Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (41 page)

"They will tire themselves out eventually and come back, won't they?" Netya tried to reassure her friend as she paced back and forth in agitation.

"Eventually. How long do you think it will take for Kin's pride to wear thin?" Fern said. "He might follow that stag all day and night before he comes back to admit his mistake. Nevermind that he has a hungry boy trying to impress him by keeping up," she muttered the last angrily.

"Perhaps Eyan went with Pera to bring him back? He may not be the quickest to realise it, but he has more sense than most of his brothers."

"Maybe." A conflicted look crossed Fern's face. "When Kin is not leading him on."

Netya was suddenly reminded of how glad she was that Caspian was several years older than the men closer to her and Fern's age. Older, and less prone to the compulsions of pride and honour that seemed to rob them of all good sense.

"Should we split up?" Fern said, beginning to sound a little desperate. "We must find Pera, but if the others keep going deeper into Miral's territory..."

"You are better at tracking than me," Netya replied, glancing up and down the path they had taken. The mist was thinning, as were the trees. She suspected they would soon emerge into open land, where a lone scout might spy trespassers from many leagues away. If the fog lifted before they could find Kin and the others, they would be in more danger than ever. "Do you trust Eyan?" she said.

Fern hesitated, then, with no small amount of reluctance, nodded her head. "I trust him to do what is right more than I trust Kin to avoid being foolish."

"That may have to do," Netya said. "We have to think of the pack. If Eyan can take care of Pera then we should do our best to find Kin before he leaves our clan's scent all over Miral's hunting grounds."

It surprised her to see how quickly Fern nodded in agreement, acquiescing to Netya's plan almost as instinctively as if the instruction had come from the den mother herself. They took the shapes of their wolves again and continued on after Kin's trail, though at a slower pace this time. There was no point in trying to keep up with the men; it would only exhaust them to try. Better to conserve their energy and try to catch up when Kin and his companions inevitably slowed to rest.

Travelling through a hostile clan's territory reminded Netya of when she had departed from her people's village for the final time. The same invisible threat hung heavy in the air, though this time she was thankful that there were no groups of hunters stalking her. Not yet, at least.

But her hopes of catching up to Kin before he strayed too far grew thinner by the moment. The mist was blowing away on a fresh breeze, flares of sunlight spilling through the hazy fog above them as the weather brightened. If only the rainy season could have chosen this day to roll in again. She wondered, with the customary awe of her wolf's simple mind, whether it was a sign. She had heard tales of shamans who could call sun and rain alike. What if Miral had such men in his clan, chasing away the fog to reveal their enemies?

Adel's voice echoed in the back of her mind telling her not to be foolish, that such magic was impossible. She tried to listen to it and ignore the steadily brightening landscape fading into view around them, but it was hard to slow the anxious pounding of her heart as she trotted through the undergrowth. Miral's hunting grounds were certainly worthy of claim by any alpha, lush and light green even with the turning of the seasons. The open land around them sloped downwards, finally revealing a great valley many leagues wide once the mist lifted. Shining rivers looped their way down from the mountainous hills on either side, weaving between sparse thickets and swathes of well-grazed grass. On the hillside to the north Netya could already make out one cluster of small black shapes, a herd large enough to feed a pack for many months. It was no wonder Fern had been keen to hunt here.

But despite the light of the sun showing them the way, there was still no sign of Kin and the others up ahead. They must have already disappeared into the thickets. It was hard to imagine they had chased one lone stag all this way, but perhaps they had caught the scent of some other prey by now. Even Netya found her muzzle twitching at the tantalising smells of wild animals that laced the air here. She had eaten nothing but a handful of tubers since morning, and the sun was starting to weigh heavy in the sky. They had been heading deeper into the valley for most of the afternoon, farther and farther from the safety of their own lands. With a sickening drop of her stomach, Netya resigned herself to the fact that they would be facing the night by themselves in unfamiliar territory. Rather than dwelling on all of the terrible things that might happen if Miral's pack were also out hunting that night, she instead focused on what she—and Adel—would have to say to Kin when they finally dragged him back to the valley. She could think of plenty of appropriate words, both in her own language and that of the Moon People. He had done foolish things before, but never anything so reckless. Perhaps they had been too lenient with their new pack members. Maybe Miral had been right when he said they were weak—

She caught herself before her thoughts could stray any further down that treacherous path. Enough doubts had already harried her that day. She, Caspian, Adel; whoever ended up dealing with Kin and his companions would just have to make sure that nothing like this ever happened again.

It was approaching twilight by the time they started sniffing their way through the thickets at the base of the valley, where Kin's trail finally slowed into a meandering, aimless mess of overlapping scents and disturbed foliage. Netya's frustration simmered beneath her fur again as her empty stomach growled. It would take an especially dim-witted hunter indeed to miss the careless trail the men had left. Her only consolation was that she had not picked up the scent of any other wolves along the way. Of course, perhaps her untrained nose was simply missing the hints, as it had done earlier, but Fern's more experienced wolf showed no signs of alarm either. If Miral's clan hunted here, then they did not appear to have ventured through these particular thickets recently.

It was tricky to discern where Kin had led the others after they finished traipsing up and down the wooded area, but after a time it became apparent that they had eventually stripped a pair of small bushes free of edible berries before moving on, presumably still in search of the stag they had no doubt lost by now. The urgency pushing at the back of Netya's mind spurred her to press on, but she groped past the agitation of her wolf's thoughts to remind herself that she was hungry and tired. Her focus was slipping, and with it the energy that had been driving her all afternoon.

