Shifter Planet

by D. B. Reynolds

  Going to her knees, Amanda cupped one hand in the icy liquid and touched it to her lips. It was heavy with minerals and so cold it made her teeth ache, and she’d never tasted anything better in her entire life. Mindful of her uncertain stomach, she limited herself to small sips with an effort. She scooped up double handfuls to splash like rain against her parched face, while permitting only the barest sips to roll down her throat. Eventually she sat back on her heels and drew in the moist air over the stream, opening herself to what was only the thinnest song of the Green this far from the deep forest.

  It was enough to remind her of why she was out here, starving and sore, all alone on the precipice of a cold, dark night. She didn’t care about the shifters and their petty jealousies. She didn’t care if they mocked her clawless fingers and furless skin, or if they never let her dine in their ancient Guild Hall. For whatever reason, whether it was her earth witch dad, or something else, the Green had claimed her for its own and that was the only thing that mattered.

  She rose on weary legs and set about making the best camp she could. It wouldn’t be much. On the other hand, she had water, and there was plenty of fuel for a fire. And she wasn’t throwing up. Good enough.

  The next morning, Amanda woke slowly. She’d been dreaming, although she couldn’t remember about what. Not a good dream though. She knew that much.

  She groaned like an old woman when she rolled over and sat up. The aches in her back provided a detailed map of every single pebble on the hard ground. Morning necessities were taken care of at a suitable distance from camp, behind a straggly bush—after first checking the area to make sure there was nothing that would bite her on the ass. Because that wasn’t just an expression on Harp.

  The small fire she’d managed to light last night had gone out, so she gathered several more pieces of dry wood and used another of her precious matches to light it. The flint and striker were beyond her skill this morning, her hands too clumsy with cold and hunger. It was everything she could do to fill her cup directly from the stream and set it over the fire without burning herself.

  While waiting for the water to boil, she forced herself to stand and stretch out stiff and sore muscles. As she moved, she gauged her body’s response. She had no significant injuries, which was good. Everything ached, though, which she mostly attributed to the toxin in whatever drugs they’d given her. It left her feeling as though she’d gone a round with a band of banshees.

  Her stomach, on the other hand, was completely empty, so empty it didn’t even have the energy to growl. It just lay huddled next to her backbone, mewling softly. She dug out the lone, ancient bouillon cube she’d found in her pack and dropped it into the cup of hot water. She needed meat, which meant she needed to hunt. Even out here on the seemingly barren glacier, there was more than enough game to keep a solitary human alive.

  Drawing her gloves back on, she picked up the hot cup of broth and sat cross-legged in front of the fire to consider her next steps. Logically, she should take a straight line back to the Green before veering west toward the city. Once within the forest, her situation would improve significantly. It would be warmer for one thing, and palatable fresh water and food were easily had for someone with her survival skills. On the other hand, the Green was also far more dangerous in terms of things that might want to kill her. The glacier was too barren for most of Harp’s native life forms. That didn’t mean there weren’t any threats at all, only that they were either too small to pose a danger, or big enough that she would see them coming over the flat landscape. In the dense lushness of the Green, dagger-sharp death could and did come at you from all sides with little or no warning.

  She took another sip of hot liquid and felt its warmth all the way down her throat, even as her gut grumbled its reaction to the meager broth. She almost smiled as she pursued her earlier train of thought.

  Dangerous wildlife or not, a straight line back to the forest belt was the obvious course for her to take. Death might lurk behind every tree in the Green, but the benefits outweighed the risks, and besides, she was completely unfamiliar with life on the glacier, having never been this far north before.

  The more she thought about it, however, the more doubts she had. Sure, it made sense for her to chart a path directly for the Green…which was exactly what the shifters would expect her to do. And the same shifters who’d left her out here in the first place might be waiting for her to do just that.

