Catching her up quickly, Rune nipped at her calf. “Where are you going?”
“To see if anything edible’s growing in the shallow part of the lake.” She happened to be looking at him, so she saw something like a grimace cross his furred features and grinned. “Not meat, but I like it.”
Against Rune’s protests, she made a small, sheltered fire between two large boulders and Healed her mouth while she waited for her meal to cook. The hunt had been good. She’d found both watercress and wild onions in abundance. The wolf contributed three fat rabbits. She made a stew of sorts in the battered cook pot she always carried. Rune ate his share of the meat raw. Belly really full for the first time since before she’d lain in wait for Travis, she carted water from the lake to douse the coals.
Rune eyed the rising smoke. Every aspect of his body, from his tautly held tail to the set of his shoulders, told her he thought her fire posed a huge risk.
“Stand down, silly.” She made an expansive gesture with both hands, sure she’d sleep well since she’d had such a sumptuous meal.
He threw an injured look her way. “I will take first watch.”
Too tired to argue, she pulled all her clothes on to ward against the chill of the night, laid her head on her pack, and closed her eyes. Sleep came, but it was almost worse than none. Aislinn stood outside herself, suspended above her body, which was tossing and turning on the hard ground. Metae was there, shrieking at her just like she had when Aislinn had been about to throw her magic down the vortex. Except this time, the Lemurian dunned her for being late.
“I told you four days.”
“I still have two,” Aislinn protested.
“Not by my count.”
Guess I wasn’t so lucky in that border world. Chastised, Aislinn understood that she was awake and in astral form. Somewhat stiffly, she bowed her head. “What would you have me do?”
“How came you by Marta’s wolf?” As she often did, Metae switched topics.
“He picked me.” Aislinn glanced at Rune. He sat still as a carved statue, staring straight ahead, frozen in time. Apparently, Metae didn’t want him to overhear their conversation.
The mage eyed her. If felt as if her soul and her memories were being scrutinized through a tightly woven web. The inside of her head burned. Tears leaked from her eyes. When she brushed them away and looked at her fingertips, they were red. Christ. She made my eyes bleed.
“Sorry. I forgot how fragile you humans are.” Metae didn’t sound the least bit sorry. “A Hunter picked you, and you Healed him when he was hurt?”
“Why ask? You already know those things.” Aislinn heard a peevish undercurrent in her tone, but her temper was on the uptick, so she didn’t try to modulate it. “I’m not asleep. May I rejoin my body?”
Disorientation blurred her vision as astral and physical bodies collided. She’d never cared for the sensation. It made her nauseous. Taking little, panting breaths to make sure her dinner stayed in her stomach where it belonged, she raised her gaze to Metae. The mage was in a female phase. The Old Ones were hermaphroditic, sometimes appearing as one sex, sometimes the other. Aislinn had tried to ask one time about how they managed to have children. All her blushing and stammering had bought her was a bunch of doublespeak.
The Lemurian was over seven feet tall. Male or female, that part never changed. Blonde hair shrouded her. It was so long and thick that the white robes beneath were all but obscured. Gold jewelry shone like a queen’s ransom. A thick torc sat round her neck. Another circled her brow. Rings set with enormous gemstones sparked from nearly every finger. An iridescence to her skin made it hard to look directly at her. Her eyes were the worst, though. Deep, dark pools, they swirled hypnotically. Aislinn had learned early on to avoid gazing at any Old One’s eyes. Once ensnared, she couldn’t turn away until they released her. The first time it happened, the Old One—not Metae—had laughed at her, but didn’t let her go, for what felt like an endless time. The lesson sank in. She hadn’t made that mistake again.
“Thank you.” Aislinn bowed slightly, feeling rigid and awkward like she always did around the Old Ones. “I am sorry I am late. What would you have me do?”
The Lemurian moved around her in a circle. Aislinn became stillness itself, waiting. They stood like that, Metae moving and Aislinn immobile, until dawn lightened the eastern horizon. Sometimes, Metae moved so quickly that Aislinn could only feel her, and sometimes, so slowly that the only hint she moved at all was her position shifted subtly as time flowed past.