Black Bead

They did not die. This surprised her. She waited, listening, her fist held up to hold her Pack in place. The bhotta moved slowly downhill. Eventually, the sky hunters moved out of range. When it seemed that the time was again right, she signaled to her Pack to follow and clambered out of the hole. The stink of bhotta hung heavy on the air. She pressed her hand to her nose to keep from sneezing and ran on, the Pack on her heels.
The warm valley air flowed up the mountain, taking their scent away from the bhotta s nose. She counted on that flow. It was one of the key pieces in her strategic game of hunter and hunted but she knew that the wind would begin to shift, on towards dusk and betray them. Time was her enemy.
Wait, whispered Bear.
Cheobawn skidded to a halt, confused. The overwhelming need to race towards home was an excruciatingly painful feeling. Once again the next bright place lay just beyond her reach, dark. She stamped her foot in frustration. Wait? Wait for what?
One of the children clicked a query behind her. She held up her hand, wishing them silent as she put all her energy into listening for the moment that would tell her it was safe to move.
A bull fenelk bugled somewhere south of their position. Cheobawn found it in the ambient and tasted its mood. Nervous that the sky hunters circled high overhead, it headed downhill towards the southern forests where it would spend the night. She followed it in her mind as it strode beneath an ancient blackoak, its horns laid flat along its back, its tusks up and ready for anything that would be so foolish as to attack it.
A dubeh leopard lifted its head from where it rested on a blackoak branch, watching the elk. The giant cat was on its way up to the needletree forest where the grunters grazed in the evenings. Cheobawn s heart twisted painfully in her chest. She and her demi-Pack stood in its path.
The leopard was in no hurry. It rose to its feet and stalked the fenelk along the high branches. If they hurried, they would avoid the leopard. She turned towards home but the bright spot in the ambient was not in front of her. It was somewhere uphill. Cheobawn peered up the slope but saw nothing, felt nothing. She did not understand the need for the detour.
Tam clicked another query.
Cheobawn looked back at him. Dubeh leopard, she signed. Wait.
Tam s eyes widened.
She checked the dubeh once more. It had grown bored with its game and now paced the trees in their direction.
She looked towards home again and took a step in that direction. All the threads in her mind died and turned dark.
Fine.
Cheobawn flashed Tam a grim look and turned to face up the slope. Her first step told her she was going in the right direction. She began to run in earnest. Alain groaned behind her. She did not pause or slow her speed. A dubeh was not something any of them could face.
The tracks of many grunters crossed the slope just below a vast expanse of scree. She stopped and turned. Her friends staggered to a stop. Pointing towards the deep hoof prints, she signed. Do what I do.
Then she ran alongside the hoof prints for a hundred paces before leaping away downhill. Tam danced over the grunter trail, following her lead.
When the dubeh turned to go hunting in earnest, it would find their scent trail and follow it. The grunter spoor would remind it that it was hungry and that humans were a poor meal, by comparison.
The next bright place in the ambient pulled her onward. Cheobawn did not slow her pace. She gradually worked her way down the hill, mindful of her exhausted companions.
The roosting tree of a flock of carrion lizards blocked their way south. She turned west and ran on.
The black water bogs lay in that direction. She did not want to cross the bogs. She tried to veer north and west, hoping to take a path between the cliffs and the vast pools of stinking black water but the threads of their future died inside her mind. Cheobawn tried to sense what blocked the way. A hive of stinging nasties infested the rocks there and a fenelk mother and her small calf stood dozing just beyond that. She backtracked and found another way around the pool, picking her footing on ground that oozed black mud if you stood too long in any one spot. They were now in the heart of the bogs, a place not even the most experienced trackers ever went.
Bear Under the Mountain danced around her, enticing her on. She snarled at him, tired of his games. She did not want to be here. She wanted to veer north, away from the sucking mud and the clouds of tiny biting flies, but rock slides blocked that retreat. She thought about heading south and west towards the well traveled South Road where they would have been unhindered by rough terrain and thick vegetation but black water blocked every turn.
Life on the mountain was in motion, pressing at her psi sense. She pressed back, pushing with all her might at things that threatened to cross in front of them and cut off their only route, wishing them to pause, as the dubeh had done, to stay, to turn and find another direction.
Sight and psi sense began to blur dangerously. Reality twisted inside her head. She moved the world by running. Running was all she could do.
Cheobawn tried to stay focused by making it into a game. Pluck the threads of their future, pick the strongest, and follow it until it ran out. Choose another. She would adjust direction, run for a while until the thread ran out in her mind, then she would change directions to follow the next. It was like navigating in a pitch black room. She knew this game. The Mothers played it with their daughters as soon as they could walk. Find the dolly. No coming out until you found dolly. Cheobawn really hated dollies.
Another bright spot in the ambient approached. At just the right moment, she pivoted and raced straight up the slope towards a point where the ridge jutted out into the valley. Here the rock had collapsed under its own weight, leaving a lone stone spire standing sentinel over an expanse of rock slides dotted with patches of vegetation trying to find a foothold in the unstable ground.
The sound of snuffling and the click of claws on the loose rock above them greeted her ears as she clambered up to the base of the spire. The sound was faint and she heard it only because she was expecting it. They were nearly out of time, once again.
Climb, she signed frantically. She did not wait to see that they obeyed. She jammed her hooked stick into the loops on her belt to free both hands. Jumping up as high as she could reach, her fingertips caught a knob of rock as a handhold. Using her momentum, she swung her knee up to wedge the toe of her boot into a crack. From this precarious perch, she pulled herself up to reach for the next irregularity in the face of the rock.
Taking the holds dangerously fast, the climb took less than a minute but it felt like forever. A large flat stone crowned the pinnacle. She threw her arm over the lip and clawed at the rough stone as she inched over the rim on her belly. Safe at last, she collapsed and tried to get her breath back.
Was it fear or fatigue that turned her muscles to jelly? It was hard to tell. She had not taken a drink since well before the bhotta and the last food she had eaten had long since disappeared, making her belly feel hollow. Cheobawn pulled all the power she could handle out of the mountain s reserve, postponing the needs of her body for some future time.
When she thought she could handle it, she crawled to the edge to help the next person up. Megan was almost to the rim. Cheobawn spread herself flat and pulled the older girl up the last few feet by her belt. Alain was next, with Tam climbing by his side, though there was little Tam could do if Alain lost a hold point and fell.
She risked a glance up the slope but dense brush blocked her view. Whatever it was, it had caught their scent. A deep, excited moan came from just beyond a thicket of thornberries. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
