Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (44 page)

"I think you did well," Netya replied. Her voice was still weak, but it was less difficult to speak now. "Where are the others?"

"Nearby, keeping watch. Kin spent the whole day hunting." Fern gestured to the shapes of two small roasted animals warming on sticks beside the fire. "Once he came to his senses I think he realised what he had done. He has not spoken a word since."

Netya closed her eyes, nodding. She was desperately hungry, but more than hunger she felt the inevitable weight of something else bearing down on her. If only Caspian were here. He would know what to do. A longing almost as painful as her wounded arm swept over her, dragging her spirit in the direction of the valley, aching for her man's touch and comforting presence.

"What are we to do?" Fern whispered, echoing Netya's thoughts as she nudged her head in the direction of the bound man.

"I do not know. We cannot bring him back with us," Netya replied, switching hurriedly into the language of the Sun People. She did not want to risk their captive overhearing them.

Thankfully Fern followed her lead, continuing the conversation in Netya's native tongue. "He will tell Miral what happened."

"Then perhaps we must let him. What other choice do we have?"

"You don't want to take him back to the valley?"

Netya shook her head. "It would take too long. And what if he tried to run? We would have to watch him night and day. Pera needs the den mother's healing skills as soon as possible."

"But the den mother might know what to do with this man also. Perhaps she could put a spell on him, make him forget what he saw?"

"I have never heard of any magic like that." Netya gazed over at their captive, taking a moment to swallow down the nausea rising in her throat. "Has he said anything?"

"Not a word. I think he expects us to kill him."

"I wish we could tell him otherwise, but maybe it is best if he thinks the worst of us for now. We can do nothing until Pera is well enough to be moved."

"And how long do you think that will be?" Fern raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"I cannot say. I need to examine him properly, can you—" Netya tried to climb to her feet, but her numb legs and a wave of dizziness sent her stumbling back to the ground.

"Pera is not the only one who needs time to heal!" Fern said anxiously. "You must eat something and rest. If he gets any worse we will wake you."

Netya tried to get up one more time, but her arm protested at the slightest movement. With a weary nod she slumped back against the tree, rubbing her legs with her good hand to try and bring them back to life. Fern brought her one of the cooked animals, presumably a roasted otter, and she tucked into the strange-tasting meat until her belly was full and her lips warm with grease. The others brought her more cupped leaves filled with fresh water from the creek, half of which she drank, and the rest she used to clean some of the blood from her arm. The wound likely needed washing too, but it still throbbed too much for her to risk peeling back the bindings.

Eyan emerged from the darkness a short while later and bent down to murmur something in Fern's ear, to which she responded with a smile, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. The other wolf watching their captive curled up to sleep as Eyan took his place, and the camp settled into silence once more.

"What is your name?" Netya asked of the bound man eventually, reverting to the language of the Moon People. His eyes slid in her direction, but he said nothing.

"I am sorry we must do this," she continued, "but you are of Miral's clan, are you not? I am sure you are loyal to your alpha. You would take word of us back to him."

The man remained silent for a while before finally saying, in a gravelly voice: "You are the leader of this pack?"

Fern and Eyan looked up, tensing at his words.

"Why do you think that?" Netya replied.

"The rest are no alphas, not even the other woman. If you are who I believe you are, then your pack is led by females, is it not?"

"Our leader is a woman, yes," Netya said, but she held her tongue cautiously before revealing any more. She had to be careful with her words in the presence of one of their enemies. "I am Den Mother Adel's apprentice."

"Witch," the man growled, a hint of fear creeping into his dull eyes. "Give me an honourable death. Do not make me a sacrifice to your dark spirits."

Netya opened her mouth to speak, and it took all of her restraint to keep herself from reassuring the man that she had no intention of killing anyone. Fear might be the only thing keeping him from attempting to break loose. The ring of brambles encircling his neck was a deterrent, but she suspected he could snap through it despite the pain if he took the shape of his wolf. Instead, she tried asking their captive something else.

"Did your alpha go to fight Octavia's clan in the west?" She raised her eyebrows hopefully, but the instant she said it the man's eyes turned glassy again, and he went back to staring into the fire in silence. She should have known by his appearance that he was a loyal, time-hardened warrior of Miral's pack. He had to be, to be trusted with scouting so far afield on his own. Nothing that passed his lips would betray so much as a hint of his alpha's intentions.

"Are you hungry?" Fern offered, gesturing to the one remaining roast animal. The man did not even register her voice, continuing to stare blankly into the flames.

As the night wore on Netya occasionally heard the sounds of Kin and the other male moving through the undergrowth nearby, but she caught no glimpse of them before her head started to droop and the welcome relief of sleep numbed the pain of her arm again.

Her rest was deep, but no longer dark. She returned to the blue vision, saw the gathering, glimpsed her daughter wreathed in Syr's light, and then drifted back into dreams of meaningless shapes and sounds. At least the vision was still strong, and so her unborn child must still be strong too. She was fearful of the fate that awaited her, but it no longer held the same edge of uncertain panic as before. She accepted what was to come. The destiny was hers to fulfil, and she trusted in the moon spirit. When she returned to the valley, she would keep it a secret no longer.

The hours spent propped up against the hard tree left Netya numb and stiff again when she awoke, but the pain in her arm had lessened considerably. It looked to be mid morning, judging by the light shining through the patchy canopy above, and Eyan was roasting fresh meat over the fire while Fern slumbered next to Pera. The boy was still alive, but it worried Netya to hear how weak and ragged the sounds of his breathing were. His body should have started to mend itself by now, especially in the shape of his wolf.

