Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (22 page)

Caspian straightened up, feeling his anger grow. Stripped of his usual restraint, he was in no mood to indulge the bitterness of Adel's brother on a night of such good cheer. "Your sister has twice the wisdom of many an alpha. That is why I follow her."

"Of course, of course," Karel scoffed. "The spirits themselves are unworthy of so much as sniffing at the blessed ground upon which my sister walks. Even as an outcast, even as a woman, she still has the arrogance to try and claim an alpha's status for her own."

"While you still wait in line behind your father?" Caspian said, unable to resist a provocative smile. His words stirred a chuckle from Khelt and a few of the others, and Karel's face reddened in response.

"Better to mind my place as a man than to beg at the heels of a female and bed with a sun-whore."

"Put your tongue away before it makes even more a fool of you," Caspian said shortly, beginning to lose patience. The comments about Adel were nothing he was unused to, but insults toward Netya were like the scent of prey to his snarling wolf.

"I heard she warmed your old alpha's furs before you claimed her," Karel continued, pushing harder now that he had struck a nerve. "Did he have the good sense to cast her aside once he was done?"

A feral growl left Caspian's throat as he felt the wolf rising inside him. Khelt clapped a hand down on his shoulder, restraining his bestial urges momentarily.

"I think this bitter mutt desires a challenge, Caspian," the alpha said with a hint of dark mirth. "What do you say?"

"I will have an apology from you," Caspian said, keeping his eyes on Karel, "whether I must force it with a challenge or not."

"Then you will be left wanting. I accept." The other male rose to his feet, flexing his bared torso and rolling his shoulders.

Caspian knew Karel was spoiling for a fight to save face after being dismissed by his sister. It was the kind of thing he had seen a dozen times before, and prided himself on taking no part in. But tonight was different. He was giving voice to all the urges he had been forced to stifle since leaving Khelt's pack, and the insults to Netya had goaded him easily. Why did he have to be above challenging another male for his woman's honour? The drink had loosened his restraint and heated his blood, and it was his turn to teach someone else the value of humility.

The unsteadiness in his legs lasted only a moment as he stood upright, his pulse quickening and sharpening his focus. Forgetting the girl at his side, Khelt joined his friend and spread his arms wide, calling for silence. It was a ceremonial gesture at best, for all eyes and ears were already trained intently on the two males about to fight, men and woman edging backward to create an open space around the fire.

"As alpha, I oversee this challenge!" Khelt bellowed, stepping in between the pair and off to one side. "Let this be settled through the strength of warriors. Two glorious warriors!" His powerful voice carried across the gathering, drawing attention to the challenge until several dozen newcomers were pushing and jostling their way to the edge of the circle. The alpha was clearly enjoying himself, as eager as the rest to see the fight, and he spared no effort in making a grand spectacle of it. "Karel, son of Alpha Ulric, insults the honour of my brother, Caspian!" he paused for a moment, as if forgetting himself, before adding: "First warrior of Den Mother Adel."

The momentary quiet began to crackle with laughs and cheers, growls and whispers, and roars of encouragement. A challenge between two distinguished males was almost a challenge between alphas, though it did not bear the same stakes. It was, however, a contest of honour between two packs; the tentative strength of Adel's clan against the established power of her father's. These were the challenges that shaped the relationships between packs as much as the words that would pass between alphas in the days to come.

But Caspian cared little for the glory he might win for his people that night. His attention was fixed on Karel, fighting the ebb and surge of his wolf's aggression as the pair of them paced around the fire, sizing one another up. Khelt continued to speak behind them, but Caspian was no longer paying attention to his friend's words.

Karel made as if to sit down, a tauntingly relaxed gesture, but as he lowered himself to the ground his body erupted into fur and fangs, coiling his hind legs and propelling himself over the flames directly at his opponent.

