by Claudia King
Fern shook her head. "He takes a female occasionally, often on nights of celebration, but it is rare he brings the same person to his bed more than once. Did you speak with him?"
"Only a little. The alpha left him to keep watch over me, I think."
"Do you think he took a liking to you?" Fern teased.
"How do I tell?"
The other girl laughed. "Oh, I will have to teach you so much about the desires of a woman! Watch a man's eyes, especially at times when they should be busy elsewhere. Does he look to the parts of your body that men's hands long to touch? Does he say things that he would not say to other women?"
"I was not paying attention. I think he looked at the food more than he looked at me."
Fern seemed a little disappointed as she crumbled a handful of dry herbs into the bowl of water. "Well, perhaps we will be lucky. Maybe when the summer nights are hot he will take an eye to one of us for an evening."
"Khelt said that no other male would lay claim to me."
"Not as a mate, no, but pleasure can be shared freely. Even he would not deny you that during times of celebration."
"Perhaps I should ask him, in case it happens." The twinge in Netya's belly tugged harder. She was unsure of how she felt about going to someone else's bed, but the prospect made her curious. Were there different kinds of pleasure to be had with different men, as Fern had suggested? She thought about the way Layon had kissed her, and how it had differed from Khelt's kiss. Both had been pleasurable, one intimate and one intense. She thought she had preferred Khelt's kiss, but she hoped one day to relive the tenderness of Layon's as well.
Again her thoughts drifted toward home, stealing away the excitement and fascination of the present. She wanted to carry on living in the moment, but was that wise?
Fern tugged at the hem of her gown, distracting her from the sinking feeling in her chest.
"You should keep an eye on the other men. See if any of them take a fancy to you. If you desire them as well, there may be a time for you to share those desires."
"Would it be safe? I know that being with a man can leave you with his child. If the alpha desires an heir from me, would he not want it to be his?"
"There are ways for women to decide when they bear a child. Has nobody taught you?"
Netya shook her head. "I do not think my people even know of such ways. If they do, the older women do not share them with the young girls."
"I have been with men many times since I came of age, but I would prefer not to join the mothers until I have a mate of my own. The best way is to wait until a few days before you bleed every month. One of the old seers told me she never felt comfortable laying with a man at any other time, and she went her whole life without bearing a child. There are also plants that will stop a man's essence from entering you when taken. We have used them for many generations."
"I cannot imagine a woman going her whole life without bearing a child. Not if she was with men often," Netya said.
"It sometimes happens among our people, even without taking care. They say that long ago, before the time of our elder's elders, our people bore offspring just as readily as yours. But now there are few of us, and many of you. Perhaps that was why the alpha chose you, to ensure he never picked a female who would give him no heir." Fern dipped a wooden cup into the bubbling water, scooping up plenty of the stewing herbs before handing it to Netya. "This tea is good for the pains when you bleed, but it also soothes after a man leaves you sore from lovemaking."
Netya accepted the steaming cup gratefully, blowing on it and taking a small sip. It tasted bitter and hot, but she trusted in Fern's wisdom.
"I am learning so many things from you," she said. "I don't know how I will keep them all in my head. Being a woman is more complicated than I thought."
Fern laughed again. "You are no older than me, and soon you will know just as much! In a season or two, it will come naturally."
They sat for a while and talked further, Fern pressing her for more details about her night with Khelt, coaxing them out of Netya one by one until she had recounted almost the entire evening, with much commentary from her new friend along the way. It was approaching noon by the time the camp grew more lively, and Netya managed to feel less conscious of the looks thrown her way by the passers by this time. The Moon People seemed much less frightening now, and Fern's company made her forget completely that any of them still viewed her as one of their enemies. Instead her thoughts were occupied with the tantalising prospect of when she might next share a night with Khelt, or how she would discern when another man took interest in her. There was a fresh banquet of pleasures laid out before Netya, and only now had she learned to open her eyes and admire them.
After several reproachful looks from her pack mates, Fern finally tidied her things inside her tent and showed Netya inside to change into her more practical clothes. The day was already old, and they had done nothing but sit and talk while the rest of the pack began their daily work. It was not seemly for young people to lose track of the hours in mindless leisure, Fern explained, especially not in times of need.
Once Netya was dressed Fern led her out of the camp, picking her way down off the outcropping in the direction of the river. There was already a large hunting party out on the plains, she said, but they could still go foraging for fruit and nuts closer to home.
Netya was glad to be making use of herself. Perhaps if the others saw her as more than just a concubine to their alpha they would start looking on her with kinder eyes.
They took a woven grass basket each and made their way down the river to the south until they reached a spot where the watercourse narrowed and a series of carefully placed rocks allowed them to cross. Netya was curious to see whether Fern would take on her majestic wolf form again now that they were out in the open, but she continued talking in her normal guise as they made a leisurely pace through the overgrown land that stretched toward the distant mountains. After half an hour of wandering she realised that the excuse of foraging had probably been little more than a way to escape the disapproving eyes of the other pack members. She didn't mind. It was nice spending time with Fern, and the day was a bright and beautiful one. The blue sky seemed endless here, with no trees or hills to block it out for miles around. The air was sweet, still, and carried the gentle humming of nature all around them.