Finally she forced herself to stop, bringing their pursuit to a halt where the thicket ended and a broad but shallow, rock-strewn creek separated them from the next stretch of trees farther down the valley. Another murky veil of cloud had stolen across the sky, bringing with it the distant patter of rain that threatened to make tracking twice as difficult once it arrived. But it was already too late to hope they could catch up with the others before the bad weather arrived. Trying to track through the night with rain to mask the scents and sounds around them would be an exercise in futility.

She shared her concerns with Fern, who was quick to agree. The pair of them spent the night huddled beneath a spur of rock that jutted out over the edge of the creek like the claw of some enormous stone animal straining to escape the earth. Cold and weary, they shared a few handfuls of edible leaves and roots they had managed to scavenge prior to nightfall, taking the edge off their hunger long enough for them to rest. Fern had tried to stalk what she thought was an otter along the edge of the creek, but the critter had startled and disappeared into the water before she could get close. Bounteous hunting grounds or not, the two young women found little fortune in sating their appetites that evening.

They huddled close together for warmth, clad in their wolves' fur as one slept and the other kept watch over the rippling water before them. Netya did not think she had faced a more troubled night of sleep in her life. Even when she had been fleeing from the Sun People she had succumbed to exhaustion in the end, providing a miserable yet welcome respite from her situation. This time, though, her thoughts chased her through the night, disturbing her sleep constantly. The prospect of waking up with a pack of Miral's hunters slavering over them was terrifying enough, but between the hours she sat awake keeping watch and the dreams that followed she was forced to imagine dozens upon dozens of terrible outcomes to their situation. The blue world in her recurring vision turned red, and this time she was running from the gathering with every wolf in the world snapping at her heels, chasing a child who kept disappearing from view up ahead. First it was Pera, then it seemed to be the girl she had seen before. Exhaustion dragged at her steps, and when she finally snapped awake she felt almost as if she had not slept at all.

Shaken, chilly, and still suffering from the echoes of hunger, she crept out from beneath the spur, wishing more than anything that she was back in her comfortable cave with Caspian beside her. If only he was there with them. She would have felt immensely more confident with her man at her side, lending his cunning and his strength to her own. An invisible hook seemed to tug at her belly as she thought of the small life now growing within her, and the father, now leagues distant, who knew nothing of it. If the worst were to happen out here, would he ever know? Adel might never tell him. She would not want to make such a loss any harder to bear.

Seeming to sense that her friend was lost in some bleak melancholy, Fern gave her a nudge with her muzzle, tugging playfully at the side of her ear with her teeth. With a quiet bark of reassurance, Netya resigned herself once more to the task at hand.

The rain had stopped shortly before morning, and the sun was shining once again. Tracking Kin across the creek was as good as impossible, but once they reached the trees on the other side it became much easier to distinguish individual scents from the smell of the rain. The undergrowth had preserved many of the phantom smells trapped beneath it, and along with the disturbed foliage and faint pawprints they were able to pick up the trail again after exploring for a short while.

This time Netya was determined to catch the wayward males before they lost another day to their ill-fated hunt. Her mind and body seemed to tap into the same dogged reserves of energy that had kept her going during her flight from the Sun People, and with the aid of her wolf's natural endurance she kept a steady pace all morning. But something strange was happening to the trail they now followed. It was difficult to tell, especially after the rain, but Kin and his companions seemed to have stopped multiple times throughout the night, as if they were waiting for something. At first she thought they might finally have seen sense and hung back while they waited for the women to catch up, but if that were the case why had they not remained in one spot? Worse still, Eyan and Pera's scents had rejoined those of the main group. Netya did not know how the boy had managed to keep up through the night, but after realising his scent was closely mixed with Eyan's she suspected the large male had been carrying the youngster on his back.

Every so often they came across chewed plants and the faint scent of blood from a critter that had fallen victim to the hunters. Their trail meandered again, doubled back on itself, and finally began to edge toward the side of the valley, headed back west in the direction they had come. Fern seemed reassured that the men had finally seen sense and given up, but Netya was still worried. The path they had taken was clearly not the most straightforward, even to her untrained eyes. They were sticking to the undergrowth, prowling the edge of steep overhangs, doing their very best, it seemed, to avoid the easy grassland just to the south. And all the while they kept coming across spots where the group had stopped and waited. Were they playing another one of their competitive games? Netya wanted to believe so, but an uneasy drag in the base of her stomach told her something else was going on that she had overlooked.

Surely they must be close to catching up by now? With the number of times Kin and his companions had stopped they should have found them hours ago. But not a rustle of movement or a yip of enthusiasm reached her ears through the still undergrowth. The scents were fresh, undisturbed by rain. The men had been here mere moments earlier, and yet all Netya could hear was the soft rustle of Fern's paws brushing through the leaves a short distance away.

Feeling that she must be missing something, and spurred on by the uneasy weight in her stomach that was growing heavier by the moment, she turned away from the path she had been following and moved to the edge of the thicket, where the higher ground looked out over the rocky creek they had crossed earlier.

A ray of sunlight peeking over the hills stung her eyes, blinding her for a moment as she gazed across the glittering stretch of water winding its way through the trees below them. Without warning, a heavy shape struck her from the side, driving her to the ground with a weight far greater than her own. In a panic, she tried to open her muzzle to yelp, but a pair of arms were wrapped around her neck, strong hands clamping her jaws shut as she hit the earth with a painful thud. For an instant she struggled, trying to latch her claws into the man holding her, before recognising his scent. She had been following it for so long that it sprang to the forefront of her mind even faster than the voice hissing in her ears, and her shock gave way to confusion.

"Don't make a sound!" Kin whispered, his voice weary, but strung with urgency. "He's right there, down in the shallows. If he'd turned his head he would have seen you."