by Claudia King
The keenness of the moment gradually faded once it was spent, but the warmth remained. Netya clung to Caspian with a smile on her lips, sprawled across his chest as their bodies heaved with breathless exertion. The yearning she felt for him had reached its culmination, but it would never truly be satisfied. Her feelings for Caspian made her want to curl up against him and sink into the furs until their spirits mingled and became one, until every part of her was his and ever part of him hers. He made the ache of everything that had been lost, the fear of what tomorrow would bring, and every uncertainty she felt for herself fade away in favour of their future together. It was too bright a star to be dulled by the weight of the world.
The pair did not sleep until long into the night. When they were not making love, they were talking of the things they would share with no one else, or savouring the closeness of one another without the need for words. To say it was the happiest night of Netya's life would have been false, for so many things had happened recently to dull true happiness.
It was, however, the most fulfilling.
Two days later, the warnings began.
At first the scouts reported one fire, then another, until every morning they were returning with word of another blaze sighted out on the plains. The Sun People knew the importance of secrecy while they were in the territory of their enemies, and it was rare to see so much as a single campfire from the hunting parties that strayed so far afield. The bonfires they were burning now had not been built in the name of secrecy.
The hunters reported one large group, sometimes two. They would travel during the day and build their fires at night, meandering back and forth along the length of the river, sometimes advancing, sometimes retreating, but gradually drawing ever closer to the outcrop.
"Perhaps they saw Hawk and Essie's pyre as a challenge," Caspian said one morning as he, Khelt, and Adel talked over a shared meal. A tenuous truce seemed to have fallen between the alpha and den mother, though it seemed born of their shared concern for the pack rather than any genuine accord. Netya was permitted to listen in on many of their discussions due to her closeness with Caspian and Adel, and Khelt, for all of the distance that had grown between them, was too preoccupied with the wellbeing of his pack to object to her presence. He questioned her many times about how the people of her village might attack. What weapons would they use? Did they wear leather to protect themselves? How was it made? Would they be organised with no leader?
Netya was thankfully unable to answer many of his questions. She knew little of how the men of her village hunted, and even less of their dealings with the Moon People. She shared many concerned looks with Adel as the den mother warned of caution, of how best to avoid conflict rather than engage with it. One thing seemed clear, though; the Sun People's desire for vengeance had overcome their fear. They wanted a fight, and their fires were an invitation for the wolves to come.
As the weeks crept anxiously by, the fires remained. Some days they drew closer to the outcrop, others they drifted farther away, but every night the scouts reported them burning as brightly as ever.
The celebration of the summer fires did not take place that year. The ceremonial bonfires would turn the outcrop into a beacon that would be visible for miles around, and Khelt could not risk revealing the camp's location to curious eyes. The announcement left the pack sullen and agitated. The celebration was held every year, and not since the days of the conflict with Adel's pack had it been postponed. It was a bad omen, and the visions of the seers warned of even greater unrest to come.
When Netya was not at Adel's side attempting to continue her training, she found herself occupied taking care of Wren, who had become a permanent occupant of her and Fern's tent in the days following the loss of her parents. The girl was quiet, and she often spent long hours inside, speaking and eating little, but there were moments when glimpses of her old self still shone through.
It was her time with Caspian, however, that kept Netya strong. Their nights together were fewer than she would have liked, but they were as sweet and tender as ever. The only person she told of them was Fern. Some evenings when Wren was asleep, she would tell her friend quietly about the way he made her feel, about the pleasures she shared in his furs, and the hopes she had for what the future might bring. Sitting up for hours sharing their romantic gossip, it felt almost like Netya's first months with the pack again.
Unfortunately, any sense of security she might have hoped to recapture did not last. Even Caspian's comfort could not shield her from the tension straining the pack. It was clear that many of them blamed her for what had happened, and not since her arrival had she been made to feel so unwelcome. Many of the people who had previously shared fires with her got up to leave when she approached. Vaya took every opportunity to stir the rumours that the Sun girl had been responsible for the den mother's poisoning after all.
Just as Adel had promised, she sent Selo to Vaya's tent to sniff out any lingering scent the nightwood berries might have left, but all she found was the heavy odour of a particularly potent seasoning herb smothered over the entire dwelling.
"Not enough to convince anyone of her guilt," Adel muttered as she sat with Netya in her chamber the day after. "Yet not the actions of an innocent woman either. Have you been watching her? The way she strives to convince the others of anyone's guilt but her own? As if she is desperate."
"Do you believe me, then?" Netya said.
The den mother nodded. "Had she behaved as normal I might never have suspected anything, but Vaya is not skilled in restraint." A dark look crossed Adel's face, her scarred fingers brushing at the burn that ran from the heel of her palm to the elbow. "I will see her ruined for what she did to me."
"You frighten me when you speak this way," Netya said.
