Unleashed

by Tiffany Roberts

  Vortok rose and walked over to her, watching over her shoulder as she rummaged through her bag. She pushed aside the blanket and pulled out the wrapped meat from the bottom.

  “It’s not much,” she said, peeling the cloth open, “but it might help a little until we can hunt.” She plucked her knife out of the bag, sliced off a piece of meat, and offered it to Vortok.

  Balir was there suddenly, silent and white as a ghost. He halted Vortok’s reach by clasping a hand over the big valo’s forearm. “Just as when we were children, Vortok. We must wash before we accept her food. We are overdue.”

  Vortok frowned, gaze shifting from Balir to the food. He stared at it longingly for a few moments before releasing a deep sigh.

  Nina looked up at Balir, studying his features. He kept his expression well masked, hiding his inner struggle, but she sensed the turmoil under the surface. He was locked in a fierce battle with his own hunger, clinging to the sliver of control he maintained over his beast lest it come forward and take control again. She dipped her gaze to his free hand, which was trembling faintly, and folded the cloth over the meat again. She dug her soap out of her bag and held it out to Balir.

  “Go ahead and clean up,” she said, offering them a smile. “I’ll wait.”

  With some hesitation, Balir accepted the soap, breaking off a piece to hand to Vortok. The valos walked into the water side-by-side. Nina couldn’t imagine what they were going through, even if she could pick up on many of their thoughts and feelings through her psychic ability. To be locked up as beasts for a thousand years…

  Balir and Vortok waded into the deepest part of the stream, which only reached the middle of Vortok’s thighs, and sank down into the water. Nina watched as they washed, watched as they moved their hands over their bodies, as refracted light sparkled in the rivulets of water running over their ridges of muscle, as moisture beaded on Vortok’s fur and in his bushy mane.

  She sensed something ease in them as they rinsed away the grime of their long imprisonment, sensed their beasts recede a little more.

  To distract herself, Nina removed her waterskin from her bag and crawled to the water’s edge, leaning down to refill it.

  Balir emerged from the stream first. Water cascaded off his pale, finely-scaled skin, and he flicked more of it from his long, pliable tail. After some vigorous scrubbing of his mane, Vortok followed. He paused on the bank to shake what seemed like buckets-full of water from his fur. Laughing, Nina raised a hand to block her face from the torrent. He glanced at her and grinned.

  They were still dripping wet when they settled down next to her, but they looked better, healthier, with the dirt and blood washed away.

  She cut a second large piece of meat for Balir and held a strip out to each of them. “Here.”

  Nina was forced to reevaluate what large meant when Vortok accepted his piece. He offered her a rumbling thanks and ate nine-tenths of the strip on his first bite.

  Balir seemed more restrained as he took his piece, and was slightly more eloquent in his thanks, but she saw his lips peel back to reveal his sharp teeth an instant before he turned away. He ate quickly, and the sounds he produced were those of a predator feasting on a fresh kill.

  She sensed their shame, particularly Balir’s, but it was overpowered by their beasts’ cravings. Their hunger pained her.

  “Where do you think Aduun went?” she asked, hoping to distract them from their emotions as she rooted around in her bag for the pouch of nuts and dried berries. Upon finding it, she opened it a poured some into in her palm, holding it out to Vortok.

  He smiled. It wasn’t an attractive smile, but its genuineness brightened his eyes, and that provided all the charm it needed. She dumped the mix from her hand onto his open palm and watched with no small amount of wonder as his huge, thick fingers delicately plucked up one tiny nut or berry at a time and tossed them between his lips.

  “To scout, or to brood,” he said. “Both, probably.”

  Balir turned back to Nina. “His thoughts have been dark since Kelsharn betrayed our people.” He accepted her offering of nuts and berries, though the set of his lips as he ate suggested he didn’t care for their taste. “He carries the weight of all that has happened upon his shoulders, and it has been slowly crushing him.”

  “It’s not his fault,” Nina said softly. “The Creators deceived everyone.”