The sudden lunge took Caspian off guard, and he felt the ripple of the other male's teeth snapping together in the air a mere inch from his left wrist as he turned aside at the last moment. Karel landed easily and rounded back on him, but Caspian was not about to allow his adversary the chance to press his surprise advantage. Donning the fur of his own wolf, his paws hit the grass hard as he tensed his body and found solid footing, ready to meet a second lunge head on.

But Karel did not charge in recklessly for another attack. He backed away again, dancing around the fire and keeping his muzzle low to the ground. His wolf moved with almost feminine grace, a stark contrast to the aggressive charge he had opened up with.

Confused, Caspian held his own impulses in check, attempting to study the other wolf's movements. He was a patient fighter, even when his blood was pumping, and he sensed that Karel was too. The pair circled the fire until a thick log cracked and popped with a flurry of sparks, shattering the still focus that had blocked out the noise of the crowd. The startling jolt of sound made Karel flinch, and with a speed born of instinct Caspian reacted before his mind had even registered the flash of sparks. The coiled tension in his muscles released, and he leaped around the fire to attack his opponent from the side, the claws of his right paw ripping a sharp swipe through the air as those on his left tore up the grass for traction.

Karel ducked under the blow and went for Caspian's legs, snarling with anger as he tried to topple the brown-furred wolf. The ploy succeeded, but Caspian was ready, rolling away to the side as his left foreleg was swiped out from under him. He came up with his teeth bared, expecting to find his foe bearing down on him, but once again Karel had backed off. With a smoothness that few of the Moon People could ever hope to achieve, the other male slipped behind the fire and reverted from the shape of his wolf in one fluid motion, using his moccasin-clad foot to kick a blazing log and a flurry of embers in his opponent's direction.

The burning wood stung Caspian's forepaws as he darted back just a second too late, and this time Karel did not hesitate in pushing his advantage. It was all Caspian could manage to square his body and tuck his head in between his shoulders, protecting his eyes and muzzle from Karel's claws as the agile male leaped forward into the body of his wolf again and rained blow after blow on his staggered adversary.

The tear of fur and the smell of blood registered in Caspian's senses, but in the heat of the moment he did not feel the pain of the wounds Karel was inflicting. All he knew was that if he continued to let the needle-sharp swipes land against him he would soon be sporting far worse injuries.

Risking the exposed side of his neck, he snapped his jaws forward just as Karel was raising himself up for another blow. Fur and a nip of blood filled his mouth as he caught the other wolf on the underside of his muzzle, and with a yelp of pain Karel's attack faltered.

Breathing heavily, the pair broke apart for a moment, the coppery tang of blood seeping through the air like dye in water. The cheering, bellowing sound of the onlookers pressed against Caspian's ears in a fuzzy wall of noise, the roars of encouragement from Khelt rising above everything as the alpha bustled back and forth a few yards away.

Listening to the voice of his wolf, Caspian paced around the smouldering remnants of the fire again as he studied his opponent. He was tricky, just like his sister, using his affinity for shifting forms to his advantage. Caspian was used to playing the controlling role when he fought, but this time he was up against a similarly cunning opponent. Every lapse in the fighting was another moment for Karel to plan his next move too, and he had a far larger bag of tricks to pull from.

Forgetting any semblance of caution, Caspian embraced the anger and the aggression of his wolf, hearing the insults of his opponent fresh in his ears all over again. He put the honour of his woman to the forefront of his mind, ferocious pride and passion surging into his movements as he embraced the role of the aggressor.

Karel dodged, but Caspian pressed on, taking a stinging nip to his ear in the process, but ignoring it completely. He did not allow the minor hits he took to slow him down, pressing onward with lightning-fast snaps of his jaws as he backed Karel up into the crowd. The press of bodies receded to make way for the two snarling wolves, but they could not move quickly enough. Karel tripped over the feet of the people behind him, losing his composure in the tangle of confusion and stumbling to the ground.

Caspian pounced, cuffing the overwhelmed male solidly about the head to extinguish any last shred of resistance before pinning him beneath his heavy forepaws.