She grabbed Alain s hand, Megan grabbed the other and between the two of them, they hauled him over the rim. He collapsed face down on the tiny plateau nearly sobbing with exhaustion as Tam pulled himself up and whirled around to reach down towards Connor.
The youngest boy was still too far down. He was having a hard time of it for some reason. Every gain up the rock face twisted his face in agony. Cheobawn measured the distance between him and the ground and then checked up-slope. They were out of time. A large prehensile nose pushed its way clear of the greenery and sniffed deeply. Massive shoulders parted the stalks as the rest of the animal followed its nose towards the desperate Pack.
A treebear. The thing was as tall as a grown man at the shoulder and standing on its hind feet it surely would be taller than three grown men. They were good climbers, these animals, if their claws could find a purchase.
Cheobawn felt sick. She may have doomed them, bringing them up here with nowhere to retreat.
The treebear rose on its hind legs and lifted its nose high in the air. It had not spotted them yet but surely it would soon. What it lacked in vision and psi abilities it more than made up for with its nose.
Megan pushed Cheobawn out of the way and lay down on her belly, inching forward as far as she could. Alarmed, Cheobawn grabbed the older girl s ankles and braced her heels against the rock, holding on as tight as she could. Alain did the same for Tam as Tam leaned out over the edge, though Alain looked as weak as a baby and probably could not hold on for long if Tam started to fall.
Connor came up at last, clawing his way over the bodies of his friends. Cheobawn grabbed them all, pulled them away from the edges, and pressed them down into the stone. Alain shuddered, trying to smother a cough with his fist, his exhausted lungs betraying him. There was so little room in the center of the cap stone they were forced to overlap arms and legs, forming a solid ball of child flesh. Cheobawn spread herself thin around the edge of the ball, hugging Megan with her legs and Connor with her arms. Every moment or so, she lifted her head just enough to keep track of the bear.
The treebear whuffed deeply and dropped back down on all four feet. Rocks shifted and skittered under its weight. Its claws, large enough to rip open dead trees in search of honeybuzzer nests and treehopper dens, gave it an odd, toed-in gait as it clambered down the loose stones, swinging its head from side to side to catch their scent. Cheobawn watched as it approached the base of their roost and then disappeared below them.
Now was when she would find out how good their Luck was. She buried her nose in the small of Connor s back, held her breath, and waited.
All sound of movement stopped right below them. The snuffing intensified. That could mean only one thing. It knew they were up here. Cheobawn cursed their rotten Luck and tried to figure out where she had gone wrong. On the surface, walking right up under the nose of a treebear with the breeze at their backs seemed suicidal. But getting above its nose should have confused it. If they had truly been blessed, the bear should have followed their backtrail down the slope.
Claws scraped against the rock face and the stone under them quaked slightly. The bear had not been fooled. It was trying to climb. It paced the base of the spire, trying every crack and crevice with a tenacious thoroughness, circling once, twice, and then again a third time, the sound of its excited whuffing marking its progress. Occasionally it would find a purchase for its claws but the stone was too brittle. They listened to the tiny pops as the rock fractured under the bear s weight, the surface of the spire shedding flakes of itself, the chips clattering down the steep incline to add themselves to the already unstable scree.
The treebear s frustrated moan gave her hope. What
had afforded small children a toe hold was not enough for something as massive as a treebear. Perhaps Luck was still on their side. Cheobawn lifted her head and then clutched frantically at anything within reach as the stone shuddered, then shuddered again.
For a moment she thought it was an earthquake. Then it hit her. The treebear was trying to knock the stone spire over using its massive strength.
The stones shuddered once more.
She had not thought she could be more afraid than she already was but true terror exploded in her mind like fire, stripping away any illusion of control she might have thought she had over what lay in her core. Adrenaline fueled a firestorm of psi that caught her up in its pressure wave and blew her out into the world.
For a moment, the world became nothing but light and sound and she was the formless thing unraveling at its core. She clutched at the fabric of reality, trying to find an anchor point. Cheobawn became a frightened ball of children, but she could not hang onto that thought, the winds of her fear too strong. In succession, she became a stone spire, then a treebear intent on toppling this great stone tree.
Cheobawn could not stop the storm that was blowing her away from herself. She became the stones and bones of a ridge line that held back the weight of half a mountain. She became the mountain, perpetual snowfields on her crown, the forest living flesh upon her flanks, the bones of her roots sunk into a hot mass of the plastic rock that seethed restlessly under the weight of its rigid shell.
Not even a planet could contain her. She was preparing to leap off into the vacuum of space after becoming the ball of living rock caught up in the tyranny of a star s orbit when sanity returned. Little girls did not belong in the darkness between stars. Little girls belonged in little bodies. She released her hold on the expanding bubble of psi energy and sank back towards the fragile vessel meant to contain her life spark.
Cheobawn remembered, as she let go of the place where she existed as a mountain, that she was still in mortal danger. As she contracted down to tree size, she found the treebear, standing on its hind legs, front paws planted against a puny mound of rock. She settled into it, pulling its life close around her like a warm blanket on a cold morning.
Cheobawn found herself staring at her paws, confused. Why was she trying to tip this stone? Then the faintest smell of blood reminded her. She had treed a thing without a name and it was wounded. The promise of an easy dinner was hard to ignore. She reared back and hit the spire one more time, putting the weight of her massive shoulders behind that blow. Though stone ground against stone, nothing big seemed to be shaking loose. It was very frustrating. She lifted her nose high and tasted the air, her mouth watering, imagining warm furry bodies struggling in her jaws, the blood flowing hot, bones cracking.
No!
Revulsion flooded her mind. Cheobawn shied away, landing on all fours. She shook her head to clear it of the thoughts that buzzed around inside her like a swarm of flying nasties. She did not want to eat the nameless ones. She loved them. Didn t she? She moaned, rocking from paw to paw, love and hunger mixed up in her mind.
A fernhen clucked somewhere downhill, a welcome distraction, and Cheobawn lifted her nose to catch its scent. Hens meant eggs. She loved eggs. She turned and scrambled down the scree, putting distance between herself and the unease that clung to the tall spire.
Someone was shaking her arm. She opened her eyes. Tam was crouched over her.
Sleeping? Really! he signed, a look of astonished disbelief on his face. This is not a stroll through the garden. We can relax later, his fingers scolded.
Cheobawn sat up and scrubbed her hands roughly over her face. Had she fainted? Had it been a dream?
Where is the treebear? she queried with the flick of a finger. Tam looked over his shoulder and clicked softly. Alain was flat on his belly peering over the edge. He looked up at the sound. Tam repeated her question.