  “Whether the fault is his or not, he’s taken it for himself.” Balir straightened, turning his head and falling silent for several seconds. “I can only relate what I have observed. He alone can speak the truth of his heart.”

  Somewhere beyond Balir, the undergrowth rustled. Vortok twisted to look in the direction of the sounds, and Aduun emerged from the tall grass a few moments afterward. His short fur looked clean; he’d likely entered the water somewhere else along the stream, out of sight, to wash himself off. He held several stalks of a long, pale plant in one hand.

  Moonweed.

  “Would you like something to eat?” Nina offered a piece of meat and a handful of nuts and berries to Aduun as he approached.

  His gaze shifted from the meat to the mix and back again. The muscles of his jaw ticked. “No. Better to save the food that will last, in case we have no luck when we hunt.”

  “Oh.” She lowered her hands. He was right; they didn’t know how long they’d be here, or how difficult it would be to obtain food. She’d just thought…

  It had been so long since they’d eaten, and they were so hungry. She just wanted to give them something.

  Quietly, she returned the food to her bag and closed it. Vortok groaned.

  Aduun crouched before her and held up the stalks in his hand. “Do you know what this is?”

  Nina looked at Aduun first, then turned her eyes to the plant. “Yes. Moonweed.”

  “You know how it is used?”

  “I do.”

  He nodded and handed her one of the stalks while biting a piece off another.

  She took the plant and bit a chunk from the tip. Aduun chewed along with her. The moonweed was tough and bitter, but when made into a paste, it aided in healing wounds and preventing infection. When steeped in water and drank, it helped reduce fevers. Orishok had taught her about it when she was young. His people had used it often, and Orishok had used it to tend to her numerous times when she’d fallen ill as a child.

  Aduun reached into his mouth, offering her a glimpse of his fangs, and removed a pasty wad of moonweed. He lifted the stalk to his mouth for another bite as he dabbed the paste over the claw marks on her left shoulder. Nina flinched, hissing through her teeth. His fingers were surprisingly gentle, but the paste stung like hell, and her wounds were tender.

  They alternated chewing the moonweed and using it to cover her wounds one at a time, and before long, her attention had shifted almost entirely to him. The depth of his amber eyes was astonishing; even the complex emotions coming from Balir and Vortok couldn’t drag her away from being swallowed by Aduun’s gaze.

  “Thank you,” she said when he rubbed the paste over the last of the cuts on her leg.

  He acknowledged her thanks with a low grunt and held the remaining moonweed to her. “Take these so we may tend your wounds as needed.”

  Nina pulled a spare cloth out of her bag and used it to wrap the stalks before tucking them away. Aduun’s thoughtfulness touched her. Though he didn’t trust her, he’d gone out of his way to retrieve the plant and took the time to administer it.

  Aduun stood up and looked at the other valos. “I do not know how Kelsharn made this place, but its sun is setting. We must continue on and find a suitable site to camp before dark.”

  Nina rose and buckled her belt around her waist, adjusting the position of her sheathed dagger so it was at her right hip. She slung her bag over her head, resting the strap over one shoulder. Though its weight pulled the skin of her claw wounds taut, the discomfort was minimal compared to what it had been before being treated by the moonweed.

  They cro
ssed the stream and continued deeper into the woods. Though she was still tired, the cool water had rejuvenated her, and the gradual decline they seemed to be moving down helped conserve her newfound energy.

  The chittering calls of various small creatures both on the ground and in the branches sounded from all around. Just as it had begun to feel like the sounds were part of Kelsharn’s tricks, meant to give the illusion of life, the group spotted small animals scurrying across the fallen leaves. The sighting offered some hope of a warm meal before night fell.

  Conversation was sparse but seemed to flow easily between the valos when it came despite their tensions with one another. Though Nina consciously avoided delving into their minds, she saw occasional glimpses — brief scenes of pain or suffering and tiny flashes of happiness and contentment, much of it from before they’d been made into valos.

  The quality of the light altered as time passed; soon, the orange stain of late afternoon deepened toward the red-orange of evening. Balir and Aduun split up and moved ahead to scout, leaving Nina and Vortok alone for a little while. They passed the time continuing steadily forward, gathering suitable wood for a fire as they went.

