Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (16 page)

The fear of failure kept her going. The fear of failing Adel, and of failing her pack. Her sleepless nights led to exhausted days of travelling, but the memory of the cold ice in her dreams kept Netya focused.

Before long they had reached the base of the southern mountains, the towering pinnacles of earth and stone blocking their path as far as the eye could see in both directions. The crossing they had attempted to make with Khelt a year ago had ended in disaster, and despite the warmer weather Netya still feared that they would have to brave another gruelling journey through a snow-clad valley before they made it through to the other side.

For the first time since their meeting, however, Miral proved to be a great asset to the small group of seers. He knew the land well, and his people had walked the same path to the pack gathering many times from one generation to the next. Tucked between the mountains, hidden by a shroud of prickly undergrowth, he led them to a well-trodden pathway between the rocks that circumvented the highest slopes and carried them safely from one side of the mountains to the other.

As they made the crossing Netya noticed the tracks of a great many more wolves in the dust around them. It seemed they were not the first ones to make the journey through the hidden pass that summer. Had Khelt and his clan already come this way, perhaps just a few days prior? Or would they be taking a different route?

Once they emerged on the southern side of the pass, a whole new world greeted the group of travellers once again. This time there were no mountains hemming in the land on the horizon, and even from their high vantage point Netya could make out nothing to the distant south and west but a strange blur of blue and green that seemed to stretch on forever. Had it not been for her anxiety, she might have paused for a moment longer to take in the magnificence of the view spreading out before her, but all the young seer had eyes for in that moment was their approaching destination.

Caspian pointed it out to her as they made the descent down the steep mountainside, relying on their hands and feet rather than the paws of their wolves to traverse the vertical parts of the terrain.

"There, in the east," he said, pointing to a distant basin of land that looked to be shrouded in fog and rich, dark green foliage. "We should arrive by tomorrow evening." He held out his hand to help her down from a steep drop, squeezing for a moment longer than was necessary after she hopped down beside him. "Will you be ready with your wolf?"

"No," she replied, taking a deep breath. "But I will do what I must. For Adel's sake."

A concerned, almost wounded look crossed Caspian's face for a moment. "Mind that she does not ask too much of you," was all he said, before turning away and lowering their bundles of belongings down to the next ledge.

The haunting calls of strange animals made their music among the trees the following evening. The last light of the sun gave way to dusk between the gnarled branches surrounding them, growing fainter and fainter as the foggy blanket covering the lowlands thickened. The musty smell of old life was rich in the air, seeming to radiate from the unfamiliar trees that bore no leaves on their lower branches, but instead curled and twisted upward until they suddenly splayed out a thick canopy of their dark green fronds high above the forest floor.

The place of the gathering was close now. An almost reverent silence had fallen as they made their approach, the several dozen wolves around Netya padding quietly forward as she rode upon Caspian's back. She fancied she could hear the howls of others of their kind in the distance, but she could not be certain whether they were the calls of the Moon People or simply those of more wild animals.

Thick tendrils of thorns curled around the undulating trunks of the trees nearby, creating natural barriers along their path that seemed to guide them ever deeper into the heart of the old forest.

Netya's skin prickled in the warm breeze, as if the dry fingers of long-dead spirits were caressing her, whispering into her ears through the mist, beckoning her onward to some place of great mysticism and power. The only other location she had felt the barrier between the physical and spirit worlds growing so thin was within the cave of alphas, where Khelt's ancestors had imbued their essence within the great paintings along the walls. It was no wonder that the gathering took place in such a location. Had the alphas of ancient clans decided to meet within this forest because of its affinity with the spirits? Or had enemies been drawn there by forces they could not comprehend, guided by the touch of the unseen world until finally they met in a sacred space where all their rivalries became meaningless?

The sun had faded by the time they came to a halt, but the moon was near-full and shining bright, illuminating the space between the trees in a ghostly blue. They were at the centre of the basin. A large hill rose up before them, shrouded in densely wooded undergrowth. Without having to ask Caspian, Netya knew the summit of the hill was where the packs would gather.

But before the hill came the mist, and a maze of thorns.

It was clear to her now why the Moon People believed that only they could find their way to this place. Among Netya's kind, only a fool would step down into the expanse of brambles and jagged rocks beneath them, where the thick fog rolled down from the surrounding land to congeal in a stifling knot at the heart of the forest. Only a wolf's sleek body could slip between the sharp thorns unharmed, and only a wolf's keen senses could guide them through the miasma of fog to the other side.

Miral shifted out of his animal shape at the head of the group, bracing a forearm on one knee as he crouched down and peered into the basin. The alpha waved for one of his senior males to come forward and murmured a few low words to him, then turned to Adel.

"I will lead the way with half of my number, then you and yours will follow. The rest of my pack will remain at the rear," he smiled, "to ensure none of you lose your way in the fog."

The den mother inclined her head nonchalantly, as if it was of no concern to her one way or another. She had avoided confrontation with Miral since their meeting, and he seemed to take it in his stride that she was not about to start objecting now.

But Netya's heart was already racing. This must have been the place Adel referred to when she spoke of slipping away from Miral's pack before they arrived, and the alpha had just ensured that any attempt they made to escape would be near impossible. Their route looked to be single-file, and with their captors both in front and behind them, where would they be able to run?

Perhaps Adel knew of some hidden pathway they could take, but had it not already been years since she attended her last gathering? And how could she even know that Miral would follow the same route?

