by Jim Galford
“We didn’t do anything, dad,” Oria found herself quickly explaining, going against her instincts that told her she was old enough to make whatever choice she wanted.
Estin nodded and swished his long tail across the floor, eyeing Phaesys darkly. “I don’t know him, so I’m uncomfortable with you being so close to him,” he finally admitted. “My old friend Ulra once told me that a father will always want to kill his daughter’s first male friend. I thought she was kidding, but I can understand at least where it comes from.”
Jumping slightly, Phaesys snorted as he came fully awake.
“Sir…we…I…” he stammered, trying to pry Oria off of his chest. “I have not harmed your daughter. I had no choice about where I slept…”
“That I believe,” said Estin, winking at Oria. “She takes after her mother. Try not to let her get her claws in you…in any manner.”
With that, Estin went back to Feanne, who Oria saw was sitting up on her bedding. Her mother still looked weak and tired, but she smiled happily as Estin came over to her. It was good to see light in her mother’s eyes again.
“I want to get this straight so I understand,” said Phaesys a minute later, carefully extricating himself from Oria’s arm. “Your mother is a fox and lioness, from what I was told, as well as a desert witch.”
“A druid, but yes.”
“And she can change herself into a monster to rip her foes apart.”
“Yes, unless she’s too hurt to change. I was told it’s a were-fox or something like that.”
“And your father is a…?”
Oria smiled and looked over at Estin, who was openly fawning over Feanne. Contrary to his violent behavior the day before, now he knelt at his mate’s feet, offering her water and feeding her bits of dried meat. Every minute or two, he would clasp Feanne’s face to his, nuzzling her happily.
“He’s my father, that much I know. What breed, I have no idea. He loves us and would do anything for us, so I don’t really care.”
“And he also changes into a monster to rip his foes apart.”
“So it would seem.”
“Explain to me then,” Phaesys said, sounding quite serious, “what that makes you.”
Oria frowned at that, telling him, “I’m just a fox wildling, nothing more. I’m happy with that.”
“No giant claws, or lightning, or other horrific death I should be expecting?”
“Only if you make me really angry,” she joked, punching Phaesys in the arm. “Even then, it’s just regular claws and a horrific death. Maybe a knife in the back, but that requires you to do something especially awful.”
Phaesys looked uncomfortable at that, lowering his head slightly as if in shame.
“I’m joking,” Oria chided, touching his face. “Don’t always take me so seriously.”
Clasping her hand to his cheek, Phaesys nodded grimly.
“What now?” he asked at length, still holding her hand.
“For starters,” Oria replied, yanking her hand free, “you let go.”
Phaesys smiled slightly. “No. I meant for all of us. What do we do now? We’ve lost my father’s camp. We have little food and only this small hole as shelter.”
Leaning forward to put her face near his, Oria grinned mischievously and then licked his nose, startling Phaesys. As he flinched away, wiping at his nose, Oria heard her little siblings giggling from somewhere near their parents.
“Well, stop being so worried about tomorrow,” she told him, poking him firmly in the chest. “My mother always told me that the only thing that matters is right now. The past and the future aren’t a concern.”
“That is not at all what I said,” declared Feanne, her voice sounding dry and weak. “The intent is close, though. I merely said we should never have regrets.”
Oria giggled and continued, “So I really don’t care what happens tomorrow or a year from now. We might all be dead. I don’t even care about what already happened. It’s done and everyone’s still here.”
Sitting upright, Phaesys studied her, as though looking for answers in her eyes. “You would sacrifice everything to save your family, without thought for what might come of it?”
“I think we’ve all done that at one time or another,” she answered.
Phaesys nodded slowly, mulling over the words.
“I was taught to think through all decisions before making them,” explained Phaesys, pulling his sword sheath onto his lap. “My teachers said that the wrong choice could get others killed. Since we lost the city, that’s what I’ve feared every time I had to leave the tunnels. It’s not easy for me to let that go.”
Oria gave a tilt of her head toward her parents. “I know Estin never thought through a plan in his life. Mom’s a big fan of charging headlong into a fight, even if she shouldn’t stand a chance of surviving. Both of them are still alive. They trust their instincts, not some stupid plan.”
“Until today you thought he was dead,” countered Phaesys, smiling a little more as he watched the kits tackle Estin. “You and your mother have endured many pains over the years from what you have told me, usually as a result of plans gone badly.”
Leaning forward, Oria put her palm on Phaesys’ chest, snapping his attention to her. “Stop worrying about what might happen. This world is screwed up enough that if you worry too much, it’ll eat you alive.”
“Then I ask you again, Oria. What now?”
Flicking at Phaesys’ whiskers, Oria turned to her parents.
“The boy with the big ears wants to know what we’re going to do next,” she announced.
Estin sat up with the kits still hanging off him and Feanne turned her head slightly to look at Oria and then Phaesys. For the first time, Oria realized Atall was missing from the den. He must have snuck out before she woke.
“We haven’t discussed it yet,” Estin answered, casually moving his tail to keep one of the male kits from pouncing it. As he talked, the kit chased the end of his tail and he kept it just out of reach. “I, for one, am tired of running from Turessians, only to walk into another trap.”
