Page 14

Chapter Thirteen

Fenli

I wouldn’t stay with my clan, but I wasn’t sure where I would go.

I was too far from the Saik now, thanks to my idiot husband, and if I showed up at either Elsynbr’s or Rynwin’s clan it would only lead to more problems. Among the Caed, clan jumping was a shameful thing.

It was the scandal of the ages when Indi fell in love with one of Runehall’s and left her own people for him.

When she came back a few years later, bruised and cradling a baby, it only served to prove the tradition right.

There had to be something, somewhere I could go, someone who would take me in.

I checked over my shoulder, making sure there was no one around to see me slip off on my own into the forest. When I was sure I was in no one’s sight, I headed between the tall pines, into the shadows, my pack over my shoulders and my boots laced tight.

I had meant to hate the Hinterlands. Desperately, I tried to.

But my resolve slipped more and more each day.

I hated the village, hated being with the hunters, hated having Baer watching over my shoulder and Roan under the same roof.

But I was finding myself bewitched by the land itself .

I found the deer trail I’d used a few days back and meandered through the woods, checking my progress against the tentative map I’d sketched, making adjustments as I went and pausing to collect my bearings more than once.

I fell into the rhythm. I lost myself out among the cedars and pines and spruce, but I found myself as well, or at least found where I was in all that uncharted space.

Uncharted to me, anyway. The clan had a map maker by the name of Gaert, but he wasn’t about to share shite with any of us women, let alone me, young and dumb as I was.

I cleared my mind and focused instead on myself and where I was in the sprawl of all this wilderness surrounding me.

The trees seemed ancient and thick with age.

They were so tall their tops were often lost to sight.

Down below the canopy, the light of the sun was sometimes so dull it slowed my progress, forcing me to peer into every shadow to find my footing and my way.

Then the clouds would roll over and the rains would pour, exasperating the issue.

“The skies have spoken,” I whispered. “This, an ancient tongue. Storm awoken. Let this witness come.”

I didn’t mind it. The rains penetrated my other sense even as my sight dulled.

The musk and spruce scent of the forest rose all around me.

Drops pelted the bits of skin I’d left uncovered—on my cheeks and my hands—and I welcomed them even as a shiver ran across my shoulders.

My lungs filled with the cool air. The sound of the battering rains rang out from every leaf within earshot, and I felt caught up in the middle of it all.

There was a rumble of thunder, off in the distance.

On instinct, I hummed the notes, offering my worship even as I made my way through the trees .

After a time, the storm ebbed to a slow. When I came out from the tree line and onto a secluded bank maybe two miles from the village, it was a quiet drizzle. There, under a shelter, was a stash of canoes. Four of them in all with oars leaning against the back wall.

I hesitated for only a moment. Then I stole one.

The waters were as calm as I’d ever seen them. If not for the smell of brine, I could almost have imagined myself out on a lake, headed to some opposite shore instead of into the unknown and unfathomable.

I was feeling reckless.

The islands that scattered out from the shoreline gave me confidence, unwise as it may have been.

They made me feel like I had not completely untethered myself from the land, and I kept looking for that next outcropping of trees, feeling comforted when it appeared and directing my vessel further and further still.

I’d always heard about the Hinterlands, but it was another thing to behold for myself.

The forest was pregnant with flora. Trees pierced the clouds that hung low in the sky, and there seemed no end to the inlets, and the coves, and the outcroppings, and the islands.

I’d never seen the ocean and the land play back and forth with each other like they did here, Elsynbr and Rynwin blending the lines of their domains like it was a game, or maybe art, or maybe both.

It encouraged me onward.

The terrain unwound in my mind’s eye. Even when the rain moved on, I left the map rolled safely away. I didn’t need my parchment or my lead. The space before me was giving itself up to my knowing, and I wanted to feel it first. I would start laying down the shapes on my way back.

The low-lying clouds did not lift, and it wasn’t long before a fog rolled over the face of the water. It was not too dense to navigate, but the wiser side of me knew what could come if I let myself get more caught up than I already was. It was time to turn around, while I still could.

But before I set my sights back home, a movement on a nearby shore drew my eyes. There on the banks of an island, nosing through rocks and driftwood—was a wolf.

It lifted its head to look at me, and my oar stilled. In that moment, it was like the rest of the world had fallen away. The wolf and I studied each other over the short stretch of water that lay between us, and there was nothing else.

The wolf’s cheeks and legs were a ruddy brown while the tips of its tan fur grew black, giving a stunning backdrop to its golden eyes.

Long-legged, wet from rain, and bigger than I’d imagined, with alert ears and a steady gaze.

It was a sight, impressive and stern, but it was not ominous.

It watched me carefully, but I could find no threat in the creature’s stare.

The stories swelled in my mind. Wolves, the hunters told us, were the enemy.

They were competition for our food sources; they were mangy and wicked, and they would kill any man who failed to kill them first. And kill them the men did, felling wolves wherever their exploits brought them.

One wolf, one ear on your cord, one more demon of the trees culled by the strength of men.

And I’d never once questioned it.

