He tracked her all the way to some strange ruins, but then great fat snowflakes flurried down. Szarok had rarely hunted in the snow—as vanguard, his training had taken precedence—and he found that it diffused the scent—not impossible just then—but the longer the weather continued, the fainter her trace became. In a few hours he’d lose all sense of her.
No, that can’t happen.
She was small with thin, human skin. The cold would devour her slowly. Dropping to the ground again, he found her, only a whisper, past the frozen water melting on the stones. She was here. She lingered. But from here, where? He snarled in frustration when he had to stop so often, checking and rechecking her path, only to find it ended at a bluff overlooking the sea. An icy blast of swirling snow stole his breath as he gazed down at the churning sea. Frost glimmered on the rocks below, and he roared at the possibility that she might have fallen. If that were true, he should already be diving, but a wave surged, breaking in a watery explosion on the stones.
Szarok threw himself toward the ledge, but … there was no trace of her. She didn’t go over here. He crawled, inch by inch, searching, eyes closed. The fox went away, and the snow meant the seabirds didn’t fly, so it was only dark and swirling sky ice, and the fear that escalated with every moment that he could not find her.
Not an echo, not a glimmer.
Just animal smells, but even those, apart from the sharper spikes of urine and scat, were fading, diminished beneath the inexorable flutter of the snow. So far, it only dissipated as it hit the ground. The day had been so warm, enough to swim without it feeling like ice torture, but past dark, after the sun slept, the weather seemed like madness. But none of his people had ever ventured so far north.
Szarok stayed low, checking for signs of her, aware that the longer it took to find her, the worse it would be. Even with his thicker skin, he’d started to feel the cold. Dread coiled into a knot in his chest, so huge that he could barely breathe around it. Now he smelled only wet earth, hints of clay and rotting vegetation.
Desperate, he snarled another wordless call. Though he couldn’t catch her scent, and the snow was falling thicker and faster now, an answering cry rang out, so faint and wind-thrown that a human wouldn’t have heard it. For endless moments he worried that snow devils might be plaguing him, sending him off on an infinite game of seek and repeat. But then, as he ran along the bluff, the distant sounds clarified into her voice. But she was obviously losing heart, likely wondering if she’d imagined him in the roar of the wind.
“Keep shouting!”
If she heard him, he couldn’t be sure, but her voice rang out again and again. He’d never tracked by ears alone, and the wind was a tricksy beast. His eyes felt frozen by the time he uncovered signs of where she’d fallen. Her scent here had nearly dissolved, leaving only the shimmer of an echo, a touch of smoke and copper.
She’s hurt.
Without hesitation, he leapt, though he couldn’t see, could only feel the swirling cold on his skin and hear the dread crashing of angry waves. Szarok landed on a slick rock, but he dug in with his claws and kept his footing. Tegan crouched nearby, huddled in on herself for warmth. The smell of blood bit at him, but it was worse that she barely smelled of anything else. Questions boiled up, but they could wait until he had her safe and warm.
“Get on my back.” Blinking slowly, she stared up at him with an uncomprehending look. Impatient, he knelt and drew her up behind him. “Hold on tight, understand?”
“Yes.” The sound was faint, but she tightened her icy arms around his neck.
Without his claws, the climb would’ve been impossible in this weather. More than once, he slid and caught himself, spearing into the earth with his talons. He pressed forward without rest, without pause, and when he crawled back onto solid ground, he didn’t stop moving. Szarok straightened and burst into a run. Her breath didn’t sound right, too slow, too light. At any moment it seemed as if she might stop and topple from his back.
Snow blind, he ran with all his strength. Since he couldn’t pause to warm her, he spoke, broken questions in human words and Uroch growls. She responded to nothing, and as he ran through the abandoned town, her arms loosened. He held her up, leaning forward so she didn’t fall. The angle made it hard to control his dash down the hill toward the signal tower, and his feet slid over the icy ground, scraped but numb. He could smell his injuries but couldn’t feel them.
