The Alpha's Concubine (Historical Shifter Romance) (52 page)

Khelt ran a hand over his chin in agitation. Even out here, he was still alpha, and it was his word they waited on. "Try and find Netya. The three of you follow this trail. Fern and I will run ahead and try to overtake the Sun People. We must find out where all of them are, and whether Netya is with them, before we do anything."

"Take care," Caspian said, clapping a hand on his friend's arm. "Call for us if you run into trouble."

Khelt's frown softened, and after a moment he gripped Caspian's wrist and gave him a faint smile. "You too, brother."

Fern had already taken the shape of her wolf and run ahead by the time Khelt stepped away. A silent moment of understanding passed between the alpha and his friend as their eyes met.

Whatever we have to settle will be settled later,
it said.

Caspian let out a long breath as he watched them go, before turning back to Hawk and Essie. "Let us hurry. If the Sun People made camp out here last night, they may not yet have risen."

It was not long before Netya's trail veered off to the south, back in the direction of the river. They made their way forward cautiously, ever aware that the increasingly uneven land provided many spots in which their enemies might linger unseen. As the ground softened, the tracks of the Sun People grew more clear. They had been running. Fleeing something, or chasing down their quarry?

Caspian almost pierced his paw on the broken fragments of a discarded stone axe, slipping on the rocks near the river as he struggled to keep track of Netya's scent through the shallows. It became difficult to follow her path as the land rose up in rocky spurs around them, the churning noise of the river muffling their sensitive ears as the watercourse widened and rumbled its way through the rough terrain.

The three of them were forced to split up, combing different areas of the bank so as not to lose any of the disparate trails they were following. The scents were stronger than before, but still several hours old. Caspian did not expect to stumble across anyone just yet.

Unfortunately, his instincts proved to be wrong. A sky white with clouds cast its stark light through the leaves as he prowled away from the river, heading down a slope into a thinly wooded area, where shrubs and trees encircled a number of clearings. The foliage masked the strong scents lingering in the air. Caspian did not realise anyone else was nearby until a young man pushed his way through the bushes in front of him, and froze. His eyes widened with fear at the sight of the huge wolf standing a few yards away, fingers tightening around the shaft of the spear he held.

Caspian's quick eyes registered everything that was about to happen within an instant, and his choices flashed through his mind faster than he could weigh them. Before the boy opened his mouth to yell, Caspian left his wolf behind him and rose up on two legs, reaching out with open palms.

"Wait!" he said in the language of the Sun People. "We are not here to fight —"

He got no further before the young man's spear pierced his side, and pain stole his breath away.

—
39—

Hunted

Netya ran. She did not know why, but she ran anyway. It seemed all the world had turned against her. Her mother, her village, her pack—even fate itself. What a cruel trick had been played upon her, for her last ray of hope to have been snatched away just as she was beginning to overcome despair. There was nothing for her now. The medicine in her pouch was useless. Adel would be dead long before Netya could reach her.

As she fled across the plains that first morning, her legs refused to keep her up for more than a few dozen paces at a time. She stumbled and tripped, and each time she fell she wondered whether it was worth getting back up. Though she did not realise it at the time, it was likely this that saved her life. Her first instinct had been to dash across open ground, trying to outpace the hunters of her village until... She did not know what. All she knew was that some insolent spark of life still clung to her soul.

Had she remained on her feet, the hunting party would have caught sight of her within the first hour after dawn. With exhaustion crushing the strength from her body one pace at a time, it was not long before she collapsed in the tall grass and began crawling. It was too difficult to get back on her feet. Too pointless. The villagers would be upon her soon, and then it would all be over. She must have crawled numbly for another hour before she felt the ground growing damp beneath her palms, and realised she had meandered all the way to the bank of the river.

Netya's waterskin still hung against her chest, but she had not thought to drink from it for hours. Tears and exertion had drained the moisture from her body, and it was only the dampness of the river that kicked her thoughts back into motion. Struggling with the wooden stopper, she finally managed to bring the waterskin to her lips, spilling half its contents on the ground before swallowing the rest greedily.

She lay there for several moments, waiting for the inevitable to come, before realising that the voices of the hunters had grown distant. In fact, the longer she listened, the quieter they became. Her features contorted in frustration. Why were they taking so long to find her? Why could it not be over?

After a short time had passed, she unslung her spear from her back and used it to lever herself back to her feet. Peering over the long grass, she made out two dark groups of bodies in the distance, both moving away from her, headed deeper into the plains. At first she was confused, until a dim connection registered in the back of her mind, and she remembered Vaya's pawprints in the dirt.

She ran a hand across her face, once again wondering whether she should laugh or cry. Vaya had left her at the mercy of the Sun People, but in her haste to leave she had not bothered to be inconspicuous. The villagers were looking for a wolf, not a person, and Vaya had left much clearer tracks than Netya.

Vaya.

The name burned on Netya's tongue like a metal brand. She knew why she had not given up now. The huntress had taken everything from her. Could it have been Vaya that poisoned Adel too? In that moment, Netya was willing to believe her adversary capable of anything. There was no life for her back with her own kind, and within a few hours the Moon People would think her a murderer. The wilderness held nothing but loneliness and despair as she waited for nature to claim her. Perhaps she could try to find the North People, but she had not the first idea where their village lay. She might wander for months without stumbling across it, if she could even survive that long by herself.

She had nothing. Nothing but the urge to take vengeance on the one who had done this to her. It was a wicked feeling, one that was such a small part of Netya that she barely even recognised it. But when everything else she cared for had drained away to near insignificance, it glinted with dark lustre.

