The Alpha's Concubine (Historical Shifter Romance) (27 page)

The large hunting party was only able to move as fast as its slowest members, and with so many supplies to carry their progress was limited to walking speed. Small groups of wolves broke off to run farther afield every day, but they always returned before long, bringing back news of any potential prey they had found and the occasional small morsel to share with the others. But according to the scouts running ahead, the horses and deer to the north were still their best hope for a successful hunt, and the group maintained its course without faltering.

By the third day they had almost reached the trees visible on the horizon, but they stayed clear of the encroaching forest and steered further west, where the plains became increasingly craggy as the mountains drew nearer. This part of the forest was the southern territory of the North People, and the pack did not hunt in their lands out of respect for their mutual allies.

It was strange for Netya to think that she might be just a day's travel away from seeing her own kind again, even if the North People were as unfamiliar to her as the Moon People had once been. Perhaps she would visit them one day with Khelt. Perhaps she would visit many places, now that she knew the world was far bigger than the village she had grown up in.

After they made camp on the third night Hawk gathered the entire group around him to discuss their plans for the morrow. Only the high hunters were permitted to contribute to the discussion, but everyone else was expected to pay attention so that they understood their role once the hunt began.

A large drove of horses had been sighted nearby, and, while horses were certainly the more dangerous prey to go after, the deer herds were not great enough in number to make for a glorious hunt. Their quarry would need to be encircled and driven into one of the rocky valleys, Hawk said, or else it would be too easy for them to scatter and disperse across open ground. He wanted a swift and decisive victory rather than spending days picking off lone animals one by one.

It seemed a bold plan, but as Netya listened from her position at the back of the group she began to realise why Hawk was respected as a masterful hunter. His plan was risky, but it was not reckless. He had no intention of charging after difficult prey just for the sake of proving his bravery. Using the tip of a javelin, he outlined in the dirt a rough sketch of the terrain ahead of them, assigning each of the high hunters to lead their own small group. The chasers would flank the drove, finding the gaps through which their prey might escape and blocking them up, making sure the horses were driven deep into the valley ahead of them.

Netya suspected the plan after that would be as simple as chasing down their quarry, but Hawk had a more intricate scheme in mind. Rather than picking off kills from the back of the drove, he instead selected the strongest of his hunters to run ahead of even the chasers, circling around to the other side of the valley ahead of time so that the horses would run straight into them. It was a task for only the bravest and most skilled, and soon many were volunteering, knowing that those who succeeded would secure great status and respect for playing the most dangerous role in the hunt.

Hawk's plan did not end there. He knew full well that the drove would likely turn and attempt to escape through the ranks of weaker hunters chasing them. It had the potential to end in disaster if those bringing up the rear were unprepared, so instead of ordering them to stand and fight, he outlined quite a different role for the rest of the group. The weaker hunters, bearers included, would conceal themselves out of harm's way if the horses began to wheel around. Then, armed with javelins, they would bring down as many of the animals as they could from a safe distance before they escaped, making effective use of their weapons without putting themselves at risk.

It was a solid plan that almost ensured a great number of kills regardless of what happened. So long as each hunter stood firm and fulfilled their role, Hawk said, they would soon be returning home with a great bounty for the pack.

Netya and Fern were to be among those bringing up the rear, and Caspian was quick to accept them into his own small group along with a handful of others. The air buzzed with anticipation that evening, and the excited yips of several dozen wolves filled the night as each hunter prepared to play their part the following morning. The nervousness in Netya's stomach was drowned out by her mounting excitement, and she could barely sleep as she lay with her head against the flank of Fern's wolf, cradling her spear in her arms as she imagined hunting alongside these majestic beasts on the morrow. Whether she managed to make a kill or not, she would soon have her first taste of what it truly meant to be a wolf.

She had not felt such exhilaration since the night she left the village. Her hair streamed out behind her as she rode across the open plains, legs clamped tightly about the midsection of Fern's wolf, spear tucked into the crook of her arm, eyes fixed on the horses running ahead of them. The chase had begun the moment they heard Vaya's distant howl, the signal that the forward group were ready.

The packs of chasers streamed ahead on either side as the hunters broke into a run, disappearing into the distance as they moved around to flank the drove. By the time the animals realised the were in danger the main hunting pack was bearing down on them. Some of them attempted to scatter, but the barks of the chasers corralled the panicked horses back together, keeping them moving as one in the direction of the ravine.

The first time Netya had ridden a wolf she'd clung on for dear life. This time her fingers barely even tightened in Fern's fur as the ground streaked by faster than her eyes could make sense of it. The weight of the spear tugging on her arm seemed not to matter. All she could feel was the thrum of her heartbeat and the thrill of hot blood rushing through her veins. No man or woman of her village had ever hunted like this. Perhaps she was the first of all her people to ride a wolf into the hunt, spear in hand and howls of elation in her ears.

She began to realise just how primal this manner of hunting was to the pack. There were no words to be called, no orders to be heeded save for what one wolf could bark to those nearest to them. Once they had their plan in mind they became a single living entity, streaming around their prey like water as they relied on their instincts to guide them in unison.

Everything occurred exactly as Hawk said it would. The pack drove the horses into the ravine, and the chasers split off to hop up the rocks on either side, relying on their speed and agility to navigate the dangerous terrain as they searched for any overlooked pathways through which their prey might escape. The rest of the pack would be waiting up ahead, blocking the far end of the ravine, ready to meet the stampede head on.