Finally he burst into their little home and deposited her in bed. His hands shook as he stirred the embers of the fire to life and then fed it all the brush and dry leaves they’d gathered. Wasteful, but if they didn’t survive this night, there would never be any need for more fuel.
Still Tegan didn’t stir. He stripped away her frozen clothes without hesitation and then discarded his own. When he pulled her close, she didn’t feel like a living girl at all, and a shock of horror pierced him. Did she go while I was running? Fighting panic, he set his head to her chest. No. She’s still breathing. I just need to warm her. Her injuries didn’t seem serious enough to cause such lethargy, so it must be the chill. He wrapped himself around her first and then piled all of the furs he’d cured on top.
Between the layers, close contact, and the fire, the feeling came roaring back to his dead limbs. Nothing prepared him for the agonizing flame and needles that prickled, a little at first, and then with an awful intensity that left him snarling. He threaded his claws through her hair; he’d found it bizarre and uninviting at first, but now her head fur seemed sweetly … wild, a remnant of the animals that humans had been, like a wolf or a cat.
Eventually the pain faded. He held on to her, helping the only way he could. Is it enough? Cautiously, he explored her skull beneath the weight of tangled hair and found a knot. Tegan flinched and finally, finally opened her eyes. At first she only stared at him with an unseeing gaze, appearing not to understand.
When enlightenment dawned, she touched his cheek with a shaky hand. “You saved me.”
“Barely,” he bit out.
Now he should probably let go and feed her some meat, warm some water for her to drink, but his arms would not unlock. He could only hold her even closer, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The weakness overwhelming him had no peer. Even when the odds were bad, he didn’t let the prospect of failure prevent him from taking action.
“I’m sorry.”
He fisted one hand in her hair. “Please. Don’t ever go again where I can’t find you.”
“I didn’t mean to. The light wanes so fast here. You know, it’s different on the mainland. There’s more time where the sun hangs in the sky, orange and yellow, then the dark sort of ripens.”
Was she mad? To be talking of the sun and the mainland when he felt this, like a hole had opened inside him that might never be filled. Provoked, he shook her shoulder to be sure he had her full attention. “Listen, healer. Don’t ever go where I can’t find you,” he said again.
“I won’t.” But her tone made him feel like growling, and she didn’t smell contrite.
He snapped his teeth once and then swallowed hard, his throat thick with unspent rage and Uroch scolding. But if he unleashed it in his native tongue, she wouldn’t understand, and she must. “If you go,” he said deliberately, each word an angry bite, “I will follow.”
Now she stared up at him, eyes wide and dark and slightly fearful.
Good.
“By go, you mean…”
“Yes. I have a mission, healer. It is more important than my life. If you go where I can’t find you, I can’t … I can’t…” Yielding to that raging tide, he tipped his head back to snarl at the ceiling, a string of Uroch that she probably couldn’t translate. “I will follow. Understand? I will not mind anymore what else is lost, if you are.”
Tegan shivered, a little sob escaping her. “You’re saying if I’m careless, I’ll doom your people. Because I’m that important to you.”
“Yes.” Szarok set his jaw, angry all over again.
Because it was true, and part of him hated that it was, as if he’d turned down the wrong path without knowing, and now it was all darkness and thorns behind him, with no way back. He imagined bringing this human before the People and saying, This is the one who holds my heart-bond. There would be only shock, blame, and questions, so many questions, not least how the vanguard could grant his deepest trust to the enemy. It was impossible for so many reasons.
But most of all, because of—
“I won’t go where you can’t find me,” she said softly. “I’ll take care.”
Some of the sting went away because it seemed she understood at last. Chastened, she tried to move away, and this time he let go, a conscious choice. He looked away as she put on the baggy uniform that comprised their sole change of clothes. She didn’t come back to bed afterward, instead kneeling before the stove.
“Eat something.” He passed the cooked meat to her without meeting her gaze.
“I’m sorry for scaring you.”
