Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (2 page)

"Perhaps they do not," she soothed him. "Your woman has the right of it. I was born of the Sun People myself, and I understand how they fear our kind. It was only by the mercy of a wise alpha that I was able to see with my own eyes the honour and bravery of the Moon People."

The leader hesitated, his lips moving silently as he considered the situation. Netya hoped her subtle temptation would work. It was difficult for most males of their kind to relinquish the glory of combat, but this one seemed a little older and wiser than most. She waited on his answer with bated breath. At long last, his chin dipped in a tiny nod.

Before he could speak, the Sun People raised their voices in alarm once more. The flutter of wings beat the air behind them. Netya snapped her head around to see Fern hurrying toward her in the shape of her wolf, the recently-settled flock of birds scattering once again before her.

This time there was no opportunity for words to still the weapons of the Sun People. So preoccupied had she been with soothing the hunt leader, Netya had neglected to assure the other group of her good intentions.

"More of them are coming," she heard one of the Sun People call to another amidst the clamour of raised voices. Did they assume she had been stalling them? Playing a cunning trick to buy time before tightening the noose? She would never know. They loosed a volley of darts into the small band of growling wolves, bringing two of them to the ground with yips of pain as the others charged forward.

Netya threw herself down, gravelly dirt biting into her palms beneath the snow. The dart that had been aimed at her caught in the shoulder of her wolf pelt, tugging sharply on the garment as it just barely missed breaking her skin. The Sun People clustered together in a group, some of them drawing short flint knives to fend off their attackers while the others nocked more darts to their strings. One of them went down with a cry as the claws of a wolf gashed open his leg, only to be dragged back to his feet a moment later by a pair of his companions, while a third man put a boot into the muzzle of the attacker, sending her tripping down the slope with a snarl as blood ran from her cracked nose.

The quickening rush beneath Netya's skin urged her to take the shape of her wolf, to lend her aid, but her rising panic held it in check. The Sun People had backed up before the diminished pack of white hunters could encircle them, putting the high ground and the reach of their weapons to their advantage. Realising the predicament he was in, the pack leader dashed back and let out a howl of retreat, putting his body between the Sun People and one of his fallen companions as another dart struck the ground just inches from his paws.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Unwilling to stay and tempt fate, the Sun People disappeared beyond the lip of the ridge they had been backing toward, and the white hunters retreated to tend their fallen companions.

Netya felt a pair of hands lifting her up when Fern reached her side, her body trembling as she clung on to her friend for support.

"Are you hurt?" the other woman said breathlessly, tugging free the dart that had caught in her clothing.

Netya shook her head, staring at the long wooden shaft that had been meant to take her life. The thin point had crumpled and broken. Clearly it had been meant for hunting birds, not people.

"You are fortunate," Fern said under her breath, giving her friend a quick hug as she tossed the dart aside. "The bow is a dangerous weapon when its arrows are tipped with flint or poison."

"Where is Wren?" Netya said, but her question was answered when she saw the young girl's scrawny wolf dashing up behind them. The nurturing instincts she'd developed since taking Wren under her wing told her that a stern reprimand was in order, but she was hardly in any position to be giving lectures on recklessness. After giving the girl a quick nod of reassurance, she turned her attention to the white hunters.

Three wolves had been pierced by the Sun People's arrows, but the female with the bloody snout was still on her feet. One of them managed to jerk his head to the side and yank out the shaft that had caught in the nape of his neck, snarling in pain as he pawed at the bleeding area. The other two did not seem so fortunate.

Netya hurried over, holding up her palms in deference as the female suddenly reared up and barked at her.

"Let her come!" the leader, having relinquished his animal guise once more, called out. "You are a seer, are you not?"

Netya nodded.

"Then lend us your aid. Dren, fetch our belongings and give this woman what she needs." He motioned to the only other member of his group that had managed to avoid injury, and the male barked in compliance before darting back off in the direction they had come.

Netya knelt to examine the two fallen wolves. She had never treated injuries like this before, but Adel had instructed her on what to do when a body was pierced by knives or spears. Thankfully the first wolf, another female, had only taken an arrow in the fleshy area near the shoulder of her foreleg. The wound was painful enough to keep her from walking, but she seemed in no immediate danger. Netya left her to the comfort of her packmates for the time being and moved on to the next injured hunter. One arrow had caught him in the back, and a second in the side of his chest. He seemed to be having difficulty breathing, though Netya noticed there was surprisingly little blood.

"Can you help him?" the leader said, crouching down alongside her.

"I can do my best. I am only an apprentice, but I will save him if I can."

"We would have had them if not for her," the hostile female said, clutching a hand to her bloody nose as she rose up on two legs. "Sun wolf," she spat.

"Sit down and tend to your sister, woman." The leader silenced her with a sharp glare, then turned back to Netya. "These two are with you also?" He nodded to Fern and Wren.

"Yes," Netya replied. "We are of the same pack." She pressed a hand against the fallen wolf's side, trying to feel for the signs of laboured breathing that would indicate whether the arrows had gone in too deep. It was difficult for her to tell. She did not think she felt anything out of the ordinary, but how was she to know for sure? She had even less experience tending wolves than she did people.

"Which pack?" the leader asked, not without a note of suspicion. "Miral's clan?"

Netya shook her head, trying to concentrate on what she was doing. She had never heard of anyone named Miral.

"Then whose?"

She hesitated, suddenly aware that she needed to be very careful in what she said next. Adel had imposed upon them time and again the importance of remaining unnoticed by the other packs until they could stake their claim at the great gathering the following summer. They were a small group of mainly women and seers, and they would be easy prey to any of the more powerful clans looking to absorb them into their numbers.

