Mating Rights (5 page)

“Maybe you’ll be ready
next year then. If you’re lucky and no one chooses you,” he added.

The rain intensified.
She could feel it pounding against the cloak, making a tapping sound like a
drum. Tired of slogging through the rain, Jaxon halted his horse.

“Let’s shelter here
under these trees,” he yelled to the men.

Jaxon guided his horse
off the road to the copse he’d pointed to. He pulled his cloak from around her
and dropped to the ground, helping her off the horse before tying the animal to
a low hanging branch to graze.

The lanky man with the
reddish-blond, scruffy beard came next, tying his horse off to another tree. He
leaned his back against a tree trunk, his long blond hair dripping water down
his nose and chin.

“My name’s Ranger,” he
said, nodding at Mali.

“I’m Mali,” she said,
huddling close to Jaxon beneath their leafy shelter.

Behind the heavily
muscled Adolpho, who apparently decided he’d rather wait out in the rain than
join the ladies, came the last man on his horse. This one was stocky with broad
shoulders, though he was half a head shorter than Jaxon and Ranger.

“Torolf,” he said,
introducing himself like the others.

“It’s good to have a
name for everyone,” she said, rubbing her damp arms. Luckily for them,
lightning hadn’t cut across the sky, or they’d be sitting ducks under the tall
trees.

Jaxon looked up at the
sky as if trying to judge how long the storm would last.

“The road’s going to be
mud pies from here on out,” Ranger said, picking at his teeth with a blade of
grass.

“If we go ahead and
make camp, the morning sun and this wind might have it dried out enough by
mid-morning. The wagon won’t bog down first thing,” Jaxon said. He pulled his
cloak off and laid it on the ground, taking a seat. He patted the ground,
looking at Mali.
Grateful to sit on something
other than a hard saddle with her legs spread to the point of dislocation, Mali
settled on the cloak and crossed her legs.

Rain filtered through
the canopy, dripping occasionally on the top of her head. Small beads of
moisture found the part in her hair and tickled down her scalp. Mali scratched
her head, feeling mistreated just by being there instead of home. She hadn’t
played or sat in the rain since she’d been a child. Back then, it’d seemed like
fun—especially with her mother waiting inside with a warm fire and dry clothes.
She didn’t have anything here, and the dampness of her clothes combined with
the sheeting wind made her thin cotton dress damp in spite of the fact that
Jaxon had sheltered her from the weather as much as possible.

She was disconcerted to
notice her nipples poking against the fabric. Mali shivered and crossed her
arms over her chest.

“Guess you wish I’d
taken your side now, hmm?” Jaxon said, glancing from her chest to her face.

Something in the look
of his eyes and the set of his jaw made a rush of heat flow through her and
settle in the pit of her stomach. “What do you mean? I thought you had taken my
side.”

“They didn’t want you
in there. You’d be dry right now if I’d made them behave themselves.”

Mali shrugged. “They’re
grown women. I don’t think you or anyone else could make those bitches behave.”

Ranger and Torolf
exchanged a glance and snickered.

“Nest of vipers,”
Ranger muttered.

“I feel sorry for
anyone taking anyone of them home as a mate,” she said. Her brow furrowed.

“Me too,” Jaxon agreed.

Adolpho snorted. “None
of you have it that bad. I have to ride listening to them right behind my back.
They complain every time I hit a pothole.” His eyes dropped and a smile curled
his lips. “I hit a lot of potholes.”

They all laughed.

Mali began to wonder if
her parents were right in keeping her secluded from the pack all these years.
They didn’t seem that bad. No worse or different than her family. Some of the
tension and fear that’d gripped her began to ease off in spite of the reactions
of the other women. She knew most of them were probably in the grips of heat or
close to it. Having gone through it herself just a year past, she knew the
havoc going into heat could play on her emotions with no outlet to relieve the
painful ache. It was almost enough to allow her to forgive them. Almost.

Looking at Jaxon made
strange quivers inside her belly, and she began to wonder if being around the
opposite sex might send her back into the throes of heat. She hoped not. She
couldn’t afford to entangle herself with anyone and risk exposing her secret to
the clan.

Mali vowed to behave
herself and be a model citizen until they reached the festival. She’d have a
better chance of slipping off to escape in a crowd. Here, they’d notice her
gone and come right after her. Maybe if they were far enough away from her
parents’ homestead, they wouldn’t consider tracking her back down. Especially
since they’d be too busy—hopefully—selecting mates of their own.

She could stay alive a
little longer.

The wind carried the
unmistakable scent of blood to their sensitive noses. Jaxon halted his run,
sniffing at the air as Ranger and Torolf stopped behind him. He huffed a sharp
bark. Words were not needed amongst them. Soft whines and snuffles, a jerk of
their head, communicated all they needed to know.

The buck they’d tailed
through the woods had encountered another predator somewhere in its retreat
from the pack. They had the option to retreat back to camp empty handed, or
forge ahead to see who’d reached their kill first.
Jaxon
had been looking forward to eating fresh meat, and exchanging looks with the
others he recognized they’d wanted the same.

Brush and brambles,
turning brown from the late changing of the season, caught in their fur,
scraping the sides of their heads as they found the deer path and followed it
to the source teasing their nostrils. Great ferns standing shoulder high to a
man crowded a treeless circle in the woods. The ferns trembled in the wind,
keeping guard on secrets held close.
The three
wolves nosed through the leafy path, coming upon a trampled and bloody sight.
There was little left beyond fur, bone, and innards.
Blood painted the trampled ferns and grasses. Moist dark earth soaked up the
remaining fluids, leaving the scent of death heavy in the air.
A clear path exiting the site was forged by something
broad of shoulder if the snapped and flattened ferns were any indication.