Part of him realized he should comfort her instead of being like this, but his entire body, inside and out, ached with the throb of a sore that wouldn’t heal. The old ones had suffered that way, every step a misery, and he had those memories, but this was the first time anything had left him so raw. With half his heart, he wanted her so close that she could never get away, and with the rest, he wanted to run until he couldn’t see, hear, or smell her, and hope with desperate grief that this awful need went away.
I am turning from my purpose. There is one who waits. But the reminder didn’t help.
“You’re heartless,” he muttered, as if she had nearly frozen to death intentionally.
“No.” She came toward him on her knees, stopping short of contact. “I have a heart, and it’s yours, but maybe you don’t want it.”
His rage collapsed in on itself, dwindling until the space between them seemed intolerable. With a resigned sigh, he put out his hand. She took it. And with her other, she ate the meat he had provided, reminding him again that she was kin. Exhaustion piled in then. His head must have weighed more than his whole body, for he tipped over and met the mattress. The crash hit hard, as if all of his strength followed his fury. He could only clutch her fingers. Dimly, he sensed cool hands on his cheeks, his head, but he couldn’t respond.
Her voice sounded faint and fuzzy. “It’s normal, reaction setting in. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
* * *
There was nothing more until the lovely, familiar rumble of wake and rise brought him from sleep. Tegan had fresh fish waiting for him, and with a smile she watched him devour it. This morning he felt more balanced, slightly chagrined by his behavior the night before. But to his astonishment, she didn’t refer to it. Instead she only pressed a kiss to the top of his head and acted as if she nursed no grievance. Such excess would have earned him a good pummeling from a Uroch partner, so perhaps being entangled with her wasn’t all disadvantages.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Sore. I wish I had my bag, but…” She shrugged. “I miss my staff even more. I’ve gotten used to the support, and it makes a handy weapon.”
“Did you clean your arm?”
“How…” Appearing to reconsider the question, she only nodded.
“Did the snow melt?”
“It didn’t stay. The sun’s bright again today, but I think we should skip the swimming lesson. We both need to rest.”
“You can have vegetables. I’ll hunt this afternoon.”
“We should try signaling tonight.” Tegan paused, her gaze on the distance between them. “I don’t want anything else to go wrong, but the longer we’re alone here, the more likely it is that we’ll take risks. And … I can’t be the reason you disappoint your people.”
He understood why she tiptoed around the harsh truth. Humans and Uroch were only one year past a brutal war that would’ve ended in annihilation. The old hatreds ran so deep that anything could spark a renewed conflict. Sometimes he felt as if he ran along a road lined with broken blades, and only blood would mark his passing.
But … it was wrong to have set so much on her shoulders. “I was … not myself. Now that my mind is clear, I hope I would be strong enough to focus on my work and not on…” Loss. Devastation. There was a concept in his native tongue that encompassed a feeling of sorrow so complete that it meant, My soul is weeping. But even that translation didn’t adequately express the broken anguish of wreckage that cratered one’s entire being.
For a moment he feared that revelation would wound her, but instead she sighed a little and smelled of the sweetness of relief. “Thank you. Your task is too important. More than this.”
It both pleased and hurt him that she understood. “Why are you so wise and good?”
She flattened her hand over her heart. “I’m not. But be sure of this: I’ve survived so much worse, and I’m stronger than I look. I won’t ever give up. Sometimes the methods I choose may not seem the fiercest, but in my way, I am always resisting, always—”
“Who dares imply that you’re not a warrior?” he snapped, greatly affronted.
Seeming amused, she touched his cheek. “Stand down. It doesn’t happen so much anymore. And look, you made me forget what I meant to say.”
Sorry, he growled.
“Ah yes. It’s this—even without me, your work must go on. And I can’t bear to hurt you, but … even if…” She struggled to get the words out, eyes cast up. “You let go your memories, I will go on because I’ve fought too hard for too long. Even without you, I can heal the sick. I can keep learning.” The tears streaming from her eyes whispered of great suffering, of wounds he couldn’t see but only sense. “Know that doesn’t diminish—”
“Stop,” he said. “Please, don’t keep last night’s madness in your heart, for it shames me.”