  More than anything else, that decided her. She’d stay here and rest for the day, and then instead of heading straight for the Green, she’d parallel it for a few miles, tracing the edge of the glacier before finally veering south into the deep forests. That would take her off the most logical route, and put her behind any reasonable expectation of schedule. It would also make her harder to find—just in case anyone was looking to cause trouble.

  She drank down the remainder of the broth, then took her canteen over to the stream and rinsed it thoroughly, leaving it suspended upside down to dry out. She caught a slight movement out of the corner of her eye and turned in time to see the dirty brown blur of a rabbit before it disappeared into a tangled burrow of dead, twisted roots. She smiled. Roasted rabbit was tasty.

  She pushed up her shirtsleeve and snapped off the thick-braided bracelet which snaked around her forearm. A quick twist and it shook out into a long, very thin cable. Shifters had a lot to learn when it came to sneaky weapons. And she’d learned long ago that a snare was every bit as good as claws when it came to catching rabbit.

  By the time the sun was retiring from its quick passage through the sky, there was a plump rabbit spitted and roasting over the fire. She had no herbs or vegetables, not even a packet of salt to season the meat with, and it didn’t matter. The spring rabbit was fat and juicy and as good as anything she’d ever eaten—which probably had more to do with her empty stomach than her cooking skills. It was hot and filling, and there was enough left over to make a good breakfast before she set off the next day. She licked grease off her fingers, thankful no one was around to observe her manners, then tidied her small campsite, wrapping the leftover rabbit meat in the now empty waxed packet from the honey drops. Her decision to stay put and rest for the day had been the right one. Food and fresh water had gone a long way to getting rid of the drugs in her system, and tomorrow’s exercise would do the rest. She slipped into her sleeping bag with the last of the sunshine and watched lazily as another rabbit ventured down to the stream, its long cord-like tail twitching nervously.

  When humans had first arrived on Harp, they’d catalogued the local wildlife, using designations drawn for the most part from Earth. There were rabbits and bears and squirrels, just to name a few. Sometimes the names made sense and the indigenous animals actually resembled their Earth counterparts. Just as often, they’d been assigned as some sort of practical joke by the colonists, the meaning of which was completely lost on their descendants.

  A breeze came up suddenly, blowing directly off the glacier, and she lifted her face, enjoying the fresh air even while grimacing at its icy bite. She knew she should be concerned about that wind. Spring or no, this far north, she could easily be overtaken by one of the glacier’s fierce storms and she wasn’t really equipped for that kind of weather. And yet, instead of being worried, she found herself laughing out loud. The little bit she’d done today had left every muscle trembling with fatigue. She was lying alone on the hard, cold ground with a rock digging into her hip that would only add to the landscape of bruises covering her body. And yet she’d never felt more exhilarated in her entire life. The only thing that could have made this day better was if Rhodry had been snuggled into the sleeping bag behind her, his furnace-like heat lulling them both into sleep.

  She shook her head at the ridiculous image, then drawing a last breath of the bracing air, she snuggled down into her sleeping bag alone, zipped it all around, pillowed her cheek on her cloak and fell into a dreamless sleep with a smile on her face.

  Chapter Twentyr />
  Rhodry stood at the edge of the balcony, his knees almost touching the short stone wall separating him from the steep hillside. Banba was making its short journey through the sky, and as he watched the small moon, he couldn’t help thinking about Amanda, wondering how she was doing, and where they’d left her. Nando and the others should have been back by now, and it worried him that they weren’t.

  A footstep brushed softly behind him. “Cousin.”

  The voice only confirmed the scent he’d already identified. He let the other shifter come a few steps closer before glancing over his shoulder.

  “Des,” he acknowledged, keeping his voice carefully blank.

  Desmond Serna came to stand next to him and stare down at the city, much as Rhodry had. “It’s quiet at least,” he said, echoing Rhodry’s earlier thoughts with an eerie precision. They stood in uneasy silence for a few minutes before Des said, “Nando’s back with the rest of the woman’s escort.”

  He grunted dismissively, not wanting Des to suspect just how eager he was to hear this piece of news. “About time. They dropped her off, then?”

