Moon came to an abrupt stop in a tiny clearing. Sally tripped over a stone and crashed forward into Moon’s back. Moon caught her before she fell face-first into the dirt, again. Regaining her balance, Sally braced herself for a stern lecture.
“You’re growing unsteady on your feet,” Moon said.
Sally nodded.
“Good.” Moon squatted on the ground and gestured for Sally to rest.
Sally gratefully eased her aching shoulders out of the straps of her backpack. She swore the thing had tripled in weight since they’d set out that morning. She yawned loudly and reached into her pack for a water bottle.
“How much farther?” Sally took a long drink, the cool water clearing her throat of dust. Her eyes tracked the perimeter of the clearing, not more than six or seven feet across. “You’re sure Opal will be safe on her own?”
Moon smiled. “There’s more than just me keeping an eye on you in the woods.”
Sally’s breath stopped for a second, and she stared at Moon. Who—or what—else might be tracking her? She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be comforted or scared out of her wits. Moon watched her reaction with an absent smile.
Sally plopped down atop a soft bed of pine needles and leaned back against the rough bark of a ponderosa pine. “I don’t get you.”
The guide’s smile broadened. “That’s not my concern.”
“Of course it’s not.” Sally was surprised she’d spoken the words aloud, but she was tired and dirty and feeling the chill of the approaching night. And her feet hurt, a lot. She took another long drink of water.
“Careful there,” Moon said. “You don’t want to use up all your water at once.”
Sally screwed the cap back onto the bottle. “But there are streams around, right? We can refill.” Sally realized her guide wasn’t carrying a water bottle. She wasn’t even carrying a pack.
Moon rose to her feet. “But you have work to do, first.”
Sally started to climb up from her place on the ground, but Moon motioned for her to be still.
“What kind of work? What about Opal?” Sally knew she would never hear the end of it if she received specialized training in wilderness mysticism and Opal didn’t.
“Your friend is safe.” Moon seemed to make a deliberate effort to soften her demeanor. She gestured toward the center of the clearing. “This is where you will begin.”
“Do I need to take off my boots again?”
“If you wish.” Moon walked to the outer edge of the clearing.
Sally’s toes were practically screaming for release, but she left her boots on. Whatever Moon had in mind, Sally wanted to get it over with. She sat cross-legged, a bit uncomfortably, and leaned against the tree. She waited. It was a little brighter here than in the surrounding woods, with the day’s last sunlight filtering down from the open sky.
Moon pointed at Sally’s pack. “You have your supplies with you.”
Sally’s eyes narrowed. “For harvesting all the plants we’re supposed to be learning about? Opal’s better prepared than I am.”
Moon laughed and tossed her dark hair over her shoulders. “She will get what she’s come for, don’t worry.” She fixed Sally with a hard stare. “And so will you.”
“You’re really not the most reassuring person to talk to, you know that?” Sally rubbed her arms against the chill and looked up at Moon. “And this isn’t at all the kind of expedition Frigga said it would be. I know it’s still the first day and all, but I wish you would just share your game plan already. Why are we doing our solos so early?”
“This is what you came for.” Moon spread her hands wide to encompass the small clearing and the surrounding trees. “Time by yourself to attend to your true purpose.”
“My what?” Sally felt suddenly naked under Moon’s dark gaze, then she felt incredibly stupid. Naturally, Moon would have been apprised of Sally’s intention to conduct a private memorial for Freyr, even if Freya didn’t completely approve. But Sally got the distinct impression that Moon had grander expectations.
Sally picked at the pine needles on the ground by her feet. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Moon crouched down in front of Sally. “Let’s not play this game. Why waste time? You have your tools and the other supplies for your working. You have your knife. You brought your mortuary herbs. Do you think I cannot smell the frankincense?”
Sally pressed back against the tree, trying to give herself some distance from Moon’s intense eyes. “Sure. For a ceremony for my friend who died.” Sally dropped her gaze and played with the pine needles some more. She liked how they were sharp and sticky in her fingers, and their scent made her feel more alert. “Well, we’re actually not sure if he’s really dead. But I wanted to do something. For him. Just me.”
