The Silver Ship and the Sea (17 page)

I scanned the meadow. Two groups of five or six djuri stood bunched together, and three single djuri scattered around them, heads up. Watchers, like hebra herds had watchers? I didn’t know; I’d never seen wild djuri so close. Was Jenna watching us even now? “How are we going to get close?”

He grinned back at me. “Belly crawl. Pretend you’re a paw-cat. On my signal, run.”

I didn’t like either part of that idea, but I followed him out. He wasn’t exactly on his belly; just moving low on all fours, poised to run. The thigh-high yellow grass slowed us. White tufts of grass seed blew in the wind, sticking in his hair, my hair. Surely the djuri would see us move the grass. Other predators, too. I glanced behind us. Nothing followed us. But I could still see Alicia and Kayleen and the four hebras. Didn’t the djuri see them? What was Joseph thinking? I could stop this. Jump up and scream, scare the djuri. But Joseph? How would he feel, then?

A sharp rock stabbed my palm.

I slowed, bringing my focus to the task at hand, discarding worries. I no longer looked back and up, but just followed Joseph’s feet, sliding as silently as possible through the grass. Every once in a while, his head rose up slowly, then down, and we changed direction. The djuri smell, dusty coat and grass and dung and forest, grew more distinct from the scent of the grasses.

Joseph whispered, “Go right, then forward.”

I obeyed. Were Tom and Paloma listening? My breath sounded loud in my ears. Every strand of grass my body displaced slid noisily along my clothes, every footstep made a crunching sound. Was I really going to do this? Was I crazy?

Joseph’s whisper again, high and excited. “Now!” He leaped up, running fast.

I, too, leaped up and found a startled djuri five meters from me, veering away even as I saw the fear in its eyes, its tiny flared nostrils, pink inside. The horns were small, just longer than my fingers. Young.

It bounded.

I followed.

It gained distance, flying away from me, rump bouncing, hooves flashing. I pushed, keeping pace again, but now behind. Ten steps, twenty, then thirty. More. Too many to count. As it neared the stream, it slowed, turning away from the water.

I gasped little ragged breaths, remembered Bryan had taught me to breathe through my nose, shifted, felt air feed my lungs, my belly, my legs. I gained a meter on the djuri. Grass pulled at my pant legs, threatening to catch my feet and throw me headlong. A sharp pain ran up my leg from the paw-cat scratch.

Joseph yelled triumph and Tom yelled anger into my earset and Kayleen screamed encouragement from the top of the trail, all in a tunnel far behind my focus, which had drilled down onto the heaving sides of the beast, the dun color of its hide, now soaked with sweat, the dark stripe that started in a vee at the horns and flowed along its backbone to its tail. It strained for air. Its head bobbed almost as high as mine, but its legs were shorter, thinner. Less powerful. We ran, now almost side by side.

My eyes met its eyes. Its fear smelled.

I breathed in sharply and lunged. My left hand caught its neck, halfway up, grasped the sparse little mane. It stumbled. I clasped a horn with my right hand and jerked backward. The djuri tumbled sideways, screaming in a high shrill voice, a sound like Jinks’s scream just before the paw-cats got her. I tripped, catapulting past the fallen djuri before stopping myself on all fours, knees and palms, head down, heaving, pulling air in great gulps.

As soon as I could, I stood. My legs wobbled as I walked the ten long steps back to the animal. It lay on its side, still breathing. No fear filled its eyes now, only pain. I leaned down and patted its head briefly. I no longer wanted its death, but one leg splayed awkwardly, a shard of white bone breaking the skin.

Someone groaned and whimpered and I realized it was my own voice. I clamped my mouth shut, stopping the noise. All movement seemed unnaturally slow. I placed one hand on each horn, gripped firmly, and twisted, hard.

Bone splintered. A horrible sound.

The pain leaked from the djuri’s eyes, replaced by a still dark pool that reflected my own sweat-stained face back at me, the way a sphere reflects: oddly. My hair was wild about my shoulders, my mouth open, my eyes wide. I stood, looking away from its eyes, looking for Joseph.

The din in my ears resolved into voices; Kayleen and Tom on the earset and Joseph near me. All of them at once. I screamed, “Quiet!” and everyone obeyed, instantly. I had no idea what to say into that silence. ‘I just killed something and its eyes mirror mine,’ didn’t seem quite right. My breath was still fast, and surely loud enough to deafen them all. “I…I’d like to report…a successful…dinner catch.”

