by Claudia King
Vaya's barbed words had exactly the effect she'd been fishing for. Fern's eyes widened for a split second, then flashed with the predatory sheen of her wolf rising to the surface.
"Fern." Caspian's gentle voice was so soft Vaya barely heard it, but in an instant it stilled the anger within her, and her opponent's eyes dimmed, the wolf vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
Caspian strode toward them, taking in everything he needed to see in the time it took him to reach Netya's side. He helped the shaking girl to her feet and said a few words in the Sun People's tongue, before fixing his eyes on Vaya.
"Enough of this," he said. "You have a hunt to lead."
"I have a fool chaser to discipline for her insolence," Vaya growled, clinging on to her anger, though it was tinged with apprehension now.
Caspian's expression darkened, his innocuous tone taking on a more threatening note as he stepped forward. "Is that so?" He stared her down, standing eye to eye with the huntress.
The wolf within her began to rise to his challenge, then it glimpsed what she had always feared in Caspian. The glint of power in his eyes that mirrored that of the alpha. Something so subtle it was invisible enough to be forgotten, overlooked in just the way Caspian wanted it to be. And just like that, Vaya was reminded that a man who could hide such power was not a foe she could best.
The wolf inside her curled up and hid, and she averted her eyes in submission, staring down at the ground as she backed off. The show of humility would cost her, especially with so many of her hunters watching, but at that moment her anger was subordinate to the relief she felt at no longer having to match Caspian's unblinking gaze.
"Back to the hunt?" he said, as mildly as if the question had been asked as nothing more than a passing curiosity.
"We should leave soon," Vaya replied, directing it more to her hunters than the man standing before her. "We have wasted enough time already." She swallowed her pride, forcing it down into the dark place where her wolf dwelt.
As she packed up the last of the bundles, Vaya looked up as Caspian and Fern led the concubine girl away from the fire. A lick of the anger she had crushed down flickered back to life as she watched Netya's dark braid disappear between the rocks.
—13—
Friends and Enemies
Shock, more than anything, dominated Netya's thoughts as Fern and Caspian helped her up the slope, the male and female taking charge of one of her arms each. Her face throbbed with a hot ache, her nose and right eye already swelling up where Vaya had hit her.
Growing up under a protective mother who had already lost much, Netya had never been exposed to the rough and tumble play that had occasionally left the other youngsters with cracked bones and deep bruises, and she was having trouble dealing with the pain that now gripped her. She swayed giddily every few steps, her head dipping forward as if dragged down by the weight of her swelling face. Blood dripped freely from her nose, and every time she winced it only made the discomfort worse.
"Why would she do that?" Netya said numbly, her words slurred by the intense weight that seemed to press down on her nose. "What... What did I do?"
Fern looked to Caspian anxiously, and he sighed.
"I am sure she had a reason," the male said. "I gather your people are much less vicious with their reprimands?"
"Nobody ever hit me," Netya replied.
"How quickly will you heal from this?" Fern said, sounding by far the most concerned of the three. "Will you heal from this?"
Netya bobbed her head gingerly. "I should. Maybe it will take a few days? A week? I do not know." She winced again, and resolved to try and move her head as little as possible.
"A week," Fern fretted, looking again to Caspian. "We should have the seers look at her. Her people are so fragile."
"I am not sure how much they would help," he replied. "They are not used to healing bodies that take so long to heal themselves."
"But what if she becomes worse? Can the Sun People not lie for weeks with a wound before it kills them?"
"It's not that bad," Netya tried to reassure her friend, warmed by her concern. "But it hurts. Perhaps there is something for the pain?"
"Of course! Wait with Caspian, I will go to the seers and ask for their strongest herbs."
Before Netya could respond Fern had dashed off, leaving her with the male as he walked her to one of the small tents nestled out of the way on the side of the outcrop, and sat her down inside. She did not think it was Caspian's own dwelling, but it was quiet and comfortable, and she was glad to be off her shaky feet.
"Here, let me look," he said, tilting her head toward him gently. She closed her eyes, wondering how much of a mess she looked through the dried blood and tears. She would have preferred Caspian not to see her in such a light, but at that moment she cared little. The comfort of having people nearby who were concerned for her helped to dispel the state of shock Vaya's outburst had left her in.
Her companion filled a bowl from a waterskin and used a corner of his fur cloak to dab the blood from her lips and chin, being careful not to touch the tender areas.
"I will spoil your cloak," she slurred.
"It will wash. The bleeding is starting to slow at least, that is good."
Netya opened her eyes a crack to watch him as he bathed her face clean. As always seemed the case with Caspian, he attended to the task studiously and without comment. For a moment she was saddened not to see Fern's concern mirrored in the male's expression, before she realised that his actions spoke for themselves. He had not often made her feel welcome with grand words and emotions, but Caspian's attitude took simple kindness in its step, as though it was so natural a thing to him that he did not even recognise it.