Moon rose to her feet. “That’s not all you have planned.”
Sally swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “It’s nothing fancy.”
As Moon loomed over her, Sally felt instantly guilty for something she hadn’t done, something she hadn’t even considered doing. But the implication was there. “It’s not—”
“Calm yourself.” Moon took a step back. “I understand, where others would not. This is your space to do what you will. It’s important that you do this work.” She gazed over Sally’s head and into the woods.
Sally turned her head and tried to spy what had captured Moon’s keen attention, but all the trees looked the same. No movement or figure or birdsong seemed any different from the rest. But something was afoot—Sally could feel as much in her bones. Or was that just her own wariness?
“Compose yourself now,” Moon said. “And then begin. You will not be interrupted until your work is complete.” She stepped back into the woods.
Sally scrambled to her feet. “Wait! Are you just leaving me here?”
Moon broke into a sprint and was enveloped by the lengthening shadows.
“Hello?!” Sally called out after her. “Moon? Half-Moon Coppertree? Are you there?!”
A breeze moved through the trees. The birds continued singing, with the brief addition of a departing raven’s cry.
5
Loki stood on the same rise. From his safe vantage point, he’d enjoyed Heimdall’s freak out and frantic pacing while awaiting the arrival of his dog. It was the best entertainment he’d had in months.
Armed with binoculars and obscured from detection by one of Sally’s clever cloaking spells, Loki found himself wishing for a stadium seat and a big bucket of sugared popcorn. Instead, he sat in the dirt and scarfed a few handfuls of trail mix. With Heimdall now in the forest and Freya and Rod going about the monotonous business of setting up their camp, Loki hadn’t had any amusement for several hours.
Laika would give Heimdall an advantage in the woods, but not one that wasn’t anticipated. Loki would have been disappointed if Heimdall hadn’t taken her with him. It wasn’t fun if the odds weren’t fair.
Loki smiled. The main players were no longer in sight, but the game was most certainly on.
He sat cross-legged on the dry, rocky earth of his outcropping, so different from the rich soil in the denser forests to the west of the Cascade Range or even in the wooded wilderness circling the dormant volcanoes. Loki gave a quick nod to the snow covered peaks of Mt. Bachelor, Broken Top, and the Three Sisters—South, Middle, and North—then looked out across the open scrub. He loved the diverse topography of Central Oregon, where the trees just suddenly stopped and the barren beauty of the high desert began. The place was a xenologist’s dream; there were even lunar base simulations being staged in nearby lava tubes.
Loki raked his fingers through the flaky pebbles beside him and closed his eyes in restless meditation. Time was on his side. Dry air filtered through his sinuses and filled his lungs. The temperature was cool yet, even for early June, and he hoped Sally had packed warm socks. He smiled at that, getting lost in the mundane when there was so much more at stake.
Shadows moved over him from abov
e, and he opened his eyes when he heard the familiar cawing cries from directly below his ridge. In no particular hurry, he rose to his feet and dusted off the seat of his jeans.
“I bet you were wondering where we were,” Hugh called up to Loki as he and Moon climbed the small rise to join him. “That big one took longer than I thought to get settled.”
Loki cracked a thin smile at Hugh’s description of his kinsman. He was actually surprised Thor had been “settled,” as Hugh put it, so quickly.
“I wasn’t expecting two of them,” Moon complained as she and her companion reached the flat ledge where Loki stood. “I had to improvise to get them separated. Of course, it wasn’t difficult to get them bickering.”
Loki pursed his lips and studied Moon’s face. There was an edge to her voice he couldn’t quite figure out. It was a sketchy business, navigating an alliance between tricksters, and despite his most cunning efforts he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t getting the short end of the bargain.
“But the other girl, Opal, she’s safe?” Loki asked.
Moon replied with a curt nod. “She’s working on merging her aura with the forest, or some fool thing like that. I can’t keep track of the crazy phraseology those twits keep using.”
