by T. A. White
The girl child, Mist, let go of Shea’s hand and ran to Gala. She danced around in front of her while holding up the bracelet for the other woman to see.
Gala bent down and made the appropriate sounds of appreciation. “That’s a fine bracelet you have there.” Gala looked up at Shea. “One would even say the giver was very generous.”
Shea looked away and gave a shrug.
Gala stood up and observed Shea with canny eyes. The kind that saw right through a person down to their very core. Shea had never been very fond of people who could do that. There were too many things she wanted to keep to herself, keep hidden.
“I’ve got to get going. My event starts soon,” Shea said, giving an excuse for her hurry that also happened to be true.
“Yes, you and the other two responsible for the beast board are in charge of the hunt, if I recall.”
“That is right.” Shea didn’t ask how Gala knew. The other woman struck Shea as the sort to know everything about everyone around her.
“That is an unusual honor to be given to a group so young and untested.”
So Shea had gathered. It made her wonder just why her little team had been chosen.
“I will walk with you as far as your staging area,” Gala said. Before Shea could protest, she looked down at Mist. “Shall we?”
The little girl nodded enthusiastically before looking at Shea with bright, excited eyes. Shea didn’t have it in her to deny that face.
She mustered an uneasy smile for the two, then turned and set off, keeping her pace slow so her companions could keep up. Mist rambled in front of them as Gala walked with a measured pace beside Shea.
“You have not attended the last two sharies,” Gala observed.
A sharie was a meeting attended by many of the elders in the clans. Usually each clan held their own sharie every month. She’d made it a point to be busy doing something else the last few times one had been called.
“Yes, I’ve been very busy of late with the Hawkvale’s return and planning for this event.”
Gala gave her a sideways look that said she knew exactly how much of an excuse that was. “When I was your age, I also found it difficult to attend the sharie as well. So many people looking to me for answers when I had none.”
Shea felt a tinge of surprise. “I thought most who attended were elders.”
That was what she had seen. She was the youngest by several decades in those gatherings.
Gala made a sound of agreement. “I was like you, the Telroi to a powerful man. Do you know the purpose of a sharie?”
Shea thought a moment. “To share your grievances in a neutral setting.”
“That is one purpose. The other is to have our grievances heard by our leaders.”
“How is that? I’ve never seen the Hawkvale attend one.”
Gala gave a graceful nod. “In the past, he would send one of his top advisors to hear our complaints.”
“Daere?”
A smile tugged at Gala’s lips as she confirmed Shea’s guess. “Indeed. We may not speak to him directly, but he ensures that our voices are heard and acknowledged in one way or the other.”
They walked several more feet in silence.
“And my presence helps with that?” Shea didn’t see how. Fallon hadn’t even been in the camp for the few sessions she attended. There was no possibility that she would have conveyed their messages to him. “How?”
“Every person in our clans contributes to its overall well-being and the greater Trateri people as a whole. We each have our role to play. The warriors, the craftsmen, the healers and hunters. Without just one of these roles, our society would collapse.”
Shea could see that. Highlanders had similar roles, though they assigned worth to those roles. Merchants, and those that grew and harvested food, were often at the bottom of that tier. She still didn’t see what that had to do with the sharie.
“I have found throughout my many years that a person needs to feel valued for their contributions. To do otherwise breeds resentment. That has no place in a clan. Those little feelings can grow into big ones that threaten a clan’s safety and well-being.”
“I understand. My people have a similar view.”
“Would that be the pathfinders?”
Shea nodded. “The Highlanders have a similar structure to their society, but they often look down on those they see as performing less meaningful roles. There is often a schism in such instances. However, one village’s ways are different than another’s.”
They were as varied in their beliefs and society as the Lowlanders. Perhaps more so because of the inherent isolation of the Highlands.
“I would find it interesting to visit with some of these Highland villages.”
Shea didn’t know about that. While she called the Highlands home, its people were hard and unwelcoming to strangers of any type.
“They see me as an extension of the Hawkvale,” Shea said, trying to understand the meaning behind Gala’s words.
“Very good. Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”
They’d arrived to where Shea’s friends had set up their event. Clark waved at her frantically from the outside of a large crowd.
“You should join your friends. The young one looks like he might burst out of his skin any moment,” Gala said.
Shea looked at them and then back at Gala. She wanted to continue this conversation.
“We will talk later.” Shea made the phrase an order rather than a question.
Gala inclined her head.
Shea turned to go and stopped when there was a tug on her pants. She looked down to find Mist standing behind her looking up at her with a worried expression.
“No sweetie, you can’t come with me.”
“Mist, stay here with Grandma Gala for now.” Gala looked down at her with a kind expression.
Mist frowned unhappily but let go of Shea’s pants. Her shoulders drooped as she wandered back to Gala.
Shea gave her a small wave before turning and heading for Clark.
“Are you ready for this?” Clark asked.
“Do I have a choice?”
He laughed. “Not at this point.”