Gone down into the trees, headed into the swamp, Alain signed. Cheobawn rose to her knees and looked over the side. It was truly gone. Once again, Luck had smiled upon them.
She turned and considered each member of her pack, biting her lip. Whether a dream or a prescient vision, her foray out to the edge of the world had told her one thing. She signed at Tam and Megan to watch the sky. She touched their bladed sticks and pointed up to reinforce that idea. Then she turned to Connor.
Are you hurt? she signed.
It is nothing, he signed back. She did not believe him, but she also did not believe he was trying to be stoic. He was angry with her.
Liar, she signed. Show me.
Connor scowled at her and then reluctantly answered.
Wet boots, he signed with a grimace.
Explain, she signed, puzzled. They all had wet boots. The liners were designed to compensate for that.
Sore foot, he signed with a shrug. She frowned at him. It was surely more than just being footsore. She calculated the distance left to go, calling up Tam s map to compare it with her own internal map. It was still far. Too far. Doubly far if one of them was lame.
Show me, she insisted.
No. I will be alright, he signed with an angry flick of his fingers.
She reached for his boot. Connor tried to bat her hands away but Tam reached out and caught hold of his wrist.
Follow orders, the older boy signed. Connor pressed his lips together to contain his anger and then unlaced one of his boots. Cheobawn helped him pull it off. What she saw gave her pause.
Where is your liner? she signed with a sinking feeling.
Lost. At the pool, he signed.
The boots were cut big to accommodate the thickness of the liner. Without it, the foot had a tendency to slip around a lot inside the boot, causing abrasions and blisters. Soaking the foot and the leather in water exacerbated the problem a thousand fold. The sole of his foot, the back of his heel and the bottom of every toe were solid blisters. Most of them had burst and now oozed pink fluid. It was like looking at raw meat.
It had not been a dream.
Why didn t you say something? she asked, letting her frustration show on her face.
You did not wait, Connor signed, a look of angry accusation on his face. You left me. Without looking behind. What was I supposed to do? Connor s body shook with his outrage.
Tam touched Connor s shoulder but the smaller boy shook his hand off, his eyes locked with hers.
She could not deny it. Connor knew even if Tam did not. She bit her lip against the words that wanted to spill out of her heart. She had forgotten him. At the pool. In the tubegrass grove. She had nearly left without him.
I was scared. It will not happen again. Promise, she signed. Connor glared at her, unmollified. His anger was justifiable. She did not tell him she might have to break that promise again soon.
What can we do? signed Megan
I can make it, Connor signed, grabbing his boot. Keep going.
No, Cheobawn said. His foot would be a bleeding wound in another click. The smell of blood would have every predator on the mountain on their trail. She considered leaving him here and coming back for him but she knew he would not live to see the morning. There were sky hunters large enough to pluck grown treehoppers from the top of the forest canopy. What chance did a small boy have? They could stick together, try to hold the rock spire all night and hike out in the morning but the thought of that made her insides turn to water. More people than just this Pack would be dead when morning came. They needed to get back before the Fathers sent out search parties. The Fathers would not risk their lives for four foolish children, but they might be induced to come after her, Mora s truedaughter.
Cheobawn looked around at the faces of her friends. Alain was in trouble, lips pale and eyes deeply shadowed. Tam, though not as bad, still looked a little green. Megan was the least impacted, physically, but her mental state kept her close to the edge of control. Cheobawn rubbed her forehead, trying to push back the ambient of the mountain that threatened to crush her.
Things were going wrong. The Luck was shifting. She had walked the world in treebear s body. That blackout did not speak well of her own mental state. It had been so easy, leaping out her body, becoming that which could not be dominated. Dead easy. What if she left and never came back? Would they let the mountain take her body, thinking her dead? Her mind shied away from that unspeakable thought.
They had to get off this rock and keep going. She looked around. Surely there must be something around them that they could use to bandage his foot. Next time, she thought, we will bring extra liners and a medkit and trail rations that could be eaten on the go and day packs instead of gleaner baskets, even though the gleaner baskets could hold fragile things without crushing them. Fragile things like eggs.
Cheobawn looked up, grinning.
I am an idiot, she said pulling off her pack. She pulled a handful of damp moss out of its depths and began arranging it into a foot shaped pad. She kept adding more and more moss until the thickness seemed right. Tam, understanding the point of her crafting, handed her Connor s boot. She slid the pad in and then added a little more around the edges, taking care to pad the toes. When it seemed right, she handed the boot back to Connor.
Connor tried to put it on. The pain made him moan. Resting had not helped his foot. It was starting to swell.
Cheobawn lifted her head to taste the ambient. Time was sliding away. She moved to take the boot but Tam grabbed it first. He shoved Connor onto his back and grabbed his ankle.
Hold him down, Tam signed at Megan.
Megan moved to kneel over Connor s head, pressing his shoulders down onto the rock with all her weight.
Hold his knee, Tam told Cheobawn. Cheobawn sat down and pulled Connor s leg into her lap, his other knee pressed against her back.
Tam looked into Connor s eyes and made sure he could see his fingers when he signed.
This will hurt. A lot.
Connor nodded.
The next two minutes were the worst of Cheobawn s short life. Connor did not make a sound as Tam forced his foot back into the boot but Cheobawn could feel him stiffen and jerk with the pain. Cheobawn was crying when it was done, her tears matching those that streamed down Connor s cheeks. The small boy lay, pale and trembling as Tam scooped the rest of the moss out of her pack and stuffed it tightly around Connor s ankle. When he was satisfied, he tightened the laces, securing them again in the top of the boot.
Tight? Tam s fingers asked, his fingers catching at Connor s attention. Connor sat up and rubbed the sweat out of his eyes and flicked a finger. Tam repeated his question.
Too tight, Connor signed with a grimace.
Good, Tam nodded, No movement. No blood on the ground. He used the hunter s sign for an animal bleeding out, perhaps as a warning to Connor to remind him of his danger.
The others looked grim at that reminder. Good, Cheobawn thought, good to think such things when you are running for your life. She slipped her pack back on while she tested the threads of their future in her mind. One of the threads seemed promising. She slid over the edge and began the climb down.
Tam came next, leading Connor down as he tested the limits of his padded foot. He seemed to be more steady, the moss padding easing the pain a bit.
Alain came next. He lost a toe hold not far from the bottom and dropped the last two meters with Tam breaking his fall. Megan jumped down last. Cheobawn waited for them to sort themselves out. When she had their attention, she lifted her fingers.
Not far. Around two clicks, she guessed.
None of them looked happy at the news. Two clicks might as well have been twenty. The rest on the spire had not helped them.
Cheobawn shook her head, looking away. There was nothing more she could do for them. The mountain wanted her attention.
She turned and ran.
 

