Artemis Awakening (7 page)

Adara’s vessel fulfilled Griffin’s vision, but only to a point. Its frame was made from wood covered with hides stripped of their hair and neatly sewn into place. The caulking was a golden-brown resin that reminded Griffin of Adara’s eyes. But this was no little craft. It stretched more than three or four times Griffin’s body length and, at its widest point, was nearly as wide as his outstretched arms.

“I call her
Foam Dancer
,” Adara said with obvious pride when she pulled the craft from hiding, “for when she is lightly loaded, she can float in the least amount of water, even, sometimes, so it seems to me, on foam and froth.”

“It’s so large,” Griffin exclaimed. “I had wondered how two of us might fit in your craft along with your gear. Now I see there will be room and to spare.”

Adara looked at him quizzically. “Certainly such small boats exist and I have used them, but what good would a tiny craft be for a hunter? I need a boat large enough to bring back the meat and hides of the animals I kill. When possible, I bring back the bones as well. I need to carry supplies for curing and preserving my kills, as well as a few comforts for myself. Then, too, where in a small boat would Sand Shadow ride?”

“I suppose,” Griffin admitted, “if I thought about it at all—and I cannot claim that I did—I thought Sand Shadow paced you along the bank.”

“When the current is swift,
Foam Dancer
outraces even a running puma,” Adara replied. “Besides, what good would Sand Shadow be to herself or to me if she arrived everywhere footsore and exhausted?”

“I stand,” Griffin said, bowing with his hands against his thighs in his most formal manner, “corrected of unclear thinking.”

In addition to
Foam Dancer
, Adara had cached all manner of comforts. That night, along with a fish stuffed with wild rice, they dined on a piping hot broth Adara made from dried meat and some spicy berries. There was tea to drink and chunks of waxy honeycomb for dessert.

“I had been saving the honey for Bruin,” Adara said, “for he dearly loves sweets. However, he will not begrudge us a bit.”

Griffin thought Adara might rig him his own tent that night. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Sleeping so near—but so carefully separated from—a beautiful woman had been less of a trial than he might have imagined, since he had been weary beyond his knowledge of weariness. Not even in the worst days of that long-ago boarding school—when Griffin had been kept from sleep to see how long he could go before crossing the line into insanity—had he been so tired.

Yet Adara did not set up another tent. She did construct a thick mattress from various hides—mostly deer and rabbit—that she had left racked in the trees to finish curing.

“Tonight we will be more comfortable,” she said, grinning at him.

“I’ve been grateful,” Griffin said, “that Sand Shadow has let me sleep next to her. I would have been very cold otherwise.”

Adara looked approving at this courtesy. Sand Shadow who, catlike, had managed to make Griffin aware that she thought him quite amusing, came and bumped her head against him with enough force that he nearly toppled.

The next morning, for the first time since the shuttle had crashed, Griffin woke with a sense of having rested well. Rejoicing in his new strength, he carried bales and bundles to Adara, but let her load
Foam Dancer
. Even a cursory inspection had shown him that the canoe demanded a sincere respect for balance.

If the canoe’s size had been a surprise, its method of propulsion proved an even greater one. Griffin noticed that Adara left a space in the middle of the canoe in addition to those in the bow and stern. He had assumed his place would be in the bow and had been hoping he could manage whatever tasks Adara might set him. He’d done some wet water sailing with Gaius, his third from eldest brother, and hoped that would be enough.

When the time came for them to depart, Adara took her place in the stern. Then Sand Shadow leapt lightly into the bow, positioning herself in a manner that left her rear legs tucked under her in a more or less usual fashion. Next the puma raised herself up so that her elbows—Griffin found himself forced to think of them as such—rested on her thighs. Once she was seated this way, the puma raised herself upright and swiveled back toward Adara, her front legs extended.

Adara handed Sand Shadow the spare paddle and the puma grasped it neatly between what Griffin now realized were not so much paws as paw-hands, complete with an extra digit that could serve as a thumb.

He gaped and knew he was gaping. Not until he heard Adara laughing—not meanly, but as someone who has been waiting to spring a joke—did he manage to speak.

