In Wilder Lands

by Jim Galford

  “Estin,” Feanne repeated, taking his arm and pulling him gently away, “we are going now. This is no place for us.”

  Letting himself be led away from the ledge, Estin found himself looking back repeatedly, watching as the dragon disappeared into the distance. By the time they had reached the bottom of the mountainside, where the fire and water elementals had decimated the area leaving only burned and wet wreckage of the trees, Estin could hear the distant rumbles of battle.

  *

  “But mom!”

  “I said no, Oria.”

  Estin sat along the side of the tent, paging through his spellbook as Atall watched over his shoulder, eyeing the scribbled notes. The two had been absorbed in the text from the moment that Oria and Feanne had begun arguing almost half an hour earlier. In fact, the argument had become heated enough that Estin had begun memorizing a spell to quickly staunch bleeding, just in case.

  Though Estin was quite sure Atall had no idea what he was looking at, the kit had been unwilling to look up since the shouting had begun. He had been smart enough to stay out of the fight from the start and now was making a good show of feigning interest in magic.

  “The other children are going out the north end of the valley, why can’t I?”

  Feanne growled and stepped between Oria and the entrance to the tent.

  “I told you already. I forbid you to go, for your own safety. There are things outside the valley that are extremely dangerous. Collecting a few rabbits is not worth going out there.”

  “But they’re going to teach me how to catch them myself!” the girl practically yelled, stomping her foot. “You’re supposed to be one of our best hunters…how can you tell me I can’t learn to hunt?”

  “I am not refusing to teach you…I am refusing to let you learn outside the valley, especially without my supervision. Your brother understood and stopped arguing a long time ago.”

  “But the coyotes get to go…”

  “You are not a coyote, nor are you going,” Feanne reiterated, growling at Oria. Estin winced as he saw her instinctively flex her fingers—it was a natural reaction when Feanne felt as though she were being attacked, or could be, but not one he liked seeing in a family dispute. “It is not safe out there and you will not go. That is final.”

  “So I can’t go, just because it’s dangerous?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then send Estin with me. You trust him to be your guard, so trust him to be mine.”

  Estin’s ears went flat as he heard his name get dragged into the conversation. Even Atall winced a little, giving Estin an apologetic look.

  Apparently taken aback by the change of tactic, Feanne blinked and eyed her daughter suspiciously.

  “You do have a bit of your grandmother in you, Oria, but that does not change my decision. Estin is my guard, not yours. While I have him protect you, that does not make him yours to command.”

  “You’re right, mom,” the female kit said, throwing her hands in the air and stalking back towards Estin and Atall. “Since I can’t tell him what to do, maybe you should. You say he’s not mine, so that means he’s yours, right? Tell him to go.”

  Feanne snarled and Estin started to close his notebook, half expecting bloodshed to begin. Instead, she calmed herself and walked over to her daughter, kneeling in front of her.

  “Oria, no one owns another,” she explained, touching her daughter’s face. It was possibly the most tender Estin had ever seen Feanne be, made all the more surprising to him, given how angry he knew she likely was. “That’s why Estin worked so hard to keep you both safe from slavery. We do not own each other.”

  “Fine!” Oria stomped to the entrance of the tent, glowering back at her mother. “I’ll just go watch the elves make salads. That’ll be so exciting!”

  Oria ran from the tent, letting in a chilling winter breeze for the moment that the flap was open, spraying everything inside with a light dusting of snow. Once the tent had closed again, the small central fire began to slowly warm the area.

  “That child reminds me too much of myself,” Feanne grumbled, sitting down with her knees pulled up to her chin. “So help me, I am beginning to understand why some creatures eat their young.”

  The tent was quiet for a little while, as Feanne relaxed and Atall and Estin tried to look busy. Finally, Feanne turned to Estin.

  “The enchanter from the elves should be here shortly to work on the circle you requested,” she told him. “It’ll be good to have a working healing circle again.”