It seemed an impossible task to find her way back to the outcrop alone, and to evade the hunting parties in the process, but she had felt the same way the last time Vaya's actions left her alone and helpless in the valley. Revenge did not count for much, but it was a reason to keep going. Small hopes still lingered in the bottom of Netya's heart, but they were stray threads in a tangle of darkness.

The sun rose higher, and she drifted in and out of consciousness until the voices of the hunters returned. Rubbing her eyes, she pulled herself up again and squinted through the grass. One of the groups had disappeared into the distance, but the other had doubled back and turned south, making directly for the river. Had they found her trail? Glancing back the way she had come, she saw the grass had been crushed and bent where she crawled through it. If they were not tracking her yet, they would be soon.

Netya kept her body low and her spear horizontal at her side. Creeping across the muddy ground to the edge of the river, she splashed a handful of cool water into her face, then held her waterskin below the surface until it was full. It helped to clear the hot, hazy fog of bleakness from her mind a little, but she was still exhausted. The only advantage she had was her ability to hide. If she could remain ahead of the hunters, perhaps she could lose them farther out on the plains.

Realising that she had left several clear footprints of her own in the mud near the riverbank, she waded through the shallows until she found a rocky area that would conceal her tracks. Her moccasins were soaked through, and the cloudy summer sky withheld its warmth, but she kept on going. Just as she crawled out of the water and hurried back into the grass she heard the sound of a splash behind her, followed by raised voices. The hunters had found her footprints already.

That day felt like the longest in Netya's life. The hours soon became a blur, fear and exhaustion bleeding together with the pain of her aching limbs to make every moment a trial unlike anything she had ever faced. There were times when she ran, fearing the hunters would be upon her at any moment. Then she would slow down, creeping as silently as a shadow through the undergrowth, afraid that the slightest noise would give her away. Every time she had to abandon the long grass and cross open ground her heart pounded in her ears, expecting to hear a cry of alarm go up behind her at any moment, or to feel a javelin pierce her vulnerable back.

She might have been less conspicuous without the white wolf's pelt wrapping her body, but the warmth of the fur was one of the few comforts she had against the dampness seeping into her clothes and the chill of the clammy breeze. More than that, her wolf might be the only thing protecting her spirit from giving in to hopelessness. She could not abandon him out here. He was the only friend she had left.

Netya's flight led her deeper into the plains, but her path had no real direction or purpose to it. Every moment was occupied searching for a new hiding place, hopping from one cranny in the exposed landscape to the next. A small hill, a swathe of long grass, a patch of brambles. No matter how far she went, the hunters never seemed to give up. They were always there, always hounding her. The only respite she had came when they momentarily lost her trail and were forced to start searching, but they would always pick it up again before long. They were experienced hunters, and she was just a girl.

Netya closed her eyes and clutched her spear, huddling between a pair of boulders as she summoned up the courage to make another run across open ground.

I am a seer. I joined the great hunt. I am not helpless.

She forced her aching legs to move, making for a screen of bushes ahead of her. She almost turned her ankle as the rocky ground opened up into a pothole beneath her, and she collapsed into the foliage with an audible crash. Branches caught in her hair and tugged at her fur pelt, spinning her around and sending her head over heels as she toppled backwards through the undergrowth. Her back hit the ground hard, draining another precious reserve of her dwindling energy with a jolt. She only lay there for a moment before making herself get back up, not bothering to brush the leaves from her hair.

She had ended up close to the river again. The colour of the sky told her it was near evening, and she could not go another night without rest. After pausing for a moment to listen, she was relieved to hear only the sound of trickling water nearby. The land here was rough and overgrown, and spurs of rock rose out of the ground to loom over her. If she was to find a hiding place, it would have to be here.

The hunters seemed to have lost her for the time being, but she knew it was only a matter of time before they stumbled across her trail once more. There were trees nearby, but none of them tall or sturdy enough to climb. The bushes might conceal her, but for how long?

Netya made her way between two rocky monoliths and found herself at the bank of the river again. A carpet of stone and shale stretched between her and the edge of the water. She splashed her way through the shallow pools between the rocks until she was close enough to refill her waterskin from the rushing current. The tranquil waters that ran past her village gave way to a frothing stretch of rapids here, and any hope she had entertained over the past hours of crossing the river was dashed when she saw how wide and treacherous the watercourse had become.

Her hunger, as well, was a concern that grew larger by the moment. By midday she had noticed her hands trembling, and even keeping hold of her spear had grown difficult. If she did not eat something soon, her lack of energy might catch up with her before the hunters did. The trees she had glimpsed nearby were a fruit-bearing kind, but their branches had been bare. Still, there might be others in the area that were in bloom, and foraging was her only hope at that moment. The thought of keeping her weary eyes focused on the river long enough to spot a fish in the shallows, let alone to jab her spear with the speed and accuracy necessary to catch it, seemed as impossible a feat as kindling the fire necessary to cook such a prize.

Keeping close to the river where her feet could leave no tracks on the rocks, Netya crept up the few slopes that were gentle enough for her to climb. One commanded so broad a view of the plains that she was able to make out both hunting parties from its summit. She lay on her belly between the weeds, watching them anxiously. The first group was still heading into the distance, but the one tracking her was not far from stumbling into the overgrown area that had led her to the riverbank. Farther in the distance still, another collection of dark dots moved across the horizon, heading east. A third hunting party, or just a group of animals?