At least, that was what Netya believed. Perhaps he was simply taking care of his alpha's concubine as he had been instructed, loyally and thoroughly, without any need to express his genuine feelings. But in her heart, she believed he was kind. Distant, perhaps, but a good man through and through.
"Why do your people hate mine so?" she said at last, after several minutes of silence had gone by. She expected an answer similar to the ones she had gotten from her own people when she asked them the same question, but instead Caspian only looked at her sadly.
"Because they are our enemies, just as we are yours. Are we not the monsters who come to steal and kill in the night?"
"Not to me."
"And to me your people are not the wicked tribe who hunt and trap our brethren, fighting them without honour and taking their bones for trophies. And yet, that is how most of us see you. The Sun People of the east forests have been our foes for as long as we can remember."
"But why, if it is not the whole truth?"
Caspian gazed at her, and a flicker of something deeper than stoic compassion appeared in his eyes for an instant. "It is so rare that anyone asks me that question."
"I do not wish to be impertinent."
"At times I wish more females were."
Another moment of silence followed, but this time Netya felt the tension in it keenly. It was another sensation that she had not experienced before, and it confused her greatly. In her mind she thought of invisible sparks popping from a fire, the prickle of the air as thunder neared.
"If I thought we could reach an accord with your people, I would do everything in my power to make it happen," Caspian said eventually.
"What makes you so sure you cannot?"
"There must always be a retribution for each wrong we do to each other. Our sister Cera was killed last winter, and now you have been taken to answer for it. Will your people see us as even? Or must another of us die to avenge your loss?"
"I would rather mourn a loss than seek revenge for it," Netya said.
"But that is not the way of men who lead and fight for their people. Can you tell me, Netya, what your people would do if we were to offer our hand to them in friendship? Would they accept it? Or would they see that we had become desperate? That we were weak, ready to fin
ally bow to them, and ripe for a band of warriors to track down our home and put an end to us once and for all?"
Netya thought of all the times she had heard the men of her village talk about how they would one day slay the last of the Moon People, the fruitless plans that had been made time and again to brave the plains, only to be diffused days later by fear before they could come to fruition. Was it ever worth risking so much on such a quest?
"I do not know," she admitted.
"Nor do I," Caspian said, his voice distant. "And it is an answer we can never risk getting wrong. A death every few years is the price our people have agreed to pay to avoid chancing something far worse. It is a sad truth that many do not see."
It made Netya's heart sink to realise the wisdom in his words. How many small evils people would be willing to tolerate out of fear. Sacrificial lambs to appease a looming threat, a battle that would leave many more dead on both sides were it ever to happen. The kind of fear that could make two clans enemies for generations beyond count. She found herself wishing she had kept her thoughts on matters more fitting of her status.
Caspian looked away and dipped the corner of his cloak back into the bowl of crimsoning water. "And once again I speak of things that should be saved for the ears of precious few. Do not worry yourself, Netya. I did not wish to burden you."
She did not feel burdened. A weight had been placed on her mind, yes, but it had also opened her thoughts to things she had not considered before. A question that had gone unanswered all her life had finally been made clear, and the truth was now so obvious that the world seemed more real because of it. She appreciated the clarity he had given her.
Before she could reassure Caspian, however, Fern returned, and behind her followed Adel.
Netya immediately tensed at the sight of the den mother, fighting the urge to scramble away as the raven-haired seer ducked into the tent and eyed her with a cold gaze.
"The other seers were occupied," Fern said as she sat down and took Netya's arm. "But the den mother was gracious enough to agree to see you."
"Fern told me this was serious," Adel said, clearly unconvinced. "I hope for her sake she has not wasted my time."
Netya averted her eyes, itching with discomfort already. She thought she would rather take another blow from Vaya than spend another minute in the den mother's presence. The memory of the night Erech and Nathar fought was one she had tried her best to forget.
"You are here now, Adel, will you not at least look at the girl?" Caspian said.
The den mother gave him a dark look, but it did not hold Adel's customary amount of contempt. "I will assure you she is not dying, if that news will please the alpha."
"I am sure it will." Caspian nodded, then moved aside as the seer knelt down to examine Netya.
"Stay still, girl. Your nose is broken. If you flinch it will make it worse." Adel gripped her chin with one hand while the other began to pry and prod at the tender area.
Netya grit her teeth, fighting through the pain it caused her, determined not to let out the sob that was building in her chest. She had already shown enough weakness in the den mother's presence.
"You are fortunate," Adel continued, though she did not seem particularly pleased by Netya's good luck. "The bone does not need correcting. You will still be pretty for the alpha when it heals."
"She will be alright, then?" Fern asked.
"Not if her presence continues inviting such punishments, no." Adel glared at Fern. "But this time? She will recover, yes. Until she draws the ire of another brash hunter."
"Thank you, den mother," Caspian cut in, moving the conversation swiftly on. "We appreciate your wisdom."
That seemed to placate Adel a little. "Her people take some weeks to heal injuries like this fully," she said. "Be gentle with it, and boil these with your food for the pain." From within her gown she took a bundle of dried plant stalks with shrivelled bulbs at the ends and tossed them into Netya's lap. "No more than one each day."