“Sand Shadow has hands?”

Adara motioned to the neat nest of hides in the center of the canoe. “Get in. Step near the center or we may topple.”

“She has hands!” Griffin repeated.

“Get aboard,” Adara repeated, “and I will tell you what you already know.”

Griffin obeyed, too astonished to be nervous that he might upset the canoe. Adara used her paddle to push them off the bank, then, with a few easy strokes, brought them to where a midstream current would all but do the work for them. Sand Shadow helped, managing her paddle with deftness if not precisely grace. When
Foam Dancer
was set so that only the least amount of steering was needed, the puma laid her paddle in brackets designed to hold it ready. She turned to twitch her whiskers at Griffin, then settled down in a classic feline “loaf” posture, looking much like a great golden housecat or one of the ancient sphinxes of Earth.

“I told you Sand Shadow was adapted,” Adara said. “She insisted that you not know how greatly until she knew you better. Anyhow, I’ve never met a cat who could resist a surprise.”

“Well, she certainly surprised me. How much can Sand Shadow do with those hands?”

“Not as much as a human,” Adara replied. “She can use a tool like the canoe paddle or tie simple knots. One reason she wears earrings is for practice getting them on and off.”

“One reason?”

“She also likes how they look.”

“I see.” Griffin shook his head in amazement. “I wondered who tied the firewood onto her back that first day. You’re saying she did it herself!”

“That’s right. First she bundles it, then she slings it. It took us a while to work out the best method for her, but now she can manage the task quite easily.”

“Does Sand Shadow have an actual thumb?”

“More or less. Even among unadapted cats, polydactyls—those with extra digits—are known,” Adara said. “Polydactyls have long been the bane of those who would keep them out when they wish to be in or in when they wish to be out. Sand Shadow has a longer than usual dewclaw that she can use like a thumb. She manipulates the digits of her hand with about as much ease as would a human wearing not too bulky mittens. Bruin says that in time and with practice, she may grow more dexterous.”

“So you were not the only one training,” Griffin guessed.

“That’s right,” Adara said. “While I was learning how to use my claws, my ‘cat’ was practicing how to use her fingers.”

*   *   *

Adara’s home was in a village with the preposterously ornamental name of Shepherd’s Call. Griffin wasn’t at all surprised to find that the name dated back to the days of the seegnur. It sounded like a tourist attraction.

“We shall,” Adara explained on the day they would arrive, “first give Bruin opportunity to agree to our plan. There is a bluff outside the village. I’ll leave you there while we take
Foam Dancer
in. After Sand Shadow helps me bring in the canoe, I will send her back to keep you company. After full dark, I will come back for you.”

Griffin agreed, although he was not thrilled at the prospect of sitting out in the wilderness alone. He considered suggesting that they throw a tarp or pile of hides over him in the canoe, but he figured that Adara would already have thought of such an option and, for whatever reason, discarded it.

The bluff where Adara dropped Griffin was situated where the stream they had been traveling upon joined another such watercourse and became a true river. During their day’s journey, they had once again lost altitude. At last the air held a kiss of warmth that spoke of true spring. The trees that sheltered Griffin’s waiting place were either leafing out or in flower, depending on their inclinations. Tiny, slim-stemmed flowers showed purple and golden yellow in the thickening grass.

“This is a nice spot,” Griffin said when Adara showed him where he should wait. “Are you certain no one is going to come here—picnickers or something?”

Adara shook her head at him in mild disbelief. “Spring is not a time for such frivolities, Griffin Dane. On a fine day such as this, every villager will be at work, if not turning the earth, then watching over the new lambs or sorting the seed for planting. Even the children who can hardly walk will be kept busy carrying water or shooing off crows.”

“What if someone comes up here—chasing one of those stray lambs, say? What should I tell them?”

Adara rolled her eyes. “They will not for the simple reason that this is not where sheep are pastured but, if they do, surely you can make yourself scarce. There are ample hiding places. Stay alert or sleep as you will. I leave you this canteen of water, some dried fruit, and my blanket against the evening chill. I will be back when I can come unseen.”