  Estin nodded, thinking back to the battle they had seen on the mountainside. It had been several weeks since then without any further incidents, but the camp had been on alert ever since. Feanne had been insistent on keeping as much of the group’s activities within the valley as possible, lest they be found out.

  The construction of a circle like the one Asrahn had once had was one of their latest priorities. Officially, Estin and Feanne had decided to search for someone in the camp who could make one just as a precaution, but in reality Estin knew they wanted it because they both feared that there could be a lot more deaths in the near future. This was not something they discussed, even with each other, but the tone was there.

  “Are you really mad at Oria?” Atall asked eventually, watching Feanne.

  She shook her head, though her tension was still visible.

  “No, I am a little disappointed, but I am not upset with your sister. She saw reason in the end, that’s what matters.”

  “Oh,” said Atall, fidgeting with his tail. “Do you think she really went to go watch the elves?”

  “That’s where she said…”

  Feanne stopped and stared at Estin, her eyes widening.

  “I would never have done what I was told at her age, Estin. I’d be halfway out of the valley by now. Take anyone you need and find out where she is. I will stay here with Atall and see to it that your circle is completed.”

  Hopping to his feet as he grabbed his belt and cloak, Estin rushed out into the cold, pulling his fur mantle over his shoulders as the winds bit through his clothing and his own personal fur. Though still only late afternoon, the storms moving through the mountains were making the area rough to traverse and visibility poor, which had been one of the many reasons Feanne had opposed the journey which would have kept Oria out until evening.

  Estin checked around the area near Feanne’s tent, but saw no one else he could call on for help. Ulra was off spending some time with her mate at Feanne’s command, leaving Estin as the only one of Feanne’s guards around that day, at least until nightfall when two of the newer pack members were to stand guard outside the tent. With Estin sharing Feanne’s bedding, Ulra had insisted that more guards be brought on to ensure that if he fell asleep, there would be no lapse in her protection.

  Finth was taking a small group, including Linn, out into the southern range, looking for extra timber. Even Yoska was unavailable, his clan having a celebration for his niece’s wedding that Estin guessed would ensure everyone on that end of camp was too drunk to be useful. That left few that Estin could say that he knew well enough to trust and none that were close enough to call upon.

  Still, he reminded himself, he just needed to track the child, which would prove more difficult the longer he waited. He might not be the best tracker in camp, but he could do the job.

  Setting out northward, he paid careful attention to his sense of smell, as Oria was not nearly so good as her mother at hiding her scent. The kit had done well at covering her tracks in the thin layer of snow that had accumulated on the ground where the tents had blocked the winds, but her scent led due north, towards where she was to meet with two other adults and several children for their hunting trip.

  Years ago, a trip like this one would have been lauded by the pack-leader, at least for children of breeds like Feanne’s, which prided themselves on their ability to track and kill small prey. These days, that traditional first step towards adulthood had been set aside in favor of
personal ability to fight, leading to many scuffles within the camp involving young wildlings, dwarves, and the occasional barbarian. Estin himself had been forced to break up several and usually been punched or clawed for doing so. So far, he counted himself lucky to have only been bitten once.

  Oria had already been through her fair share of small fights with other children, many owing to the low opinion that the other predatory breeds had for Estin—in that he was viewed by many to be prey—and the idea that he was the primary protector of their pack-leader. Oria had been staunchly defensive of his name, no matter what he and Feanne had told her and that had gotten her jumped more than once.

  Estin was happy that the female kit had inherited her mother’s sense of loyalty to those she trusted, but not nearly so pleased to see that she had gotten the temper, or the willingness to disobey. He had the feeling that if Feanne kept him around as a guard, he would be making a great many trips like this one to drag Oria back over the next few years.

  The trail through the snowstorm took him past the tents and wagons, into the northern gap between the mountains. At this point, he found more trails merging into Oria’s, where she had met with the others for the trip, who were likely unaware that she had been forbidden to go.