  “So they said.”

  His attention sharpened. “You doubt it? Nando’s no friend to Amanda, and he seemed determined to make sure no one else would go easy on her. Even Fionn was rejected from escort duty, and our prince wasn’t happy about it, either.”

  Des shrugged. “For all Fionn and she are said to be close, I don’t think he’s too keen on her joining the Guild. I’m surprised Nando pushed him off the escort.”

  “He wasn’t the only one who was pushed,” Rhodry said bluntly.

  “Ah. I’d heard there was a scuffle of some sort. You should be careful, cousin. If Fionn has claimed the woman…he’s the sort to cling to his grudges.”

  “I’m not worried about Fionn Martyn or his grudges. I was only concerned about Amanda’s safety, and I don’t trust Nando.”

  Des nodded thoughtfully for the space of two breaths and said, “So, you favor her candidacy?”

  “What?”

  “The woman. You support her admission to the Guild?”

  “It hardly matters what I think, but she’s strong for a norm. Maybe even strong enough to make it.” It was strange how he could admit that to Des, whom he hated, and yet not to Amanda, whom he… Well, he certainly didn’t hate her.

  The other shifter shuffled awkwardly, as if deciding whether to say whatever was on his mind. Rhodry waited, only caring if it had something to do with where they’d left Amanda.

  “I spoke to Nando just an hour ago,” Des said finally. He hesitated, then said in a rush, “They dropped her on the glacier.”

  His eyes widened in disbelief, his stomach sinking, as he turned to stare at the other shifter. “Who told you that?”

  “Nando admitted it to me. Actually ‘bragged’ is more accurate. I’d heard rumor that he’d made certain she couldn’t make it back without help, and I was curious. So I asked him straight out. They took her beyond the Verge to the edge of the glacier, stripped most of her gear, and left her puking her guts from the drugs.”

  Rhodry tapped his fingers on the hilt of his belt knife. “When was this?” he asked tightly.

  “Early yesterday morning, as far as I can figure.”

  “And no flare yet?”

  Des shook his head. “No one’s seen it.”

  “Where’s Fionn?”

  “Making himself scarce since that scene in the Guild yard.”

  “You think he’s part of it? That he’d put her in jeopardy?” Rhodry might not be crazy about Fionn, but he didn’t think the shifter would sink that low. Especially not if it endangered Amanda. If he had, and if she was injured because of it…

  Des shrugged. “Maybe. You saw how it was in the yard. He’s not happy with her choices.”

  “What about Garza?”

  “Gone the same day as the escort, indefinite detail to the south.”

  “And Amanda went north. That’s convenient.”

  Des nodded grimly. “Nando’s got friends and frankly, she doesn’t.”

  Rhodry frowned. Amanda had friends. He was her friend. Though perhaps he hadn’t been a very good one. He bit back the oath burning the back of his throat. “Why come to me with this?” he asked. “You and I aren’t exactly friends either.”

  “Maybe not. We’re both from the clans, though, and we don’t leave women to die in the wild.”

  He let the oath come, giving voice to a suddenly urgent concern for Amanda’s well-being. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I say we schedule a hunting trip. You, me, and maybe one other I can trust. We take the hover out, and who’s to say how far we go with it? If she’s fine, then good enough. If not…” He shrugged.

  “When?”

  “First light tomorrow. If we go now, it’ll draw too much attention. Where are you on the duty roster?”

  “I’m free tomorrow.”

  “I’ll make the arrangements, then, and see you at first light.”

  Rhodry nodded his agreement and watched the other shifter stride quickly across the patio and disappear into the darkened palace. He’d never considered Desmond Serna a particularly honorable man, although he hadn’t given it much thought. It was possible the clansman was honestly concerned at the idea of a woman being left on her own like that. Rhodry, not being a complete fool, was wary. And he was going to go anyway. Because whether Des really was troubled or not, Rhodry was, and he couldn’t leave Amanda out there alone. Not on the glacier, and especially not this time of year. Spring brought the ice bears out of hibernation and there was nothing a hungry ice bear liked better than the taste of human flesh.