She cried, harder than he’d ever seen. But humans didn’t show him their sorrow; they saw him as a monster, an enemy who preyed on weakness. The fact that she trusted him with the swollen horror of her naked, grieving face brightened him as if he’d swallowed the sun. Szarok patted her shoulder, relishing in the smell of her salt and the heat of her skin. She leaned into him and encircled his neck with her arms.
“I feel better about this now. Before, I thought we had to stop, because neither of us can afford to be weak. But if it makes us stronger, more resolved not to falter—”
“Then we carry on,” he said tenderly. “And so we must, my Tegan, my treasure. It would break my heart if you turned from me now.”
Better Than Elsewhere
James Morrow had never seen a snowstorm out at sea, and it would’ve been breathtaking if it hadn’t also been cold as a witch’s tit. He was helping Sung Ji scrape away ice as fast as it formed on deck, making it hazardous for the sailors. Millie was busy below with a constant rotation of coughs and complaints. He’d expected the crew to caterwaul about the alleged curse, but misery and peril stole all their spare energy.
It wasn’t deep winter, though, so there was no ice in the water yet. According to Captain Advika, that was their saving grace. He’d thought life was hard marching with Company D, but he’d never sailed through darkness spackled white until his face froze and he couldn’t get a proper breath. Sung Ji mocked him with exaggerated wheezing as they went to redo work they’d already finished once, twice, three times.
Will this night never end?
That evening Morrow didn’t sleep, but in the morning, when light broke wide over the sea, it was misty but clearing, and he saw land in the distance. Not an island like Antecost or the skerries they’d been passing, but a proper mainland. Yet from the shape of the coast, he knew it wasn’t the one they’d left behind. There would no Otterburn here, no Winterville or Soldier’s Pond, definitely no Lorraine or Gaspard. He’d gone sailing once before, but only for a few days, and he’d never gone beyond the widening of the bay. Instead he’d crept into the ruins time and again, rescuing old-world stories when he could’ve been making
his own.
Despite smothering sadness and fear for Tegan, he couldn’t quell a spark of excitement. I’m about to set foot somewhere entirely new. Advika shouted at her men as they streamed toward the docks. Since every settlement was different, Morrow leaned forward, anxious for a glimpse of landfall. This town had people waiting, many wearing anxious frowns.
“What’s this place called?” he asked Sung Ji.
“Peckinpaugh. It’s one of the largest settlements on our winter run. But when the captain said we’d be gone a half a year, not all that time’s on the open water. We usually winter in Baybridge, but this time I’m worried we won’t make it before the big ice.”
As the Catalina cruised toward port, Morrow asked, “Pardon my ignorance, but … the whole sea doesn’t actually freeze…?”
“The rivers do and parts of the bay, back toward Antecost. This far north, you get ice floes that obstruct the usual straits. And sometimes they make it near impossible to navigate the shoals, especially when the water’s dark and murky. I don’t know how many ships have gone down due to ice and the bones of another wreck.”
Now that he knew a little more about the dangers that lay ahead, Morrow wondered how the rest of the voyage would go. There must be other settlements between Peckinpaugh and Baybridge, so how many and how much time could they make up? Between the trouble in Antecost, the ferocious storm, and Captain Advika’s decision to turn back, the whole trade run might be in jeopardy.
Finally the ship eased up to the dock, and since people had been calling and waving for a while, a large group stood assembled. A couple of Advika’s sailors surged forward, running down the gangplank toward lovers who seemed to be waiting. One sailor greeted a handsome man with a warm hug and a deep kiss while another of his fellows fought the crowd to reach a very pregnant woman. With the number waiting, there were already more people than lived in Rosemere. Morrow stared, incredulous. The very pregnant woman wasn’t the only expectant mother in the crowd, either. The captain greeted one family with a glad smile.