 

Chapter Ten

The weight of their exhaustion beat at Cheobawn from behind. It began to influence her decisions. She closed her eyes and tried to find a path that would spare Alain and Connor anymore pain.
Following a thread that wound its way around the northern edge of a marshy bog, careful to keep them out of the sucking mud traps that lay under the pools of still water, she stepped one step too far down a thread that suddenly had no future. Cheobawn stopped and tried to find a place to go but all the threads of all their futures faded and died in her mind.
The world had turned into chaos.
She stood, swaying in the ambient winds, afraid to move. Her Pack stopped where they stood, grateful for the rest, their distress hanging in the air, pressing at her mind. She tried to block them out and clear her mind but her own exhaustion sucked at her will and clouded her mind.
She did not look around. This is where pity gets you, she thought. Trying to spare them, she had led them into a dead end. Cheobawn lifted her face towards the fading light, sank deeper into the flesh of the mountain, and listened.
Death stalks you, the great mountain bear whispered. Her mind shied away from that, her heart fluttering in panic. They had stayed too long on the top of the stone spire. Now something bad had caught up with them.
Home Dome she imagined with all her might into Bear s chaos. But chaos had closed that door. Home Dome was unattainable. No, no, she thought, we are so close. It cannot be far.
Two clicks, if that. Rested and healthy, they could be home in their beds by dark. But they were anything but rested.
Cheobawn turned to look at her friends. They looked haggard. She was surprised that Alain and Connor were still standing. Tam was helping Alain with his waterskin, insisting the boy drink. Connor swayed where he stood. He probably would have fallen but Megan had her arm around his waist, offering a steadying hand.
Drink, eat little, Tam s fingers flashed the order to everyone. Connor s fingers fumbled clumsily as he reached for his water skin.
Cheobawn realized then that while she had been racing them across the mountain, Tam had been using every trick he knew to keep the Pack on their feet and on her tail. Had she trusted implicitly that he would figure out a way to keep his Pack alive?
She had assumed so much, a fools mistake, that. They should not have lived so long yet here they were. But to what purpose? They were about to die. Was it cowardice or arrogance that made her think she could defy the will of the Goddess, running them to the ends of their strength, having only postponed the inevitable? She wanted to cry.
Tam felt her eyes on him and looked up. He saw something in her face
What is wrong? he asked.
Cheobawn bit her lip. Would it be kinder to let death sneak up on them or tell them now so that they might prepare? Her eyes sought Megan s. The older girl was looking at her, an odd stillness on her young face.
What do you see? signed Megan, though Cheobawn was certain she already knew the answer.
I am blind. The way forward is gone, Cheobawn signed.
Clarify, snapped Tam s fingers.
We move, we die. We stay here, we die. Something is wrong, Cheobawn signed.
Tam shook his head, refusing to accept that as an answer. Cheobawn looked at him helplessly.
Listen, Megan signed, catching their attention. Something comes at us from behind.
Why didn t you say so before? Tam s fingers asked.
The way forward was always more deadly. Sorry, Megan grimaced. We were outrunning it until now. They both turned an inquiring looked at Cheobawn.
Cheobawn cast her attention down their back trail. She flinched, feeling sick. The fuzzies from the grove had grown tired of glasslizards. Picking up the scent of humans at the grove, they had followed. All the obstacles that slowed the children to a snails pace, forcing them into great curving detours, these things meant nothing to the small, light-bodied predators. They were coming, straight and true and they were coming fast.
Cheobawn suppressed her panic and tried to sense the mood of the gang and then wished she hadn t. The stink of human made their mouths water and their little hearts beat with excitement. They remembered human flesh. Cheobawn choked, appalled at this memory. She tried to lie to their ambient, insisting the trail was old, their quarries long gone, but they would have none of it. The scent trail was everything to the little beasts, filling their minds to the exclusion of all else. This was their nature. The gang would not stop until they had run the trail to its end. She remembered suddenly that she knew this fact. She had learned it in another lifetime, when facts were just things to memorize in the safety of a classroom. It was from her old life, before she had come outside and found that facts had teeth and claws and could eat you if you were unwise.
They were in serious trouble. A grown man could outrun them but five foot-sore kids could not. It would be a terrible death. A bhotta or a treebear or a dubeh would kill you quick. A fuzzy gang would eat you slow, one little mouthful at a time. Was it a part of her cruel Bad Luck, that she had saved them from one death only to deliver them into one more horrifying? Tam and Megan saw the despair on her face.
What? signed Tam.
Cheobawn was out of ideas. They needed to know.
Fuzzy gang. Less than a click. On our trail, Cheobawn signed.
Alain had not seen the fingersign, his eyes closed in misery. Connor s hiss of fear caught at his attention. He lifted his head to look desperately around. Signing a query, Connor answered. Cheobawn looked away from the panic that flashed in his eyes. Her own eyes found Megan s.
Megan shuddered at the news but managed to keep whatever she was feeling out of the ambient. Cheobawn smiled at her best friend, heartened that the older girl seemed to be controlling the stress of being under the threat of imminent death a little better. Somehow it made Cheobawn feel better; less alone, perhaps.
Tam s click caught at her attention. He pulled a piece of paper out of the thigh pocket of his shorts, an excited look on his face. Squinting down at it, he studied what lay there.
Cheobawn moved to his side to look. It was their foray form. Tam handed it to her.
Where are we? he signed.
Cheobawn took the map and held it close to her eyes so that the lines filled her vision. She listened to the planet as it rolled through space and then rotated the map so that north pointed north. It took her a moment to sort out the lay of the land and match it to the map. Finally she had it. By the Goddess, she thought sadly, looking at the symbol for Home Dome, we were so close. She handed the map back and put her finger on the spot where they stood. Tam studied the map for a moment and then stabbed his finger on a red numbered box.
Take us there, he signed.
She scowled at the red square. This would not get them any closer to home. In fact, the detour led them uphill and away from the dome, a terrible thing to ask of the exhausted Pack.
Why? she asked.
Trust me, Tam signed. Cheobawn studied his face. This was not a plea from a desperate boy. This was Tam, invoking his authority as Alpha. Trust. Why not? They had nothing more to lose.
She smiled. The burden of getting them all home safe seemed to lift a bit.
 