Adel stood and waited, and it took a nudge from Fern to remind Netya that she was being addressed by the most senior member of the pack besides Khelt.
"Thank you, den mother," she mumbled out, though it would take much more than a handful of herbs to make her truly thankful for Adel's presence.
"You must improve that attitude if you do not wish to find yourself on the receiving end of more fists."
"I will try my best," Netya replied.
"Do more than try," Adel said, then she gathered up her gown and swept out of the tent.
"I fear I am beginning to make more enemies than friends here," Netya mused as Fern continued to fret over her.
"It is not your fault," the other girl said. "Vaya has a quick temper, but this was too much."
"It was no more than she would have given anyone else," Caspian observed.
"But Netya is not like us. Oh, I would almost have challenged Vaya myself if you hadn't stepped in!"
"You would not have gained anything by trying to match that temper of hers, and I fear you will have a hard time convincing anyone that she acted out of accord. They already see Netya as different enough. If exceptions are made it will only make it more difficult for people to accept her."
"But—"
"Please, do not cause any more trouble over me," Netya cut in, her head starting to ache from the raised voices as much as the throbbing of her swollen nose.
"Leave Vaya to her own business for now," Caspian said. "I will speak with the alpha about this, but I would hope for all our sakes that nothing comes of it. You do not want to make an enemy of Vaya, either of you."
Fern still looked frustrated, but she bowed her head in deference, and Caspian rose to leave. Netya's eyes strayed after him as he departed, hoping to see him turn back with a reassuring smile or a warm comment. She did not know why it disappointed her so much when he did not.
"Come back to our tent and lie down," Fern said. "You must rest and get well. I will brew these herbs and fetch something for you to eat with them."
Netya tried to protest her friend's kindness, but when she began to wobble again after finding her feet she was glad to have someone there supporting her. She leaned on Fern's arm as they made their way back to the other side of the outcrop, unsure whether to feel warmed or even more unsettled by everything that had transpired that morning.
—14—
Punishment
It took much of Khelt's willpower to keep from dragging Vaya straight back home to face his wrath. When Caspian told him of the incident with Netya he had been concerned, but it was not uncommon for senior pack members to discipline those beneath them. He reminded himself that it was only his place to step in when disputes refused to resolve themselves, and the altercation between his hunter and concubine seemed to have ended as quickly as it began. But his discomfort lingered, and a day of deep consideration about how to tackle the problem of Netya's future instead became one of ongoing worry about the poor girl.
By noon he had given up on trying to still his thoughts. The wolf inside him was restless, and he knew calm solitude would do nothing to quiet it. Against his better judgement, he decided to look in on Netya.
He had expected to find her shaken, perhaps with a fading bruise and a wounded sense of pride, as would have been the case with any other member of his pack. But the sight of her propped up inside Fern's tent, half-unconscious from the mind-fogging effects of Adel's medicine, her face swollen and still trickling drying blood, stirred an anger in his chest that he had not felt in a long time.
Perhaps it was simply his shock at being reminded how poorly her people took to injury, or his natural instinct to protect a wounded young female in need, but no sooner had Fern risen to her feet in surprise than he turned heel and walked straight back out of the tent, taking his wolf form and running to the north edge of the outcrop without stopping to consider what he would do if he caught Vaya's troupe still within eyesight on the plains below.
He let his wolf's hot breat
h snort from his nostrils as he glared across the landscape, grinding his teeth together as feral thoughts wrestled in his head. The urge to fight, to avenge what was precious to him, boiled beneath Khelt's fur, urging him to take action. But he had not given in to that part of himself for many years, and he was not about to start now, over a female of all things. His strength of will was what set him apart from other males, and as he breathed in the scents of the plains he turned his anger elsewhere.
Ignoring the trail left by Vaya and her hunters, he picked a different direction and leaped down from his perch, ignoring the danger of his path as he sprang from rock to rock, the descent leaving his muscles warm with strain by the time he reached the grass below. He ran then, heading toward the mountains in the distance. He set his eyes on a snow-capped peak, and said to himself I will go there.
It was a promise Khelt had made a hundred times before, and every time he had truly meant it. He would go there. This time. That was his goal, and as a wolf he would cling to it doggedly, unconcerned with pacing himself as the anger beneath his fur lent a reckless energy to his strides.
There were times in his youth when the sun had fallen by the time he finally realised he was never going to reach the peak. Within a few short hours the furious energy pumping through his veins ebbed. When he looked back the outcrop was a tiny black mark in the distance, and yet the mountains seemed just as far away as ever.
He reverted to his human shape then, breathing heavily as he pressed a palm to his brow, perspiration rolling off his chest. He could not reach the peak. There were responsibilities waiting for him.
Now more than ever, the mountains remained firmly beyond his reach.
With his animal impulses burning themselves out inside him, Khelt turned and began walking back in the direction he had come, his head clearing itself enough to make way for the return of reason. He had a long time to think as he made the journey back home on two legs.