Joseph laughed, a hard, nearly maniacal laugh, and I joined him, releasing the fear and adrenaline and shock of the hunt. Suddenly my muscles hurt, my leg hurt, my palm where I’d slapped the rock hurt. My heart pounded. But beneath the pain, elation. I beat the animal. I had become a hunter. It felt completely strange,
like a skin that fit perfectly but had never existed before, even in my imagination.

Joseph came and stood by me, his sides heaving, his face covered in sweat and dirt, blood on his hands. His eyes shone. I hugged him, tightly, and we stood for a long moment together, brother and sister in something new. I made sure the communications link was closed and whispered in his ear, “Thank you.”

He looked down at my kill, nodding. “You’re welcome.”

I looked around for Jenna, but saw no sign of her. If she had watched our hunt, she didn’t bother to reveal herself to us.

Joseph’s djuri was bigger than mine, and a clean kill. The blood came from Joseph’s hand, which had been scored by one long, graceful horn. His animal was too big to move, so we pulled mine to his, and stood over them. Mine looked small in death, and eyeing it, I became unsure what to do next. Our large knives were in our pack, back with Tom and Paloma. Joseph had the small one he used to whittle his animals. He took it out, staring at it. It looked entirely inadequate for the job.

We looked up at the sound of a hebra’s fast footfalls, and Tom’s voice. “Chelo! Joseph!” He was galloping Paloma’s hebra, Sand, looking around wildly. I glanced up the trail. There was no sign of Paloma, or of Kayleen or Alicia either, although Stripes and Legs stood at the top of the path where we’d left them, apparently hobbled. Tom jerked his head toward them. His voice had a new angry edge I’d never heard in him. “Get your animals and get back down here, now.”

“Where’s Alicia and Kayleen?” I asked.

“I sent them back after Paloma.” He glared down at me, a look that left me feeling flayed and childish. “I had to leave her alone to come watch over you.” He panted. “Alone. Out there.” He turned his glare on Joseph. “Never, never hunt without a stunner.” He gestured at the carcasses. “Dead animals attract paw-cats. I’ll watch the carcasses while you bring your hebras down here where they’re safe.”

“It’s safe,” Joseph said, evenly, but despite his measured words, the anger in his voice matched Tom’s anger. “I can hear the nets.
Two nodes work here.” He pointed toward the high node by the hebras. “And so does the big one, partly. It’s enough net to identify anything the size of a paw-cat coming into this valley.”

Tom pursed his lips, still looking around. “Not demon dogs or wild orries. Get your animals.”

We turned as one, heading back across the meadow slowly, the grass harder to walk through than it had been to run through, the effort burning my thighs. I glanced at Joseph, who walked with his head down. “He’s angry.”

“I know,” Joseph mumbled, and we kept going, sharing a shocked tired silence. As we neared the top, Joseph stopped for a moment, a puzzled look on his face. His hand slipped into his pocket and he brought out the data button. “I feel something. There’s more here. More of these. Somewhere nearby.” He flipped the button over and over in his bloodstained palm, a thoughtful look on his face. “We have to find whatever it is.”

I sighed, wondering how much we’d regret the hunt. “Well, I suspect they won’t let us go anywhere alone for a little while.”

He smiled. “It was worth it.”

“Maybe.”

Stripes snorted at me, shaking her head. The look in her eyes seemed changed, as if she saw me as a predator, as if my hunting had changed something between us. Maybe that was my imagination, but she stood still, looking away from me as I pulled into the saddle.

We rode down, and shortly thereafter, Paloma, Kayleen, Alicia, and all five hebras started down the path. Paloma had dismounted and led Sugar Wheat, who favored her right foreleg slightly as she slowly picked her way down the hill. Even back on level ground, Paloma continued to walk, and Kayleen and Alicia rode slowly alongside her, each leading one pack animal. As they neared us they looked away. I supposed they must have been getting quite a lecture on the way here.

Paloma reached Tom, a tired smile crossing her face, but not touching her eyes. She gestured toward Sugar Wheat. “We may be here a day or two while her foot heals.”

Tom nodded curtly. Joseph and I looked at each other, and he fingered his pocket meaningfully. Perhaps we would have time to look for whatever he sensed.

One look into Tom’s hard eyes drove us to work. He made us bleed and skin and dress the dead djuri, all the time watching our every move, speaking only to give direction. We took it, silent unless we had a question. It was hard, rough work. Once, Paloma came out and started to help, but Tom looked at her, frowning. “Go on,” he said. “Go back and let them do this.”

By the time we had stacks of meat and bones and hide separated into piles, my back and legs and hands felt sore and raw. The sun used the thunderheads for a palette, and the sky became a nearly black canvas behind the bright clouds. The rising wind blew cold against my sweaty face.

But we weren’t done.

