Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (46 page)

"Pera was badly hurt out there," she said, trying to tilt her head in the direction of the glow and the raised voices outside the den mother's cave. "He may die."

"How long since it happened?" Caspian asked.

"A day... A day and a half. A little more. A stag charged him."

"He should be healing by now, then."

"Yes, he should be, but he is not—Oh!" she exclaimed, almost causing Caspian to drop her as he ducked to bring them inside the warm interior of their cave. "You must tell Adel! I gave him nightwood berries so that he could endure the journey back. Only a little, I hope she understands."

"Shh," Caspian soothed as he eased her down on their soft furs, tossing another piece of wood on the fire near the entrance. "I will tell her. Rest for now. I will bring you food and water on my way back."

Netya clung to his hand until he threatened to pull her back upright, not wishing to lose the gentle comfort of his presence. He smiled and kissed her, letting the touch of his lips be her comfort for the time being, then he drew back and took the shape of his wolf, hurrying outside to pass along her message.

She lay back in the furs, peering at the dry blood that clung at the edges of her fingernails and in the creases of her skin. Her arm ached stubbornly. She needed to check the wound and change the dressing, but could not muster the willpower to do so. All of her strength had been driven into doing what needed to be done while she was with Fern and the males. Now, all she wanted was to let someone else take charge. She supposed she would have a fresh set of scars to join the ones on her side once the wound healed. At least they were only scars. Pera might be faced with much worse.

Her brow furrowed as she remembered Erech, her friend from Khelt's pack who had been crippled by falling rocks during a great storm. He had struggled greatly to recover, even after his injuries healed. Especially after they had healed. Would Pera return to being the same boy he had always been if he lived, or would he carry some burden from his injuries for the rest of his life?

She wanted to hate Kin for it. Her worry over Pera would feel better if it had a place to go, somewhere it could grow hot and angry. But when she thought of Kin, all she saw was a fool. A young, arrogant fool who had yet to learn the lessons of older and wiser men. He had not meant for any of it to happen. He just spared no thought for the consequences of his actions. She shivered, wondering what would befall him once Adel learned the truth. The den mother's vicious tongue was often enough to keep her followers in line, but this was a transgression that went beyond what could be punished via words.

Netya jolted upright suddenly, ignoring the throb of her arm as she raked her fingers through her hair in agitation. The scout. What the scout had said. She had been so weary and consumed by her worry for Pera that she had not even thought to mention it to Caspian, when it was perhaps the most important thing of all!

Before she could force herself to her feet he ducked back into the cave, a bowl of meat and leafy vegetables in one hand and a waterskin in the other.

"Miral!" she exclaimed. "We were in his territory, his scout—"

"I know," he said. His expression was far graver than when he had departed. "Fern was telling Adel all of it when I arrived. Lie back down now, there is nothing we can do about it tonight."

"But they will find us."

"We always knew they would. Adel's mind is set. If they come, we will not flee."

Closing her eyes, Netya sank back down against the furs and tried to breathe more slowly. She felt like she had too much to say and not enough strength left to say it.

"She called this a blessing," Caspian said, tilting her head to the side and bringing the waterskin to her lips. "Thanks to the man you found we now know when to expect our enemies."

"Such a blessing," she muttered in between sips.

"We must take them where we can." He slid in beside her, adding his own warmth to that of the furs. As she ate and drank he carefully unbound her dressing and peeled it away, his hands soothing her with all the right touches when she showed signs of pain. He cleaned and re-dressed her wounds with a herbal poultice held in place with soft strips of hide, then lay back down and held her in his arms.

"I will be there with you the next time you hunt," he said. "Where I am supposed to be." His tone tried to maintain its reassuring calm, but Netya could hear the worry beneath the surface, the fierce agitation of his wolf. Just as she wanted nothing more than to sink into his embrace, he was determined to hold her and protect her, to grip her so tight she would never slip away again. A passionate heart beat at her man's core, radiating through his calm exterior in these emotional moments with such vibrancy it made her body weak. His embrace, the way he twined his fingers through hers, the restless kisses he left on the side of her neck; they all spoke of the deep connection between them. Had she not been so weary she would have rolled over and given herself to his every desire, but instead his protective hold encased her in a cocoon of safety, where sleep came easily despite the worries the future held.

Netya awoke some time after dawn, feeling immediately for Caspian's hand and finding it resting gently against her shoulder. The throb of her wound had all but vanished, the poultice aiding her body in dulling the pain and knitting the last of her flesh back together.

As she blinked herself awake she realised that they were not alone. Adel sat within a nook in the cave wall opposite her, looking very much as though she had gone all night without sleep.

"Den Mother," Netya said blearily, rubbing her eyes and straightening herself up.

"Do not rise on my account," Adel replied. "Rest and heal. I only came to check your wounds. They should have been stitched, but there is little we can do about that now. Can you move your arm? Still feel everything properly?"

Netya gave the limb an experimental flex. It was still stiff and sore, but otherwise nothing felt any different. She gave the den mother a nod.

"Good." Adel's expression creased with relief. "I would have come to check on you sooner, but Pera was close to death. A strange choice, to give him nightwood berries, but perhaps a wise one."

"He still lives, then? Did you manage to heal him?"

Adel nodded. "Most of his wounds were mending, save for one. A piece of your stag's antler broke off inside. I expect the journey helped to work it in even deeper, but I managed to remove it before it killed him. The boy is very fortunate to still be with us."

Netya relaxed a little, thankful that she had done the right thing. She would never have even thought to check for a piece of broken antler.