  Estin hurried his pace, knowing that at this point, there were limited directions the group could go. If he could catch them before they cleared the far end of the pass, he could not miss them in the narrow channel. Once they were outside the valley, he ran the risk of losing them in the snow if he could not find their trail or scent right away.

  Half an hour later, he jogged through the far end of the pass, finding Oria and ten others sitting on rocks near the entrance to the valley, talking about the plans for the hunt. He approached them, whistling to catch the attention of the older feline male that led the group.

  “Can I help you?” the male called out to Estin, standing and setting his spear aside. “Is there a new warning from the pack-leader? I have been watchful of any approach from outside the valley.”

  “No, everything is fine, but she has asked that her daughter return home,” Estin said, trying not to sound like Oria was in any kind of trouble, but the girl’s face betrayed the truth to her friends. The coyotes that made up most of the group began laughing at her, and one of the two wolf children whispered something to her that made her glower. “No problems that we know of. Please have fun.”

  The male gave a deep bow and motioned for Oria to go to Estin, which she did reluctantly.

  “Your mother is really not happy…and not very surprised,” Estin said, once they were a little ways back into the pass. “That wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done.”

  “I did get her to send you, though,” muttered Oria, not looking up at him. “Got half of what I asked for. She may not own you, but she sure can boss you around.”

  They walked through the pass, taking their time as Oria kicked at the snow most of the way, muttering softly to herself. About the only word Estin could pick out of the rants was “unfair,” which he heard a lot as they traveled back.

  It took them close to an hour to reach Feanne’s tent again, but as they approached the edge of camp, Estin began to sense something was seriously wrong. There were people running around and he could see a large crowd near Feanne’s tent. As they got closer, he began to smell blood and could see Ulra at the entrance to the tent, keeping dozens of wildlings away. That was when he started to see spots of blood in the snow, leading towards the tent.

  “Oria,” he said, stopping the girl by grabbing her arm. “I want you to go to Doln right now.”

  “But…”

  “Oria, I need to protect your mother and I can’t do that if I have to watch you, too. Just go.”

  The girl looked between Estin and the tent, then ran off in the direction he had asked of her.

  Estin stopped for a moment in the wind and snow, steeling himself for whatever the latest disaster was. Once he was ready—and both of his swords were ready to be drawn quickly—he strode into the cluster of wildlings, who parted at his approach.

  “What is going on?” he demanded of no one in particular, though Ulra rose up in front of him, stopping even him from getting closer to Feanne’s tent. “Ulra, what happened?”

  The bear growled and then stepped aside, but kept herself between the others and the inside of the tent. She waved him inside, then blocked the doorway again the moment he was in.

  The tent was still aside from Atall’s soft crying. Estin followed a thin trail of blood from the doorway right over to Feanne’s bedding, where she was curled up, with Atall at her side. In the center of the room, the beginnings of Estin’s new circle had been started, but the stones that would make it whole were scattered as though someone had tripped over them.

  “What happened?” he asked, getting to Feanne’s side as fast as he could.

  “Challenged,” Feanne gasped, clutching her stomach and refusing to move her hands when Estin tried to get a look at the injury. Still, he could see a large and growing pool of dark blood under her, where it was being swiftly swallowed by the dry ground. “One of the wolves…wants to be leader. Ambushed me outside the tent.”

  Estin touched her, feeling the agony racking her body as the spirits whispered in his head. He pushed back against the pain and eased it, though Feanne’s body had been gravely wounded and would need some time to mend itself properly.

  When Feanne relaxed as the pain eased, Estin pulled her hands away from her stomach, finding four pink lines across her abdomen, where claws had torn deeply into the flesh. Given the amount of healing he had already performed and the darkness of the blood remaining on the ground, he guessed that she had been very close to death, having suffered grave internal injuries. It was shocking to him that she had even been conscious, let alone able to get herself back into the tent. Having his own stomach cut open by Atall had not even been nearly as brutal as the wounds she had suffered.

