Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (17 page)

Without fully understanding what she was doing, Netya's paws began moving faster in response to her apprehension. She squeezed past Caspian when the path widened enough to allow it, then carried on moving forward until she caught up with Selo. One by one she edged her way past the wolves making up the column, until finally Adel's white-streaked coat of sable came into view.

Netya had taken some instinctive idea into her head, but she did not fully realise what it was until she reverted from the shape of her wolf and felt her thoughts crystallise fully. Kneeling on the prickly earth beneath them, she put a hand on her mentor's back and edged forward to whisper into her ear.

"Den Mother, those at the back of the column cannot see those at the front. If something were to happen, not all of Miral's warriors would notice at once."

Adel paused, then dipped her head with a snuffle of acknowledgement. She rolled her shoulders and flicked her tail in a gesture that Netya's animal side had learned to interpret simply as:
follow me
.

They hung back, trying to let the distance grow between them and the large hunter that was striding ahead. They did not dawdle so much as to make him suspicious, but enough to give them perhaps a few moments to react if he chose to wheel around and confront them.

But the hunter, much like the rest of the group, seemed far more concerned with navigating the treacherous maze than with watching Adel. After all, what fool would consider escape in a place like this? Netya still did not know what chance they had. Even if they managed to break off and find another path without the wolf in front noticing, it would not be long before those following behind realised something was amiss. It would take the aid of the spirits to see them safely to the site of the gathering without drawing Miral's attention, and his ire.

The ground began to slope upward beneath their paws, and Netya sensed they were approaching the base of the hill. It would not be long now before they emerged from the mist. The brambles here were dry and brown, most of them withered away to husks, but their thorns still pricked and scratched as Netya picked her way through. Several spots on her body were tender, and she could smell the faint tang of blood in the air where others had been less careful in navigating their surroundings.

When the hunter ahead of them hunkered down to squeeze through a particularly narrow wreath of foliage, Adel stopped. Netya's breath caught in her throat as her mentor's eyes darted back and forth, taking in the scant options available to them. There was another path branching off to the right, but no wolf tracks led in that direction. The thorns were denser, perhaps blocking off the route completely farther on.

If Adel had been considering these things too, she seemed to have judged that the risk was worth it. Perhaps any risk was, at this point, no matter how dire or foolish. The den mother hurried silently to the right, putting a solid hunk of rock between them and the hunter struggling his way through the undergrowth, and Netya followed.

They had but moments before Miral's clan realised what was happening. If the hunter glanced behind him, they would be caught. Once the group behind them noticed the scents of their brethren diverging from the path Adel had taken, they would be caught.

The den mother pushed her way through a tangle of dead thorns, growling as they crumbled and fell apart around her, a few stray needles digging into her fur. Reverting from the shape of her wolf, she wasted no time in gesturing for Hari, who had been walking behind them, to come forward. He was one of those tasked with carrying several bundles of belongings across his back. Adel found her own roll and unfastened it, quickly snatching up a handful of the pouches that spilled out.

"Go, keep going!" she hissed, urging her apprentice on. "Find your way to the top of the hill, all of you!"

Netya hesitated, but the command resonated with her wolf, compelling her legs to move despite her doubts. She had to lead the way now, fear or no fear.

Adel began scattering something across the ground in front of her, spreading it all the way across the path in a thick line. The last glimpse Netya caught of the den mother was her kneeling over with a piece of pyrite in her hand, striking sparks into a pile of brown leaves.

She was hurrying through the mist alone, without Caspian's reassuring presence to guide her. Every direction might lead to an impassable dead end, or into the bottom of another ominous chasm. Sharp brambles snagged around her paws, tugging and scratching, trying to drag her back down into the mist. She glanced back desperately at Hari, but the male was lagging a few paces behind under the weight of his bundles. Unlike Caspian, he was not the sort to take charge in times of need. He looked to her expectantly, waiting to be told where to go.

Neya knew she might be leading her clan deeper into danger, getting them lost among the thorns or straying back into Miral's path, but she had no choice. She was the one at the head of the column.

Forced to trust the only instincts she could hope to rely on, she allowed her paws to follow the incline of the ground beneath them, weaving through the prickly maze higher and higher, hoping the path would eventually lead them to the summit of the hill.

A howl of alarm sounded behind her, reverberating through the mist like ripples on a still pond. The sounds of crashing undergrowth answered, growls and barks from half a dozen more wolves joining the first in anger. Unable to help herself, Netya turned and stared down the slope behind her, trying to pick out the others through the fog. She could no longer see the spot where she had left Adel, and only Hari, Selo, and Wren were visible following along behind her.

Then a flash of light cut through the mist, fighting back the darkness as it flared brilliantly with violet and orange hues. It flickered and twitched like fire, but it was the colour of no flame Netya had ever seen before. The growls of anger broke and scattered, giving way to shrieks of fear as the fire spread, the violet dimming as dry brambles crackled and caught alight. What magic had Adel conjured that was capable of such things?

The patter of paws approaching from the back of the column became louder, and a tang of smoke crept into Netya's nostrils. She tore her gaze away from the otherworldly flames, urgency spurring her forward as she mounted a steep tumble of rocks and hauled herself up, making one final dash up the side of the hill. There was no time to wait and ponder over what had happened.

Emerging from the mist brought with it the delicious taste of fresh air, the smell of smoke dispersing as Netya saw the stars shining above her once more, the silhouettes of trees joining them a moment later. The thorns gave way to rocks and bushes, and the wooded area she had glimpsed from the edge of the basin reached out to greet them. She glanced to her left, in the direction Miral and his followers had been headed, but the undergrowth was so dense it was impossible to tell whether their captors had found their way out of the maze yet.