With no corral here and the storm coming, we strung a high-line between two low trees at the edge of the clearing, fifty meters from the cabin. We tied the animals to the high-line, hoping to provide them some shelter and still keep them from being targets for lightning. Then, Tom made us find our own firewood and light a large fire, burning the bones and hide. The fire stank so badly for the first hour that we huddled upwind, tending it, and the others stayed inside.

Afterward, we cooked djuri steaks on sticks stuck over the fire, our faces dancing light and shadow from the flames, our arms so tired we could barely hold the sticks. Tom watched us speculatively, a strange look in his eyes.

If I had to describe it, I would say curiosity, respect, and an emotion I’d never seen him direct to us before. Fear. It made me cringe.

Thunder boomed directly over the cabin. My eyes flew open, meeting blackness. Even the coals in the woodstove had stopped glowing through the crack in the door. Blankets rustled. A lighter clicked and then dancing candlelight illuminated the single room we slept huddled together in. Next to me, Kayleen sat upright, looking around. “Wow, that was a big one.” She rubbed at her eyes. Water sluiced down on the roof, sounding more like a river than mere rain. Somewhere near the back wall, water dripped onto the floor.

One of the hebras bugled outside, a high frightened noise.

Tom stumbled past me, stopped briefly at the door to pull on his boots, and called out, “Some help here. Something’s out there.” Then he was gone, the door ajar behind him, his stunner tucked into his belt.

Kayleen and I glanced at each other. I listened for alarms, but the wind and pounding rain would have obscured them anyway. I stood and pulled on my pants, then my boots. Kayleen scrambled up, too. Paloma mumbled, “What’s happening?”

Kayleen looked up from retrieving one long boot from under her blankets. “Something’s wrong, Mom. Tom just went out.”

“I can see that,” Paloma said, pointing toward the open door, the candlelight flickering on her face and hand. “What is it?”

I stood in the doorway, ready to go, bouncing with worry. “I don’t know. Tom said something’s out there.”

Paloma pushed her blankets off. “He went out by himself?”

“We’re going, too.” Kayleen shoved her bare foot into her found boot.

Paloma stood up. “Okay. I’ll rouse the others, we’ll follow.”

Alicia’s eyes were wide open. Joseph still slept, his blanket pulled over his head. Kayleen and I rushed out the door, pushing it closed behind us.

A flash of lightning illuminated Tom’s figure standing by a melee of frightened hebras. Thunder rolled overhead even before the lightning flash faded. Ink’s right foot was tangled in her lead. Sugar Wheat, on the end, stood still, but Sand, next to her, pulled back, her eyes wide, trying to break free. Then the lightning passed, the moonless dark blinding me to all except dark on dark shifting forms. Kayleen and I ran toward the thrashing animals, following the sound of their hooves, their rushed and frightened breath, their nervous calls.

Another flash of light, and I saw Tom point toward the far end of the line. His words were hard to make out over the storm. “Separate the animals. Carefully. One each.”

Kayleen bent over one of the pack hebras’ tangled lead lines, trying to work it free. It seemed to take forever. I stepped up and pulled the high-line taut to help her. She flashed me a brief grin, finished, and handed me the lead. I stepped back, pulling the hebra with me, dodging its stamping feet, bracing against its bulk as it sidled nervously sideways into me.

Something screamed to my right. A hunter. Paw-cat? Not demon dog. No time to think. It must be a paw-cat. My heart pounded. Kayleen freed the second pack animal just as Joseph, Paloma, and Alicia ran up to us. I thrust the end of the line in my hand to Paloma, felt her fingers close around it, and plunged back toward the animals. Another bolt of lightning seared my vision. Tom yelled, “Joseph—here. To me.”

Joseph ran, and Tom stepped back, pulling his stunner out, holding it pointed at the ground, looking around. He yelled at Joseph, “Grab Sand!” Joseph turned and obeyed, pulling the frightened animal from the line. Sand reared up, her head back,
her mouth open in a scream. Joseph dodged her feet, tugged hard on her lead, and she came down, standing and trembling, nostrils blowing.

“Let the pack hebras loose,” Tom yelled. Paloma, close to me, reached in to unclip the lead from the animal she held. It head-butted her, and she went down, sideways, her foot at the wrong angle. A small shriek of pain escaped her lips. She pulled herself back up, using the lead.

My hands were still free. I ran to the beast and reached for the bottom of its face harness. It reared, almost jerking me from my feet, but I yanked down, unclipped the lead, and fell. I rolled, dodging the hebra’s frantic hooves, dark dangerous hammers against a dark sky. As soon as it was free it stopped and stood looking down at me, feet planted, eyes wild. Paloma used the lead as a whip, and it turned and ran.