  “Who did this?” he asked her, though Feanne was drifting to sleep as her body gave out.

  “Olis,” she told him, opening her eyes briefly. She seemed to be genuinely fighting the drowsiness that came with healing. “He challenged me. His friends meant to hurt Atall while we fought. Had to protect him and fight off the challenge at the same time.”

  Estin began to ask her why she would not have invoked her ability to change, but looked over at Atall’s terrified face and knew the answer. The kit would have been in even more danger if Feanne had gone into a blood-crazed rage, so she had fought as she was, trying to shield him the whole time. She had nearly died to keep him away from the part of herself she could not trust.

  “I will go deal with him.”

  “No!” Feanne hissed, grabbing his wrist. “I will need to fight him. It is not a guard’s place to seek revenge. Your job is to protect, not to punish.”

  “You won’t be well enough for days, Feanne. Who can act on your behalf?”

  “Only family or kin,” she answered, trying to pull him closer by his wrist. “Promise me you won’t go. If you fight him for me, I’ll be seen as too weak to lead.”

  Estin pulled her hand off his wrist, then closed his fingers around her hand. The palm of her hand was covered with sticky blood, but he held it tight, studying her face for any indication of what to do.

  “So make him your mate,” said Atall softly, looking between them both. “Then he can fight for you, right?”

  Both Feanne and Estin stared at the male kit, who clung to his mother’s tail as he sat there, not looking at either of them.

  “This is dumb,” he added. “Estin loves you…you love him…now you both are stuck with stupid rules just because you won’t say you love either other. Why are adults so dumb?”

  “It’s not that easy,” Feanne told him as she tried to reach over and sooth him, but Atall shoved her hand away.

  “It is. You ask him, he says ‘yes,’ then you both say some stuff in public. I’ve seen others do it. Dad isn’t comi
ng back, so why do you two spend all your time looking sad at each other?”

  Estin tried to find words, but his mouth was too dry to speak. He focused instead on wiping blood from Feanne’s hands, busying himself to keep from feeling more foolish than he already did. To hear a child telling him what he knew he should have been saying for years made his ears itch.

  “Just because you love someone, does not mean it will work out,” Feanne was saying, her voice cracking slightly. “I do love Estin, but the pack will not respect him as my mate. It’s also not fair to you and Oria.”

  “He’s with us all the time anyway. We both know you two like each other. Who cares what the rest of the pack thinks? Why do they get to decide who your mate is? You always tell us that we need to make our own decisions so that we aren’t like the wildlings enslaved in the cities. How’s this different?”

  Feanne closed her eyes and sighed as Atall got up and went to the far side of the room, sitting down in a frump and glaring at them both.

  “Estin,” Feanne said, looking up at him finally, “do I kill my children, or take advice from them?”

  “Whatever you want, pack-leader.”

  The words were hard to get out, but it was all Estin could manage. He wanted to give Atall a hug, but knew that it was not his place to agree with the child. Not on this. Feanne had made it very clear that his place was as her guard and her friend, nothing more. To contradict that might make things worse, at least in his mind. This was something she had to decide on for herself.

  Sitting up slowly, Feanne reached up, then grabbed Estin by the chest fur, pulling him closer as he winced.

  “I do not get sweet and soft, Estin,” she growled, her voice low. “Hearing this from my son is hard enough for me, without your mocking remarks.”

  “Then I should leave,” he answered, looking away as she released his fur. “I know what your feelings on this are, and I won’t push you. If there is any way I can help you recover to challenge Olis…”

  Feanne grabbed his face with both her hands, pressing her muzzle against his. She held him there a moment, then relaxed her grip, but stayed close to him—far closer than she had been for a very long time. It was all he could do to keep himself calm and breathing as she put an arm around him, giving him a hug.