At a howl from Hawk the pursuing group slowed their pace, allowing the horses to disappear through the cloud of dust they had kicked up. Those closest to the edges of the ravine began breaking off, the bearers who carried armfuls of javelins slipping from the backs of their lupine brethren and clambering up to the safety of higher ground. The smoothness of the chase faltered for a moment as the wolves were forced to rein in their predatory instincts, milling about for a short time as they snarled and snapped impatiently.

Even with the momentary delay, there should have been ample time for all of the hunters to find safe spots in the ravine before the drove turned back. But before even a quarter of Netya's group had reverted to their two-legged shapes, the snarls and yowls of battle reached her ears. Caspian was already crouching on a boulder in the middle of the ravine up ahead, and she called out to him in alarm.

"What is happening? Have the others attacked already?"

"They cannot have," he yelled back over the rumble of noise around them. "We are barely half way down the ravine!"

The roar of a mountain cat rent the air, and Fern's anxious growl reverberated through Netya's lower body. Caspian gripped his javelin tight, eyes scanning the haze of dust in front of them. The sound of hooves on rock and panicked whinnying was headed back in their direction.

"Get somewhere safe, all of you!" Caspian shouted. "They will trample us!"

The formerly graceful pack of hunters disintegrated into a panicked mob within seconds. Something had gone wrong, and the instinctive accord between the wolves shattered as each hunter's thoughts turned instantly to survival. Netya almost fell from Fern's back as her friend reared up and made a leap for a low-hanging shelf in the rocks to their right. The cracked stone crumbled away beneath her paws, but Netya had the foresight to clamber up the wolf's back and make a grab of her own, tossing her spear ahead of her as she scrabbled to drag the top half of her body on to the shelf. Her feet kicked in mid air for a second before Fern butted her head upwards, giving Netya something to push against and swing her legs over the edge.

"Use your hands!" she cried as Fern made yet another unsuccessful attempt to follow her up. The horses were charging back out of the dust. They would be on top of them in seconds.

Fern must have known how dire her predicament was without even having to look. The clack of a hundred hooves on stone filled the air until there was no space for any other sound to be heard. Fern reverted from the shape of her wolf and made another leap for the ledge, but without the spring of her animal's hind legs she could not reach high enough.

With no time to think, Netya grabbed her spear and thrust the blunt end of the shaft in her friend's direction, leaning over and shooting out her free hand for Fern to grab. Their fingers met, and Netya felt her belly sliding across the rock as Fern's weight threatened to pull her over. She began to lose her grip on the spear as the other girl clutched it, but a moment of leverage was all Fern needed before she had hoisted herself high enough to let go and get a firm grip on the ledge. Netya dragged her up the rest of the way, and seconds later the first of the horses barrelled past just inches from where they had stood a moment before.

The animals streamed past in a flood of brown bodies, turning the ravine into a river of movement from which the Moon People hid on any raised surface they could find. Netya's eyes already stung from the fresh dust being kicked up, and through the clamour she called out to Caspian in a panic. There was too much noise for him to hear, but he remained crouched atop his large rock several yards away, the sea of horses streaming past him on either side.

It was impossible to tell whether all of the hunters had managed to get to safety or not, and Netya could make out precious few of them from where she was perched with Fern. Caspian, however, was not looking back at the others. His eyes were turned grimly forward, staring up at the high edges of the ravine. When Netya followed his gaze she caught the shapes of several large mountain cats picking their way down through the rocks, teeth bared and hackles raised.

In the same way she had put the pieces together in her mind when she found Erech on the night of the storm, Netya's confusion began to clear. Fear sharpened her thoughts, and in an instant she guessed what must have happened. Hawk's plan had been an excellent one, but it had not accounted for anything unexpected. If the scouts had only observed the ravine from a distance, they could easily have missed mountain cat dens hidden among the rocks. Even if they had ventured closer, a few prowling wolves could easily have gone unnoticed without alerting the creatures who dwelt here.

A large drove of horses charging straight down the ravine, however, would have woken the spirits themselves.

As suddenly as they had appeared, the drove of horses was gone, leaving only a few terrified stragglers in its wake. Once the sound of hooves receded, the noises of fighting returned once again. The howls of wolves and the roars of cats echoed off the sides of the ravine, and as the dust began to clear Netya saw more of the wild beasts prowling toward them.

"Back to the others!" Caspian called, and, as if to cement his command, Hawk's howl of retreat sounded from somewhere behind them.

Netya was suddenly unsettlingly aware of how far ahead of the others they had gotten. Now
they
were the stragglers in the pack's retreat, easy prey for the mountain cats who seemed intent on defending their territory. Fern took the shape of her wolf again and leaped down from the ledge. Netya followed a moment after, just as the sound of Caspian's javelin clacked off the rocks behind them, followed by the startled growl of a cat. She turned her head in time to see another of the beasts leap at the male, only for him to take the form of his wolf in the blink of an eye and meet his attacker's snarling jaws with his own, grabbing the beast by the shoulder and sending it sprawling on its back at the foot of his perch.

Indecision rooted Netya to the spot for a moment, not wanting to leave Caspian, yet realising there was little she could do without putting herself in even greater danger. But it seemed Caspian had no intention of allowing himself to be caught in such a dangerous position, and no sooner had he seen off his first attacker than he turned and sprang down from the boulder, his sleek brown-furred wolf quickly catching up to the two women.

Netya swung herself on to Fern's back, clutching her spear tight as they raced away from the mountain cats. They had not gone deep into the ravine, but the fresh dust kicked up by the horses was still hazy in the air, making it difficult to see where the others had gone. All they had to guide them was the sound of Hawk howling every few moments, calling his scattered hunting party back to him. It sounded like he had retreated somewhere up the side of the ravine, out of the way of the stampeding horses. They began picking their way up through the uneven rocks and undergrowth toward the sound of his calls.