“I agree,” stated Feanne, adjusting her ragged clothing uncomfortably.
Her old leather clothing had been so badly torn and stained with blood that they had been forced to discard it in favor of makeshift robes, made from old blankets and bits of fabric. She had complained quietly the night before as Oria drifted toward sleep about how the garments itched on her freshly-healed back and that she intended to find something to skin to make proper attire.
Using the wall, Feanne stood slowly, her legs still unsteady.
“This group is hardly strong enough to face any Turessian without preparation,” she continued, walking slowly past Oria and Phaesys toward Lorne, who was staring at her hands, folded on her skirt. “We would need more people and anyone who cannot fight would need to flee before we attacked.”
Lorne’s eyes drifted up to meet Feanne’s.
“I have nowhere else to go,” Lorne said softly, appearing nearly ready to run as Feanne stood over her. “Estin set me free. I’ve never had anywhere to stay that did not include a master.”
For the briefest moment, Feanne’s snarl made her look as though she would attack, but Oria saw that it was more of a reaction to the idea of a slave, than anything specific about Lorne’s statement.
“I have people on the inside of the city,” offered Estin. “They think they’re fighting a war against Arturis, but I doubt he’s even noticed. They do have numbers, as well as several skilled individuals.”
Feanne nodded at that, then looked at Phaesys.
“This one can use a blade as well as Linn did, back home,” she told Estin. Keeping a hand near the wall, she moved slowly toward where Oria and Phaesys sat. “Our daughter can hold her own in battle. Atall has been trained better than any wizard we had back in the pack. With numbers, I believe we could destroy that creature occupying the city. Once that is done…I would have us begin the search for a better home again.”
Estin’s ears perked up but he did not react as the kits all tackled his tail.
“Arturis has a book,” he said, looking over at Lorne. “We found it down in a cave, where he keeps his undead. It has maps in it. I don’t know how far they would get us, but it’s more than we have now.”
“Then the plan that our friend with large ears so desires,” said Feanne, giving a very small bow toward Phaesys, “will be to find Estin’s allies and then attack the Turessian’s army before he can mobilize them. Without his army, he will be easier to destroy. A lone Turessian does not frighten me nearly so much.”
Phaesys looked around at the group and then back up at Feanne.
“Matron,” he said reverently, “not all of us are soldiers. The children, for example…”
“Sirella’s group hid their own families away,” Estin told the group, pulling one of the kits onto his lap as he talked. “When we meet up with her people, Lorne and the kits will go with them.”
A chorus of whines from the kits was contrasted by Lorne’s look of being both relieved and worried. She hung her head as though she were sad at being sent away.
“We need to stay here for at least a week,” added Phaesys. “My father will hunt us for that long. I never did like fighting on two fronts.”
“Then it’s a plan, if you want to call it that,” said Estin.
*
The week was rough for everyone but Oria. Grouped up in the tight quarters, tempers became heated.
Lorne and Feanne had not spoken directly in several days, after an incident where they had both asked Estin to do something for them at about the same time. Oria had watched their initial glares and wondered if Lorne was going to die, but the two had let it drop, at least insomuch as they stopped talking.
The kits were wild and crazy, thrilled by having so many people to play with, even if everyone needed a break from their antics every so often.
Phaesys and Atall had bonded in brooding silence. Several days past, Oria had found the two sitting outside, talking quietly. Neither had been willing to speak to her about it, but each day, she found them spending at least sunset outside together. Oria had no doubts it had to do with Arlin and Cora’s deaths, but neither male was willing to let her be a part of the discussion.
Feanne had gotten most of her strength back. Both to prove to herself that she was strong enough and to get “better” clothing, her mother had gone out by herself and managed to bring down one of the large and angry horned beasts that roamed the desert. Oria had no idea what they were called, but she had heard others talking about friends being gored by the creatures. Feanne now wore one’s furred hide as her new leather outfit, after having tanned it.
Estin had been the most distant, which surprised Oria. She was used to that with Atall, but from Estin it seemed out of place. Once Feanne had begun hunting on her own again and was less dependent on his help, Estin had gotten quiet, often sitting in the corner of the den, drawing sketches of the city on the dirt floor. He was worried about their intent to attack, but he also was not sharing.
That left Oria mostly alone with her thoughts, which was driving her nuts. She had never liked waiting and sitting still. Talking to herself felt a lot like waiting for something better to come along. She wanted to do something, but had nowhere to go and knew better than to play pranks on anyone in the den.
The nights were all that kept Oria sane. After that first night, Phaesys had been willing to share her bed, though he still tried to keep a modest distance at all times. She relished those nights, but assured herself it was because she craved the attention—something her mother had accused her of more than once in months past. It certainly had nothing to do with Phaesys…at least that was what she had to keep telling herself. He was someone else’s problem.
Several days into the week, Oria had decided that being left to her own all day was unacceptable. Without some task to keep her active, she would have to kill someone sooner or later. Thus, during the days, she took to practicing with her knife.
Oria spent hours in the sheltered hills of the desert, far from the others, tumbling and lashing out at imagined foes. Her blade whistled through the air with each swing, each day’s efforts more fluid than the last.
