Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) Read online

  "Unless you are forced to?"

  Caspian snorted, putting his arm around her shoulders and tugging her in close. The agitated mutterings of Rokan and his mate did not reach Netya's ears again that evening, and she gradually drifted off to sleep as the hubbub dulled into a quiet background murmur. The crackle and pop of the fire lulled her into the embrace of the spirit world, and she dreamed she was dancing beneath the surface of the pool along with the other fish, gliding around in circles as the current tugged her to and fro, the ice creaking quietly overhead.

  It was not the dull rumble of noise that startled her. Much like the others, she awoke gently to the sound, imagining it to be rain or some strange rustle of leaves in the distance. Even when it grew in volume, becoming a churning roar above her, echoing off the cave walls like thunder, she did not realise what was happening until she heard the cries of the others and felt the icy rush of cold water streaming in around her legs.

  Netya's eyes shot open in a flash, the waking world mixing with her dreams in a terrifying stream of confusion. The light of the fire was gone, plunging the cave into blackness as the rising water swamped the warm coals. It was all around her, creeping up her legs and around her hips, chilling her to the bone.

  She sprang to her feet, struggling to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The cave wall was at her back, and all around her she could hear the frightened voices of her pack-sisters as they splashed through the darkness. The only source of light came from the tunnel entrance, a dim glow from outside that revealed a torrent of water pouring in through the passageway.

  A hand clutched at her, and she grabbed hold of it, feeling Caspian's firm grip pulling her to the side. "Hold on to me!" he yelled over the noise of the water.

  She bobbed her head in a panic, not stopping to realise that the motion would be invisible to him in the dark. Over the clamour of voices around them she heard Adel yelling for silence somewhere near the cave's entrance.

  "Over to me, one at a time! Grab the hand of someone next to you, do not use your wolves!"

  The water around Netya's feet was rising terrifyingly fast. Within moments it was mid way to her knees, soaking through her moccasins and biting at her skin with needles of ice. It was so cold she was already shivering, letting Caspian tug her through the darkness as they waded toward Adel's voice. Cold droplets splashed against her face as scatters of water were kicked up by dozens of racing feet. Sodden furs bumped against her legs and threatened to trip her, tangling around her ankles and dragging at her steps. Someone bumped into her hard just at the arch of her foot came down on the sharp edge of a bobbing piece of firewood, sending her sprawling backward into the freezing water with a cry. Her hand twisted free of Caspian's grip, and she lost him.

  The temperature of the water was so low it felt like it was crushing the breath from her body, engulfing her senses for a terrible moment as she went under the surface. She tasted the scummy ashes of the fire, writhing around to try and put her hands beneath her and push herself back up. It was so cold. The water felt like it was freezing her to the spot, stiffening her joints and slowing her heart, tugging her into the darkness. She needed to survive. She had to get out.

  Her wolf surged forward unbidden, the shift so instinctive that it split most of the clothes from her body rather than taking them with her. The glimmer of light at the cave's entrance dragged her toward it, promising safety, promising survival.

  The water was so high now that her paws could barely touch the floor. Ignoring the complicated words that echoed in her ears, she moved as fast as she could in the direction of the light, half-wading, half-paddling as she thrashed her way through the floating debris.

  The freezing torrent rushing down the passageway battered at her body, beating against her muzzle as her legs fought against the current. If not for the strength of her wolf, she would have been swept away in the deluge, but her claws dug into the cracks in the rock, straining to pull her forward a step at a time until she managed to haul her body free, panting for breath as she dragged herself past the lip of the cave's entrance. The water took her then, yanking her off her feet and into the centre of a much larger current. The noise was incredible, roaring down from the ridge above like liquid thunder.

  She caught a glimpse of white spume crashing off the rocks in an enormous torrent where the frozen trickle of a waterfall had once been, then her head was yanked back below the surface, plunging her into choking darkness again. The current turned her over and over until she could no longer tell which way was which, which direction led to the surface and which to the shore. Her back scraped against rock. A branch of twigs caught in her mouth. When she breathed in all she swallowed was freezing water, and her body responded instinctively by trying again, harder, forcing more liquid into her lungs. Her paws beat at the current weakly, trying to catch hold of anything that would get her back up to the surface.

  Fear like nothing Netya had ever known enveloped her, a panic so deep and terrifying that it seemed like a living thing clutching and clawing at her body. She was drowning, her body dying, and no matter how hard she fought she could do nothing to prevent it.

  Something shifted beneath her. A sudden lurching of her stomach told her that she was falling, and the torrent of water broke up into a shower of white. An instant later she hit solid ground, the impact jarring her body from hip to shoulder as she coughed and choked, retching up the water she had just swallowed. In spite of her wolf's panic and confusion, she clung on to enough foresight to realise that she had been swept off one of the ledges a short distance down the riverbed. She rolled to the side, getting out from beneath the worst of the newly created waterfall crashing down atop her.