The wolf blinked, and my heart was at ease in my chest. Then it turned and retreated, its pace careful and unhurried as it slipped into the forest with barely a whisper.

I turned as well, telling myself I’d never head back to that wolf’s island again.

But it was a lie .

That night, I went to the Wool Moon celebration with Indi and Esska, and I thought of nothing but the wolf I’d seen. I thought maybe I’d sleep it off, but the next morning came, and my mind was on that wolf again and all day after.

Two days later, I was back at the wolf’s island.

This time, I ran my canoe up on the shore. Unthinking and possibly possessed by forest spirits, I climbed the rocks and treaded the place I’d seen the wolf, unable to say why.

In the end, I followed the ravens to find them.

I ventured back in the direction I’d thought was my best chance, and the sound of the birds drew me in from there. Had it not been for the noise they made, I’d have never veered off to the east, and I would have missed what I sought altogether.

I approached cautiously. The first thing I saw was a flutter of black wings up in an old cedar, the branch dipping with the weight of the bird.

As the space in the trees opened up, I caught my first glance at the ruins.

Ancient beams holding up a roof that had long since succumbed to the forest floor.

The walls remained, however, overgrown on the north side with moss, and trees grew up from between them.

It was the carving over the empty door frame that gave it away.

Two diagonal lines intersecting, setting apart four distinct spaces. Four clans for four gods.

It was an old Caed dwelling, built before the split into four separate clans, before the moves to the south.

It had been generations upon generations ago, but our kind had lived here once.

Now it was a home to wolves.

I knew it, though I didn’t see one. Still, the proof was there.

Bones. Scattered across a well-trod piece of bare earth in front of the dilapidated hut.

Paw prints the size of my hand, pressed into mud and left to dry.

The scent of them, sharp with a heavy tang.

I felt the signs like a warning rippling across my skin.

There was no denying it. I was in their territory now.

I edged away from the site. A wiser person would have left and not come back, but I’d not forgotten why I was there, nor had I lost the rebellion that had propelled my legs over all the miles to begin with.

I backtracked to the place I’d seen a small rise that came to the base of an old cedar, and I settled in.

I had no weapons. I had no plan of needing one. I sat with my back against the tree, and I waited for the wolves to return home.

I waited for what felt like forever; I waited for what felt like no time at all.

They moved like ghosts through the trees. Long and lean, they streamed into their small clearing and slowed, panting as they came to rest. One wolf peered into a gap at the base of the hut. Moments later, a line of pups came pouring out, tails wagging as they toppled over one another.

I nearly gasped. Pups, and I had stood right there, so close.

Oh, I was going to get myself good and killed. Wandering around near a pack of wolf pups in the middle of nowhere. But the stress that swelled in me loosened as I continued to watch.

Most of the adults chose to lay down, their bellies on the cool earth.

One stood, presiding over all the rest. The pups came to lick that one’s chin, their tails tucked then wagging then tucked again, and the big wolf responded with decorum, letting them pay their dues.

The others received similar visits from the small mob.

The youngsters seemed truly elated, and the adults took it all in stride, dolling out a few licks of their own.

One wolf fell to her side, and a feast of milk ensued.

The pups nursed with a vigor I could see even from the distance I was at, and I nearly winced.

Clearly, the mother.

One wolf stood abruptly. He was still for a moment, nose in the air. Then his head began to swivel. I froze. He dropped his long muzzle to the ground and sniffed, walking small steps in my direction. He paused and scratched at the dirt. Then he looked up, directly at me.

It was the wolf I’d seen just days before. I could barely think straight, and my heart was hammering like a drum, but I knew that much for sure. Same eyes, same stare. The long legs and ruddy coat. I remembered him.

But would he remember me?

His comrades saw the change in him. I’d counted five adults, the pups too busy for me to get a clear number on, and every one of them found me in the trees. The mother quickly stood, disrupting her babes and their meal.

I’d been discovered.

“Toke, help me,” I breathed.

I thought it would be a frenzy. I thought they’d be at my throat any moment, lunging, biting, seething for my flesh.

The stories ran through my mind, the vileness of the wolves and their all-consuming love for blood.

The bane of the Hinterlands would snuff me out, then spread my bones among the trees, along with the rest. But they only watched me—alert, tense, patient.

It was the wolf who’d seen me from across the water who acted first, and he set the tone in my favor , thank all the gods and goddesses in sea and sky and on earth . He wandered closer, bit by bit, and he showed neither aggression nor fear. He was hesitant, unsure, but also curious .

Halfway between me and the pack, he stopped.

He sniffed the air, watched me intently for a few beats, then seemed to grow bored.

He sat and his ears swiveled, taking in other sounds.

Some of the tension I’d been holding fiercely in my shoulders and jaw ebbed.

I let out a slow breath. I tried to calm my thundering heart.

The wolves gave me plenty of time. Even the ravens quieted, stilled, and watched as the wolves did.

“I’m a friend,” I whispered. The wolf cocked his head. I did not know if I was comforting the beasts or heralding my death, but I did it anyway, if only to keep from losing my mind to the fear. “I jus-just came to watch.”

Apparently, we both had.