by Claudia King
Netya was happy to enjoy the alpha's pleasurable company in the evenings again, and the lightening of her duties as an apprentice allowed her to spend more time with Fern, Erech, and the other young people. Whenever she was called to Khelt's den she was eager to share with him the things she had been learning, whether it was fascinating new uses for a plant, or the insight she had been reading into her dreams.
Despite Adel telling her not to put any stock in her glimpses into the spirit world just yet, Netya still found it exciting to ponder her visions, wondering where they came from and who they might be meant for. The others were always curious to hear about them too. She was forbidden from sharing many of the seers' secrets, of course, but that did not stop her from talking for hours with her friends about what their dreams might mean. It was little more than indulgent gossip, but her newfound status lent the conversations a hint of sincerity that made her companions hang on her every word.
She adored having a calling she could truly consider her own, one that fascinated others and lent both weight and confidence to the things she spoke of. Equally, she became more interested in hearing from others about the skills they were pursuing, now that she no longer felt like an outsider looking in. The hint of youthful longing and jealousy she had always felt toward those in positions of status was gone, and more than ever she realised that she had finally crossed over the boundary that separated the girl she had once been from the woman she had become.
And yet, when she came to Khelt's chamber in the evenings, full of eagerness and passion, he seemed interested in none of it. Netya was unsure at first what her conversations with the alpha were lacking, but after a few days it became clear. She forced herself to question what was making her feel uncomfortable—a skill that Adel had encouraged her to develop more thoroughly—and realised that, while Khelt would listen patiently to her for a short while every evening, he never questioned her further about her apprenticeship. When he responded, it was often with the intent to change the subject, and he never seemed truly at ease with her until they moved on to other topics, or abandoned talk entirely and retreated to the furs.
He still begrudged her training as a seer. He did not want to be reminded that she was spending time with Adel instead of him, and it hurt Netya to feel that she was unable to share her experiences with the alpha. It was a stark contrast to the passion and tenderness he showed her, which had only grown more intense since his return. Khelt was not a man of great words, but he communicated his feelings in other ways. It was clear he cared for her deeply, but the path she had taken left an invisible barrier between them. It was as if they were two people embracing through a veil, never close enough to be content.
To her equal dismay, Caspian seemed to have abandoned her entirely. There were many times when she found herself longing to sit with him on the rocks again, to share the things she felt unable to with Khelt. But days would go by without her so much as catching a glimpse of the man who had made her the pendant she now treasured. He was always just out of reach. When she caught sight of him bathing upstream from her in the spot used by the men, she would begin swimming in his direction, only for him to have finished and climbed back up the bank by the time she arrived. During meals, he was always on the other side of the camp, if he even put in an appearance at all. It frustrated Netya, so much so that she stopped even trying to track him down. If he did not want to spend time with her, perhaps she no longer wanted to spend time with him.
She tried to share the things she would have told Caspian with Erech, joining him at the edge of the crafting area to watch him knap some evenings, but it was not the same. Caspian had the ability to take a thought and explore it, to stretch something simple into a conversation that left Netya with just as many new questions as it did answers. Erech saw things in a simpler light, with straightforward, practical solutions. If there was something he did not understand, he would dismiss it with a shrug, or recite the advice he had been given by his father or uncles on such things.
It was difficult for Netya to relate. Many of the Moon People were of a stoic, accepting nature. Their animal instincts tended to make the world a small place, where even new questions could always be answered with the wisdom of the past. She wondered whether perhaps, if she were more like them, she might not be so bothered by the strange new changes in her life. If she had a wolf of her own, would things be easier?
Unable to talk it over with Caspian, she turned instead to Adel. One afternoon, as they sat side by side stripping down dry tree bark for the soft pieces that worked best in medicine, she finally asked her mentor a question that had been in the back of her mind for many months.
"My people sometimes told stories about how it was best to kill those wounded by your kind, in case they became infected with the Moon People's curse. I always wondered whether it was true."
Adel turned her apprentice's attention back to the task at hand with a nudge and a frown, but once Netya had gone back to stripping bark she answered.
"Our curse, as they call it, is our animal side, and yes, it has been known for your people to become like us."
"Does that mean there could be a way for me to call on a wolf of my own some day?"
"Why would you want such a thing? I thought you of anyone would understand how violent and impulsive it can make us."
Netya shook her head quickly. "It is not that I desire it, but such magic does make me curious. As a seer, should I not know of such things?"
"I suppose you should, in case you are ever forced to do what your people only spoke of. It is true, when we take on the shapes of wolves our bodies contain a poison that is harmful to your kind. Through savage wounds or the mingling of blood, it can be passed from one person to another, and it grows like an infection. When I was a girl, my pack wounded one of the Sun People's warriors and took him captive. The seers tried to tend to him, but the poison of the wolf who mauled him was already deep inside his body. There is no cure for such a thing. We listened to his cries of agony for days before he died. My pack took no more prisoners after that."