  She could breathe again. Her fur was soaked, her body ached, and she was so cold she could barely feel her paws. The rush of air from the waterfall wafting across her stung like teeth clenching against skin. Netya forced herself to stand up, blinking until the blur was gone from her eyes and she could see properly. She had managed to roll beneath the lip of the overhang, letting the water spill down all around her, where it then diffused into half a dozen smaller streams.

  Had it not been for her survival knowledge, her wolf might have maintained its hold on her and remained huddled there until she froze to death, hurting and terrified, afraid of doing anything that might worsen her situation. But she knew soaked clothing would kill her even faster than bare skin, and she suspected the same was true of her wolf's furry coat.

  The feeling of the night air on her body almost convinced her to shift back once she changed shape, but she forced herself to stay in control. Her wolf was panicked, and the moment she left it behind her thoughts sharpened once again. She was near naked. The rags of the fur leggings clinging about her hips were all that had survived the sudden shift. Clutching a hand to her breast in alarm, she was relieved to find her pendant still resting there. It had not been lost, nor had the beads in her hair.

  Pulling herself through the thinnest part of the waterfall, she clambered back up the small ledge hand over hand, shivering so violently she feared she would slip at any moment. If she cut her bare feet on the rocks, she could not tell. They were too numb for her to notice. As she forced herself to move back up the riverbed—no longer just a bed, but a river in full—she saw the water pouring down from the top of the ridge. The choked outlet that had been blocked by debris was wide open, and much larger than it had first appeared.

  Netya's heart sank. She knew what the sound she had heard earlier was now. It had been the same sound she heard in her dream. Ice creaking. A small, but important outlet becoming clogged. Frozen water blocking the thin gaps between the branches and foliage that had gotten caught there. Slowly stifling the flow of the water, holding it back with a fragile plug. How long had the pool continued to fill beyond the capacity of its struggling outlets until the weight of the water became too much?

  The torrent was already slowing by the time she approached the cave again, the pool having spilled the worst of
its flood. She was having difficulty keeping her body moving. Her dark hair dripped down her back, but she could not bear to uncross her arms from around her body to squeeze it dry.

  As the sounds of rushing water dimmed, she heard the voices of the others nearby. The pack was huddled together at the edge of the trees, Adel taking count of everyone while Caspian and the other men lingered near the flooded cave's entrance, trying to snag any supplies they could rescue before the current swept them away.

  Wren called out and pointed when she caught sight of Netya, and within moments she had been dragged into the shivering arms of several of her pack-sisters, all of them rubbing one another to try and stay warm.

  "What happened to you?!" Adel exclaimed.

  "M-my wolf," she stammered out, but found herself unable to say more.

  Caspian ran over a moment later, drawing her into his arms and squeezing her tight. "I thought you were with the others."

  "Get out of your wet clothing," Adel said. "Find something to dry yourselves with if you can, and get a fire going before we freeze."

  "With what?" Caspian replied. "We have nothing to strike sparks with. Everything was in the cave."

  "Then I will dive back in there myself! We make fire or we die."

  "There is the fire we light up by the pool," Briar said. "We usually leave a striker there."

  Adel glanced up the ridge. The first light of dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky above it. "Go. Take Hari with you, and keep moving. We need to stay warm."

  "She's right," Caspian said softly into Netya's ear, his voice heavy with concern. "You're so cold. You can't stand still and shiver. Come, move your legs." He began hopping from foot to foot behind her, rubbing her arms as he held her tight against his chest. She could feel him shivering too, but he felt much warmer than she was. Raising one stiff foot off the ground, she forced herself to move, shifting her shoulders from side to side as she watched white clouds of breath steam the air in front of her face.

  It seemed an eternity before Briar and Hari arrived back with the pieces of flint and pyrite they needed. They had also brought back a dry hide awning from the small campsite at the top of the ridge, and wasted no time in propping it up with a series of branches to create a partially sheltered space around the fire the others had been building in the meantime. Soon a small flame was crackling between the logs, but there was not enough space for everyone to huddle around its warmth. Adel ushered Netya, Wren, and Lyucia's mother forward first, along with a few of the others who were suffering worst from the cold. The rest huddled around them, clad only in a scant few articles of clothing that had managed to remain dry.

  As the fire spread and the close press of bodies trapped in its warmth, Netya gradually began to notice a tingle of feeling creeping back up her legs. As she sat there quivering in Caspian's arms, she began to weep.

  "You are safe," Caspian said softly, rocking her in his arms as he kissed her shoulder. "All of us are safe. I even managed to snag your spear out of the water."

  That only made Netya cry harder. It was not just her fear that had upset her, though its ache still lingered like a bleeding wound. She had not even thought to pick up her treasured spear before running. She had not spared a thought for anyone or anything but herself.

  "What did we manage to save?" Adel said from somewhere behind her. Now that the immediate danger had passed, her tone sounded horribly bleak.

  "The furs will dry," Rokan said. "And if the water drains, or someone swims down there, we can retrieve our tools."

  "What about the rest?"

  A moment of silence followed.

  "You know the herbs are ruined," Caspian said at last. "The rest of the food, too. Maybe some pouches can be dried out, but the water carried many of them away."

