, the man followed Raeln around the back of the wagon, getting them out of the middle of the argu
ment about food.
The wagon they had acquired from the Turessian—before lighting her other two wagons ablaze and setting the remaining horses free—was a hulking fifteen foot long boxlike thing, seemingly built to house dozens of undead in its tightly sealed interior. It had taken them hours to break open the windows that had been built into it originally, which was a requirement to air it out enough that they could travel within it, especially for the wildings. They had also looted the meager supplies the Turessian had left behind in the various wagons, including a massive barrel of aged wine that Yoska had all but claimed ownership of. To Raeln it seemed Yoska drank more than his own weight in alcohol on any day he had the opportunity.
Coming around the side of the wagon with Raeln, Estin nervously wiped at his shirt and finally blurted out, “She’s not getting better, is she?”
“Yes and no,” Raeln admitted. “As you’d hoped, fighting is bringing back those skills faster than I had expected. Another week and she’ll be able to tear me apart at this rate. She already punches harder than most men my size. What she isn’t getting back are memories. She’s relying on instinct and what she’s seen since she came back. Anything before the fight in the village is simply gone.”
Estin thought a moment and then cringed. “That’s why she’s openly hostile to me. When we met the first time, she put aside her opinions of working with a prey-breed because of a misunderstanding. This time she has no reason to trust me at all. She saw me beaten by the Turessian.”
“What would you have me do?” asked Raeln, thinking on Feanne’s offer and dreading when Estin found out…and Raeln knew somehow he would eventually. He wanted some way to warn Estin before Feanne snuck into his bedroll, but that was going to be awkward either way. As edgy as Estin had been of late, the moment Feanne did something too obvious, he was likely to snap and try to kill someone…likely Raeln.
“We can’t repeat the past, no matter how we try,” Estin replied, taking a deep breath. “She’ll do what she wants…she always has. I can hope, but that’s really all it can be. Please help me keep the knowledge from her about our children…I think it would only confuse things more. If she finds out that we were together, I’ll deal with the anger and attempts to kill me, but I can’t have her hating our children.”
“You have my promise, Estin.”
Estin thanked him and hurried off, leaving Raeln to wonder how badly this all might end and how he had managed to get himself in the middle of it. Shaking his head at the senselessness of it all, he looked back toward the camp and saw Feanne smiling at him. This was not going to be easy.
*
Days passed relatively uneventfully, something Raeln was thankful for. The wagon had been unhindered in its travels up the long road to the next kingdom or city-state—Raeln had lost track of what came next on the map despite incessant prattling by On’esquin and Yoska—other than a few times they had passed the remains of battles long past. There never were any bodies, but they had seen the burned-out remains of wagons and even siege weaponry, and the wildlings had all picked up the strong scent of death. Thousands had died, but there was little evidence of it.
“I never thought I would travel,” said Dalania, snapping Raeln out of staring at the horizon. “Eighty years and I thought I would die in Lantonne, never having seen any other part of the world. I could die happy just having seen this much.”
Dalania sat at one edge of the wagon’s flat roof, her legs hanging off the side as she watched the eastern lands. Past her, patches of woods had given way there to high grass and low hills, stretching out as far as Raeln could see. The only interruption to the endless plains was a faint fog at the limit of his vision that never seemed to leave.
Raeln and Estin sat in the middle of the roof, both having been quietly watching the distance ahead of the wagon. They had never spoken of why, but Raeln could see Estin was doing it for the same reason he was: anticipation that the Turessians would have something sooner or later in their path. The two of them had taken on the role of scouts after being rebuffed from driving the wagon day after day.
Down below, Yoska and On’esquin took turns handling the horses that pulled the wagon ever northward. The two bickered incessantly like an old married couple. Of late Raeln had been able to ignore the men’s banter, as On’esquin had insisted on being taught the old gypsy tongue, which led to them arguing in gypsy more often than the common language. It was loud and obnoxious, but at least he could more easily put aside things he could not understand.
The horses were faring well, despite the nonstop arguments from their drivers. The six beasts lumbered on each day without causing any trouble whatsoever. Amusingly, at least to Raeln, Yoska had named them after six of his wives during the last long stop for water at a creek. Raeln still had not figured out if that was meant to be funny or somehow respectful to a gypsy.