"But Netya," Adel continued, fixing her sharp blue eyes upon her apprentice, "Fern says Pera's life was not the only one you saved."

"I understand if you do not approve. I may have been foolish, but I could not let the others kill that man."

"Your heart rules your mind, girl," Adel sighed. "As it always seems to when you are faced with death. But I cannot say I would have done any different. I have seen enough of the bloody fates men make for their packs when they believe killing is the only answer. As I said, Fern has told me your story, but I would hear it again from your lips."

"Rest first if you need to," Caspian said, passing her the freshly refilled waterskin.

Netya took a few moments to gather her thoughts, sipping slowly as she did, then began to recount everything that had happened since they left the valley. Both Adel and Caspian seemed to prickle with barely-restrained emotion when she spoke of how Kin had injured her, but she was quick to impress upon them that she did not blame him for it. He had acted out of instinct, caught in the grasp of his feral side.

"Feral or not," Caspian said with a grimace. "That is the part of us we can never allow to take control, not even for a moment. That is why I tried teaching you to overcome it."

"There can be no place for those who let their wolves run wild in our pack," Adel said. "Kin is responsible for all of this, and he will face his punishment."

"You do not mean to exile him, do you?" Netya gasped.

Adel pressed her lips together until they were thin, exchanging a look with Caspian. "Not at a time like this. When Miral comes, we will need every able-bodied warrior we have, even the fools who deserve to be cast out. I will allow him one more chance, but at sundown tonight he will answer to the spirits for what his arrogance has wrought."

"I am the one who has been trying to instruct him," Caspian said. "His punishment should rest with me."

The den mother paused again, seeming resistant to Caspian's request, but after a moment she nodded. "Perhaps that is wise. But he will face my punishment tonight also. The spirits will judge him, and then you will help him to atone."

"What of Miral?" Netya said. "We may only have two days, perhaps three before he finds us."

"If his scout did not lie to you," Adel said. "But we have made our preparations. The spirits protect this place. When the time comes, we will face Miral with their aid."

"What can I do to help?"

Adel grunted her approval. "I will have a task for you when our enemies arrive. Until then, I am sure Briar would be grateful for another pair of hands to assist her."

When Netya left her cave a short while later she immediately saw what the den mother had meant. Briar had enlisted the help of several of the others, lining them up in her small crafting area that was now littered with broken sticks and wood shavings. Rather than setting everyone to the same task, she had cleverly organised them to focus on what they each did best. Eyan was gathering supple branches and snapping them down to size, Rokan was further trimming and whittling them, while Fern and Wren focused on weaving lengths of cord. Off to one side Lyucia and her mother knelt over a steaming bowl, their mouths covered with handfuls of wool to keep them from breathing in the eye-watering fumes that Netya could smell even from a distance. Then, using the pieces crafted by her assistants, Briar fashioned the tools that would work alongside their totems to protect the valley from outsiders. As much faith as she held in the spirits, Netya had to admit that Briar's solution gave her more confidence, as unsettling as it was.

Using the sharp, palm-length wooden spikes that Rokan had whittled, she bound them against lattices of longer sticks in rows that would stand upright when placed upon the ground. The thin points looked keen enough to pierce flesh and cause a great deal of pain, but they lacked the strength and sturdiness of real weapons designed to kill. On their own they would do little more than prick the paws of anyone who stumbled upon them. But the true cunning of the spikes came from the sludgy, dark ochre concoction that Lyucia and her mother were preparing. Once a row of spikes had been prepared, the two women carefully daubed each individual point with pieces of wool soaked in their eye-watering poison. Netya could tell by the scent that it was a mixture the seers occasionally used to take them into the spirit world, but this one had been boiled down and thickened so that it was much stronger than usual.

"A single nick from one of these and our totems will come to life before the very eyes of those poor fools," Lyucia said with a lascivious grin.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Netya recalled overhearing a conversation about how Lyucia had always fostered a passion for the making of poisons, and she counted herself lucky that she was not among those who would soon be on the receiving end of it.

Caspian remained nearby, but after Netya demonstrated that she was well enough to assist the others with their work he relaxed a little, keeping a protective eye on her from a distance without interfering. She could sense the wolf pacing back and forth beneath his skin, watching her like a hawk, ready to step in and scold if she overexerted herself. It brought a small smile to her lips and a tingle of pleasure whenever she felt him there, the combined reassurance and authority having their desired effect of keeping her from pushing herself too hard.

Once several dozen of the poisoned traps had been made she and Caspian began heading out to conceal them among the trees at the western end of the valley, taking note of where each one lay as they buried the supporting stick lattices beneath a thin covering of loam and leaves so that only the points stuck out. By the afternoon even they were having difficulty picking safe pathways through the trees without stepping over the spikes they had just set. Some of the traps were small, some large, but they covered enough of the valley floor to make traversing the forest significantly more difficult than it had been before. The only thing that might betray their locations was the strong scent of the poison, but Netya suspected most of Miral's warriors would be too unfamiliar with plants to identify what it was.

Still, as the day went on her unease grew. The threat of attack, which had been an ever-present, but vaguely intangible worry up until now, was growing more real by the moment. How many wolves would the rival alpha bring with him? The traps could only do so much, and if Miral was patient he might be able to sneak around them once he realised what was happening. They needed something more. Some assurance that the spirits would indeed be there to protect the valley, whether Miral's wolves pricked themselves upon the poisoned spikes or not. The other seers said that the spirits were wild and unpredictable, as powerful as the elements and equally as dangerous. Just as a rainstorm could bring either deathly cold or lifegiving relief depending on the time and manner of its arrival, so too was the nature of the spirits' protection.