“Then I guess I’m ready.”
Charles stepped up and waved for attention. “Excuse me. Excuse me, can I have your attention?”
The gathered Trateri continued to speak among themselves. Only a few noticed Charles’s attempt at getting their attention and even those went back to their conversations when it was apparent the rest wouldn’t quiet.
“Oi, the game master has spoken. Shut your gobs and pay attention.” Trenton’s shout made Shea jump.
Charles cleared his throat and nodded an acknowledgement of Trenton’s help. Trenton stood back and folded his arms across his chest to fix the rest of the crowd with a glare. Faced with the wrath of one of Fallon’s Anateri, the group quieted and turned their attention to Charles.
“Yes, well. Let me explain the rules. See the three white squares drawn on the ground. You’ll be placed into one of those depending on how many answers to a set of questions you get right.”
A set of hands went up. Their owners spoke before they could be called on. “Who decides the questions?”
“We do.” Charles’s answer was matter of fact.
“Who decides if we’re correct?”
Shea lifted an eyebrow. Who did they think decided that?
Charles’s answer was a little more tactful. “We do.” He waited a beat to see if there were any more stupid questions. “As I said, you’ll be placed into one of the three squares depending on your answers. There will be two ‘beasts’ that you’ll chase once we release you from your square. One is a decoy and the other is your quarry.” Charles gestured at Clark and Shea. They each lifted a hand to show they would be playing the beast. “Your objective is to follow the path they lay out and catch the beast. The first one to catch the correct beast wins.”
“How do we know which is the real one?”
> “They will be laying tracks down to indicate what beast they are. The other will lay down different beast signs. It will be your job to determine which is which.”
There was a commotion from behind that distracted Charles from his explanation. Shea shifted so she could see better. Fallon, still clad as he was during his tournament event, stepped to the front of the group and folded his arms across his chest. He must have come directly from winning his last match.
Clark and Charles looked at Shea with amazed and questioning expressions. She shook her head.
She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes on him. What was he doing here?
He cocked an eyebrow at her and turned his attention to Charles. His patient expression said he was waiting for Charles to continue with his explanation of events.
Charles looked at Shea one last time, his face guarded and just a bit frustrated. He hesitated before going on to explain the rest of the rules. Shea and Clark would stick to the outer perimeter of the encampment so they didn’t lose people in the forest beyond. They’d debated for a long time about the boundaries, and it was decided it was too dangerous and unpredictable to take the group past the final sentry line. They also didn’t want a bunch of competitive Trateri running through the inner camp among crowds trying to capture Shea and Clark. There was still plenty of space to hide and track on the outer perimeter.
She snuck a look back at Fallon. His eyes were fastened on her. When he caught her peeking, he gave her a wicked smile. She sighed. Somehow, she didn’t think Fallon cared who was the decoy and who was the beast. There was only one person he planned to hunt.
The question portion of the exercise went quickly. Only those who were frequent attendees of Charles’s beast class landed in the first square. They would hold a distinct advantage over the rest as they would be the first to be released to track Shea and Clark. A handful were placed in the second square with the majority ending up in the last square. There were some grumbles as they ordered themselves into the proper square.
Charles gave Shea and Clark a nod. Trenton straightened and followed them into the forest beyond.
The three made their way to the stash of tools they’d placed in the knot of a tree earlier in the morning. The tools should help them mirror the tracks of a red back, a revenant and a hularna.
Clark would be the red back for this exercise and Shea would be the decoy.
“Good luck,” Shea told Clark.
“You too. Somehow I think you’re going to need it more than me.”
Her grimace said she agreed.
They each pressed the stamp in the ground and then set off in opposite directions. The sign they left would be the trackers’ first test.
“Why did you make Clark the red back?” Trenton asked as Shea left some scratches waist high on a tree.
“Who do you think they’ll assume is the real target?” Shea asked.
“You.”
“Exactly. Clark is perfect. If they try to read our foot prints, those who aren’t sure will pursue me. Those who do know how to read signs will pursue Clark.” The object of this game was to test the competitors’ knowledge and tracking skills, in addition to their endurance. Most Trateri knew how to track, it was something they were taught as children since much of their diet consisted of what they hunted. There was no way Shea and Clark would be able to completely erase their presence. This was their way of evening the odds.
Shea set off at a run, heading to the next place where she’d leave another sign. Trenton kept up with her easily. Together the two of them moved through the forest, stopping only when they needed to set the next sign. Shea alternated between the revenant’s tracks and the hularna’s. She broke off stems and bent branches, sometimes laying a false trail before backtracking.
An hour had passed before she heard the first sounds of pursuit. There was a loud curse as one of the contestants stepped into a briar patch she’d led them through. She grinned. That would teach them to pay attention to their surroundings.
She moved off at an angle from them, not wanting to be caught just yet. The game was still early and Clark hadn’t blown the horn to say he’d been caught.