"But if the infection had not killed him?" Netya said.
"I have never seen it for myself," Adel warned. "It seems those who resist the sickness and survive are left with newborn wolves inside them. There are a few of them to be seen at the gatherings when packs come together. Their scent is strange, and the others are always wary of them. Most die, or are killed before they can settle. Both my people and yours fear what they do not understand."
Netya grimaced. "I think you have convinced me to remain myself."
"Good. You are learning well." Adel smiled. "I may make a seer of you yet."
—33—
The Cave of Alphas
It was a long time before Adel permitted Netya to venture into the spirit world again, and when her training finally returned to the subject of spirits and visions she was glad to have her white wolf draped about her. She had met him only a few times in her dreams since. The memories of his presence were vague and disconnected, but they had not been frightening. In the dream she remembered most clearly, she had been wearing his pelt at first, only to become one with it as time went on, staring out through his eyes as she walked on four legs and felt the wind rushing through her fur. The monster had become her guardian, and she hoped he would be there to protect her when she finally took her waking mind into the spirit world once more.
She need not have worried. As Adel had explained, she had no intention of using the nightwood berries again until Netya was more prepared, and the visions she experienced without them were likely to be less vivid. Once every few days, they mixed new leaves, berries, or other stewed plants into the nut meal, and Netya would eat until she felt the touch of the spirit world taking her away.
It was almost with disappointment that she discovered most of her induced visions did not even take her outside of the chamber she was sitting in. The spirits could be reached in many ways, Adel said, and it was not always through direct visions that N
etya would commune with them.
Some of the plants she sampled took her thoughts to strange places. Unfamiliar sounds whispered through her ears, colours blossomed from the stone walls that she had never seen before, and her senses took on new keenness that made the mundane fascinating. One afternoon she spent hours working her way around the edge of Adel's chamber, running her hands over the walls and the fur of the various animal pelts, amazed by the appreciation the spirits gave her for the ways in which nature crafted such wonders.
She slipped into some visions where her wolf pelt seemed to be moving on her body, his distant growls echoing in her ears, but they never took her as deep into the spirit world as the nightwood berries had. The spirits of the animals in Adel's chamber spoke to her too, but if their words held any profound wisdom, it was lost on Netya.
One day she felt the grass mat beneath her come to life and burrow its fronds into her thighs, burning like fire as Adel's soothing touch became a grip of iron that crushed the air from her lungs until she feared she was about to die. When she came to her senses again, she realised it had only been the work of the spirits playing tricks on her, but Adel made sure they avoided the berries that had brought on that particular vision in the future.
The weeks passed until summer was upon them again, and with the turning of the seasons Netya was permitted even more time to herself away from her duties. The warm weather lightened inhibitions and made for good hunting, meaning that many of the seers, Adel included, had to spend more time tending to the needs of the pack than usual. With the celebration of the summer fires once again on the horizon, passions and romantic rivalries came into sharper focus. If a day went by when a young woman did not come to the seers' cave searching for guidance on matters of the heart, there would almost always be a male in her place who required healing. Posturing and acts of heroism to impress potential partners often led to recklessness, and frequent, if minor, fights broke out between friends and enemies alike. They were far less vicious and bloody than those Netya had witnessed in the winter, but even mild wounds still needed a healer's touch to soothe pain and safeguard against infection. Even with their resilient bodies, the Moon People left nothing to chance.
She tried to follow Brae's example when the older seer reprimanded two laughing young males as they sat together in the antechamber waiting to be tended, but it was hard for Netya to hide her smile. The bruised and bleeding pair had been fighting just moments earlier, and yet now they had their arms around each other's shoulders, cracking jokes about which one of them had impressed their favourite female more.
It was hard not to be warmed by the carefree nature of her pack mates, where frustrations could be vented and forgotten in the blink of an eye. While she might never have understood how friends could go from fighting one moment to laughing about it the next, it was hard for her to deny that the ways of the Moon People served them well.
Netya was allowed to assist in treating simple wounds, but the other seers were much more adept than her, and it often felt like they wanted her out of the way during the weeks of summer. The experience was invaluable in developing her skills as a healer—so much so that the sight of blood no longer bothered her in the slightest—but she was still glad to have more time to herself during the days when the others did not want her under their feet.
It was during one of her lazy mornings away from the cave that Khelt found her down by the river, and he beckoned her over with a smile. His sudden appearance puzzled Netya. She was not used to him approaching her during the day all that often, and recently he had been just as busy as the seers dealing with the hot tempers the summer season had brought on.
"Come with me," he said. "I want to show you something."
"What is it?" Netya replied, but Khelt had already taken the shape of his wolf and was lowering his body to the ground for her to climb on. With a bemused grin, she swung her leg over the alpha's back and curled her fingers into his fur, feeling the soft tickle of his dark coat brushing up against her thighs as she straddled him.