“Why?” I yelled at her as we turned back toward the line.

“So it can protect itself,” she spat through clenched teeth, and then fell again, holding her ankle.

I reached down to help her. She waved me away, her face twisted with pain. “Loose the other animals.”

Tom appeared by her side, his hair and face wild and wet. “Go!” he urged me. “Let the other pack animal go. Try to keep the riding beasts, get them near the cabin.”

I turned back to the others. Alicia held both Ink and Sand with difficulty, Ink staying near her while Sand did her best to pull away. Sugar Wheat was loose, but she stood her ground, watching.

Sugar Wheat was the key; the closest thing to a herd leader they had. “Joseph!” I held out my hand for Legs’s lead. “Get Sugar Wheat. Lead her toward the cabin.”

He tossed me the lead, then ran toward Sugar Wheat, grabbing her head harness, while I struggled, like Alicia, to hold on to two unhappy hebras. A wild hunter’s scream came from between us and the cabin. Sugar Wheat pulled free, bounding from sight in an instant. Lightning flashed. Tom stood straddling Paloma. He turned, braced, and fired his stunner. A paw-cat yelped, then faded into the grass, running away.

Legs jerked me around, and I turned, looking for Joseph in the darkness. I couldn’t see him or Sugar Wheat. My heart raced. There would be more paw-cats. I struggled with the soaked and frightened hebras, trying to pull them toward the cabin. They resisted. Mud and wet grass pulled at my feet.

Rain and dark folded Tom away from my sight, but he must have continued shooting. Another paw-cat screamed in pain.

Stripes jerked free and ran, trailing the lead line dangerously. She disappeared in the darkness and driving rain. I whispered a small prayer for her safety, all I had time for since Legs showed every sign of wanting to follow Stripes.

Sugar Wheat pounded toward us, Joseph astride, struggling to use the lead line for control. It would never have worked on Legs or Stripes, but Sugar Wheat obeyed.

How did he get up on her without a saddle or mounting rope? No time to ask.

Joseph succeeded in pulling the tall beast to a stop. She twisted her neck around and bugled, a high long noise that raised the hair on the back of my neck. Legs stopped fighting me and looked toward Sugar Wheat, trembling but still. Sugar Wheat repeated the strange call, and all of the frightened animals stilled and looked at her.

A voice spoke from the darkness. Jenna. “Now, lead them back to the cabin. I’ll make sure everything is all right out here.”

Tom blinked, looking from Joseph astride the blowing hebra to the spot of darkness that had spoken to him. Jenna was completely invisible, at least to me.

Tom looked from his stunner to Paloma, then shoved the stunner in the back of his pants and bent down and gathered Paloma into his arms, cradling her close to him. He headed for the cabin. Sugar Wheat and Joseph followed, the hebra limping slightly. Behind them, the rest of us strung out in a line, threading through damp grass and puddles up to our ankles. I talked to Legs to calm him, to keep him on track. A flash of forked lightning seemed to rise from the meadow itself, and as thunder crashed about us I almost lost Legs as he jerked back, but Sugar Wheat repeated her
call. Legs let me gather him back into line, dancing and snorting.

When we reached the cabin, Tom carried Paloma inside. The rest of us stayed out shivering in the rain and lightning, holding the animals, speaking soothing words.

I kept looking out into the darkness, hoping to spot Stripes or Jenna, but there was no sign of either, not even when lightning turned the whole clearing to daylight for seconds at a time. I listened for more paw-cats, but the only sounds I could distinguish except for the storm were ours.

After a long time, the thunder and lightning spun over the ridge of the crater rim, and the rain slowed from a sluicing torrent to a steady soaking dampness. Tom came out and built a makeshift high-line close to the cabin.

“What about the pack hebras?” Kayleen asked. “And Stripes?”

Tom sighed, his voice edged with worry and exhaustion. “We’ll look for them in the morning. In the meantime, your mom sprained her ankle pretty badly. It’s not broken, but it hurts. She could use your company.” He watched us all as we trooped toward the door. “Good job. Thank you.”

Inside, Kayleen nestled next to Paloma, holding her hand. Paloma’s foot was propped up on two blankets rolled together. Her ankle looked twice its normal size. She stayed very still, head near Kayleen, her face white with pain.

I settled in a dry corner, still shivering. Every muscle hurt. I turned toward the wall and stripped off my soaked shirt, trading it for my last clean dry shirt. The hunt, the skinning and the fire, and then the crazy rain-sodden fight with the hebras had altogether become too much. My eyes hung half-open as Tom lit a fire and started water. He brought the first cup of tea to Paloma, helping her sit up a little, stopping to gently brush his fingertips over her swollen ankle. A tender look passed between them, and then Paloma dipped her head, drinking her tea.