“You are diabolical,” Trenton remarked after Shea left a false trail pointing into a nest of stinging thistles. The flower’s petals would leave welts and rashes on any unsuspecting victim that chose to brush against them.
Shea shared a smile with him as she backed away from the nest, careful not to brush up against any of the yellowish, green petals.
“I learned from the best.”
“This may end up backfiring on you,” Trenton said with a skeptical glance at the stinging flowers. “He will not be happy when he catches up to you if he has welts and a rash all over. He might even find a nest to throw you into.”
She shot Trenton a grin. “If he’s arrogant enough to get caught in this, he deserves what he gets.”
She’d decided she liked this game. Liked outwitting Fallon and making him chase false trails. The only way it would be better is if she could ditch Trenton and do this alone. He made their trail a little too easy to spot.
She stared at him in thought.
“Oh no, don’t even think it. You’re not ditching me.”
She sighed. Such a stickler for the rules.
She wiped her hands on her pants and gestured for him to continue. He started to turn and Shea bent to grab her print-making tool. A whistle sounded in the air. Shea threw herself to the side. An arrow sailed over her head and thunked into the trunk of a tree barely a handbreath from Shea.
Trenton spun, drawing his sword at the same time. Another arrow whistled through the air. Trenton deflected it with a swift movement. “Get up. We need to run.”
Shea leapt to her feet, darting past Trenton and behind the cover provided by upraised roots that were as tall as she was. They raced through the trees, giving little thought to where they were going. Shea ran, knowing any moment an arrow could land in her back.
She weaved through the trees, zigzagging to and fro. Trenton crashed through the underbrush beside her.
The sound of pursuit followed them. Shea tripped, falling down a bank and rolling into a stream bed. She pushed herself half upright in the water.
Where was Trenton? He’d been right beside her. She was alone now. They must have gotten separated.
She took her time getting up, keeping her movements soft and silent. There was a rustle in the bushes behind her. Shea slid through the water, keeping low, until she could press herself against the bank. She waited with bated breath as footsteps came closer and closer.
They paused right above her head. She didn’t dare move for fear that it would attract attention. After a long moment, the footsteps retreated.
Shea released the breath she was holding and leaned forward. Her game of hunting had suddenly become all too real.
She’d have to apologize to Trenton and Fallon the next time she saw them. After all the grief she’d given them regarding their insistence of having a guard on her at all times, she finally saw what they had been saying.
She pushed herself away from the bank, pausing to glance over it. Nothing moved in the forest around her. She’d have to chance it. She couldn’t stay here. Eventually her hunter would backtrack and find her. Her only chance was making her way back to the encampment and finding help.
She didn’t even have a weapon to defend herself with. She’d been stupid and left it behind, thinking that it was unnecessary for the game. Trenton was probably going to have a lot to say about that when they met back up.
For now, she needed to be quick and quiet. She could do this. It was no different than evading a beast. Granted, this beast walked on two legs and was highly intelligent, but he didn’t know the forest like she did, and he lacked the superior senses of a true beast.
Yes, she could do this. She refused to be ended by a coward with an arrow, shot in the back like prey.
She ran down the stream bed, hiding her foot prints in the water in
case her hunter did come back. After a fair distance, she scrambled up the bank and across the forest floor.
She stopped on an exposed boulder and listened. The human senses were powerful if one knew how to use them. Shea had been taught to listen and feel with more than just the tangible.
Her senses told her something was off in the forest. The animals had gone silent and the air had a menacing, oppressive feeling to it. It was still and quiet, not even the branches in the trees rustling with wind as the world waited, watchful. Shea’s back itched as if someone was watching her.
It could be her attacker, or it could be someone from the game. That had been the purpose, after all—hunt the beast until they caught it. She hadn’t heard any sign of pursuit in the last few minutes, but Fallon, in particular, could be tricky. Either way, it was probably best to avoid whoever was after her. She couldn’t be sure if they were friend or foe.
She slipped off the boulder and moved silently over the ground, her senses tuned to the world around her.
There was no movement, but the forest felt ominous—like there was something waiting in its depths, something that meant Shea ill.
She rolled into some underbrush and slithered across the ground on her stomach.
A rustle in the branches alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Something was behind her. If it was the shooter, she needed to get out of his line of sight. Regroup and see if she could slip away unseen.
She waited, every sense tuned to spot her hunter. There. The branches of a small tree just barely moved. Could be the wind but the branches around it weren’t moving.
Shea moved away, careful to keep her movements silent and not disturb the bushes around her. She needed to find a way to deal with this. She slithered into a natural indent in the land and under an upraised tree root.
Her hand landed next to a vine with purple tracery on it. Shea froze, eyeing the vine with a hint of fear. As she watched, it slithered across the ground, much as she had, weaving back and forth as it sought its prey.
She held her breath as another vine slithered next to her, up and over one of her hands. A sleeper vine nest. Of all the luck. Her assailant wouldn’t need to do anything to her. She was going to get herself killed all on her own.