Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  She scrubbed at her eyes and drew in a sharp breath as he led her through the last wall of green. When they emerged, she had masked her face as best she could. Trickles of emotion leaked through, her eyes still bloodshot and her face puffy from sobbing.

  That smile would barely fool QueQoa, but thankfully he would have enough sense to recognize she wasn't in the mood for talking about it. Hopefully.

  "Wait, wait, what is this?" WroOth clapped his hands together as he saw them. "Are you sure you two are ready for this? On this, the…" He ran his fingers through the air as if flipping through calendar pages. "Three-week anniversary of your marriage? This handholding is far too intimate." He broke off, casting a questioning look to Naatos.

  Naatos gave his brother a sharp glare. "We're not discussing it."

  "Oh." Her cold hand slipped from his as she beheld the bavril that stood at the barrier with AaQar and QueQoa.

  The bavril was a large furry creature roughly the size of an elephant but having more in common with a giant anteater. He had smooth silky fur with great stripes of grey, white, and black while his enormous paws held retractable jet claws. QueQoa scratched the creature just between his expressive hazel eyes while AaQar adjusted a newly-made harness.

  The delight that filled her face almost counteracted the grief beneath her mask.

  She was always so excited whenever she saw animals. If only he'd shown her his menagerie. She'd probably have found it more impressive than his armies or any of his tactics. If she had been freer with herself, she might have clasped her hands to her chest.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "A bavril." He found himself smiling.

  She glanced back at him, those great dark eyes shining. She had tried to make her expression more neutral, but that almost child-like delight glinted through.

  "How recently has it been fed?" Naatos asked.

  AaQar peered out from the creature's side, rope in hand. "Given how poorly things have gone in the past, try feeding it once more."

  Naatos had already crossed over to one of the spare carcasses they'd hunted for just this reason. Bavrils had enormous appetites, but their food at least did not require preparation. He dragged the dead besred to within snout's reach. The bavril's small round ears pricked up as he sniffed the air.

  Snapping his fingers, Naatos waited until the creature looked at him. "Delorme, feed."

  The bavril pounced, thrusting his long furred snout against the besred's chest. A horrible sucking sound emanated from the creature as the besred's corpse withered against the bones.

  Her eyes widened.

  WroOth draped an arm over her shoulders. "You'll always have to be careful around this one, little sister. While they aren't as fond of people's blood as they are others, you just don't have that much to spare. We, on the other hand, well, we can withstand a pretty significant blood loss if needed because of how quickly we regenerate it."

  Naatos returned to her side. "He is a dangerous creature, veskaro, but he's going to help us complete this journey with significantly more safety. Especially for you. When it's time, I'll show you what to do." Capturing and taming this beast had used up the last of his resources for taming such creatures. Unless he made more himself or they happened upon friendly Bealorns, he'd have to make any further creatures they wanted for their menagerie, but even that was too high a cost given his limited shifting and energy. If he tried it now, he was just as likely to end up tormenting the poor creature rather than altering it to something better.

  The bavril shook his head. The flesh on the besred had disappeared entirely, leaving only dry skin and bone. Then, with one final gulping sucking drain, skin and bone collapsed into a pile of dust. A contented grunting emanated from the bavril's long narrow jaws. He blinked his sleepy dark-hazel eyes.

  "That is terrifying and impressive." She glanced at him. "Can I pet him?"

  "Yes." He shook his head as she crossed over to the bavril and put her hand out gently to touch his side. "If he ever tries to eat you, you grab the snout and push directly down and away from any arteries. Move downward until you break the suction. If you can, twist at the same time. And of course, call for help. You would have perhaps 30 seconds."

  She combed her fingers through his fur, her smile stronger now. The bavril shook his head, his eyes sliding shut with a contented groan. Because of the length of his snout, he had a strange undulating voice that could be either disturbing—or from Amelia's perspective perhaps… adorable.