Looking off to his left, Raeln saw Feanne was where she always was. The fox wildling sat at the edge of the wagon opposite Dalania, her knees pulled up so she could prop her chin on them and stare off toward the west, where the mountains had begun to fade into the distance. She rarely spoke to anyone other than Raeln, and even to him only when they were sparring, since the last time he had told her to go away when he was trying to sleep.
“How’s your arm?” Raeln asked Feanne, though he initially got no response.
She blinked a moment later and looked his way, seemingly having to think back to what he had asked. “I don’t know,” she replied, holding up the still-wrapped arm. “It doesn’t hurt, so I imagine it’s healing.”
“What did Estin say when he looked at it last evening?” Though Estin did not look his way, Raeln saw his ears perk.
“I didn’t have him look at it. I don’t want him touching me.”
Raeln looked down at the bandage on Feanne’s arm and realized how filthy it looked. “What about the day before?”
Feanne shook her head and watched the horizon, as Estin started to turn their way, giving Raeln an annoyed glare.
“When was the last time you had those bandages changed?” Raeln demanded, moving closer.
“Do they need to be changed?”
Raeln frowned and glanced at Estin, who was pointedly ignoring them, even though his ears tilted toward Feanne. He had been doing that for days, mostly to keep himself from trying to interact with Feanne, which would only have made his emotions more difficult. As such, Raeln was willing to bet Estin had not gone out of his way to check the bandage, either. Everyone was so busy ignoring problems that no one was doing anything to help anymore.
Taking Feanne’s hand, Raeln began unwrapping the bandage. “Let me see. Hopefully, we can get you out of bandages in another day or two…”
With one more layer of the cloth to go, Raeln came to thickly dried blood and the stench of decay. From the corner of his eye, he saw Estin’s nose twitching. Even through Feanne’s fur and his thick pads, he could feel the heat coming off her skin.
“Infection has already set in pretty badly,” Raeln told her, though Feanne’s expression gave him no indication that she understood. “We need to clean this and probably see what Estin can do to keep it from getting worse. You could lose the arm if we aren’t careful.”
Appearing entirely bored with the discussion and unconcerned about what should have been a truly painful infection, Feanne let Raeln continue to hold her arm while she turned her attention back to the mountains in the distance. “I miss them already,” she mentioned absently, while Raeln was picking at the cloth that had matted into her fur.
“Miss what?”
“The mountains. My home was there, I think.”
Raeln froze with the cloth only partway freed of the dry blood. “Do you remember anything about your home?” he asked, wondering if he should call Estin over in a hurry.
“No,” she replied quickly. “It’s a feeling and little more. All I do know is that the farther we go, the sadder I feel, like I’ve left something behind that should be with me. I’ve
lost a part of myself somewhere out there.”
Raeln let her talk as he kept working on the bandage, hoping she would talk herself through remembering. With only one section of the cloth left to pull away from the wounds, he hesitated, warning her, “This may hurt.”
Nodding but still watching the horizon, Feanne did not flinch as Raeln pried away the cloth. With the removal of the dried blood, the festering gashes beneath began bleeding openly. The cuts appeared far worse than they had when first inflicted, the infection having done tremendous damage to the skin around them, puffing up the area and radiating heat.
“Estin!” Raeln called out, pressing part of the cloth onto the wounds to slow the bleeding. “I need you over here.”
Practically hopping into Raeln’s lap, Estin dove for Feanne’s arm, looking around at the wounds frantically as blood ran through her fur and down onto his hands. He shoved Raeln back, telling him, “I need room. The infection is already in her blood. This could kill her in a few days, untreated.”
Feanne turned to look at Estin, regarding him coolly, clearly unconcerned and wanting Estin to be done and gone.
“It was clean when I saw it last,” Raeln said, staring in dismay at the infection. “There is no way it should have festered so quickly. Another week, sure, but this was so fast.”
Estin shook his head. “She isn’t healing right. Bruises are lasting days, cuts for weeks. Something this deep is probably more than her body can handle.” Closing his eyes, Estin whispered to himself as he put one hand over the cuts. Blood soon soaked his black-furred hands even as he continued to concentrate. Raeln could only watch helplessly, hoping Estin knew what he was doing.
Soon Estin opened his eyes and lifted his hand, revealing the deep cuts had closed about halfway. Even the puffiness and blackened edges of the skin had returned to a more normal appearance. It was not the miraculous healing Estin had used on him a year earlier, but Raeln recognized it as a huge leap from what he had been capable of shortly after bringing Feanne back.