Hugh laughed. “If you’d prefer to make conversation with a hungry god struggling to keep his temper in check, I’ll trade you.”
Moon smiled at her partner.
“Has she begun?” Loki asked.
Moon looked up into the fiery sunset sky as though she were performing a mental calculation. “Probably not. Not yet. I imagine she’ll get on with it soon enough.”
“But things are in motion,” Hugh said.
Loki looked down again at the tree line and the forest beyond. Somewhere in that tangle of wilderness, Thor sat on his plump butt trying to parse out some ridiculous word puzzle Hugh had posed for the sole purpose of addling him. Thor would sit and think, and think and sit, and grow weaker and more light-headed and suggestible by the hour. When it came time for him to hunt down the siatco, he’d be in fine shape indeed. Loki chuckled.
“We can have some fun with the big guy, if you’d like,” Hugh suggested. “Keep him occupied.”
Loki kept his eyes on the forest. “The fun’s already started.” He turned to face Hugh and Moon. “Any snags?”
The guides looked at each other and burst into laughter.
“Okay, wrong question,” Loki chuckled. “Are you keeping an eye on the hunting party? Heimdall shouldn’t be underestimated.”
Moon tilted her round face to one side. “He presents no real concern.”
Loki lifted a hand to correct her. “If he finds her before it’s done . . .”
“There are other allies in the woods,” Hugh replied.
Loki thought on this for a moment, then sat back down in the dirt. He pulled a thermos out of his backpack. Hugh made a face as Loki uncapped it and poured himself a steaming cup of coffee. The warm, almost charred aroma settled over Loki like a favorite autumn jacket, but Hugh looked like he’d been slapped in the face.
“I don’t know how you stand that stuff,” Hugh said.
Loki took a careful sip and smiled.
Moon patted Hugh’s midsection. “It upsets his stomach,” she said. “But I like it just fine.” She leaned forward, seeming to expect Loki’s invitation.
Loki sipped from the plastic thermos lid, enjoying Moon’s tentative approach. In some ways, these two were still just as predictable as their wild brethren. Perpetually curious, easily distracted, sometimes even greedy. Always shrewd. But there was a darker side to their crafty ingenuity, and Loki knew enough to be wary.
“Report back when you can,” Loki said.
Moon’s face turned sour with disappointment, and she backed away. It was dangerous to incur her disfavor, but he didn’t want to strengthen their alliance any more than was necessary. Plus, she was starting to irritate him. Without another word, Moon and Hugh turned and hiked back down the dirt slope. A moment or two after they disappeared from sight, Loki heard the familiar flapping of wings. A single black feather landed on the ground beside him.
Rod stood up as the dusty RAV4 came to an abrupt halt in the dirt and dry grass. The car was even grimier than it had been before, when Freya and Bonnie arrived with Alma and Frank.
He brushed the dirt off the back of his jeans and sipped coffee from an old, tin camping mug as Bonnie opened the driver’s door and nearly fell out of the vehicle, looking even worse than she had earlier. Her hair was in active disarray, with long black curls unraveling before his eyes, and her clothing was a rumpled mess. She had the harried, frantic look of a woman whose wedding was falling apart around her. Rod hadn’t expected Bonnie to return and he wondered if he should call out for Freya to deal with the frazzled bride.
“Any word?” Eyes raw from worried tears, Bonnie stuffed the car keys into her pocket and bustled around the front of the car to the passenger door. “Has Heimdall found Thor yet?”
Rod swallowed and shook his head. “Not yet.”
Freya peeked her head out of the tent she’d erected on the spot where the sweat lodge had been. The sun was already touching the western horizon, painting the sky in brilliant streaks of red-orange and purple. Freya climbed out of the shelter and zipped up a thick fleece hoodie against the chill of the approaching evening. “Bonnie? What are you doing back here?”
“I brought reinforcements.” Bonnie opened the RAV4’s passenger door. A pair of plump feet in worn sandals and thick wool socks hit the ground, followed by the pointed end of an ancient walking stick.