"Your heart is still too soft. Those who wrong you through cowardice and jealousy are not deserving of such pity." She glared at her apprentice for a moment, then her expression softened. "I do not mean to exact the same vengeance on her as she did to me. That would make me no better than her."
"Then what is your plan?"
"I do not have the power to banish her from the pack. I could deny her many of the things she desires, but what good would that do? Her resentment would only grow stronger. She must be dealt with once and for all, before she attempts something even more reckless." She looked at Netya curiously, the way she often did when waiting for her apprentice to reach a conclusion on her own. "Tell me, what is Vaya's greatest weakness?"
Netya shrugged. "She is the last person who comes to my mind when I think of weakness. She has accomplished much compared to the other women of this pack."
"Do not be so slow," Adel said impatiently. "You know better than to cast such shallow judgements. Tell me, what is it that makes Vaya weak? What makes her hasty, foolish, prone to making mistakes?"
Netya cast her mind back, recalling the times she had seen the huntress out of her element. The times she had been humbled by Khelt and Caspian, caught off her guard, forced to face shame in the eyes of the pack.
"Her pride," she said. "She holds on to it too tightly."
"Yes," Adel mused. "She is like the alpha in this way. Challenge her pride, and she will throw herself on the very spears of her enemies to prove you wrong."
"It seems dangerous to bait Vaya."
"Are you afraid of her?"
"No," Netya responded in an instant.
Adel smiled. "Because you know you are wiser, more cunning than her. Keep your eyes and ears open, and when the opportunity arrives you will see it, while she remains blind. Catch her in her pride. Turn it against her, and let the pack see her for what she is."
Netya did not hold the same confidence in herself that the den mother seemed to. She almost thought to question why Adel seemed so intent on leaving the task to her apprentice, but she had known her mentor long enough by now to realise for herself. Adel wanted her apprentice to become more like her. A wise, cunning, powerful seer. One who was able to undo her ene
mies by herself.
They did not speak of the matter further after that day, but Netya minded the den mother's words. She kept her eyes and ears open, watching and listening to her rival, searching for the weakness that would allow her to put an end to all the hurt Vaya had been responsible for.
—43—
A Final Choice
"It will only be a few weeks before the heavy rains come," Khelt said. "The Sun People will be forced to abandon the plains by then."
"And if they do not?" Adel retorted. "The weather has not dampened their spirits so far. They will not leave until they have the blood they seek."
"What would you have me do about it? If they come, they come. I did not ask for this fight, but I will defend my pack with my life if they force my hand."
"Your foolish mind sees only one path, the path of misery and death."
"I would not expect a female to understand," Khelt growled. "Least of all you. What do you know of strength and honour? Of the things a man must do to protect those who look to him for guidance?"
Netya listened anxiously from her place across the fire. She had hoped for Adel and Khelt's arguments to come to an end, but with no sign of the Sun People abandoning their camps on the plains, the animosity between the two of them had reared its head once more. It did not help that they were once again raising their voices in the centre of the outcrop, for all the pack to hear.
"Wolves do not know the difference between honour and bloodlust!" Adel said. "You and I have both seen it, but it seems only one of us has had the wisdom to learn. If you valued the lives of your pack above your own pride, you would steer them away from this madness."
"Then I ask you again, Witch, what would you have me do?"
"Leave the plains. Guide your pack away to safety, beyond the reach of the Sun People. They would not venture past the mountains."
Khelt let out a bark of contempt. "You mean run, like cowards. Give up our home, the place our pack has dwelt for generations beyond count? I may as well hand the Sun People their victory."
"Time will dull their need for revenge," Adel said, a chill in her voice. "Leave a few behind to watch this place. If the Sun People do not return after winter's end, your home will still be here waiting for you. Can you say the same for the lives that will be lost if you stay and fight them?"
"You ask me to uproot my pack. Our hunters do not know the lands beyond the mountains. What of the young and the elders? Will they survive a winter of hard travelling?"
"If we leave now, we will have time to find safety before the first snows fall," Adel said. "But if you wait, the chance will be gone. There will be no alternative but to stay and fight."
For a moment Khelt almost seemed to be considering her proposal, but the dark glint of suspicion in his eye was not easily undone. "This is not the first time you have cautioned such action," he said, lowering his voice to a rumble. "You left three of our brothers and sisters to die the last time you fled when we should have stayed and fought. Now is the time for a show of strength, not more cowardice."
"I will not leave my seers to die for your pride," Adel hissed. "If bloodshed is what you desire, you will face it alone once more." She raised her voice, making sure everyone nearby would hear what she said next. "If the Sun People do not leave by the first rains, I will lead all those who are willing to the safety of the mountains. Let the alpha stay and throw away the lives of his pack, if that is what he desires."
Khelt bared his teeth at her, his anger spilling over. "This is no time for your games! I need the full strength of my pack behind me. I forbid anyone from leaving!"
"You do not command me. I will do as I wish."