"We are from Khelt's pack," she said after a pause. It was not a lie. Not exactly.

The leader's brow furrowed in surprise, but Netya was relieved to see a hint of apprehension creeping into his expression also. The name she had invoked was clearly one he both feared and respected.

"Khelt of the southern plains? I have never known him and his kin to venture this far north."

"I am with a small group of my sisters. The rest of the pack is a ways to the south still. We were forced to abandon our den when the Sun People threatened to attack some months ago."

Once again, it was not entirely a lie. The male questioning her did not need to know that the rest of Khelt's pack were surely a great many leagues away from them by now, and likely travelling in the opposite direction. Nor that her small group of sisters had severed their ties to that pack permanently and struck out on their own.

The leader mulled it over for a time, allowing Netya to finish her examination as he stroked his fallen comrade's ears soothingly, murmuring words of encouragement under his breath. It was not long before the one called Dren returned carrying a heavy leather sack over his shoulder and a bundle under the other arm. He offered Netya the water and bindings she needed, along with some soft herb poultices. It was more than she had been expecting, and after entrusting Fern with the task of washing and dressing the fallen female's wound, she attempted to draw the two arrows out of her own patient's body.

She bit her lip, holding her breath as she eased the wooden shaft out of his chest. If she had made a mistake, what she was about to do might only make things worse. It took more force than she had expected, but the male held mercifully still for her, gritting his teeth through the pain as she worked the arrow free. A sigh of relief left her lips as the bloodied point slid out cleanly, without the sudden labouring of pained breath she had feared. The second arrow followed with a little more difficulty, but neither seemed to have broken or pierced anything vital.

With the wounds free to bleed, she cleaned them out as best she could with the contents of a waterskin, before applying the poultices and binding them in place. She knew there were more advanced techniques an experienced seer would have used to ward off further infection, but the Moon People were naturally resilient against such things. She did not believe the hunter's injuries were severe enough to threaten his life.

"What is your name?" the leader asked once she had finished.

"Netya. And yours?"

"Orec. Brother to Alpha Turec, and first among the hunters of his pack," he said, drawing himself up with a swell of pride. "It has been many moons since we shared a fire with the wolves of Khelt's pack, but he has never given us reason to think ill of him. I will deliver my alpha's gratitude to him personally for the aid you lent us today. Even if it ended with more blood spilled than was necessary."

The surly female glowered at her from over his shoulder.

"You make a kind offer," Netya replied hastily, "but it is several days journey. We
... We must—"

"What my sister means to say is that her male does not know she is out here," Fern cut in with a knowing smile, rescuing Netya from her predicament. "He would be gravely upset to learn that she put herself in such danger. You would be doing her a kindness if you saved your thanks for the pack gathering next summer."

Netya hoped the anxious flush that rose to her cheeks made her seem embarrassed by her friend's story, rather than betraying the truth of the matter—that it was an outright lie. Fern had always been better at snatching shrewd answers out of the air than her.

The leader chuckled. "One would think he would be proud of her courage. Ah, but I understand some males are reluctant to be outshone by the deeds of their women. Very well, I will save my thanks for the summer. Let us hope your alpha's feud with the Sun People has dimmed by then, hm?"

"Yes," Netya breathed a sigh of relief, "let us hope so indeed.

After scouting to make sure the Sun People were well on their way out of Alpha Turec's territory, the small hunting band set a rough camp while their wounded recovered. Orec pried for more information about Khelt and his pack, but Fern did a good job of deflecting his questions. The hunter was clearly no fool, however, and it soon became apparent that he suspected there was more to the strange trio of females than they were letting on. He seemed a man of his word, but Netya wondered what suspicious conversations might pass between him and his alpha once he returned home.

They were able to excuse themselves from Orec's hospitality by the end of the morning, but he insisted they take half the freshly killed game the Sun People had left behind in thanks for their assistance. He bid them farewell with a guarded smile, and Fern batted her eyelashes in her usual enticing way as they said their own goodbyes. As soon as they had turned away, however, her expression darkened, and she hurried Wren and Netya along until they were out of earshot.

"Do you think he suspects anything?" Netya said.

"I liked him," Wren chimed in, before wrinkling her nose. "Not that woman, though."

"The pair of you have much to learn about the other packs still," Fern said, her light and jovial tone notably absent. "He offered us the courtesy he felt honour-bound to. We are fortunate he was a senior male of such status."

Netya glanced behind them anxiously. "Forgive me. I hope I did not do something foolish, but I could not just stand by."

Fern let out a long breath, throwing a hand around her friend's shoulders. "You do many foolish things these days. He was kind to us because he fears Khelt's strength. Anything less would have been an insult to such a powerful pack. If he knew the truth of it, we might not have been so fortunate."

Netya gazed down at the snowy ground as they began to thread their way back through the trees, heading in the direction of their own temporary camp. "Do you believe he will stay true to his word?"

Fern shook her head. "I do not know, but alphas are rarely keen to indulge rival packs so close to their territory. We must tell Adel as soon as we return, and then deal with whatever punishment she has in mind for you."

Netya shivered. Incurring the wrath of a rival pack leader was one thing, but she almost feared the judgement of her mentor more.

—2—

A Man's Place

All of his life, Caspian had secretly suspected he might enjoy living among a group of so many females. He enjoyed their company. Their soothing soundness of mind. The way they cared so little for the brash challenges and rivalries of men. Many times when he was younger he had sought out the company of the seers in their secluded cave, sometimes wishing that they were the only people he ever had to deal with. His natural good looks had certainly done him no harm in such company, either.