Page 139 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lorna

C arrie’s asleep next to me when I wake up, and I hate how my first thought is that I wish it was Shemza. That my half-awake, groggy brain reaches so instinctively for the comfort of his body lying next to mine. I wonder if I’ll ever stop torturing myself with visions of things I can’t have.

It’s early, but not so early that I can’t hear the sounds of people moving round outside - the village starting to wake. I’m probably the only person who slept well last night, everyone else not dosed with sleeping tea and left instead to worry over Callif.

Did he survive the night? God, I hope so.

The hunters were after the ensouka to feed us.

To feed Darran’s tribe, who are joining with Gregar’s because of us.

I don’t want any of the girls to suffer the guilt of thinking someone died because of them.

I’ve lived with that guilt for four years. I know exactly how it eats at you.

When I sit up, Carrie stirs, stretching out her arms before sitting up next to me.

“How. Are. You?” she says, each word spoken on its own intake of breath.

“I’m okay. I think.”

I look at my hands. Don’t see any blood.

“Callif?” I wince as I ask, terrified of the answer.

Carrie shrugs. “Still. Alive. Before.”

She mimes sleeping to finish her sentence. Already she looks exhausted, just for saying six words.

“Sorry. You don’t have to say anything else. I know it’s hard for you at the moment. And thanks for staying with me last night. It’s nice not to wake up on my own.”

She smiles, though she looks a little sad. I lean across and give her a hug, and I’m not sure if it’s because I think she needs it, or because I do.

We get up and venture outside, heading for the central fire.

There’s a cloud of anxiousness over the people gathered there - almost everyone in the village at a glance.

The breakfast production line hasn’t started yet, Hannah holding a spoon more so she can squeeze her fingers around it than use it for its intended purpose.

Most of the raskarrans stand, bodies angled toward the healer’s hut, their tails swishing about behind them in a clear show of agitation.

Liv catches my eye as I sit down, asking without words if I’m okay. I nod to her. She’ll probably catch up with me later, but for now, I’m understandably not the main concern of the village.

A moment later, Gregar appears from the direction of the healer’s hut. Everyone still sitting gets to their feet as one, all of us trying to read the news from his expression. He looks grim, I think, but not devastated. I can only hope that means it’s not the worst news.

Then Gregar speaks, and the raskarrans all let out a breath, turning to each other and gripping each other’s arms and shoulders. Callif is still alive, for now at least.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” Sally says, listening to the conversation between the raskarrans. “But he’s survived the night, and Shemza’s of the opinion that was the biggest hurdle. It will be touch and go for a few more days, but they think his chances are good.”

The relief amongst the tribe is palpable, a weight lifted from everyone’s shoulders.

Namson draws Hannah into a bear hug that makes her squeak with surprise, but then laughter bubbles out of her and she hugs him back.

I smile as I watch everyone celebrating, the sombre mood of the morning overturned.

The good news announced, usual morning activities resume.

There’s a brightness as we go about peeling and chopping roots that almost makes me forget about the conversation I couldn’t finish having with Shemza, and how, after he’s worked hard day and night to keep his brother alive, I have to continue disappointing him.

When he appears for breakfast, Jaskry at his side, the two of them looking exhausted, my resolve almost waivers.

I want nothing more than to go to him, wrap my arms around his neck and offer him what comfort I can.

When his gaze meets mine - because of course he seeks me out amongst the crowd - I offer him a small smile, hoping he doesn’t read any kind of promise in it.

He smiles back, and it’s warm and hesitant at the same time.

I turn my attention back to the breakfast, trying to ignore the way my insides twist. With all of us working on it, it’s not long before everything’s in the pot and cooking, Hannah stirring it up and declaring it almost ready.

“I better wake Molly,” Grace says with a sigh, as if mentally preparing for the argument that will follow.

We all give her encouraging smiles. Molly’s not a bad kid.

Hopefully she’ll realise that the morning after the tribe has suffered such a restless night is not the time to be having a teenaged meltdown.

Especially not when Grace looks like she’s barely slept.

Sally and her family are sitting together, Jassal and Ahnjas clinging to their father, while Jaskry’s tail is looped around Sally’s waist. Ellie doesn’t seem to want to let Anghar go either, and I know what they’re all thinking.

That could have been my guy in the healer’s hut.

My guy ripped open and bleeding. We know the raskarran world is dangerous.

We’ve seen the merka beasts and the other frightening creatures of the forest, but the biggest threat has always felt like other raskarrans.

Like we will be safe as soon as Darran arrives.

It’s a bit of a reality check for everyone, but maybe for Sally and her family most of all.

They lived on their own for so long. If Jaskry had ever suffered a severe injury, they would have been in real trouble.

The tribe is like a net. It catches you. Jaskry and Anghar brought Callif back to the village, to Shemza. Shemza, Rachel and Grace kept him alive. Even I did my part, holding the bloodied top to his wound.