Jaxon froze at the edge
of the site, glancing around and sniffing the wind. He put his nose to the ground
and snuffled along the edges until he found impressions in soft black earth
leading away from the kill. A hind print with five distinct holes marking the
claws along the top. Easily double the size of his footprint.

Bear tracks.

Jaxon’s gut wrenched as
fragmented memories flooded him—following dozens of tracks through the night;
fresh fallen snow blotting out their trace as he runs until his lungs feel
close to bursting; Jen’s screams in his ears, swallowed by the growing distance

He gulped air. The scars
on his body pulled tight beneath his fur.

Jaxon shifted back into
human form, crouching naked beside the paw print in spite of the stiffness of
his knee. He scarcely noticed Torolf and Ranger returning to human form beside
him.

“Is that—a bear track?”
Torolf said, putting his hand beside the print.

“Looks that way,” Jaxon
said.

“The ursine shouldn’t
be down here. They’re supposed to stay on their land. Up in the mountains,”
Ranger said. “Why would they be down here? There’s nothing for them here.”

“There’s plenty down
here they want. Always has been. They should be hibernating by now, but the
season is late changing this year. That always means a long winter when it
finally hits. They must have a shortage of food up in the mountains if they’re
coming down this far to forage. Unless I’m wrong and they mean to attack us
when we’re most vulnerable,” Jaxon said in a thoughtful tone.

Torolf looked around
them. “During the festival? Why?”

Mating season always
entailed mindless rutting once the heat hit the women and they chose their
mate—the men were helpless to resist. It was an understood agreement amongst
the clans that none were raided or attacked during this time.Wolves didn’t war
on the bears, and bears didn’t attack the wolf clan.

Jaxon grunted, wiping dirt
off his hands onto a clean frond. Shaky truces might not be enough for a hungry
bear who was past hibernation mode. Or one on the lookout for a mate. Ursine
females were notoriously short in number. A wolf female would do in a pinch
even if the combination proved sterile more often than not. He’d heard legends
of chimeras blending different shifters, but had never seen the product of such
a union. He’d always assumed they didn’t exist. “I hope it’s just my overactive
imagination at work here,” Jaxon said.

“It’s possible a wild
bear could have gotten this, but I doubt it. Most of the wild bears moved on
long ago. We’ll need to keep tighter watch. If this was a Kodiak clan member,
there could be more in the area. We need to get to the festival to alert the
others. Another day or two of hard traveling and we should be there.”

***

Mali huddled under a
tree until the skies finished dumping buckets of water. The temperature began a
sharp decline. Or perhaps it was her sodden hair and clothes.
She was miserably wet. “Stupid man. He should have
let me get my things,” she muttered, looking at the other women gingerly
exiting the canvas covered wagon with their dry dresses, shoes, and hair, warm
shawls and knitted coats. She didn’t have a change of clothes or shoes to keep
her feet warm. Her toes were numb. Anger and irritation could only keep her so
warm.

Angelica walked over to
her by herself. “Look, I don’t like you, but I’m sorry for what I said.”

Mali gaped and nodded.
“Thanks. I’m sorry I pulled your hair.”

“We’ll just agree to
keep out of each other’s way?”

“Agreed.”

Angelica swiveled on
her feet and rejoined her friends.

Mali felt a little
stunned by the short exchange, but at least it was one less thing to worry
about.

Adolpho had miraculously
started a fire on the sodden ground by laying out a bed of rocks and spruce
bows. He was busy constructing an iron spit over the flames.
Mali watched him struggle to get the makings of a
soup together and decided to help despite the presence of the others standing
nearby.

“Much thanks, Mali,”
Adolpho said, giving her a grateful smile. He ducked his head close to her,
talking softly, “Most of these others will make useless mates for those waiting
in town. Can’t even boil water, me thinks.”

Mali chuckled and began
cutting potatoes into the black kettle. “I agree,” she whispered.

“Wish we had a bit of
cream to go into the pot. Maybe the boys will bring some fresh meat instead.
I’m off to fetch some water. Be right back,” Adolpho said as he walked away
with a bucket.

Mali focused on her
task rather than the swirl of activity and conversation around her. She was so
focused that it took her a minute to realize someone was watching her. She
looked up into the face of a petite girl with dark, reddish-brown, braided hair
and a mahogany complexion much the same as her own.

“You need some help?”
the girl asked.

“Sure, if you don’t
mind cutting onions. I’m Mali, by the way.”

“Kimber,” the girl
said, making short work of the onions.

Adolpho came back and
added water to the pot then hefted the pot over the fire to stew.

“Thanks, ladies. Now we
wait.” He looked them over and handed them a thin sliver of soap. “Wash up that
way,” Adolpho said, pointing.

“Thank you. I need to
wash this off my hands. Gods know I don’t need to walk around smelling like
onions. I have enough trouble fitting in as it is,” Mali said, following the
path Adolpho made wading through the dry grasses to the creek.

Kimber followed her and
did the same.

“We should do something
with your hair. I’ve got an extra blouse, and skirt too, if you’d like to
borrow them and change,” Kimber said on the way back.

Mali couldn’t help the
surprise she could feel on her face. “Really? I’d love that.”

Kimber nodded. “I
figured if you’d had something to change into you would have by now. Come on,
it’s going to take at least an hour to comb out your hair.”

“If we’re lucky,” Mali
mumbled, dragging her fingers through her tangled tresses. “I’ve never felt it
like this before.”

Mali changed into the
simple white blouse and the sky blue skirt that flared around her legs and
hugged her hips. She thought the ruffles made her small chest look fuller. At
the least, she didn’t look like a muddy drowned rat.

They sat on the back of
the wagon. Mali’s legs dangled off the end and Kimber sat behind her on a bench
to the side. She winced when Kimber began dragging the comb through her hair
and caught on a tangle.