  When Balir and Aduun returned, they announced that they’d discovered a good place to camp.

  Preparations at the campsite occurred with little outward communication. Despite having been caged for so long, the valos fell into their old ways easily, each taking on necessary tasks without the need to be told. They constructed a simple but effective shelter of sticks and leaves before gathering brambly undergrowth to create a low defensive wall around their camp.

  Nina busied herself by arranging the wood she’d collected and igniting it with her fire starter. There was no reason to worry about its heat drawing hungry beasts tonight — she’d be sleeping alongside predators that were likely more dangerous than anything out there. When Aduun left to hunt, Nina helped finish the shelter.

  By the time darkness fell, the shelter was complete, they had sufficient fuel to maintain the fire through the night, and Aduun had returned with fresh kills.

  Soon, the mouthwatering aroma of roasting meat filled the air. Nina’s stomach growled as she watched the food cook over the open flames, sizzling and dripping juices. She devoured her share when it was ready, eating just as ravenously as the others.

  The food in her stomach had barely settled when her exhaustion reintroduced itself. Her body ached, her limbs felt clumsy and heavy, and her eyes burned. But her weariness wasn’t limited to the physical; her mental strain was even more taxing.

  She yawned so deeply that she nearly collapsed beside the fire.

  Something moved nearby; she turned her head to see Vortok open her bag and withdraw her blanket. He draped it over her lap, and before her sleep-deprived mind could guess what he meant to do, he scooped her up into his huge arms.

  “Vortok?” she asked, confused. Her eyelids resisted the command to stay open. Rather than fight, she rested her head against Vortok’s shoulder, allowing the gentle motion of his steps to lull her toward sleep. His fur provided a thin layer of softness over his rock-solid muscles, and he was so warm…

  “Rest, Nina.” His voice was deep and soothing as he laid her down beneath the shelter.

  Nina hummed in assent and let sleep claim her.

  Vortok walked from the shelter to the fireside, his heavy footfalls crunching fallen leaves. “She’s asleep,” he said as he eased himself into a sitting position.

  Aduun glanced across the fire. Nina was obscured from him by the blanket and the dancing shadows cast by the firelight. The slow rise and fall of the fabric was the only indication she was there — well, that and her scent, which even the smell of burning wood couldn’t mask.

  His beast stirred. Its original instinct had been to flee the fire, but it wanted something very different now. He’d seen her in the stream, and his arousal had been swift and unwelcome. Why should this small, fragile creature incite his lust? He’d not asked for her to blood his heartstone. He’d not asked to be bound to her.

  Just as he’d never asked to be bound to Kelsharn.

  I cannot allow my will to be bent to another’s again.

  Baring his teeth, he shifted his focus to the warmth of the flames. After so many years in a cold cage, this was a welcome sensation, and it reminded him of times long past. So long as he didn’t acknowledge that those times were gone and never to return, the reminiscence was pleasant.

  He withdrew the tip of the long stick in his hand from the fire and used the small knife he’d borrowed from Nina to shave the charred wood off the end, refining the tip to a point. They’d found three suitable shafts, all remarkably straight and fresh; once the tips were hardened and shaped, the flexibility of the shaft-wood would grant the spears some degree of durability. If there were more time, they would have searched for stones to shape into spearheads, but Aduun felt in his gut that such delays would only make their journey more dangerous.

  His eye shifted back to Nina of their own accord. He clenched and unclenched his jaw repeatedly as he stared at her, conflicted. That he wasn’t sure what to think of her only heightened his suspicions.

  “She released us from those cages,” Balir said. “She is the only reason we’ve tasted any freedom.”

  Aduun turned his attention to Balir, whose pale, unseeing eyes were another reminder of all that had been lost through Aduun’s follies. Another reminder that trusting outsiders only brought ruin upon the tribes. And if Orishok’s clan had been taken, if they’d also been changed…

  “And what if that is part of Kelsharn’s punishment for us? What if she was sent by him to release us, to blood our heartstones, and to lead us through more torment?”

