Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (10 page)

She persuaded him to venture outside. Giving Netya's sleeping form an anxious glance, he took the shape of his wolf and nosed past the edge of the hide awning. The stark white of the landscape stung his eyes. It was brighter than he remembered it being in a long time, and the air was free of falling snow. He waded through the deep drifts around the shelter until he reached the thicker area of trees nearby, where the covering of snow was shallow and he could start sniffing out the scents of potential prey.

The forest carried him along its quiet paths for an hour or more, but the cold did not drive him back as early as it usually did. Had it grown warmer since the last time he ventured out, or was it just the stillness of the air?

At last he came across a smattering of small footprints in the snow, following the scent of a hare back to its empty nest, and then off into the trees again. When he tracked down the creature its scent stirred the hunger in his belly, sharpening his focus as the hunting instincts of his wolf crept in to take hold. He stalked his prey patiently, creeping up on it without giving the critter reason to bolt. In a single lunge he had the hare in his teeth, breaking its neck with merciful swiftness before the creature even had time to realise what had happened.

The taste of warm blood reinvigorated him, making his mouth water as he dropped his catch and gazed down at it, eager to gorge himself on a meal well-earned. Adel's advice came back to him, urging him on. He needed to eat. Barely a mouthful of food had passed his lips in the last two days. Now that the focus of the hunt had passed, he already felt weary. What good was he to Netya if he grew exhausted from tracking down a single hare?

A growl rumbled up from deep within his chest. He grit his teeth, licked the blood from his muzzle, and reverted from the shape of his wolf. Feeling the pinch of hunger more deeply than ever, he picked up the dead animal by the rear legs and slung it over his shoulder. He could manage another day without eating.

The successful kill bolstered Caspian's spirits on his journey back to the shelter. Hunting had not been his calling in life, and so it always pleased him when he succeeded in a task to which he was not naturally inclined.

What was his new role to be in Adel's pack? He could hunt, craft, carry, and fight, but none of those things truly took advantage of his skills. He had been Khelt's advisor. The leader who was not a leader. Adel would listen to his advice too, of course, but he was not as close to her as he had been with his old friend. He would never have the same intimate bond of understanding with the den mother that would draw her to seek out his counsel when she needed it. Adel kept her innermost concerns to herself, and Caspian could only guess at the plans she had for the future.

He let his thoughts wander, distracted from one worry by another as his feet absently traced the path home. It was not until he was almost back at the shelter that he caught a glimpse of something green tucked away between the trees. Not the dark, rich green of the pine trees, but something lighter, fresher.

Eyes fixed on the tiny stem, he dared to allow a spark of hope to come to life inside him. He had still not grown cold. The energy of the hunt had long since left his body, but winter's chill had yet to seep all the way into his bones.

Crouching down, he brushed the snow away from the tiny sprig and plucked it from the soil. Spring's first flower. The warm season was coming. They had braved the long winter, and they had survived it. A grin spread across Caspian's face, chasing away his morose mood as he looked up to the sky. White clouds still blocked out its blueness, but they were thin and bright. He fancied he could almost see the sun already.

He ignored Adel's reproachful look when he ducked back into the shelter and dropped the hare at her feet, heading straight to Netya's side with the green sprig in his hand. Resting it on the furs beside her, he shook the girl's shoulder gently, whispering her name until she awoke. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, frowning at the small plant at it drifted into view before her. When the moment of realisation struck, she gripped his arm in excitement.

"Is that from outside?" she whispered.

"It is. And I brought back this morning's meal for you as well. It won't be long before the sun comes out."

The smile that lit up Netya's expression was more warming than a thousand sunrises. The wolf within him stood up straight and tall, muzzle lifted in victory as he basked in the satisfaction of his female. He embraced her, unable to resist, and kissed her lips. A twinge of the heat that had been dulled by winter returned, and a deep surge tugged at his loins in anticipation of revisiting it.

"What is the matter with you two?" Adel said as she began to skin Caspian's catch. "This hare will barely make for a mouthful each."

Extracting herself from Caspian's embrace, Netya showed her the green shoot. The corners of the den mother's eyes creased, and she too allowed herself to share in her apprentice's smile. She pulled the two of them over to sit beside her, and laid the sprig down next to the fire for the others to see when they awoke.

"I knew these months would test us," she said, "but by the grace of the spirits we have endured."

"Perhaps Syr has not forgotten us," Netya said.

Adel gave her a quizzical look. "Do not tell me you have taken to looking to moon spirits for your guidance."

"Caspian told me the story. I like the thought that she is there, watching over us in the night."

"The moon spirit is not knowable in the manner of the others. It is rare she will approach one of her daughters in the spirit world." The den mother paused. "But, if she gives you comfort, then I will not stop you from listening for her voice."

Despite the chill that still crept in from outside, Caspian felt more content than he had in weeks. The green sprig had not filled his belly or melted the snow outside, but it had dispelled the curse of lethargy that ate at their spirits. They had hope that the warm season was coming, and with hope came the promise that life's pleasures would return once more.

* * *

As the snows began to melt, the pack gradually came back to life. The ice on the pool and the rivers that fed it thinned, allowing them to fish again. With the thaw came another flood down the side of the ridge, not as sudden as the first, but enough to swamp the empty cave all over again and confirm Adel's suspicions. They could not make their permanent home in such a place, and as soon as they were ready they would need to begin travelling again.