With some fussing, Bonnie helped the older woman extricate herself from the vehicle. Once standing, the newcomer adjusted the sun hat on top of her head and then leaned heavily on her wooden walking stick as she maneuvered her way around to the front of the car. She leaned back against the dusty hood and gave both Freya and Rod a thorough once-over.
“Grace Red Cliff,” the old woman announced.
Rod hadn’t met Bonnie’s grandmother before, but he had a hard time believing this short, rounded woman with long, gray braids could intimidate Thor. Her expression was stern, but Rod figured that was probably the result of a long, unpleasant road trip in the midst of a family crisis. Maybe her competitive game of Mahjong down at the senior center had been interrupted. That might be enough to make anyone cranky.
“Rod Hammerstein.” He smiled and lifted his camping cup in a welcoming salute. “Can I get you some coffee?”
Grace grunted deep in her throat and scowled at him. “No time.” She shuffled forward and narrowed her eyes at Freya. “How long have they been gone?”
“Mrs. Red Cliff?” Freya’s voice was as light as her indulging smile. “I’m afraid we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m—“
“I know who you are,” Grace interrupted. “The one with the badass Irish granny.”
Rod smiled. The old woman didn’t mince words. She actually kind of reminded him of Thor.
“Uh,” Freya stammered. “Well, yes.”
Standing behind her grandmother, Bonnie offered Freya an apologetic shrug. “I took the guides back, and GG was there asking questions . . .” The slouch of her shoulders finished the story about how Grace was not to be denied.
“GG?” Rod asked.
“Grandmother Grace,” Grace answered. She lifted her stick and pointed the end of it at Freya. “And I asked you a question.”
“Right. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting . . .” Freya’s voice faltered under Grace’s withering glare. “Half a day. Heimdall and Laika went in after them a few hours later.”
“Laika’s the wolf-dog?”
Freya nodded.
“Hmph.” Grace dug the end of her hiking stick into the dry ground.
Rod held his breath as Grace looked up at the sky, slowly deepening from the fiery magenta of sunset to the textured blue of early evening. She had taken charge so quickly and so completely that Rod was nearly immobilized in anticipation of
what she might do or say next. She seemed to be studying the sparse cloud patterns or listening to the wind, he wasn’t sure. He searched his brain for some mollifying comment he might offer, but he decided to follow Freya and Bonnie’s example and keep quiet.
Suddenly, the old woman’s eyes were on him. Rod felt a seismic shock rock his body.
“You.” Grace jutted her chin in Rod’s direction. “You’re coming with me.”
“Uh, where are we going?”
Grace turned to Bonnie. “Get my bag.”
“GG,” Bonnie resumed her weary protests. “I know you want to help, but I really don’t think—”
“If you want to see your groom again, you’ll do as I say,” Grace retorted without raising her voice. “You know as much, or you wouldn’t have brought me out here. Get my bag, girl.”
Bonnie’s shoulders sank. “Yes, ma’am.” She dug the keys out of her pocket and slunk toward the back of the car.
Rod looked at Freya and waited for her to act. He’d already watched four of his friends—five, counting Laika—disappear into these woods. It was fast becoming an undesirable place to hang out.
Freya held her hands open in a placating gesture. “Mrs. Red Cliff, if you’re thinking of heading into the forest to find them, I’m afraid I really can’t let you do that. We’re fast approaching nightfall—”
The old woman lifted her chin and gave Freya a condescending smile. “It’s your decision, then? And you’re the one who chose old Frank and Alma as guides?”
“Yes, but I don’t see—”
“Not a bad choice.” Grace gestured toward the forest with her hiking stick. “They know these woods. But they’re not very discreet.”
Bonnie shut the trunk and came back around to the front of the car. She dropped her grandmother’s canvas rucksack in the dirt. Grace gave her a reproving look.
“What do you mean about being discreet?” Rod ventured.
Bonnie sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “She means that Frank let it slip to the Bigfoot hunters about Thor going after the siatco.”
Raven Quest (Valhalla Book 4) Page 7