A brief glance at her mentor confirmed Netya's worst fears. Adel's expression was impassive, but her eyes were flitting back and forth in agitation. She was afraid, too.

—11—

Trial by Fire

They needed time to talk. The others were starting to cast their own concerned looks in the den mother's direction, and Netya could sense their fear prickling in the air. But there was no time. Miral was already striding down the steep bank in the shape of his wolf, and the rest of his pack were pressing in behind to urge them forward. Before Adel had a chance to so much as reassure her followers, she was being ushered down the slope and into the mist.

Netya slipped off Caspian's back, feeling her wolf straining within her body, dangerously close to the surface now. Her breath was tightening in her chest, clutching at her heart like the icy grip of the water. A shudder ran through her body, taking hold of her muscles and refusing to stop. The panic was rising again, and she was powerless to keep it in check.

Then Caspian's gentle hands were on her shoulders, massaging her skin through the wolf pelt cloak she wore.

"Whatever happens, I will be here with you," he said softly. "Keep that in your mind. Focus on it. Let it lead you on through the fear." He reached around to find the wooden pendant that hung at her breast, guiding Netya's hand up and folding her fingers around the talisman until she clutched it tight. "Remember this," he said, and kissed her cheek through her curtain of dark hair.

Netya breathed deeply, running her fingers along the burned etching in the piece of wood that signified her name. The pendant had stayed with her despite her wolf's panicked shift on the night of the flood. Some part of her had remembered how important it was, even when it seemed like her wolf's panic had transformed her into another person.

"What is wrong with the sun wolf?" the man Miral had whispered to called from behind them. Netya and Caspian were the only two members of Adel's pack still lingering at the edge of the basin, and their captors were growing impatient.

"She needs but a moment," Caspian replied, refusing to indulge the other male's question by so much as glancing his way. It was a subtle show of dominance, but it gave the man a moment's pause before he stepped up behind them and gave Caspian a light push forward.

"The others will not wait. If she cannot take the shape of her wolf, she must crawl through on her hands and knees."

Caspian refused to budge, answering with silence as he squeezed Netya's shoulder and hand, waiting on her response. The shivers gripping her body had stilled a little. After a few steadying breaths, she stepped forward and allowed her wolf to come.

She was almost thankful for the senior male's impatience. Had she been allowed to wait, her fear might have gotten the better of her. The moment she felt her body shifting into its unfamiliar four-legged shape, everything became simple once more.

Her wolf was still afraid. The tang of the mist in the air seemed to sear her nostrils, bringing with it the scents of dozens upon dozens of wolves that had been invisible to her mere moments before. There were so many of them, stretching into numbers beyond counting. The returning keenness of her animal's senses was so overwhelming that she almost forgot all thoughts of their predicament, latching on to the basic things that her feral senses could more easily come to terms with.

A growl sounded from behind her, jolting her paws forward with a reminder of her encroaching panic. The column of wolves threading their way through the fog ahead of them had almost disappeared from sight.

Caspian took the lead, pawing his way down the slope and ducking beneath the first tangles of thorns that crept in overhead. Netya fixed her attention on him, trying to ignore the fresh scents flaring in her nostrils. She remembered her male. He was there to protect her. He would keep her safe. No matter what happened, all she had to do was stick close to him.

If the path between the trees had been eerie, the maze of thorns felt almost like stepping into the spirit world itself. The fog became so thick that Netya could no longer see Adel up ahead. If the column was broken at any point, those at the rear would have to rely on their noses to catch up.

Wide chasms opened up in the earth around them, loose roots and thorns trailing from the sides like the withered bones of long-dead animals. The mist pooled so thickly within those gaps that Netya was unable to see the bottom of them. Her good sense told her that they could be no more than a few body lengths deep, but her wolf was more prone to latch on to the fantastical than the rational. The misty chasms seemed bottomless. Had she not been told that careless wolves could lose their lives on this path? The gaps in the earth seemed like tears between this world and the land beyond, with the mist carrying the breath of the spirits as it bled through. She found herself staring down into one such chasm as they picked their way along the edge, transfixed by the pool of mist, her mind making faces of the swirling fog.

Caspian's tail batted the side of her muzzle, snapping her focus back to him. Even if terror made her want to bolt again, there was nowhere to run in this place. The cage of thorns hemmed them in on all sides, tugging at Netya's fur and scraping along her back as she squeezed through the narrowest gaps.

Slowly but surely, she began to accept the fear that had hounded her thoughts since winter. So long as she did not startle herself, so long as she kept focusing on putting one paw ahead of the other, she could keep going. The instincts of her wolf would be able to guide her through the passage of thorns, if only she would trust them. If only she would trust herself.

But any bond of trust she had felt with her feral side had been shattered on the night of the flood. She could not slip comfortably into her wolf's mind and allow it free reign the way she once had.

It took all of Netya's willpower, but she was able to keep from submerging herself completely in the animal whose body she now inhabited. Like keeping a firm hold of a wriggling snake, or gently easing a splinter out of a sensitive wound, she guided her wolf forward with exhaustive care.

The unsettling journey took so much of her focus that she almost forgot the secondary danger they were in. Skirting the thorns and chasms might have occupied her wolf's attention in the present, but perhaps the greater threat was still what would happen to them if they arrived at the gathering as Miral's thralls. If Adel had a plan, she no longer had any way of communicating it to her followers. They were at the mercy of the fates now, their small sliver of hope growing thinner with each step forward. It was terrible to feel so helpless. Sickening, agonising, and fearful in a way that was made worse by the uncertainty of what awaited them.