The improving weather helped to ease Netya's moments of panic, and most nights she managed to sleep without the recurring nightmare of the water coming back to awaken her. Still, she did not take the form of her wolf again. She had grown used to ignoring the niggle at the back of her neck, and winter had numbed it till it was little more than a dull distraction. It had been so long that she was almost afraid to acknowledge it again, fearful of what she might do the next time she allowed the impulses of her wolf to rule her mind.

She spent the early weeks of spring fishing or riding out on Fern's back to scavenge the nearby land. The pack slowly rebuilt their strength, hunting critters in small groups until they were strong enough to begin stalking deer.

Having been nothing more than a chaser
—
the lowest of the hunter ranks
—
for most of her life, it was with great pride that Fern finally led Briar, Wren, and Rokan in bringing down the pack's first two does, allowing all twenty of them to eat heartily for several days afterwards.

Briar had spent much of her winter knapping new tools to replace those lost in the flood, and she helped the others to prepare the fresh hides that were now being collected, fashioning them into new clothes, carrying pouches, and awnings to repair the well-travelled leftovers of their tents.

The only belongings that were truly irreplaceable were the herbs. Adel had discovered a handful of new plants that she believed contained similar properties in the meantime, but it was a small consolation to the group of seers. It soon became clear that this, more than anything, was reason enough to seek out a new den before it came time for the summer gathering. Seers were nothing without their magic, and it was through the power of their plants that they healed wounds and found their gateways into the spirit world.

By the time the last of the snow had melted and the waters ran free of ice, the pack had grown strong again. They had enough food preserved for their travels, and their other supplies, while diminished, were sufficient to see them through the days to come. Adel announced that they would continue travelling south, where she believed the pine forest would eventually give way to more familiar land.

They contemplated dismantling the shelter to remove any traces of their winter visit, but with Netya's persuasion Adel conceded to let it stand. Perhaps it would shelter other travellers or animals from the cold in the years to come. If the spirits had gifted them with survival that winter, it was the least they could do to offer the same kindness to those who might follow in their footsteps. Perhaps the shelter would simply stand unoccupied until it rotted and collapsed, but perhaps not. Netya liked to think someone else would find use for it before that happened.

It felt good to travel again, especially upright and on two legs. The musty atmosphere of the shelter was replaced with fresh air filling her lungs every day, and the walking helped to restore the strength to her muscles as they travelled south across the rocky, pine-covered landscape. With the weather now reversing its course, their journey became lighter and more hopeful every day. Gone was the looming threat of the changing seasons, replaced with the promise of good hunting and lush terrain to forage. Adel began her collection of black feathers again, replacing those she had lost with a new bundle she kept tied across her back. They travelled easily and made good progress, and they were disturbed by neither sight nor sound of any other wolves crossing their path.

Just as Adel had predicted, the forest thinned out as more overgrown outcrops broke through the surface of the earth, and they entered a land of lakes and valleys as far as the eye could see. The mountains still bordered the horizon to the east, but they too eventually became lost from view as the pack descended to lower ground, winding their way through a maze of hills and meadows. Everything was green here, rich and beautiful, and it began to remind Netya of the lands south of their old den where she used to forage with Fern and Adel.

"How will we know how to reach the great gathering from here?" she asked her mentor one day, as they meandered through a broad field collecting cuttings of plants here and there to add to their collection.

"We know the mountains are still to the east," Adel said. "All we need do is follow them south until they block our path, then find a passage through. The gathering takes place in the land beyond, in a place that only our people can find."

"I am glad our pack is so accustomed to travel. I do not know how you make sense of our direction in such unfamiliar lands."

"We navigate by the mountains. The sun tells us east from west, and the mountains are there for us to follow until we reach the places we remember."

"There were no mountains in sight of my village."

"Perhaps that is why your people travelled so little," Adel said. "They are slow without the legs of wolves to carry them. I am told some of your kind remain in their villages generation after generation without leaving, building their homes larger as they fill them with more children."

"It seems you know even more about them than I do," Netya replied. "We heard only tales from the villages that traded with us. I know there was one very large village, far to the east, that took metal from the ground and made it into tools. I suppose they had no reason to ever leave with such treasures nearby."

"The packs who travel that way tell similar tales also. The Sun People build great villages of wood and clay, home to more warriors than those of all the packs combined. It is only in this land that they are still few enough in number for us to challenge them."

A low howl from half way across the field interrupted them, and they glanced over to see Selo's wolf wagging her tail in the distance, pacing intently around something she had found. The scattered group clustered back together around the young seer, who was poking her nose into a low gap beneath a pile of rocks. Netya crouched down and squinted into the space. Out of the darkness, the skull of a wolf stared back at her.

"Is it one of our kind?" she asked, her pulse quickening.

"No," Fern replied, reaching in to run her hand across the pile of bones, long since picked clean and scattered apart by scavengers. "A feral wolf, but I recognise the scent. It is very old."

"I recognise it too," Selo said, reverting from the shape of her wolf. "This creature's pack once marked their territory in this land. Their scent has lingered on the air since yesterday, in furrows like this and around the roots of trees."

"How old is this scent?" Adel inquired.

Selo glanced at the skull. "As old as these bones, I would say. I fear those who left it have all succumbed to a similar fate by now."

"They must have been very strong indeed to leave such a lingering trace," Caspian said. "This territory would have been theirs for a great many years."

"And a powerful pack would have a large den nearby," Adel mused.