Tom squatted near me, looking in my eyes. “How are you doing, Chelo?”

I reached for the tea, sipping it, feeling its incredible warmth in my cold belly. “Not so good. Stripes is gone.”

“I know.” He shook his head. “We’ll find her tomorrow.”

I swallowed another sip of tea, struggling to hold Tom’s eyes with my own. “Did…did that happen because we hunted yesterday?”

Tom remained still, balanced in a squat, one hand on the floor, gazing at me. His eyes were warm, devoid of the fear I’d spotted earlier by the fire. He stayed silent for so long I grew sure he blamed us, but he said, “No. It was no one’s fault. I taught Joseph to hunt.” He paused. “More accurately, I gave him permission to teach himself, and he taught you. We took good care of the carcasses. It’s more likely the paw-cats were drawn to the hebras.” He smiled. “Dinner on a string. We set it right up for them. We’ll post watches tomorrow night, two people each.” He pushed himself up, looking slightly wobbly himself, and went to pour another cup of tea.

I never found out who got the third cup of tea. I fell fast asleep sitting up, in spite of Stripes, of Jenna, in spite of myself.

When I next opened my eyes, it was because the smell of frying djuri steak had worked its way into my dreams. Someone had stretched me out and covered me with two blankets. I pushed them off and sat up. Tom lay next to me, snoring softly, his round face slack. I watched him a moment, recalling his kind words from just before I passed out. His dark graying hair was mussed and he had one arm flung up over his head, one splayed out to the side. There were tiny lines I’d never really noticed around his eyes.

Kayleen stood over the stove, turning thin strips of backstrap meat carefully, her focus completely on the task at hand. She too looked wrung out; her hair was tangled and she moved slowly and deliberately. Paloma lay where I’d last seen her, her ankle propped up. Someone had bandaged it in the night. Her eyes were closed but her body looked too tense to be asleep. Alicia and Joseph were nowhere to be seen. I listened, and finally heard voices outside near where we’d tied up the hebras.

I stumbled to the outhouse. Afterward, I glanced toward Joseph and Alicia. They stood close, heads bent together. Joseph said something that made Alicia laugh softly. I decided not to interrupt, and instead bent down to the stream and splashed cold running
water on my face, then scrubbed my hands and feet in the bracing water.

I looked toward the hebras, counting five. So Stripes hadn’t come home in the night. At least it would be a good day to look for her.

Small silver fish darted under my splashing feet. The weather had changed again; sunshine warmed my shoulders. The sun had fully risen, the jarring light of full day filled the now-peaceful meadow. Destiny hung pale in the sky, near the sun. Cloudless bright blue sky hung over the dark blue lake.

I went in to help Kayleen with breakfast. Joseph and Alicia had come back inside, and Joseph was shaking Tom gently. “Do you want to get up for breakfast?”

Tom grunted and shook his head and Joseph stopped, looking down at him quizzically. Paloma spoke up from her nest of blankets. “Leave him be. He was up all night, checking on the hebras and listening for…for anything.”

We ate in near silence, too tired for conversation. As we were finishing breakfast, Alicia asked, “Where does Jenna stay?” She looked thoughtfully at her nearly empty plate. “She could have come in and had breakfast. I’ve never seen her, not up close.”

I finished the last bite of my meat. “I’ve never seen her inside anywhere.”

The door swung open. Jenna might as well have heard us talking. She stood in the doorway, wearing the same forest-colored clothing we’d seen her in two days ago, dry and clean. A small smile touched her twisted face.

Alicia babbled. “Would…thanks for helping us last night…would you like breakfast?”

Jenna smiled. “My pleasure.” She ducked just inside the doorway, running her gaze across the room. She seemed happy enough with what she saw. She stayed.

“You can come in,” Kayleen suggested.

“I like it here.” Jenna’s strangely folded face wrinkled even more as she looked at Paloma. “How is your ankle?”

Paloma gazed back at her, apparently nonplussed to see her there. “I bet I can ride, but I can’t walk.”

“Your lead hebra is lamer than yesterday. Better if neither of you walk or ride for a few days.”

Paloma grimaced, but didn’t argue. “Thank you for helping us last night. What can we do for you?”

“I came to take Chelo and Joseph to search for your missing beasts.”

Joseph looked hopeful. Tom stirred, pushing himself up to a sitting position, blinking at Jenna in amazement. “I thought you were a dream.”

She looked down at him, a small smile touching her lips. “No. But we should not waste more time. We’ll go find the hebras.”