  Rhodry leaned back, stretching his long legs in front of him. His cousin sat in the front passenger seat of the hovercraft, next to Kane Daly, who was their pilot. He knew Daly by sight, the man’s almost white-blond hair—and a correspondingly colored shifter pelt—was distinctive enough to be notable. Des had introduced Daly as a friend, someone he could trust. Des might trust him, Rhodry didn’t. Of course, he didn’t trust Des either.

  The hover skimmed effortlessly over the trees, Daly following the dips and swerves of the landscape with practiced ease. Shifters could travel nearly as fast through the treetops, using the hovers for more distant hunts, or when it was necessary to transport either a non-shifter or someone wounded. They’d used the excuse this morning of a long hunt. The truth was they expected to find Amanda unable to travel and would need the hover to get her back to the Guild Hall.

  Des sat hunched forward in his seat, peering through the wide windshield and searching the ground.

  Rhodry frowned and said, “It’s a little early to start looking. She couldn’t have made it this far in from the glacier already.”

  “We don’t know for sure where they dropped her,” his cousin responded over his shoulder.

  He pursed his lips skeptically. It didn’t hurt to look, even though he was pretty sure she couldn’t have made it this far on her own. No matter how extraordinary she was or how hard she’d worked to get ready, she was still bound by the limits of her norm physiology.

  Des pointed at something and caught Daly’s eye with a sharp nod. Rhodry felt the hover swerve left and begin losing elevation, and he sat up to stare out the window, seeing nothing unusual in the surrounding forest.

  Des twisted around in his seat. “I thought I caught a glimpse of something. We’re going to check it out.”

  Rhodry abruptly doubted his wisdom in traveling to this remote location with Des and his trusted friend. He wasn’t immediately worried. Once they were on the ground, he could always shift. And he was confident he could take one or both of them in his animal form.

  He glanced at his cousin and shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind some time on the ground.”

  There was nothing to find on the ground, which was exactly what he’d expected. His cousin and Daly had gone off into the trees almost as soon as they landed, looking for what he didn’t know, except that he was pre
tty sure it had nothing to do with Amanda. And he was beginning to think this trip didn’t either.

  He’d pretty much decided to leave Des to his increasingly suspicious pursuits, and continue the search for Amanda on his own, when a cold wind ruffled the trees overhead. He raised his nose into the gust, inhaling deeply, scenting snow and ice. There was violence building less than a day behind that wind. If Amanda was out here, and if they didn’t find her first, her only chance would be to dig in and wait out the coming storm. She claimed to have trail experience, and he hoped her weather sense was good enough to sense the approaching cold front. Of course, she could hear the trees—he did believe that, though for some perverse reason he’d let her think he doubted it. The question was, did she understand the trees’ voice well enough to recognize a weather warning?

  A particularly strong gust sent leaves skittering across the small clearing, and he realized he and the other two shifters might find themselves digging in if they waited much longer. The lightweight hover would be useless if the weather really closed in.

  He took a long swallow from his canteen, swirled it around his mouth, and spit it out discreetly just in case Daly was watching. About an hour into their journey, the white-haired shifter had offered some homemade trail bars around. His grandmother’s secret recipe he’d said. Rhodry had accepted the bar readily enough. His shifter metabolism burned energy like a fire burns paper, and trail bars were designed to be high in calories. The trail bar Daly provided had been cloyingly sweet, which was something he’d encountered all too often since he’d come to the city. Everything was either too sweet or too bland, nothing like the spicy, rich foods of his mountain home. He sighed, just one more thing for him to miss.

  He heard movement high in the trees and looked up to catch a flash of white fur. What the fuck? He threw his canteen into the back and started around the hover. “Damn it, Des,” he called. “We have to get to Amanda before that storm closes in. She won’t stand a chance if she’s still out on the glacier. And what the fuck is Daly doing up there?”