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Chapter Eleven

Cheobawn sniffed the ambient behind them. The fuzzy gang flowed across the earth like water tumbling down the mountain, surmounting each obstacle it encountered in waves of furry flesh. The Pack had no time to waste. She turned and began to run in earnest, not caring how much noise they made this time. The need for speed outweighed the need for silence.
She probed the ambient in front of them while she ran, looking for what lay under that red square on the map, to make sure she had them going in the right direction. Horror shivered up her spine, making her stumble. She twisted, barely saving herself from a tumble and felt something give in her right knee. She refused to allow it to stop her. Instead, she lied to her body, making it believe it was the mountain bear; telling her bones to be stone; telling her legs to be trees; telling her muscles that they were as powerful as the hot plastic rock in the heart of the mountain. That seemed to work, though she was careful of how she stepped afterward, fearing to test the limits of this magic.
Running up hill took everything she had inside her and all she could steal from the flesh of the mountain but it was much worse for the Pack. The ambient behind her washed red with their agony. The children crested the ridge together, staggering as the ground flattened unexpectedly beneath their feet. Cheobawn did not pause. They ran on.
She very nearly did not see the warning sign in the failing light. One last ray of sunlight broke through the trunks of the giant cedars and glinted off a thin strand suspended between a gap in the trees. She skidded to a halt, holding up her hand, and stood trembling. It was almost painful being this close to the things that lay hidden under the ferns just beyond the web.
Stinging Spider webs, she signed over her shoulder.
Tam came up the column of children to stand beside her. She pointed at the strand. He nodded.
Step exactly where I step, he signed.
Now that she knew what to look for, the webs were easier to see. She followed Tam as he sidled close to the nearest strand where it stretched between two tree trunks. She tried to remember what she knew of stinging spiders. The webs, though large, stretching from the ground to well above her head and encompassing the trunks of nearly a dozen trees, were not in and of themselves dangerous. A child could easily break through the silk. It was the things waiting in the web s heart that needed to be respected.
Tam stopped and picked up a small branch. Turning, he pointed at her hand. Cheobawn held out her right arm, puzzled. He untied the laces of her makeshift gaiter and tucked the leather lace into a pocket. Wrapping the woolsey scarf loosely around the twig, he drew back his arm and tossed it gently up and over the top of the closest web. The scarf unfurled in midair and drifted down to settle lightly on the top of the ferns ten paces beyond while the stick landed further in towards the center. A few fern fronds shuddered slightly around the stick. Cheobawn held her breath but nothing else untoward happened. Trees shed deadwood all the time, she reassured herself, a thing the spiders surely must have learned to ignore.
Tam caught her attention with a soft chirrup. Turning, he picked his way carefully around the tangled webs. Cheobawn followed, the Pack close on her heels. Tam walked the perimeter of the nest, circling around it until their back trail lay directly across from them. Cheobawn could just make out the pale spot of her woolsey scarf where it lay lightly across the tops of the ferns. She nearly laughed out loud at Tam s cleverness. He was creating a scent line through the heart of the web array. She held out her left arm, offering him her other gaiter. Tam shook his head and turned. He ran fifty paces into the forest, away from the nest and the oncoming fuzzies.
Stopping, he turned and grabbed her left arm, undoing her other gaiter.
How close? How long? he asked with the fingers of one hand as he loosened the lace with the other. Cheobawn lifted her head and listened.
Too close. Let s go, she said, trying to tug her arm free.
Stay, he signed, pulling the scarf from her arm. Count to fifty. Then run home. No matter what happens, he signed, reinforcing his command with a stern stare.
Cheobawn stared at him, her heart twisting in her chest. He was going to get himself killed. To save them.
Cheobawn refused to let that happen. She nodded, not so much to tell him that she agreed but to let him know she understood. She turned, touched Megan s arm and pointed her in the direction of home, trusting that the older girl s psi would kick in once clear of the threat of the spiders and lead her to safety. Megan nodded. From the look on Megan s face, Cheobawn knew the older girl was gathering up the threads of her Luck once more. Cheobawn smiled encouragingly.
Tam signed something she did not catch and then turning, ran back the way they had come.
Fifty count, Cheobawn signed insistently at Connor, then run. Turning, she ran after Tam.
The light was failing them. She caught up with him, stopping him with a hand on his arm. Her fingers dug deep into his flesh as the ambient whispered terrible things to her. Panic was making her heart pound in her chest and her head ache with the flush of adrenaline.
Tam turned on her, a snarl on his face. I said stay. Get back.
Cheobawn clung to his arm, undaunted by his rage. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the glint of something down low in the ferns near his feet. The now familiar feeling of too much power flowing through the ambient took her and held her. The world became etched in hard-edged light.
She tugged him aside instinctively, without knowing why. Her boot caught at something in the undergrowth. A silk snag line. She froze, easing away from it while pushing Tam behind her, guiding him away from things he could no longer see with the naked eye in the failing light.
Traps, her fingers said. Follow me.
Tam grimaced in apology.
Hand on his elbow, she got him as close as she dared to the heart of the nest and pulled him to a stop. He stooped and chose a stick from the litter on the forest floor. Once again, the stick with its woolsey flag sailed over the web. The lacy fronds in the heart of the nest shivered.
Tam pushed her back. They retreated until he tugged her to a halt ten paces back. He picked up a short, heavy branch and pulled one of the leather laces from the depths of a thigh pocket and began wrapping it carefully around the middle of the branch.
Something moved under the ferns in the heart of the web complex. Cheobawn shuddered. By the Goddess, she hated spiders.
A high pitched, excited whistle caught at her heart and made her forget spiders and webs and stingers.
There was no mistaking the sound of a fuzzy gang on the hunt. The teaching videos did not do it justice. The high thin sound echoed eerily off the trunks of the trees, disguising numbers and exact direction. All the animals of the mountain knew this sound. It was meant to act as a goad, driving prey before them until the target gave up or ran until its heart burst from exhaustion. Few willingly chose to die the death of a thousand bites. The little fuzzies relied on this and used it effectively in their hunting strategies.
Cheobawn looked anxiously into Tam s calm face. Time was running out for them. He was busy knotting the second leather lace to the end of the first. Stepping away from Cheobawn, he set it into motion, spinning the branch by its leash above his head until the air hummed with its passage. At just the right moment, he let it go. Branch and lace arced through the air and fell, landing with a loud thump in the center of the nest.
Cheobawn was not prepared for the violent reaction that followed. A dozen enormous black orbs the size of a fernhen rose out their dens and scurried about upon a tangle of legs as long as her arm. Horror sucked the air out of her lungs. She knew a stinger as long as her hand lay hidden under the belly of the heavily armored insect, sharp enough to pierce the toughest hide, long enough to penetrate the thickest fur. She shoved a fist in her mouth to keep from screaming and stumbled backwards.
Something dark darted at her from under the ferns near her feet. She did not have time to react, but suddenly Tam was there, catching her up by the collar of her tunic to jerk her away as he buried the blade of his stick in the center of the black body, pinning it to the ground. The spider s legs scrabbled for purchase in the soft duff. It was still trying to push its broken carapace towards her even as it died. Cheobawn moaned, unable to contain her horror any longer. Tam wrenched his weapon free and leaped away, pulling her with him. Dark blood flowed freely from the wound and the spider shuddered and died.
Death washed the ambient, a fierce thing that drowned out all else. Cheobawn felt it and in feeling it, could not shake it loose from her mind. She tried to keep it out but she had borrowed too heavily from the flesh of the mountain and Bear Under the Mountain relished death as much as it rejoiced in life. She had no power to resist his fierce pleasure at the spider s passing.
Tam signed something. She could not make her mind understand the flurry of fingers.
Tam bent down and caught at her chin, bringing his face close so that all else was blocked from her vision.
We are almost there, wee bit, he whispered desperately. Keep it together. Just for a few more minutes. Take us home.
Cheobawn blinked. His eyes were her lifeline. She reached out and touched his cheek. That touch was everything. His need for her, his need for her Good Luck washed through her, pushing Bear out of her mind.
She nodded. Home, she said.
Tam smiled grimly and grabbed her hand, the strength of his grip grinding her bones together as he jerked her around and forced her to follow. The pain gave her focus. She got her feet under her and scrambled frantically to keep pace.
They ran. She struggled against the fear and the pain, trying to gather up the threads of their life once more. Bear Under the Mountain danced under her feet, death running like a fire across its pelt. Live or die, it whispered, just remember, I keep what I take.
Cheobawn tried to close her mind to its influence, but she needed to steal its flesh to keep on running and that flesh came at a price.
The rest of the Pack was where they had left them, though Megan was tugging desperately on Connor s arm, trying to get him moving. Connor ignored her, intent on their back trail. His face lit up with relief as Tam and Cheobawn came crashing through the underbrush. Alain, standing a little bit further on, waited patiently on them all.
Cheobawn waved them on, not bothering with the niceties of fingersign anymore and having no breath left to scream at them.
Run! Tam roared at them, furious that they had disobeyed his order. The sound echoed through the stillness of the twilight forest, marking them to any who could hear. It did not matter. Their retreat could not get any more chaotic than it already was.
Connor turned and ran, hard and fast, hand in hand with Megan, gathering up Alain as they passed him. The burst of speed would not last, Cheobawn knew. Though they had rested, she had pushed them beyond the limits of themselves all day. It would take more than a few moments rest to recover their full strength.