With that, Griffin was forced to be content. He watched as Adara and Sand Shadow took
Foam Dancer
away, marveling afresh at how efficiently the tawny-furred creature paddled. Then he turned his attention to learning what he could about the village of Shepherd’s Call.

Shepherd’s Call was just large enough to be self-sufficient. A cluster of buildings, none taller than three stories, was grouped around a central green. Outward from the green were houses, each with a generous yard. Farther out came larger buildings, probably for the keeping of livestock. Beyond these were pastures and fields.

A stone mill with a large wheel was picturesquely placed near the river. It must be equipped to cut lumber as well as to grind grain, for Griffin could just make out a group of men hauling a huge log around one end. There was also a cluster of docks that extended out into the river near several long warehouse-like buildings.

Griffin examined the village carefully. There did not seem to be any defensive structures, although the closeness of the buildings around the central square probably enabled them to be fortified at need. Nor were there any signs of a castle or similar structure. There were lookout posts, but these were near the river and could serve as lighthouses as much as watch stands.

Searching through his many long talks with Adara, Griffin realized that never once had she mentioned enemies or wars or fighting. If the layout of Shepherd’s Call was to be taken as testimony, the people who resided there lived lives that demanded a great deal of labor, but armed conflict did not seem to be a regular element.

Griffin wondered how his brothers—all of whom had trained in various types of military service, one of whom was also a military historian—would feel about living in such a place. He thought they’d probably be bored out of their minds.

Despite the beauty of the day, Griffin didn’t catch even the faintest glimpse of anyone idling about. There were no milkmaids weaving chains of flowers for attentive shepherd lads nor goose girls singing sweetly beside splashing brooks. He did glimpse flocks, but those seemed to be tended as much by the parti-colored dogs that dashed among their woolly charges as by the children he occasionally glimpsed.

When his initial curiosity wore off, Griffin had to admit he was tired. He found a copse surrounded by young trees and scraggly shrubs that would hide him from immediate view, then made himself a nest in the long grass. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the people he had left behind, people he had once hoped to impress, but now realized he’d be happy if only he could see again.

When Griffin awoke, twilight was shifting into full darkness and Sand Shadow was sitting a short distance away. The puma motioned that Griffin might join her if he wished and he decided to take her up on the invitation. By nature, Griffin was quite capable of solitude. However, the hours he had spent on this wooded knoll had brought home to him just how alone he was.

He had watched Adara bring the canoe into a landing—not one of the ones near the center of town, but farther downstream. Despite this, a fair number of people—an astonishing number of whom seemed to be vigorous and male—had appeared to help her unload. He could imagine the lively questions and conversation. Now he understood why Adara had not thought she could bring him in onboard the canoe. Looking at the compact layout of the village, he wondered if she could sneak him in at all.

“Well, Sand Shadow,” he soliloquized, “is Adara very popular with the young men, then? Does she have many admirers? It’s impossible to believe a woman so lovely would not—no matter that she seems to think of her claws and those very interesting eyes as disfigurements.”

Sand Shadow rumbled something—not a purr, precisely, nor a growl, but definitely a comment.

Belatedly, Griffin realized that his soliloquy might not be such at all. The puma might very well understand every word he spoke. Worse, Sand Shadow might repeat what he had said, or at least the sense of it, to Adara. He found himself blushing.

Yet it was far nicer to think about Adara of the long legs, trim waist, rounded (if not overly large) breasts, and laughing amber eyes (never mind that the pupils were slit like a cat’s), than to think about his mother and his father, about his six brothers (annoying as they could be) and his three sisters, all of whom he might never see again.

So Griffin thought about Adara, and leaned back against a puma possessed of something close to opposable thumbs. Eventually, he drowsed again, memories mixing with dreams in a disconcertingly vivid manner. He awoke to Adara lightly touching the side of his face.

Griffin was acutely aware of the warmth of her palm hovering just over his lips, doubtless to quiet him should he wake startled. Fighting back a momentary impulse to kiss that warmth, he blinked himself fully alert.