The roar of the crowd swelled in his ears, reaching a higher pitch than ever as Khelt called his name.

"Caspian! My brother Caspian is the victor!"

Caspian! Caspian!
The cries of the crowd surrounded him, sending a ripple down his spine that perked his ears and stiffened his tail, making his chest swell with the elation of victory. His muzzle drew back from his teeth, and he snarled with satisfaction.

Caspian! Caspian!

The chant continued, stirring and strong, high pitched and panicked—

He turned his head in alarm, seeking out the shrill, distraught voice that had joined the others. It was not chanting, it was calling his name in fear and desperation. It belonged to Netya, pushing her way toward him with a look of shock on her face as she stared at the two panting wolves.

A growl ripped from Karel's muzzle, and he took his opponent's moment of distraction to lunge. Throwing himself out from under Caspian's paws, he jerked his fangs upward and latched them against the vulnerable underside of the other male's neck. The sharp points pierced the skin beneath Caspian's fur, threatening to crush his throat and open up his jugular.

Karel pushed him back, but before he could take advantage of his hold the crowd had once again erupted in roars and growls of disbelief. Khelt lunged forward, bracing an arm around Karel's neck and yanking him back by the scruff.

"The fight is over!" he bellowed, forcing the snarling wolf to release his hold and heaving him bodily away from Caspian.

"Nothing is over!" a man at the front of the crowd, seemingly one of Karel's packmates, called back. "He did not submit!"

"He was pinned and beaten, the fight is over!" Khelt retorted, quieting the hubbub of disagreement with a snarl and a flash of bared teeth.

Caspian and Karel reverted from the shapes of their wolves, nursing their wounds as the crowd surged forward to embrace them. There were still voices of dissent insisting that Karel had won, but Caspian was clearly the victor in the eyes of most. A smile of satisfaction touched his lips as he rubbed his bleeding neck, eyeing his humbled opponent as he glared back through the crowd.

Then he felt Netya's arms around his shoulders as she tugged him to his feet, and the rush of victory melted away as her panicked voice pushed his wolf back into hibernation.

"Are you hurt? Why were you fighting? What has happened?!"

"Netya, Netya," Khelt called with a chuckle as he made his way over to them. "Worry not! He fought bravely for your honour. Celebrate in Caspian's victory with him! He has won great status for us this night." The alpha paused, remembering himself again. "Ah, great status for you and your new pack, of course. But as my sworn brother, I still say any victory of his is a victory of mine!" He laughed and threw an arm around Caspian's shoulders. "Such a fight! A good one, for sure, though you could have taken him sooner."

"Do not worry yourself, I am well," Caspian said, giving Netya a smile. "It was good to fight for something. For you." He ran a hand over his neck, feeling the scratches and cuts Karel had left on him, but none of them seemed severe.

But rather than relief, Netya was looking at him with incredulity. "And when have you ever been one to fight? Why? What if you had been hurt?"

"Netya, I am fine," he replied, returning her look with bemusement. He staggered for a moment, feeling the effects of the fermented drink once again, and put a hand on her shoulder for support.

"You have been gone for hours," she said. "This is not like you."

"No," he replied, starting to become exasperated. "It is not. I spend weeks, seasons tending to my pack. As I am proud to. As is my duty. But tonight, I sit with my friend, and I remind myself of all the things I have come to miss."

"You miss fighting?"

"No, Netya," he repeated with a sigh. "I fought for you. He insulted your honour—"

"I care not for my honour! I hear a dozen different voices whisper
sun wolf
after me every time I stray outside our camp. Adel says we must be cautious, not pick fights. She was looking for you this evening, I have been looking—"

"Then perhaps she is the one you should be spending your evenings with," he replied shortly. The pride of fighting for Netya's honour was turning to mud in his stomach. This one night, just this one night, he had wanted to put the trials of the past year from his mind, to sit with his friend, and to permit himself the things he so rarely wished to be a part of. Could Netya not understand that?