One after another the rest of Adel's clan emerged from the mist, the sounds of their pursuers growing dimmer as Netya led them toward a faint glow of light she could make out between the trees.

Relief washed over her as her nose picked up the distinct flavour of Caspian's scent, and a moment later he was running alongside her, giving his female a brief glance of reassurance. Had they escaped? Were Miral and his wolves still following them?

Before she could dash headlong into whatever awaited them at the summit of the hill, Caspian reverted from the shape of his wolf and stumbled breathlessly against a nearby tree trunk, holding up a hand to halt them. He was scratched and bleeding from a few small cuts, but he did not seem to have been wounded.

Netya and the others who were not burdened with carrying the brunt of their supplies followed suit, milling around anxiously as they glanced back in the direction they had come. The flames flickering in the mist were still just barely visible, dimming down as the damp air reclaimed them.

"What did Adel do?" Netya said under her breath.

Fern looked at her with bemusement in her eyes, caught somewhere between awe and confusion. "She conjured fire from the ground, like burning oil with the colours of a sunset sky. I have never seen anything like it."

As Fern spoke the den mother caught up to them, tugging away a snarl of brambles that had caught in her clothing as she gestured for them to move on. "Nothing more than a trick," she panted. "A magic of my own making. Come, we must enter the gathering while we have the chance, then Miral will be forced to relinquish whatever hold he believes he has over us."

As the group struck a brisk pace up the final stretch of the hill, all the while casting cautious glances behind them to make sure their pursuers were not following, Netya tried to gain a hold over her frayed thoughts and pull them back together. She needed time to take in what had happened, to reconcile with her wolf, to appreciate that she had not given in to fear when it threatened to steal away courage and reason. But once again, there was no time. Adel dusted her apprentice's cloak off briefly, then instructed her to help make Caspian presentable.

"We have no time to prepare a grand entrance, but we must do what little we can," the den mother said. "Our presence will draw the focus of many eyes. For now, keep your tongues guarded and your actions respectful. And do not speak of Miral and his pack."

Netya nodded obediently as she picked a handful of soft leaves to wipe away the blood from Caspian's cuts, trying to make her restless male hold still as he kept one wary eye on the path behind them.

"I wish I could have brought you to your first gathering in kinder circumstances," he said.

"Our circumstances are kinder than they were a short while ago. And my wolf listened. She brought me here safely."

Caspian gave her a weary smile, and in that moment she glimpsed the strain of many hard months revealed in his expression. He seemed exhausted, but Netya had no time to think further on it before they mounted the clearing at the summit of the hill, and the rumble of an uncountable number of voices reached her ears.

—12—

The Gathering

The fires of the great gathering painted the darkness the colour of autumn leaves. It reminded Netya of the summer celebration she had taken part in two years ago, but even the surreal grandeur of that night was nothing compared to what she beheld now. So many people occupied the enormous clearing that they seemed to move and swell as one, the fur of wolves intermingling with skin and clothing in a great expanse of life that took Netya's breath away. Khelt's pack had been large, but the gathering held enough people to dwarf its size at least five times over. The sound of voices was like the roar of a river, the smell of smoke and flesh so strong that it overwhelmed the soft earthy tones of the woodland.

If this was but a portion of all the packs, then Netya could not fathom how any group of people could ever outnumber them. They seemed as many as the bees of a hive or the leaves of a tree.

Adel strode ahead as they approached the gathering, holding herself tall with her fox pelt headdress crowning her flowing black hair. She cut the figure of an alpha, even if she was but a woman, and before long heads were turning in her direction as she approached.

Following her mentor's lead, Netya hastily reached back to cover her own scalp with the hooded headdress of her white wolf, allowing the beast's features to crown her own and cast her face into shadow. The other seers around her were doing the same, leaving no question as to their status as they strode into the midst of the gathering.

Those clustered around the smaller fires near the edge shrank back as Adel and her followers approached, cautious and fearful of the strange new arrivals. They whispered to one another under their breath, and Netya thought she heard words that belonged to neither her language nor that of the Moon People.

Paying no heed to the inconvenience she caused, Adel allowed the crowd to stumble back and make a path for her. Her height, her dark hair, and her clothing all marked her as the den mother she was, and no one but an alpha was likely to challenge a woman who strode forward with such purpose. The gathering enveloped them, drawing Netya and her companions into its midst before closing back up again behind them. She clutched Caspian's hand anxiously, losing any sense of where they were headed as the press of bodies surrounded her.

Adel,
she heard the voices say.
Khelt. Den mother.
She tried to follow the threads of conversation being spoken around her, but the roar of noise made it impossible. They conversed in both the language of the Moon People and other tongues she did not recognise. Even a few of the Sun People's words reached her ears amidst the clamour.

Adel seemed to be moving toward the centre of the gathering where several large bonfires burned higher than the rest, but before they could reach their destination they were interrupted by a bare-chested man with a head of shaggy dark hair pushing his way boisterously through the crowd.

"Sister!" he bellowed, a broad grin on his face as he waved a cooking spear above his head. "Oh, what a kind summer it is! Let me look at you, little sister, let me see how the years have changed your face."

It took Netya a moment to realise to whom he was speaking, and her eyes widened as the man broke free of the crowd and hurried straight toward Adel.

The den mother stopped, but she spoke not a word. Her brother faltered, his grin slipping as he came face to face with her.