“I know, Helper. I feel it, too.”
Some dark Power pressed down on them, smothering. So close and suffocating that it should have been visible, like a dirty mist in the air.
The skin prickled on Sunchaser’s neck, and tickles ran across his skin like invisible ants. Danger … there … ahead of them, in the trees. But he didn’t know how far ahead.
Sunchaser slowed and cocked his head. From long practice, he cleared himself of worries and fear, blanking himself to the sensations of Power, seeking the source of … what?
Violent anger. Feral rage.
It burned like a fire in Sunchaser’s soul. And hate. Festering hate. White hot. So much hatred for everything alive.
The searing sensation increased with the darkness, as though the beast fed upon and gained its Power from the deepening shadows. Once when Sunchaser had accidentally cornered a short-faced bear in a box canyon, he’d felt this same intensity of blind fury. Could it be a bear? He lifted his nose to scent the wind. Short-faced bears had a rank odor from the carrion they routinely fed upon.
Test the wind as he might, he smelled only the damp exhalations of grass and pine.
The urge built: Flee! Run from the creature’s path!
But Kestrel would be walking this same trail, not so far ahead. Perhaps on a collision course with that enraged animal. Sunchaser had pushed himself mercilessly, trying to catch up with her before darkness fell. His exhausted legs ached, but his panicked soul kept saying, Hurry. You must hurry. You have to find her before Lambkill does!
Oxbalm wouldn’t simply turn Kestrel over to Lambkill; of that, Sunchaser felt certain. Sumac would demand a council session to consider the charges … assuming that Kestrel made it to the village before her husband captured her. And if she didn’t, how would Sunchaser find her? Where would Lambkill take her? Back to Juniper Village? ‘
Or would he kill her here, in the depths of the forest, where no one would know?
“Come on, Helper. Let’s run again. We can do it.”
Sunchaser shook back the sweaty strands of white hair that had glued themselves to his forehead and sprinted up the hill, pushing his muscles until they trembled in protest.
Helper—a black shape gliding through the darkness-ranged out in front of him. Helper had stopped growling, had gone quiet the way a wild dog does when he has prey in sight. Sunchaser’s nerves crackled like fur rubbed by an angry hand. Only tame dogs yelped and panted their eagerness, foolishly warning the prey.
Helper vanished silently over the next grassy swell.
Beyond the shadowy outlines of the foothills, a lustrous arc of silver lit the sky. Above-Old-Man would be up soon, and his mighty presence would chase away half of the Star People. Sunchaser prayed that the trail cut across meadows and not through the tree-choked forest. In the open, moonlight would illuminate any enemy who dared to attack and give him a target for his dart. Most of the animals that roamed the night would cling to the densest brush and trees, waiting for unsuspecting prey. If the trail veered into the forest, could he
afford to stay in the meadows? He might lose his way … and precious time.
All day long he’d been frantic for Kestrel. He knew why she had gone. She’d tried before to tell him that she thought herself responsible for his inability to find his way through the maze. His failures at Healing yesterday must have tormented her. And I made it worse—forcing my needs upon her. It’s not your fault, Kestrel. Those things are my fault. You’re not to blame!
Blessed Spirits, how he missed her. He’d never understood before what Good Plume had meant when she’d said, “Nobody’s happy with only half a soul,” but he did now. Kestrel’s departure had left him feeling fragmented, only half alive. The undulations in the trail made his moccasins slip and slide, but he kept up a steady trot, his gaze ever sweeping the shadows.
He dipped down the side of one hill and ran up another. When he reached the crest and looked into the narrow valley below, he saw a strewn handful of dove-colored ponds. The weak, inverted images of the trees stood perfectly preserved on those still, reflective surfaces.
Sunchaser didn’t see Helper. But he heard the soft rustle of fur catching on brush. He turned to look over his shoulder.
“It’s just darkness,” he whispered to himself. But he shivered, feeling something out there, as if danger coalesced from the threads of shadows.
“Helper?” he called. “Is that you, boy?”
Something stirred in the inky shadows at the edge of the trees east of the trail. Did the failing light play tricks? or did eyes gleam there?
“Helper?”
Without warning, the huge animal burst from the darkness. On powerful legs, it shot up the hill toward him, its tongue lolling. Fear rushed through Sunchaser’s veins. He fell backward a step and pulled a dart from the quiver