It had been a long time since Netya felt so free.
—7—
A Hunter's Prize
Fern led them on a long meandering walk to the south before their path finally arced back around and crossed the river again farther downstream. Their small baskets were filled with nuts and berries within a few hours, but Netya was content to carry on wandering as she savoured the sights and sounds of the new place. It was easy to get herself lost in the adventure, worrying of nothing as she enjoyed the sun on her skin and talked with Fern. How could a person think of their troubles on a day like this? Netya's home and people were far away, along with her responsibilities to them. Here everything was new, and she glowed with the satisfaction of her newfound womanhood.
If left to her own devices she could easily have let the whole day slip away, and even in Fern's company she very nearly did. But Netya had always possessed a knack for noticing when something was amiss with the people around her. It was not something she always acted on, and, as youthful as she was, not a talent she yet understood fully, but it was there nonetheless. As the day wore on she became increasingly aware of something strange in Fern's behaviour. At first it was a mild sense of discomfort at certain points in their conversation, then she began to realise that the other girl was intentionally changing the subject, or allowing their discussion to drop off before hastily pointing out some new plant or landmark to Netya.
By the middle of the afternoon, she finally realised what it was.
"Why are we talking only of your people and not mine? I have already forgotten half the names you've told me."
Fern looked sheepish for a moment, an
d immediately Netya knew she had hit on the source of her unease.
"You have much to learn of us," the other girl said. "I thought you were eager to hear all you could?"
"I am, but you were not so quick to change the subject before."
Fern paused, her brows furrowing. She worked her jaw back and forth, searching for an explanation that refused to come. Netya couldn't help but smile. Fern was clearly not accustomed to dishonesty.
"I'm sorry," she said. "This morning, before he left, the alpha asked me not to speak with you too much of your home. He would prefer you kept your thoughts on the present, I think."
"My thoughts are already on the present. I can barely think of anything else."
Fern gave her a curious look. "I would be missing my home if someone took me away from it."
Netya shrugged, and impatiently pushed the swell of guilt that rose inside her to the back of her mind. "I think my mother was always eager for me to leave the house as soon as possible. She raised me and my sisters for many years by herself. I knew she was weary of it, and of me. We did not often see eye to eye."
"But your friends?"
"They thought I was a witch."
"Because of your hair." Fern nodded, as though it all made perfect sense. "I heard it was the same for Adel, when she was young. It is often true of those with great destinies, for those who see the world differently."
"I think it was more that I made friends with a boy and wasn't afraid of the things that scared the rest of them. I'm sure I see the same world as everyone else."
"You saw that I was trying to avoid speaking of your home just now," Fern pointed out.
"Well, yes, but that was obvious."
"To you it was, but would it seem so clear to anyone else?"
Netya opened her mouth to speak, then pondered it for a moment. She'd never really given the matter much thought before. Always assuming that everyone picked up on such things, she'd made a habit of trying to tell the truth unless she was convinced she could get away with it.
"I don't know," she said. "Perhaps. But I am certainly not destined for anything great."
"Besides being consort to the alpha."
It was Netya's turn to furrow her brows at Fern. "Are you mocking me?"
The other girl looked at her for a moment before a smile began to creep into her expression. A moment later it burst into a laugh, and then Netya was giggling too, putting out a hand to steady her new friend as she threatened to drop the basket of food they'd just spent hours collecting.
"I don't know whether your destiny is great or not, Netya," Fern said once she had regained her composure enough to speak. "But you seem brave, pretty, sharp-minded, and I have enjoyed meeting you very much."
Netya took Fern's basket and set it down on the ground alongside hers, then gave the other girl a hug. "I might not have been so brave without someone to make me feel so welcome. Thank you, Fern."
"Welcome is how you should feel. You are one of our pack now, to me if no one else."
By the time they returned to the camp it was nearing evening. The long shadow of the outcrop crept its way across the grass to greet them as they approached, and the air carried the sweet smell of roasting food.
"No meat," Fern observed glumly. "The hunters can't have come back with anything."
"Are you worried?"
"The land is rich enough for us to survive on plants, but they will not be enough to last the winter, and wolves need meat. Without more successful hunts everyone will be unhappy. Hungry winters are when the most fights happen."
"Will the alpha try to take livestock from my people again?" Netya asked.
"I do not think so. The more often we venture into your lands the more dangerous it becomes."
"Perhaps my people would help freely if they knew you were not the monsters they think."
"I have heard Caspian say the same," Fern said. "But even he seems to believe that it can never truly happen. It is the alpha's business, anyway. He can give you a better answer than me."