Forcing herself to her feet, she braced her good arm against the tree and blinked her eyes until the wave of lightheadedness had passed. She no longer felt quite so queasy, and the food and sleep had helped replenish everything the previous day had taken out of her. Eyan moved wordlessly to help her, but she gestured for him to go back to his cooking with a weak smile. He nodded and sat back down, though not before checking that Fern was still sleeping soundly.

Netya was thankful to have him nearby. Even though he had gotten caught up in Kin's reckless hunt, he had still summoned the courage to stand up to the other male when it truly mattered. He seemed the kind of man that most alphas would be glad to have at their back.

A long coil of plaited grass sat beside Fern, the ends still held loosely in her hands where she had fallen asleep weaving. Feeling how her wounded arm tugged uncomfortably under its own weight, Netya recalled a piece of advice she had been given during one of Adel's earlier teachings. Carefully taking the cord from Fern, she gnawed a length off and tied the grass plait around her neck in a loose loop, using it to support her arm just below the elbow. The improvised sling had the desired effect of taking some of the weight off her wound, and with her own injury momentarily tended to she knelt down to examine Pera.

Peering carefully beneath the bound dressings one by one, she tried her best to determine what was causing the boy's ongoing discomfort. To her surprise she discovered that Fern or one of the others had managed to stitch the largest gash closed using sinew from the animals they had hunted. It was an ugly piece of healing, but it had worked, and the wound looked to be closing well. She suspected the boy might have broken bones, if the bruising beneath his fur was anything to go by, but it was difficult to tell through the gentle pressure of her fingers alone. He whimpered and squirmed at the lightest touch, and she feared any deeper probing might do more harm than good. When she reached one of the final wounds, however, even the motion of easing back the dressing caused Pera to jolt fully awake and yelp in pain, squirming to get away.

"Shh, I'll stop, I'll stop," Netya soothed him, holding his kicking paws gently so that he did not hurt himself further.

Fern stirred beside him, blinking herself awake as her hands moved instinctively to stroke the boy's muzzle. "Pera, I'm here," she said softly, massaging the back of his neck until he stilled, though his pained whimpers continued.

Netya realised her hand was trembling as she met her friend's weary eyes. "Something is wrong with this wound," she said softly. "It should not be hurting him so much. The others are far worse."

"What can we do to heal it?"

"I do not know." Netya shook her head. "It is beyond my skill. He needs Adel and the others."

"He cannot travel like this."

"I fear he will have to. We can bind him upon Eyan's back, and I can ride with one of the others. The longer we wait, the worse he may become."

Fern looked down at the twitching wolf resting against her lap, her features drawn. Pera was an independent youngster, but he was also Wren's friend, and as a result he had spent more time around Fern than perhaps any of the other adults. It was clear that she had grown to care for him.

"I allowed him to join us," she said.

"Kin was the one who led him into danger," Netya replied, drawing her friend close and kissing the side of her forehead. "Adel will be able to heal him. Who else can mend such injuries better than her?"

Fern nodded, brushing the back of her hand across her eyes. "I will gather the others, then," she answered huskily.

Eyan kept watch on their captive while Fern disappeared to track down Kin and one of the other men, both of whom appeared to have gone out hunting. With her arm still paining her, Netya could not take the shape of her wolf unless she planned on limping around three-legged, so she took the opportunity instead to forage close to their camp, searching for any plants that might help her heal Pera's wounds. It was not too difficult to find a handful of soft leaves that could be used as better dressings, but the thicket near the creek was devoid of any herbs that would help the flesh mend or bring a person into a painless sleep.

Netya's lack of fortune began to weigh even more heavily on her when she realised how difficult it would be to bind Pera upon Eyan's back for the journey home, and the discomfort it would cause the young wolf as they travelled. If the slightest touch from her could evoke enough pain to wake him from sleep, how would he be able to endure the jolting rhythm of a running wolf? The Moon People were capable of immense grace and care when it came to carrying others upon their backs, but it would be a long journey with many opportunities for missteps and stumbles. She knew that Caspian had once carried her a great distance upon his back when she was sick and dying from Khelt's bite, but she had been mercifully unconscious for most of the journey and remembered very little of it.

Just as she was beginning to believe there was no way of bringing Pera comfortably home, her eyes settled on a small, bushy tangle of foliage at the base of one of the trees. She had dismissed it at first, for what use could the berries there possibly be to her? The last time she had seen them they had almost been responsible for the death of her mentor.

A cluster of plump nightwood berries glistened with sparkles of dew, as ripe and inviting as any fruit, but filled with poison that could madden and kill. Dangerous, but sometimes useful. Netya recalled how her first journey into the spirit world had been induced by the nightwood berries, taken in a small but safe amount. To this day it was still the most vivid detachment from the waking world she had ever experienced. Even when it became a nightmare she had still remained lost in the experience for many long hours, completely unaware of anything else. Was forcing Pera to confront the spirit world a greater mercy than subjecting him to the agony of his wounds?

It was not a traditional remedy, nor one that she suspected most seers would approve of. The nightwood berries were precious, used only in solemn rituals and handled with the greatest of care. Their magic was not the kind to be used lightly on those outside of the seerhood.

Biting her lip, Netya combed the surrounding area one last time for any other useful plants, but before long she heard the sound of paws splashing back across the creek. There was no more time. Pera needed help, and they could not afford to linger much longer. Hurrying back to the bush, Netya plucked three of the nightwood berries and palmed them in her wounded hand, praying she would not need to use them.

Though Pera had been at the forefront of her mind, the men were clearly preoccupied by an equally pressing matter when she returned to the camp. All four of them stood around the fire gazing down at their bound captive, who now looked distinctly more weary and pale than he had the night before. Kin, much to Netya's relief, turned away with a look of shame when she approached, averting his eyes from the wound he had given her.