"Will you, when I have my hunters drag you back here by their jaws?!"
Adel's eyes widened slightly. If there had been any shred of sympathy left for the alpha in her heart, it seemed to burn out in that moment. "Just like an alpha," she all but spat. "Violence is all you know. You speak of courage, but it is you who are the coward. I will leave when the first rains come, and you may do with me as you desire."
"Have you no loyalty to your pack?!" Khelt roared after her as she strode away. "I am the alpha, and you are my den mother! You will do as I say!"
Netya felt herself trembling. The gathering area was silent. She had never seen Khelt so furious. The alpha turned around, fists clenched, and ran his gaze over those watching him.
"The Sun People will leave," he said, taking a deep breath. "And I will lay down my life before I see them do harm to any of you." His words hung in the air as he sat back down. It was a long time before anyone dared speak up again. Khelt stared into the fire, snapping sticks of kindling viciously between his hands until he had reduced his stack of firewood to a pile of twigs.
Netya could see history repeating itself. Khelt and Adel could not look past their hatred for one another, and soon it would pull the pack apart. If neither of them could compromise, what would become of those caught in the middle? Whichever course of action proved right, whether it was to fight or to flee, the strength of the entire pack would be needed to see it through. Splitting them apart at a time like this could prove ruinous.
Worst of all, Netya felt powerless to do anything to stop it.
Wren crept over to her side once the alpha had departed later that morning. The girl was doing a little better than before, but Khelt's outburst had clearly upset her. Netya suspected Wren would have been one of those tempted by Adel's plan. After losing her parents, it was unlikely she had any desire to see more death.
"The alpha and den mother are only worried for all of us," Netya said, making a space for the girl beside her. Of the two young women who had taken her in, Wren was much closer to Fern, having known her all her life, and it was rare she confided in Netya. That morning, though, she seemed willing to overcome her shyness.
"My father always told me what to do when times were hard," she said. "Now no one does. I'm afraid, Netya."
"Your father's spirit is watching over us, I am sure. The alpha and den mother are wise. They will reach an accord sooner or later." Netya did not believe it herself, but the cold truth was not what Wren needed right now. The girl fidgeted for a moment. Something else was bothering her, but she seemed unable to put it into words.
"Have you spoken with my father's spirit?" she said at last, so quietly Netya barely heard her.
"I—" Netya began, caught off guard by the question. "I am just an apprentice. Such things are beyond my power."
"Oh. I'm sorry, I should have known better. It is not my place to ask such things of the seers."
"You may ask me, Wren."
The girl looked up at her with a hesitant smile, and Netya took the opportunity to draw her in with an arm around her waist. She had consoled her younger sisters in much the same way many times.
"It is not proper for children to request visions of the seers," Wren said.
"You will be beginning the path to womanhood soon. Perhaps it is fine for a girl who is not yet a woman to ask a woman who is not yet a seer?"
Wren looked down and bit her lip. "I just want to know if my parents have spoken to you from the spirit world. I want to know they are waiting for me there."
It was difficult for Netya to know what to say. Sadness and sympathy threatened to steal away the reassurance from her voice. She could give the girl none of the answers she desired. Hawk and Essie's spirits had never appeared to her in her dreams, and she had not ventured into the spirit world properly since her return. What could she tell Wren that would not leave her more upset than she already was? She struggled to remember anything from her dreams that might help, but every memory was vague and indistinct.
Just as she was about to break the sombre truth to Wren, an image sparked in her mind. It was a dream she'd had weeks ago, almost forgotten. It had not been about Hawk, Essie, or their daughter, but something made her recall it all the same. A child had been walking through the meadows, and with her there had been an older man and a woman. At the time
she had thought the girl to be herself, but did it really matter who it was? She recalled what Adel had tried to teach her about the nature of visions. Perhaps the details were not as important as the ways in which they could help people.
"There was one vision," she began, picking her words carefully. She had not expected to impart the wisdom of the spirit world to anyone so early in her training. "I saw a girl with her parents. They were in a meadow together, and they seemed very happy. It was a good vision, filled with love."
Wren rubbed her eyes, then wrapped her arms around Netya and hugged her. "Tell them I miss them," she said, her voice quavering with emotion.
"The next time they appear in my visions," Netya replied, kissing the top of the girl's head. "I promise."
She did not know how to feel as Wren embraced her. Had it been right to tell her of the dream? The girl's gratitude spoke for itself, but it still left Netya uneasy. She felt she had dabbled in something that was beyond her understanding. Would the other seers approve?
When Wren let go of her and got up to leave, however, the smile on her face warmed Netya's soul.
Turning around, her heart leaped as she saw Adel standing a few paces away. The den mother had returned without her realising. A warm flush rose to her cheeks, expecting an angry reprimand at any moment. It did not come. Rather than judgement, Adel was looking on her with pride.
"You see?" the den mother said. "That is the power of hope you are able to give people like her."