They made their way to the foot of the outcropping and climbed the path between the rocks until they were back in the camp. Fern took them to the central area for the first time, where Netya found herself the subject of many curious looks from the assorted people and wolves nearby.
"Let them see your basket," Fern whispered in her ear. "It will make a good impression."
Netya did her best to subtly shift the basket so that it was resting against her hip in full view of the people around her. She still felt as if she was an oddity on display to them, but she hoped Fern's advice would work.
They crossed to a large open-fronted tent hung with heavy fur drapes and stepped inside, where Netya realised the interior led to the dark opening of an earth lodge concealed within the bank behind it. A toothless old woman shuffled out and scowled at them, before grabbing Fern's basket from her and squinting at the contents. She said something in her own language and gave Netya a stern look, before taking her basket as well and rummaging through the assorted berries on top. After a moment she snorted, seemingly satisfied, then said something that Netya did understand.
"Pale little girl, bring more baskets. Good for you, and for me."
Her words were broken and inelegant in their pronunciation, but Netya had the good sense to smile and nod in response. The woman grunted and shuffled back inside, taking the baskets with her.
"She appreciates hard work," Fern said. "She'd welcome the spirits themselves into her tent if they brought enough food with them."
The old woman appeared a moment later with a much smaller bowl of nut meal and berries, which she promptly shoved into Fern's hands before disappearing again.
They sat around the central fire to eat this time. It was a far less comfortable experience for Netya than the relative privacy of Fern's tent, but at the same time she was curious to see the rest of the pack going about their daily business. At first she barely felt able to look anywhere without finding a pair of curious eyes pointed in her direction, but after a while the attention of the Moon People returned to their own business, and the murmur of conversation resumed its natural buzz around them.
The sleek and powerful bodies of the few wolves nearby would have frightened Netya were she alone with them, but they formed such a natural part of the group that she soon had trouble remembering her anxieties. Many lounged on the warm rocks or sat curled up around their partners or mates, some prowling back and forth across the area occasionally, but for the most part it seemed as though a wolf pack and a settlement of people had simply been dropped on top of one another without anyone noticing. It was a surreal and tantalising experience, and Netya found herself enjoying it. Who else from her village could ever claim to have been at ease among a group of such savage beasts?
Not beasts, she reminded herself. People. And they are no more savage than my own.
Some of the others who Fern seemed to regard as friends made attempts to introduce themselves to Netya as she ate. She appreciated the effort, but there was little conversation to be had other than an exchange of names and a few uncertain words, with Fern doing her best to translate. It was true that those among them who spoke Netya's language seemed to be in the minority, and it disappointed her that she was unable to speak properly with them.
Caspian arrived at the central fire a little later, and she took the opportunity to try and engage him in conversation. He responded politely to her, but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere, and it was with a strange feeling of disappointment that she left him to his meal and returned to her place beside Fern.
"I must learn to speak as you do," she said. "Or I will have only myself to talk to when you are not around."
"Are you sure? It may take some time. I spent many summers journeying to meet the North People before I could speak as well as them."
"Your words do not sound so different to mine. You call a fire a fire and a tree a tree, don't you? And I have heard you say many other things that I recognise as
well."
"I told you you were sharp-minded." Fern grinned. "Alright, perhaps you will learn far faster than I did. And you will have more time than a few weeks every summer to pick it up, too."
Netya wondered, vaguely, whether long ago the Moon People might have spoken the same language as her own. She remembered her grandmother's mother, a woman who had lived far longer than most, sometimes using words that she did not understand. Perhaps after a great many years people simply forgot some words, just as they made up new ones when they discovered things that no words existed to describe. Metal, the material of tools that had allowed her people to build a great many new things, had not existed in her village in the time of her grandmother's mother. When the travellers from the far east had first begun to trade it with them, a new word had been born to describe it. In a hundred years, a hundred new words might be born. How many words did the Moon People have? More than a hundred, certainly. Into numbers beyond counting.
A sudden cry rang out from the other side of the camp. Whatever it was, it seemed important, stirring even the lounging wolves to their feet as the entire group hurried in the direction of the call, meals forgotten and conversations abandoned as each person jostled to find a space on the northern edge of the outcrop.
"What is happening?" Netya asked as Fern urged her to her feet and tugged her in the direction of the others.
"The hunters are back, and the news sounds good!"
Caught up in the infectious atmosphere, Netya found herself standing on tiptoes to try and peer over the shoulders of those in front of her.
"You shouldn't miss the sight of your first successful hunt," Caspian's voice sounded behind her. "Here, climb up." He made a step for her foot with his hands, and she eagerly gripped his shoulders and hoisted herself up, balancing against him as he held her weight with ease.
On the plains below a column of people approached, flanked by three wolves on either side. Those in the middle carried something between them, while a single figure strode out ahead to lead the way. For a moment Netya thought it might be Khelt, but he was nowhere to be seen, neither with the hunters or the rest of the pack.