Khelt barked up at the sky, wiggling beneath Netya to make sure she had a firm grip, then broke into a run. He took her south down the river, into the overgrown land where the plains gave way to nature, before breaking off from the familiar route to head east. The journey took less than an hour on Khelt's quick legs, but their path led them through places Netya rarely saw on her own wanderings. They moved beyond the lush foraging territory into the more bleak area of hills and scrubland that she remembered coming through on the way from her village to the outcrop.
The natural beauty of the land was more subdued here. Gone were the colours of petals and leaves, replaced instead by long, majestic valleys and ridges, with carpets of wild grass that rustled quietly in the gentle wind. There was little birdsong to be heard, but rather than feeling lonely, the silence lent the hills an air of reverence, as if the ancient land was a place where even the animals kept their voices low. It was not good hunting ground, nor did there seem to be much of anything worth gathering here. Perhaps that was what made it feel so different. It was a corner of the world that had no purpose save to exist for itself. It was simple, and it was calming.
Khelt brought her to the base of a small hill before coming to a halt. At first Netya could not tell why he had chosen such a spot. It looked completely unremarkable at first glance, but the alpha seemed confident that they had reached their destination. He crouched down for Netya to get off, then returned to his two-legged shape and led her to a pile of boulders midway up the grassy slope.
"Will you tell me now why we are here?" she said.
"You will see soon. My father took me to this place when I was a boy. As far as I know, I am the only one who can find it." He turned to look at her for a moment. "Perhaps it will help show you some of the things that I cannot."
No more enlightened by his cryptic remark, Netya waited while Khelt stepped forward and ran his hands over the rocks until he found the boulder he was looking for. It was huge, to the point where Netya was sure no man would have been able to move it. When Khelt braced his hands against the underside she almost reached out to stop him, remembering what had happened the last time he tried to shift such an immovable object.
She need not have worried. As Khelt heaved his muscular body against the boulder, she realised that the underside was rounded, allowing it to roll smoothly to one side. It still took all of the alpha's strength to shift it, but after just a few seconds of straining against the rock it tipped, thudding heavily into a natural dip in the ground that seemed perfectly suited to holding it.
Khelt held out his hand to her, leading the way into the narrow earthen passage that had been exposed.
All of the caves Netya had set foot in back at the outcrop had been skilfully adapted from their natural state into cosy dwellings, but they were all imperfect in some way. Unlike houses and earth lodges, they could not be shaped into anything too different from how nature had crafted them. This cave, however, was perfect. It was as if the spirits themselves had carved it out to fulfil the one sacred duty it was intended for, and it took her breath away.
The centre of the hill held an enormous hollow chamber, perfectly circular save for a few surviving stalactites, and domed like the shape of an upturned bowl. It looked as though a giant bubble had risen from deep beneath the earth and settled near the surface, creating walls that were smooth rather than craggy, and a floor that felt as flat as river-polished rock beneath Netya's feet. A circular opening at the apex of the dome illuminated the chamber, casting its brightest shaft of light on a platform of stone that had clearly been made by hand, one broad, flat boulder propped up by a series of smaller ones to create what looked like an altar. It was blanketed with grass and dust that had fallen from the opening above, and a small pool of rainwater had collected around the base, but it was still an impressive sight to behold.
All of this was nothing compared to what lined the walls, however. Netya had never seen such an intricate and fascinatin
g pattern in her life. From a distance it was hard to tell what the shapes were, but as she drew closer she realised that almost two thirds of the entire chamber had been painted with a continuous mural that stretched around the inner wall, one pattern flowing into the next over and over again. The colours and outlines varied, some simple, some extravagant, but whoever had painted them must have spent years creating such a mesmerising stream of shapes. From the moment she looked at them, she knew she would remember the sight for the rest of her life.
"Did your father paint these?" she said in awe, stepping away from Khelt to examine the wall closest to her where the mural began.
"My father and his father are only a small part of what this is," he replied. "As I will be too, when the next alpha succeeds me. Every one of us, every leader of our pack, for as long as time can remember us, has come here to add his own story to the walls. If there is a place our spirits linger after we are gone, I think it is here."
As Netya's eyes grew accustomed to the dim light beneath the sheltered cave walls, she began to make out even fainter patterns next to the ones she had been looking at, so old that time had worn them away to almost nothing. She made her way around the edge of the cave, tracing one painting to the next. Many of them depicted familiar sights. Herds of beasts, wolves, hunters, battles. She could see clearly where the life of one alpha ended and the next began. The colour of the paint would change, the character of the shapes would differ, and a new chapter in the history of the pack would unfold.
Some of the alphas seemed to have made no more than a begrudging addition to the mural, a short series of simple marks that depicted what she took to be themselves and the members of their pack. Others were more extravagant. One mural in particular stretched so far up the curved roof that Netya did not know how the painter had ever managed to climb so high, depicting a flourishing series of people, places, and objects that were so abstract they were difficult to make sense of.