  Stepping back to Naatos, WroOth folded his arms. "If it weren't for the fact you couldn't hold the shape, reasonably all you have to do to get her to throw her arms around you is turn into some animal. It wouldn't even have to be that cute." He sighed. "Although at this rate, you might actually master that before vestoving."

  "You're very encouraging." He had considered the same himself. There was an irony in the fact that Amelia feared being with him would make him stronger. She would, of course. It was the whole purpose of mating. But what she didn't realize was that she was making him stronger by forcing him to go through this period of abstention. Some people weakened those they encountered, but she was the sort who drew out strengths. Even if she didn't intend to.

  "Truly though, you seem better. Are you?"

  "The surge barely gave me three additional days. The healing was painfully slow, but I followed its course. And she doused me in suphrite."

  "Good for her."

  He scoffed, but he didn't disagree. She'd been fast on the response. He owed her his life and his brothers' lives. "What I realized though is that as painful and slow as that healing during the surge was, it was accomplishing something. It also reduced my other needs. If I keep channeling the healing constantly to reduce the tension, this non-consummation won't be as much of an issue."

  "That's difficult to do steadily," WroOth noted.

  "It's more difficult to not. But that's the whole premise behind distraction."

  "I wasn't quite so intentional about it, but I suppose it is."

  "I'm still shocked you did it."

  WroOth shrugged. "It made Mara very happy. It was worth every moment of discomfort."

  "Not that I want to invite more pain into my life, but I will concede that this doesn't feel worse than those nettles at in the Fire Desert."

  "Those nettles were made from the abyss itself," WroOth said. "Designed to make you crave oblivion."

  Amelia had moved to the bavril's head and was stroking him between his eyes. His ears continued twitching happily. QueQoa turned up the creature's snout to show her his jaws. The way her eyes widened almost made him laugh. Bavrils had jaws similar to lampreys. But she kept stroking him nonetheless as if it was just a slightly surprising turn of events.

  "She'll have it named before tomorrow at sundown."

  Naatos folded his arms. "No later than midday tomorrow."

  WroOth chuckled. "We'll see." He then nudged him. "Why was my sister crying?"

  Where did he even start? "Something's been tormenting her."

  "You?" WroOth's eyebrow lifted.

  "No." He shot him a glare. "Something else. Some sorcery. It's attacking her mind. Pecking at her like some vulture."

  "Is she all right?"

  "She will be."

  WroOth studied him, his gaze sharp. "What does she need?"

  "I don't know." He hated to admit that. None of it made sense. Sometimes it felt as if he were missing a large piece of the picture.

  "The last thing she needs are birds pecking at that mind of hers. She's been picking up on too much as it is. That can't be good for her sanity."

  "It isn't."

  "Birds." WroOth canted his head, his brows knitting as he concentrated. "Bluebirds. A bluebird on the wall. That little—" He cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head. "She did it. That little vespyr. This torment she's going through. If she got herself through to our minds in dreamwalking and dreamweaving, does that put her at greater risk?"

  "She changed your
dreams?" Naatos's stomach dropped. Now that he spoke of it, his own dreams flowed back into his mind like gentle waters over pitted stone. She had been there. She'd gotten through every single barrier. Each one. And if she got through his, she had gotten through all the rest. And most likely she'd overtaxed herself. Given what lurked inside her, bound even though it was, that was terrible news.

  "It's hazy. I remember more that the torment wasn't so great. But there was a room. This quiet little place. And… then there was a bluebird on the windowsill. I knew it was her then, and I think she said she had a headache or some such thing. Then darkness. The good kind." He crossed tight over his chest. "I told her she should do it if she could. Did I—"

  Naatos cut him off. "It shouldn't have been possible. She shouldn't have been able to do that." She was still stroking the bavril, her fingers weaving through its long thick fur, talking with QueQoa in pleasant tones. Maybe it was the air here or maybe something else had awakened in her. She shouldn't be standing, let alone conversing. "This isn't your fault," he said to WroOth. He restrained a growl. "Damn her."