  "We cannot practise our healing without those plants, nor our rituals," the den mother said.

  "At least we are alive, and no one was injured."

  "We are seers! Our power lies in those plants!" Adel rose to her feet in anger. "What will we offer the other packs when the gathering comes? We have nothing!"

  "We have our lives," Fern said timidly, clinging to Wren to keep the small girl warm.

  "And for how long?" The den mother grimaced, stepping away from the fire in spite of the cold. "The other packs will be upon us eventually, even if we weather this winter. They have the power of hunters and warriors. Our power is in our knowledge, our magic. Without it we are wandering blind through a forest of demons." She bared her teeth, fingers curling into her palms in frustration. For the first time in many weeks, Netya heard her mentor's voice crack with emotion. "The spirits have been against us at every turn of this journey."

  More uncomfortable silence lingered in the wake of Adel's words, broken only by the sounds of Netya weeping. No one had the heart to point the finger of blame at her for leading them to the cave. They all shared responsibility for overlooking the pool's frozen outlet.

  "Perhaps the water will stop," Selo, one of the other seers, ventured.

  "It will," Adel said. "And then this will happen again. Look at the riverbed. The water must come every year, if not every few months. That is why no other animal was foolish enough to make its den here."

  After a pause, Selo asked the terrible question that lingered on everyone's lips. "What will we do now?"

  Adel shook her head, staring into the flames of the fire. "I do not know."

  —6—

  A Dark Season

  That winter was among the most miserable of Netya's life. Fern and the other scouts had come across no other suitable place to make shelter in their travels, and to venture deeper into the forest would mean several days of walking without supplies, with no promise of respite ahead of them. It was too late in the season to begin travelling again. Most packs would already be huddled within their winter dens, several months of food gathered and stored away to see them through the cold months. Adel and her group had nothing.

  The next few days were spent feeding their fire, drying out clothing, and salvaging what they could from the flooded cave, all the while praying that rain or snow would not extinguish their one source of warmth. As soon as they had pieced together the remnants of their belongings, Adel had half the group begin fishing the lake and hunting in the woods nearby, while the rest worked tirelessly to build a shelter near the base of the ridge. The few good hand axes they had left were chipped and retouched by Briar several times over as they hacked down branches and small trees, layering them together in an inverted V shape up against the rocks.

  The seers had not the knowledge or skill to build a proper earth lodge, but they worked with what they had to make something resembling one. They had to hope their shelter would prove sturdy and insulating enough to keep them alive through the winter, despite its faults. Evergreen pine branches were layered on top of the roof, covered with earth, and then more branches and more soil on top of that until a thick covering had been created.

  Parts of the shelter collapsed several times as the weight became too much for the structure to bear. The bindings between the logs snapped, and the roof sagged inwards. There was no time for them to start over, so improvised repairs were made until most of the holes had been plugged and sagging supports were propped back up. Even with a fire burning inside, the shelter was still cold and drafty. One of the ragged hide coverings of their tents lined the area where they would sleep, putting a small but necessary barrier between them and the frozen ground, while another hung over the entrance, weighted down with rocks at night to keep out as much of the wind as possible.

  The others worked diligently, driven by the need for survival and Adel's stern guidance. The flood had undone all of the den mother's plans, but she was not the kind of woman to give in to despair. She would never be broken, even in the face of such adversity, and she fought back with anger rather than succumbing to the hopelessness that threatened to overtake her pack. There were no kind words spared for those who shirked their duties or indulged in the
ir weariness. She did not allow anyone to lament their situation even for a moment, despite drawing the ire of several of her followers in the process.

  Netya could tell her mentor's anger was partially directed at herself for how she had reacted the night of the flood. It had been a rare crack in her composure, and she had responded by retreating even farther within the prickly exterior she presented to the rest of the world.

  Netya was one of those who found herself on the receiving end of Adel's temper more often than not. The way she had behaved the night of the flood still haunted her deeply, and many days she found herself unable to muster the enthusiasm to work, the memory still fresh and bitter in her mind.

  "Get yourself up!"

  She awoke one morning to the harsh tug of the den mother's hands yanking her off the ground. She had been dreaming of swimming in the pool again, only now the dreams were bereft of any whimsy as she danced with the fishes. All that remained was the cold, choking water filling her lungs, and the terrifying creak of the ice growing louder and louder above her head.

  "I said on your feet, Netya! I need you hunting with Fern. You have slept longer than anyone."

  She slumped back to the ground against the wall of the shelter, shivering as she blinked the sleep from her eyes, trying to extricate herself from the fear of her dream.

  "Do not make me pick you up again, girl," Adel growled.

  Netya tried to make her body obey, but she was breathing too fast, her chest tightening as if she was trapped under the water again. The thought of taking the shape of her wolf and going out to hunt would only bring the memories closer. She tried to speak, but the words constricted in her throat, leaving her even shorter of breath until she was wheezing and gasping, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as moisture spilled from the corners of her eyes.

  "Netya?" The anger vanished from Adel's voice. "What is it, girl?"