If I could have managed it without freaking out, maybe I could feel a little proud about that.

Hannah’s passing round bowls when the sound of rapid footsteps draws everyone’s attention. I crane my neck, looking over the much bigger bodies of the raskarrans to see Grace, her hair askew, her expression panicked.

“It’s Molly,” Grace says. “She’s gone!”

Quick as the mood lifted before, it falls again. Gregar and Liv divide us up into pairs so we can search the nearby area together - one human with one raskarran. They pass over me at first, but when Shemza insists on aiding the search, despite his exhaustion, Sally suggests I accompany him.

“Neither of you should be walking far,” she says. “Gregar’s giving you the river. Walk along its bank a way in either direction, see if you can see any sign of her.”

I think of how high the river was when Shemza and I sat beside it a few days ago. How fast the water moved. I hope she hasn’t tried to cross it. It’s too easy to imagine her swept away, drowned by the currents. My mouth fills with bile at the thought.

What was she thinking? This ridiculous argument she’s been in with Grace - it’s not enough to warrant running away.

But before we leave for the river, Shemza exchanges words with Sally.

I watch her expression shift through annoyance, sadness, motherly exasperation.

She pats Shemza on the arm and offers him some reassuring sounding words.

Shemza looks inconsolable, but I’m not sure how much of that is just exhaustion amplifying his emotions.

“Everything okay?” I say.

Sally turns to me. “Shemza says Molly tried to come on to him last night. He was naturally horrified and is worried now that his reaction might have spurred her decision to leave.”

Several visceral and conflicting emotions assault me at once.

My own surge of horror that something in Molly’s past has made her think it was okay to do that.

Sympathy for her suffering, but also for Shemza, who must have been made so uncomfortable.

But also a surge of almost anger that she would think it okay to do that to my…

I cut the thought off before it can finish. Not only is it terrible that I feel anything but sadness and worry over Molly, Shemza isn’t my anything. I have no right to claim him.

“This thing with Molly has been brewing for a while,” I say. “It’s not his fault.”

“That’s what I told him.” Sally sighs “Look after him, Lorna. I don’t like the thought of either of you out there right now, but he won’t be dissuaded from searching. He’s exhausted. He’s not thinking straight.”

“We’ll be fine,” I assure her.

I only wish it were true in every sense.

We head out to the river, in what feels like a terrible parody of our earlier walk out here. We don’t look for birds; we don’t engage with each other. There are no furs over Shemza’s shoulder to make a picnic blanket. We’re both of us weighed down by everything that’s been going on.

And still, despite everything, I want to reach for his hand. Take it in mine.

I don’t have pockets to stuff my hands into, so I fold my arms, trying to walk a little quicker. The sooner we get to the river, the sooner we search it, the sooner we’ll find any signs of Molly. If there are any here to find.

Please don’t let her have come this way.

Where would she even think to go? Or did she not think of anything beyond escaping her own embarrassment?

I can relate to that blank-minded compulsion to run.

My own flight through Robert’s house stirs in my memories, the wrought iron cages of the aviary flashing before my eyes.

I blink them away, hating how close to the surface they’ve all become, as if the feeling of Callif’s blood against my skin has dredged them all up. I feel unsettled, unstable.

“Molly!” I call into the trees. “Are you out here?”

Let her answer. Let her have stormed off and regretted it immediately. Let her have got turned round in the trees and be wandering, searching for the edge of the village. Frightened, embarrassed, but not hurt.

There’s no sign of her all the way to the river, and my heart grows heavier as we walk along its bank.

I try to remember that she might not even have walked this way, that one of the other search parties might have already located her and brought her back to the village, safe.

But my mind snags on images of bloated bodies in the water, and every stone, every darker whorl in the water catches my eye, my brain reading the shapes they make as limbs and hair.

Then my eyes catch on something a little further down. A thin band of white snagged around some tree roots. My mind goes back to the ribbon Molly was playing with, trying to tie into her hair.

Trying to be attractive. Adult. Rejecting the ‘childish’ lessons Sally was trying to teach her.

Oh, Molly. I wish I could give her a hug. Tell her not to be in such a hurry to grow up.

I run down the bank towards the ribbon, heart pounding, mouth dry with the fear and horror of it all. Vaguely, I hear Shemza call out to me, but my focus is on what’s in front of me, not whatever he’s saying.

Just a weed. A pale river plant tangled around the roots. Relief soars inside me, and I release my breath. Not a ribbon. Not a sign that Molly came this way.

I turn to face Shemza, smiling to let him know that there’s nothing to worry about. Just a false alarm.

And feel the ground move, slipping as it did on the hillside after the storm. Except then, Ellie’s arms closed around me, kept me upright. This time, there’s nowhere for me to go but down.

I have time to let out a frightened cry before I’m plunged into the racing water.