Some days, she even practiced with both her and Atall’s knives in an attempt to learn how Estin fought with two weapons. She was still clumsy with it, but she was getting better, slowly learning how to control both hands at the same time without thinking about each movement.
When she was younger, Feanne had spent weeks teaching Oria the basics of fighting, but she had been too young then to care, beyond thinking how great she would be “someday.” Now it was that someday and Oria struggled to remember what she had been taught, twisting and lunging across the sands. Fighting from time to time was one thing, but actively working to better herself possessed its own challenges.
Adapting what Feanne had taught was difficult in its own right. Her mother had been a firm believer that one did not need weapons, so long as they had four limbs with claws at the end and a good set of teeth. Oria agreed in spirit, but knew that she was far better off with the sharp steel. She liked fighting with her claws well enough, but the thought of armor like the loose chain that Phaesys wore always brought her back to the knives.
The battle in her mind had faded as she had grown more comfortable with the motions, giving Oria a sense of freedom that she lacked elsewhere. The kicks, the feints, and the rolls across the hot desert floor all became a kind of meditation for her, a dance of violence that made sense to her. It calmed her, bringing her closer to what she thought her mother wanted her to be.
Spinning as she came up off of a roll that had scraped her shoulder painfully, Oria swept her leg around, her eyes nearly closed as she kicked at the air. Normally, that attack would have been followed by another spin to drag either her knife or her claws across her imagined foe’s midsection, but halfway through the kick, Oria’s ankle was grabbed firmly, stopping her and throwing off her balance.
Nearly falling in surprise, Oria blinked and realized that Phaesys stood in front of her, her foot held inches from his neck. Had she aimed the attack and he had not caught her leg, she could have torn open his throat with her toe-claws.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked, feeling foolish as she tugged to free her ankle. Phaesys did not let go, leaving her off-balance. “Usually this time of day, you and Atall…”
“He needed to be alone,” answered Phaesys, finally letting her foot fall. He stepped away from her, clasping his hands behind his back in his usual stance when he was trying to look regal…though Oria was beginning to wonder if he knew that he did it. She kept meaning to tease him about that. “I decided to come see you.”
Shaking herself to clear the sand from her fur, Oria glowered at Phaesys, sheathing her knife as she did.
“You’ve all but ignored me the whole week,” she noted and began stretching out muscles that ached from her practice. “Go play with the kits or something.”
Phaesys watched her, saying nothing.
“What?” she finally asked, standing fully upright again. “What do you want?”
“I want you to go with Lorne and the kits,” he told her, his gaze unwavering. “Please don’t argue with me on this. I spoke with your mother and she said she would not forbid me to make this request.”
Oria felt her temper flare instantly and stepped up to Phaesys, thumping her chest against his, forcing him back a step.
“Do not give me orders,” she hissed at him, flexing her hands. “My place is with my parents. If they are fighting, so am I.”
“I am not telling you that you cannot fight,” pleaded Phaesys, keeping his arms relaxed. He was definitely trying to make it clear he did not mean to fight, at least not physically. “I am begging you, though. Please choose to go with the others. I do not want to worry…”
Oria shoved Phaesys hard, forcing him off-balance for a moment.
“If you are
worried about me, then fight at my side and know that I am or am not alive,” she snapped, taking another step toward him. “Do you think I don’t worry every time my parents go away, wondering if it’s the last time I’ll ever see them?”
Phaesys regained his footing and glanced down at Oria’s knives, as though he expected her to stab him.
“If I run off with the weak and the young, I’ll spend my days worried sick about whether my family is dead,” she went on, not even sure why she was as angry as she was. Something about his request had infuriated her, though. “Don’t ever ask me to abandon my family again. To abandon you.”
Growling low in his chest, Phaesys suddenly unbuckled his belt, letting his sword clatter loudly to the sand. Kicking it aside, he rolled his shoulders and faced Oria.
“Your family respects strength of body as well as spirit. If I can beat you, will you go somewhere safe? Will that be enough to convince you?”
Oria’s anger collapsed, seeing that he had no intention of backing down from his request. Half-numb, she tossed her own weapons aside.
The two young wildings stood facing one another for at least a minute, neither willing to take the first move. Just when Oria believed that Phaesys might consider walking away from his challenge, he lunged, forcing her to twist hard to avoid his first swing.
From that moment, the fight was on. Phaesys swung like a man taught to fight off other trained men who were larger than he was, making him a little easier for Oria to evade. She, in turn, was trained to maul humans, whose reflexes could not match Phaesys’.
They blocked and avoided each other’s strikes over and over. However, the long day of practicing had left her tired even before this fight and the additional exertion began to take its toll, slowing her attacks. Though Phaesys had not managed to strike her solidly, the punches she had blocked with her forearms left her shoulders aching.
Her style was far more mobile and graceful, built around picking the right moment and target that would quickly disable an opponent. His was just as fast and agile, but his natural strength was far greater than hers and she felt it in even glancing blows. The occasional raking he took from her claws further slowed his movement, as blood began to stain the fur on his arms.