Tam let go of her hand as they caught up with the others and moved to Alain s side. Already Alain s pace faltered. She glanced at the red-haired boy s face as she ran beside him. His eyes were barely open, the motion of his legs oddly loose and disjointed. Tam put a hand on Alain s elbow as he ran beside him, guiding him over the rough ground.
Cheobawn risked another peek into the ambient. A many-headed monster raced at their heels. They were too close. Spurred on, she raced into the lead and picked up the pace, mercilessly asking her Pack to keep up.
When her feet landed on the packed earth of a wide trail, she very nearly missed it. She spun in a circle, disoriented by its sudden appearance and not sure which way to run.
Something flashed in the corner of her eye. She turned and stared in wonder. Lights. It could be only one thing. The Fathers had turned on the spotlights above the East Gate. Her knees went weak with her relief. They were nearly there.
She waited for her Pack, pushing each one towards the lights as they burst through the undergrowth and into the clear. Tam came last, behind Alain, who through some miracle was still on his feet.
A high-pitched squeal of something dying cut through the still air, then another and another.
Cheobawn looked up and met Tam s eyes. Their trap had been sprung but it would be too much to hope that the spiders would kill all the fuzzies. She tugged frantically at Alain s arm while Tam did the same on his side. They ran but their pace was maddeningly slow.
Disaster struck. Alain went down on his hands and knees. Tam cursed and stopped to help him up. Cheobawn reached down to help.
Run! Tam shouted, shoving her hands away. Cheobawn fell back, surprised by his hot fury. Tam grabbed Alain by the belt and hauled him to his feet, getting little help from Alain. Cheobawn grabbed Alain s belt on her side and between the two of them, they managed to get him running again. Ahead of them, Connor tugged frantically at the faltering Megan.
No, no, do not stop! Cheobawn screamed at Megan. You are not safe yet. Run, run!
Megan glanced back at Cheobawn, a desperate grimace on her face but the older girl managed to find some hidden reserve inside herself and sped up again. Connor ran at Megan s side encouraging her to pick up the pace. Somehow, she did. They raced together, down the trail.
A high pitched whistle rose up from the undergrowth not far behind them. The fuzzies were back on the scent trail. Alain needed no other goad. He shook their hands off and ran unaided, Cheobawn and Tam still hovering at his side, watchful. The adrenaline would only take him so far.
They broke out of the tree line and staggered down the lane between the fields. The sky was gloriously scarlet with the last rays of the sun. Cheobawn nearly laughed in relief.
Alain stumbled, catching his toe on nothing. He managed to right himself, but after that his gait was less a jog and more a lurching hobble. Tam pulled Alain s arm over his shoulder and they ran on, Cheobawn guarding their back.
The whistling stopped, replaced by a restless chittering. The ravenous little eating machines hesitated just at the edge of the fields, confused by the Mothers psi wards that protected the dome and all its surrounds. Cheobawn stopped and turned, taking a tighter grip on her hook. As she did, her left arm brushed the hilt of Alain s hunting knife where it still hung on her belt. She had forgotten it was there.
Cheobawn slid the long blade out of its sheath and gripped it awkwardly. She knew nothing of knife fighting. It had not occurred to her that she would ever need the skill. Now she cursed her ignorance.
She held it out in front of her but it seemed to be in the way of her hook so she reversed it, holding the blade so that the edge faced outward to guard her left forearm, like armor. Satisfied, Cheobawn looked toward their backtrail, trying to stay calm. The wards would not hold against a gang in a hunting frenzy. The scent trail was too hot in their noses.
Tam took note of her absence at his side. What are you doing? he yelled, stopping.
Run! Get them home. You need time. I will give you that, Cheobawn shouted. Alain did not hesitate. He turned and hobbled towards the gate as fast as he could. Tam stood his ground.
I will stay and guard our back. Go help Alain, shouted Tam furiously.
I cannot carry Alain but I can fight, Cheobawn said, her voice calm.
You don t need to do this. We can make it. All of us. Together.
Go! Cheobawn screamed at him. Things shifted in the ambient. Blood lust outweighed caution. The fuzzies were coming.
You should probably not argue with a Little Mother when she has her back up, drawled Zeff as he stepped out of the maize, his pair of boar hounds close on his heels, Sigrid following after. They were both well-armored and well-armed, long swords in both hands. Even the hounds had spiked collars around their vulnerable throats.
Cheobawn crushed the relief that threatened to overwhelm her. She had no time for it. She shoved it down into the black hole in her soul along with all the other soft and vulnerable parts of herself. Bear Under the Mountain had given her a taste of death. She meant to deal it in kind. Tam should have run when he had the chance. Now it was too late.
Things moved in the maize.
The hounds growled softly but stayed to heel, watching Zeff in anticipation.
Cheobawn took a step away from the men, giving her blade clear space to swing.
You know what s out there, don t you? Zeff commented softly, somewhere close behind her left shoulder. Veteran of many a close battle, she trusted that he would keep clear of the range of her blades.
Fuzzies. A spider or two. They do not like the dogs, but it will not stop them from coming.
No, it never does, agreed Zeff. How many, do ya think?
Small fuzzy gang. The spiders got half. Maybe eighteen or twenty, at the most, she said, trying to track them all as they circled around her. Maybe a half dozen spiders.
Spiders and fuzzies. All at once. You surpass yourself, Little Mother, Zeff said with a small laugh.
We have given them my scent. You can take Tam and Alain to safety. They will not follow you.
Where would be the fun in that? Zeff said softly. He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. The boar hounds leapt into the air and raced into the maize, roaring in pleasure. A fuzzy squealed and died and then another. A spider darted out of the maize at her, whether to attack or merely fleeing the sharp teeth of the hounds, she could not tell. Her hook sliced it in half, the parts tumbling past her as she stepped over them.
Back up a bit, Little Mother. Let the dogs do their job, suggested Zeff. Cheobawn could not fault the logic of that. She retreated, checking her surroundings with a quick glance. Sigrid s blade was bloody, as was Tam s. Beyond, under the glare of the dome lights, Alain had gained the safety of the gate supported by Phillius. He joined Megan and Connor, who had been caught up in the arms of the crowd of Elders who stood behind the safety of the gates.
Looking back towards the maize, she realized her eyes could only see the after image of the lights. A stupid mistake, that. She blinked hard, desperately trying to clear her vision. In that moment a shadow launched itself from the top of a maize stalk, aiming for her throat. Zeff s blade cut it out of the air. The fuzzy dropped to the dirt at her feet, its lifespark gone, now nothing but a bit of bloody fur. She steeled her mind against the ambient, letting death s dance take it without needing to watch. Peering about her for the next assault, she held herself ready.
Her eyes played tricks with the shadows as the glow in the western sky faded. She felt the handful of fuzzies their intention a pressure wave against the walls around her mind before she saw them, but it was already too late. Teeth and claws sank into the heavy hide of her boots and scrabbled ineffectually at her woolsey gaiters. One launched itself higher. She could not get her hook around in time so she batted wildly at it with her left arm. It squealed in pain, finding sharp steel instead of flesh, and tumbled away from her. Zeff finished it with a quick blow. The rest fell beneath her hook. Her blade hummed as she spun it through the air, its edge slicing through their brain pans like butter. She stamped her feet to shake off the remains, dislodging jaws that still bit even in death.
Backing away, her eyes searching the shadows, she put distance between herself and the smell of carnage, her hook held high.
Nothing more came out of the maize. She stood, her body taught, ready, unmindful of the blood running down the handle of her hook to drip from her knuckles. She dared a quick check of the ambient. Too many deaths swirled there, making her blind.
The baying of the dogs marked their path as they ran down the last of the predators. Soon, the maize field was empty, the sound of the hunt growing faint. She smiled as she listened to Sigrid whooping fiercely as he trailed close behind the dogs, finishing off the wounded. His joy, as simple and innocent as that of the hounds, was infectious, an intoxicating pulse that tugged at the fabric of her being. She imagined herself as a wild creature, free to run under the night sky, to howl at the stars and tear at the throats of all who wished her harm.
A harsh bugle shattered that spell. Zeff had his horn to his mouth, recalling the hunters. She shivered as the weight of her own small life crashed back into her mind, filling the void. For the first time since the glasslizard grove, she remembered she was just a little girl like every other little girl in the world.
Just for a moment, as her heart fluttered in her chest, her vision flashed to gray. She reached for the ambient but found nothing. Dismay filled her. Was there a limit to how long one could run on borrowed flesh? She could hear Mora in the back of her mind, scolding her for being so foolish.
Cheobawn shook her head to clear her vision or perhaps to clear her mind of the ghost voices. She looked around. The bright coppery smell of blood hung heavy on the still night air. What now? Was it done? What came next? She looked back at Tam. Her alpha slumped where he stood, his bladed stick planted in the soil like a staff. He leaned heavily into it, as if it were the only thing holding him up. Perhaps feeling her gaze, he lifted his head and met her eyes. There was no victory in that look, nor any triumph in his face. The clever boy full of strategies and logic, the fierce boy who played to win, this boy was gone. Only exhaustion remained. They still lived, but the game had pushed him beyond the place where it seemed to matter. It was done, his eyes told her.
So, she thought, with a soft sigh. The sun can set, the moons can rise, and the forest can go back to being no fit place for human, man or child. Best of all, the lives of four children no longer rested on her next move.
Cheobawn let go of it all, remembering too late to keep just enough energy to get her safely home and into bed.
The world swirled around her, the ground tilting under her feet.
Bear Under the Mountain harrumphed grumpily, its mood caught somewhere between pleasure and disappointment.
Are you not pleased? she asked it.
The mountain bear twitched its great pelt as the blood of spider and fuzzy drained down into the earth to join the rivers of blood that coursed hot and thick there under the surface. She flinched from that answer.
You did not kill us, she whispered defiantly. We beat you, fairly.
Bear smiled a canny smile and closed his eyes, content to wait.
Cheobawn did not remember hitting the ground.
 