  "Do you really think now is the time to be cursing her?" WroOth gave him a dark look.

  "Fair enough," he muttered. "She shouldn't be left alone. QueQoa wants to train her. Help him and watch her. AaQar and I will figure out the best course."

  "Can she sleep? She looks pretty haggard."

  "I'd rather she didn't for now. Keep from soaking in the suphrite. If it seals her in sleep again, it could be bad. I don't fully know what we're dealing with here." Naatos started for the edge of the barrier, halting only once he reached QueQoa and Amelia. "QueQoa." He waited until his brother looked at him. "Be gentle with her in the training. Nothing outside the rels."

  QueQoa nodded. His long braid, still full of minty herbs, bobbed with the movement. "Just an assessment." He gave the bavril a solid pat on the side of the neck. "We'll feed the bavril once more before we go."

  Probably wise. Naatos turned his focus to Amelia. Though she ran her fingers through the bavril's long fur, she watched him through her periphery. Stepping closer, he squeezed her shoulder and kissed the back of her neck. "Your life means more to me than my own, veskaro. Don't think so little of yourself."

  She stiffened as his lips brushed her skin, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she grew quite still, her breaths shortening. He nudged her once more and then forced himself to step back.

  "AaQar," he said. "We need to talk now."

  * * *

  He was getting good at unsettling her. That spot on her neck seemed determined to betray her. How many times had she brushed her hand over that exact same spot, and it had never felt like that at all? She resisted the urge to curl her fingers against it as Naatos left.

  More importantly how could it feel good after everything else?

  That chill crept up on her. She missed the closeness already.

  QueQoa chuckled. "I think you like him."

  Those words punched her someplace soft. She hugged herself. "Is that a bad thing?"

  He laughed even more at this. "Not at all. Come on." He gave her shoulder a playful smack that nearly sent her falling into the bavril. "Let's get you started on that training."

  Training? Her spirit quailed, exhaustion asserting itself once more. It would get the blood moving at least. She'd probably perk up soon. The thought of it made her want to curl away. Her muscles already protested in anticipation of what was coming. She nodded though. "Just let me get changed."

  One of the things she had found in the packs as she had managed the camp was two sets of brown and grey trousers with slim sleeveless tunics that were approximately her size. Not the traveling gowns Naatos had apparently had made for her but excellent for sparring and the like.

  The fabric was not quite so comfortable, having a far coarser texture over her elmis than the gowns, but she did feel more comfortable with the added protection. Of course, sliding through some of her more advanced balance poses and routines would be significantly more pleasant in those gowns.

  Training wasn't a bad idea though. Really it would be good to do something more strenuous without involving terror for her own life. She tied her hair back with an O band and then made her way out from behind the tree.

  QueQoa cracked his knuckles, throwing her a big grin. "Ready, little sister?"

  She nodded as she placed her folded gown back in her pack. "How exactly is this going to work?"

  "I assess what you have. We work through different defenses. That one thinks you need more practice with creatures you'll encounter here." He pointed at WroOth.

  WroOth shrugged dramatically. "Well none of us are going to even try to kill her, and there are more than a handful of other species out there that would love to try Neyeb some time soon. Besides." He flashed her a grin. "She isn't half bad when it comes to dealing with Vawtrians. Especially for a Neyeb. Frankly, I'm more worried about her getting snatched out of the sky by some rabid quetzie or besieged by winged serpents or goodness forbid a cabiza monster."

  "Especially the ones now here." QueQoa rubbed his shoulder, a frown creasing his forehead. "That venom is potent. Not a natural adaptation."

  "If it is, it is one of the most convenient and unnecessary ones I've ever seen," WroOth responded. He gestured toward Amelia as he climbed the tree and stretched out on the branch. "But don't let me stop you. You train her however you see fit. And if I disagree, I'll just jump in."

  "As if you aren't already planning to jump in." QueQoa shook his head.