  “She wasn’t,” Vortok said, placing his huge hands on his knees and leaning forward. The slabs of muscle on his arms and chest twitched with agitation.

  Aduun shook his head. “We do not know that, Vortok. We know nothing about her.”

  “She is of our tribe, Aduun,” Balir said. The firelight reflected oddly in his eyes, which were highlighted by the deep shadows on his head plate. “Orishok raised her. She knows our ways, our people.”

  “Just as Kelsharn knew of our ways and our people? If the other clans were taken, if our whole tribe was taken, would not Kelsharn have all that information, too?” Aduun jabbed the head of the spear into the ground and used the shaft to pull himself onto his feet. He paced restlessly. “What better a way to instill false hope in us than to send someone who claims to have a connection to our people?”

  “I sensed no dishonesty in her words,” Balir said.

  Vortok grunted, his eyes gleaming at the edge of Aduun’s vision. “We are blooded by her.”

  “Against our will,” Aduun snarled.

  Vortok rose suddenly, fists clenched at his sides. “If you wake her—”

  “Her presence is already causing conflict between us!” Aduun hissed, sweeping his claws toward her. “Battling over claims, over your desire for her flesh. How long before we shed one another’s blood because of her?”

  “There is no battle,” Balir said softly. “She is—”

  “Mine,” Vortok growled, turning his face toward Balir.

  Balir bared his teeth, and the red spots on his throat flared. “However big you are, Vortok, you cannot—”

  “Enough!” Aduun commanded. “I will not have us at one another’s throats. If she is the cause of this strife, if she will be our downfall, I will do what must be done. We will never again be slaves to anyone.” He tugged the spear from the ground and took a step toward the shelter.

  A torrent of emotions assaulted Aduun in that instant; rage and pain at what he and the two who’d been brothers to him had become, the crushing despair of responsibilities he’d never wanted, and an overwhelming guilt that tore a hole in his chest. His beast was conflicted — it wanted Nina, but it wanted solitude. It wanted freedom from Aduun’s obligations and worries, but it wanted to be bound to its new mate forever.

/>   Her face flashed in his mind’s eye, her voice echoed in his memory, and the ghost of her scent wafted past his nose. He’d been so close to her when he’d applied the moonweed, had felt her warmth, and he’d wanted her so terribly… The knowledge that he’d caused some of her wounds felt like a spear buried in his gut.

  The thought of purposefully doing her harm made his insides twist into knots. If he hurt her now, he’d only be what Kelsharn had wanted him to be — not a hunter, not a predator, but a killer.

  Whether he’d asked for it or not, Aduun was bound to Nina. She was his.

  Balir crashed into him, his momentum knocking them both to the ground. Leaves crunched, and branches snapped. They skidded to a halt, and Balir, who’d landed on top with his claws digging into Aduun’s arms, leaned his face down and released an ear-piercing shriek.

  “You will do her no harm!” Balir snarled. His nostrils flared, his eyes paled, and the red spots on his throat intensified, casting their own light.

  “What’s wrong?” Nina’s voice was laced with worry, confusion, and weariness.

  “Stay there,” Vortok said, betraying only a hint of fury in his tone. “Everything will be fine.”

  Aduun stared up at Balir, jaw clenched, and curled his fingers. Shame warred with his rage; his beast demanded he assert dominance, demanded he react to aggression with aggression, but Aduun knew well that he was the villain here. What he’d intended to do, even if his resolve had wavered after a moment, was wrong.

  Nina inhaled sharply.

  “I have followed you for most of my life, Aduun,” Balir rasped, the cords of his neck standing out with rage. “You have had my respect and adoration through everything, even when you thought you failed us all. I have remained at your side throughout. But if this is what you have become, I will follow you no longer.”

  The words stung, deepening Aduun’s shame. His beast railed against the emotion, but he clenched his jaw and swallowed its fury. Fighting now would only feed into the conflict. What would that accomplish? He and his companions had walked a difficult path to this point, had struggled through much together, but their bonds as friends and tribesmen could still be shattered if pushed too far.