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Chapter Twelve

Cheobawn slept the clock around and woke ravenous. The Mothers fed her, giving her only broth and bread. She did not complain, eating most of it before falling back into a deep sleep.
On the second day, they gave her a rich stew. She managed to eat two bowls full before her stomach protested. Amabel consulted with the other healers and then reluctantly let her get out of bed, annoyed that Cheobawn seemed so healthy. She tottered from bed to lavatory and back again, bent over like an ancient oldma, trying to work the stiffness out of her muscles. She did not complain about this or her sore feet or the twinge in her knee. It seemed a reasonable price to pay for such a hard won foray.
The next morning Mora s wives all agreed that she might get better faster if she went back to her old routine, so Mora sent Cheobawn off to classes. The other children stared at her and whispered behind their hands, which was nothing new. The teachers were kind and considerate and attentive where they had never been before. She fled them all as soon as she could, hiding in the tubegrass plantings on the edge of the playground at recess. Megan did not come to school that day. There was a new helper, a woman whose belly was just showing the hint of a baby bulge, who sat in the shade a lot and did not know to come looking for her under the grass when the return bell rang.
Cheobawn waited for everyone to leave and then she curled up on the cool earth and fell asleep.
She opened her eyes to something tickling her nose and found Tam squatting beside her, caressing her face with a grass stalk. She stared at him sadly.
You did not come, she said accusingly.
We tried. We went to the infirmary, but Amabel said no and then we went to your apartment but Mora said no and today, before weapons drills, Hayrald said absolutely not, so here we are anyway, Tam said.
And here they all were, indeed. She looked up and found Megan, Connor and Alain looking at her over Tam s shoulders, anxious and concerned. She surprised herself by not being annoyed at their attention, as she had been with Mora and the Coven and Da and all the teachers.
Cheobawn sat up, drinking in the sight of them as she brushed the grass clippings from her hair. They all looked thinner. Alain s knee was in a plasteel brace. Connor s foot had been shoved into an adult slipper to accommodate the bandages. Megan had deep shadows under her eyes. Worry lines seemed to have permanently etched themselves into Tam s ten year old face, making him seem less beautiful but more wise.
Cheobawn noticed something else. Megan wore new clothes. Her shorts were muddy brown and the tunic a dusky green, identical to the boys clothes. This explained Megan s
absence on the playground. Megan had officially declared her Pack status. Her time was no longer her own. From now on she would study, train, and work alongside her Packmates. Cheobawn tried hard not to be sad at the change.
I thought you were mad at me, she said softly.
What? Why would we be mad? Tam laughed.
You saved us, Alain reminded her.
You were amazing, Megan added.
Cheobawn shook her head.
I messed up. I nearly got you killed about a million times. I forgot too many things. Important things. I forgot that a Pack works together and takes care of each other. And then at the end, I totally forgot the most important part.
What part? Tam asked, puzzlement warring with amusement on his face.
I was so busy worrying about the big scary things out in the woods that I totally forgot about the scary things at home. What did you tell Hayrald?
Alain shook his head, smiling in amazement, he and Connor exchanging knowing looks.
That was one of the things we came over here to ask you, Tam said. You first. What did you tell Hayrald?
Nothing, Cheobawn said. I was afraid to talk to him, so I didn t. Or Mora either.
Connor laughed out loud and slapped Alain on the back.
Told you, he crowed. You owe me.
Tam looked a little concerned.
I am afraid to ask. When you say nothing, you mean you did not tell them anything about our foray, right?
No, Cheobawn said, shaking her head, I pretended I forgot how to talk.
The older children looked at each other and burst into howls of laughter.
What is so funny? asked Cheobawn, frowning.
You, Megan said. You have Mora and Amabel and Hayrald walking around thinking you are as fragile as eggshell.
Yeah, Connor added, they are all mad at us, like we broke you or something.
We should come up with a good lie, Cheobawn suggested, deeply concerned that they had born the brunt of her bad decisions for three whole days.
That leads me to the other thing we needed to ask you, Tam said. Do you still want to be a part of our Pack?
Cheobawn felt the hard little ball of sadness inside her chest begin to melt.
Yes, please, she said from the bottom of her heart.
Good, because we have a foray report to write, Tam said, pulling a form out of his pocket and unfolding it, and it s already days overdue. Phillius is going to have my liver for breakfast if I don t get something down in writing by the end of the day. You are the only one who can help me.
Cheobawn smiled, happier than she ever remembered being. This was Tam; business first, niceties after. Cheobawn crawled out of her bower to look at the map printed on the report form, hungry to see its curved lines and precise labels. Truth be told, she had locked the memories of the journey away, unwilling to deal with them on her own. They were beginning to blur like a half-remembered dream. She was losing track of what had been real and what she had imagined while deep within the arms of Bear Under the Mountain.
Why have you waited so long to write your report? Cheobawn asked, curious.
Because, Little Mother, after being interrogated almost non-stop for the past three days, singly and as a group, by just about every Elder in the village, we have all come to the same conclusion, Tam said brightly, Not one of us has a clue as to what happened out there.
You were there, Cheobawn reminded them all.
Yeah, well, about that drawled Alain.
See, between being sick and scared and totally lost, none of us has been able to draw a clear picture of where we were and what we did, Tam explained.
You changed direction so often, I was pretty sure we were going in circles, Connor nodded.
The Elders keep treating us like we are hysterical little kids who saw a crawler under the bed, snorted Alain in disgust.
It s embarrassing, agreed Connor.
It would be nice to get points for the kills, too, Megan added. Partial points for a fuzzy gang and a stinging spider nest would put us at the top of the first year pack standings.
Never mind that, now. That s another battle. Let s start from the beginning, Tam said, patting the map.
The other children squatted around it and leaned in close to get a better view. Their fingers traced the line of the outward journey, along the East Trail, to the turn up the North Fork Trail, to the spot where they left the trail and cut through open country. They all generally agreed with the time and place referents that Tam guessed at. Megan remembered the place where they saw the fernhen. The tubegrass grove lay just uphill from the place on the map where the blue line marked the stream as it flowed down the mountain. This was all they were certain of.
The path of the return journey brought heated debate. They all agreed on the initial direction away from the spring but none of them could remember the time of day. Cheobawn could not help them. Time seemed to play tricks in her head. What had seemed like hours must surely have only been minutes, what seemed like forever had only been hours.
After much discussion, they used Connor s estimate. He seemed the most certain. Megan unsealed one of the deep pockets in her shorts and pulled out a tablet. A handful of colored styluses emerged from another. She began writing the map coordinates down the page in a column and putting the rough time estimates next to them. Tam made a small mapper s ruler appear from one of his many pockets, grabbed a stylus from Megan and began tracing the bits they were sure of on the map, placing the numbered boxes in the spots to mark the things they remembered.
Cheobawn sat back and watched them for a moment, a soft smile on her face. There was a new found confidence in their interactions, as if being a declared Pack made everything right in the world. They were like rocks rolling downhill now. The momentum of their trust that the world would give them what they needed crushed all resistance. Their belief was absolute, almost magical.
Magic. Cheobawn understood magic. Magic was merely the unknown, a wild thing undefined by logic or reason. By that thinking, surely she was not Bad Luck, but Good, undefined.
The ball of pain inside her eased a bit more.
Tam looked up and caught her smiling at him. He grinned back and returned to his argument with Connor about the distance of the first leg of their journey. Cheobawn leaned forward to join in.
It took them almost two hours and much disagreement. At last Tam sat back to admire their work. Megan was still writing furiously, content with the tabulation on her paper. Connor ran his finger down the line etched on the map and tisked softly.
Did you know you were doing this or was this all an accident? he asked, bemused.
What do you mean? Cheobawn asked. Tam looked down, curious as well.
You crossed the bhotta s path here and the direction change towards the spiders is here. The whole time we were running we were boxed in between the cliffs and rock slides and the bogs and marshes that make the East Road split off and veer south. The only way out was the way you led us. You were headed towards the South Road, weren t you?
We would have made it, too, Tam said, if it weren t for the fuzzies.
Cheobawn looked at the map and the vague impressions and blurry images from that day began to make sense. She shrugged.
I did not have a plan when we left the grove. I never had a plan. It was only towards the end that I realized where we were headed.
I don t care how her Luck works, I m just glad it does, Alain said fervently. Tam nodded.
Wait, Megan said, We re not done. Now that we have figured out the facts, we have to decide what to tell the Elders.
The Pack grew silent, somber looks on their faces. Cheobawn suddenly felt exhausted. Discovering the truth had taken all her powers of recall. Covering it up again seemed too daunting.
Tam studied their map and then looked up with a mischievous smile on his face.
You know what I am thinking? mused Tam, running his fingers over the map. I m thinking we tell them the truth.
What? You mean turn this in as our foray report? Megan asked aghast, as she waved her tablet in the air.
It s too crazy, Alain said. Nobody will believe it.
Exactly, crowed Tam. Give them a report they don t expect. It will take them weeks and weeks to decide if it is true or not and then weeks more to decide what to do about it.
A handful of weeks seemed like forever. Too far away to worry about. They all grinned in delight at Tam s brilliant plan.
Cheobawn laughed at Tam s logic but admitted, in the end, that it was faultless.
 