  While they were talking, Amelia had moved into her own standard stretching routine. It was waking her up. The blood was already flowing strong and clear through her veins. Deep stretches had rarely felt so good as they did now. The tips of her fingers and toes remained cold.

  "If you don't want me to jump in, just do it my way," WroOth continued.

  "Perhaps you'd rather teach her yourself."

  "Not at all. It's far more fun to antagonize you while you're doing it."

  QueQoa strode under the branch, reached up, and gave it a violent shake. "Is it?"

  WroOth held onto the branch, glaring down at his brother like a sleek cat annoyed with a large dog. Leaves rained down. "This is an excellent napping branch. Break it, and I'll kuvaste you into next year."

  Amelia smiled a little as she watched them. She had squatted while keeping one leg straight, her toes pointed forward. Resting both palms on the ground, she felt the stretch pull all the way through her leg. These stretches had been what kept her sane in part. They grounded her now and, like the mindreading exercises, gave her space from which to work. How far could she go with this? Often at the end of pushing herself through an intense workout, she had experienced some sense of relief.

  "You finally have a student again, and you're over here harassing me," WroOth said, clicking his tongue. He swatted at QueQoa's head.

  QueQoa dragged the branch down so that WroOth was eye level with him. "Are you going to let me teach her?"

  "You can teach her until I have something better to add. Or I get bored." WroOth flicked him between the eyes. "Which will probably be in less than ten minutes. So get to it."

  QueQoa grunted at him and let the branch go.

  The branch shot up, but WroOth held down as a flurry of leaves rained down on them. He shot QueQoa a glare that lacked any bite. "Seven minutes."

  QueQoa turned to her, arms folded across his broad chest. "As we have a countdown, let's—" He halted. "What are you doing?"

  She had transitioned into her preferred yoga routine. Forearms planted firmly on the ground, she had almost completed a wonderfully invigorating scorpion. She'd lost some of her flexibility and could no longer put the soles of her feet on the back of her head. But there was something so empowering in poses like this. They challenged her, strengthened her. Naatos had said she didn't do things she liked because everything about her had been defined by her fulfillment of the destiny. He was right—mostly. A few shards had made it through though.
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  This—this had been something she had held onto. Of course she'd justified it. Jacinda had introduced her to yoga, pilates, and gymnastics. But she had enjoyed them. These poses did feel good, and they made her stronger. Her muscles trembled a little from the pressure. Steadying herself, she glanced up at him. "It's called the scorpion."

  "It doesn't look like a fighting stance."

  After she straightened her legs, she lowered herself. "It isn't. Jacinda used to do gymnastics and yoga. I couldn't go to classes, but she showed me." A kind and generous gift given how frightened Jacinda had been of her initially.

  QueQoa scratched his chin. "What else can you do?"

  She smiled. Standing, she stretched her arms out. Then she sprang into a handstand, pointing her toes and relishing the added rush of energy that surged through her. She slipped back to her feet, then cartwheeled, sprang forward, flipped back, and returned to a hand press. She tipped her head back to see QueQoa.

  "That is incredibly Awdawm." QueQoa laughed as he shook his head. "But at least your balance is flexible."

  "And yet you always run in such a boring fashion," WroOth said from the tree branch. "I am disappointed in you, little sister."

  She shot him her own mock glare as she rolled down and then got to her feet. The mask was much easier to wear now. "An aerial mid-run on uneven ground while being chased by an enormous reptile with more than half its brain?"

  QueQoa pointed at WroOth. "You were the enormous reptile with more than half its brain?"

  "Yes. The one with less than half its brain functioning was Naatos." WroOth grinned.

  QueQoa nodded. "Well, let's actually get this started. If you're ready."

  "I'm ready."

  QueQoa bowed his head. In a breath, his body collapsed inward, and, within a blink, he finalized his new form as a large orange-and-yellow-striped lizard with a thick head and spike-padded feet, similar to a crocodile in size but with longer legs and more elegance. He dropped to all fours, his cracked and spiked tail lashing back and forth.