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Chapter Thirteen

Hayrald was waiting for her at the end of the school day. Cheobawn paused on the top step when she saw him, uncertain of his mood and the reasons for him standing there with all the other waiting Elders. He was First Prime. He usually delegated his waiting time to his lieutenants. His presence surely could not have been out of concern. She had not needed an escort home from school since she was a little kid.
Father, Cheobawn greeted him solemnly.
Little Mother, said Hayrald, matching her formal address. He held out his hand and, after a moment s hesitation, she took it. They turned and walked down the promenade. She wondered where he might be taking her. It was certain her teachers had carried the tale of her miraculous recovery of language. Perhaps it was her turn to sit in front of the panel of inquisitors and suffer their questions. But no. He turned the corner and led her towards home.
I understand Tam brought his Pack to see you today.
Cheobawn listened to the ambient, trying to tell if he was angry. It was as if Hayrald did not exist there. His control was impeccable. Her mother had chosen him as her Prime for a reason, after all. She would have to hunt out his feelings the hard way.
Do not punish him for disobedience. It was needful, she said.
Was it? he said, his tone betraying nothing.
She considered many responses, struggling against the unfamiliar silence between them. This was Da, the holder of her deepest, darkest secrets. Had one simple foray outside changed all that? She retreated inside herself to think about that for a moment, trying to stay calm. It was in that calm place that she found her answer. There were things so indelibly etched into the ambient that even if all else turned to dust and blew away, these things would remain. The feelings between her and her Da were one such thing.
With a new sense of confidence she dared probe at something that was bothering her.
Mother s job is very difficult, isn t it? she said.
Why do you think so? Hayrald asked, undeterred by the sudden change of subject.
No one yells at her when she makes a mistake.
And you think this is bad?
I used to think it was a very good thing.
But not anymore? asked Hayrald.
No. I think it makes her lonely.
Hayrald inhaled sharply, just like when he moved too fast and the old injury made his knee freeze up. Cheobawn caressed the back of his hand with her thumb, trying to comfort him.
She has her Coven and me and the rest of her husbands, Hayrald said when he found his breath again. It was not a true answer to her question. She left it alone. Grownups could be very cagey when it came to certain subjects.
Tam turned in our foray report today. she said, turning the conversation back to its beginning.
I read it. Da said.
Did you? That was quick, she thought. What did you think?
It was a very, um, interesting read. Hayrald said diplomatically. The parts left out were more interesting than the parts left in. When did you learn to channel chi to enhance your strength? It is only taught in Temple. To twelve-year-olds. Have you been spying on the training sessions there as well?
What is chi? Cheobawn asked, surprised that stealing life from Bear Under the Mountain was taught at all. Could other people see Bear? Why had no one ever told her?
Ah, Hayrald breathed. I thought as much. Yes, yes, a very informative read, that report.
Do you think so? It seemed a little confusing. I thought we could have done better, she said, but she did not know if she meant the report or the experience it was based on. Perhaps it was both.
We all learn from our mistakes. Next time you will remember your mistakes and not repeat them, her Da said sagely.
Next time. The words seemed like a promise. Da was not going to stop her if she wanted to go outside again.
Cheobawn smiled and pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. Da never made promises he could not keep.
 

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Glossary

 
Alpha: A First. The dominant male or female in a group. The leader.
 
ambient: The communal psychic cloud surrounding all things.
 
Battle Trail: A sophisticated game of Dancing Molly, done in silence using fingersign. Used by the foray Packs and patrols.
 
Bear Under the Mountain: The synergistic sentience of all life north of the Escarpment.
 
bennelk: The smaller mountain cousin to the fenelk, these horned and tusked antelopes are the domes riding animals for patrols and battles.
 
bhotta: Large, wingless lizard, dominant predator of the High Reaches.
 
Black Bead: A failed Ear whose psi is suspect and whose gift is not to be trusted. They are forced to wear a black stone in their omeh to mark their status. Most are killed outright on their third birthday.
 
blackoak: Wet-loving tree with black bark and large, serrated and lobed leaves.
 
for its range of colors, its hard crystalline structure, and its use as a psychic enhancer.
 
blue tag: Permission tag given to Packs to foray outside the dome.
 
buzzer: Large winged insect.
 
cedar: Ancient old growth tree with shredded bark and primitive leaves similar in form to Terran cedars.
 
Central Plaza: The plaza under the apex of the dome.
 
Choosingday: The day three year old girls must prove their psi abilities. Presented with two boxes, one containing something deadly, one containing a toy, the child must pick the correct one.
 
click: The distance a human man can walk in an hour.
 
Coven: The First Mother and all her wives.
 
croakers: Tiny, ground dwelling lizards.
 
Dancing Molly: Child s game of follow the leader.
 
demi-Pack: Provisional Packs. Experimental and sometimes temporary arrangements, they are the first packs formed by children over the age of eight.
 
dubeh leopard: Large black cat-like predator.
 
Ear: Female member of a Pack. A psi adept.
 
East Trail: The road leading out the East Gate.
 
Elder: Tribal member over the age of sixteen.
 
Escarpment: The southern boundary of all tribal land.
 
fenelk: The larger cousin of the bennelk, these horned and tusked antelope are from the southern forests and are largest herbivore north of the Escarpment. They are used as beasts of burden for the caravans that travel between domes.
 
fernhen: Large ground nesting bird prized for its eggs. A seed eater.
 
First Mother: The dominant Mother in the Dome hierarchy, ultimately responsible for all life in and around the Dome.
 
First Prime: First Husband of the First Mother and her Coven. Dominant Father in the Dome hierarchy.
 
flutterflies: Tiny, winged lizards.
 
foray form: A detailed topographic map of the area around the dome updated daily by the Elders to include current threats. The Packs use them to plot out their intended routes and missions.
 
fuzzy gang: Small, communal-minded predator as large as a child s fist.
 
gaiters: Leather thorn guards. Part of what is considered light armor.
 
glasslizard: Glider lizard with transparent skin. Not a true flier.
 
gorgeberry: Small fruit bush with golden berries.
 
grunter: Herbivore about the size and weight of a man that lives in the needletree forests. Sharp tusks are used for digging up fungus balls and bulbs.
 
High Mother: The leader of all the domes in the High Reaches, voted into office by the First Mothers of each dome.
 
hopper: Small, ground-dwelling marsupial.
 
Little Father: Formal title of boys who have not reached their majority.
 
Little Mother: Formal title of girls who have not reached their majority.
 
longpine: Giant needletree with extremely long needles.
 
Maker of the Living Thread: Master Geneticist and Healer. Amabel, Mora s Second wife, is the Maker for Windfall Dome.
 
Natalmother: Mother who is impregnated by the Maker of the Living Thread and who bears the risk of gestating a child to full term.
 
needletree: Dry-loving tree that grows on the lower slopes of the mountains.
 
Nestmother: The Mother in charge of rearing a group of children between the ages of three and seven (if male), and three and eight (if female). After the age of seven boys are traded, and after the age of eight girls join Packs.
 
North Fork Trail: Northern branch of the trail that splits from East Trail to run along the top of the cliffs and scree slopes above the bogs.
 
oldma: A female who has retired from the politics of running the dome.
 
oldpa: A male too old to ride patrol.
 
omeh: The plasteel and bloodstone necklace containing the genetic map of the wearer worn by every human north of the Escarpment. A collar woven whole around the necks of every child not long after their birth, the pattern of which is unique to each dome.
 
Orchard Road: North road leading past the orchards into the north paddocks.
 
Orchard Trail: Road leading out the North Gate.
 
Pack: A group formed by children. It is a requirement of any who want to leave the dome. To Pack is enter into a formal binding contract with a chosen few. Upon reaching majority, these ties become permanent, the members then considered Husbands and Wives.
 
Pack Hall: Residence where the declared Packs live in their dorm rooms.
 
Pantry: The dome s communal food storage.
 
piper: Small, ground nesting bird that eats mostly insects.
 
plasteel: A generic term used to refer to any form of extruded plastic. Made from plant material, it has the tensile strength of tungsten-enhanced steel.
 
psi: Short for psionic. The genetically bred abilities of dome women to perceive the world using super-psychic means.
 
red tag: Foray tag that grants permission for outside travel. Used to track all dome dwellers who have gone outside.
 
Son of the Flesh: Boys born of the dome in which they reside.
 
Son of the Heart: Boys traded in Trade Fairs as future Husbands to the Mothers of the recipient domes.
 
South Road: The road that splits from the North Fork Trail and goes south and then east, to run along the southern edges of the bogs.
 
spidersilk: This refers to the thread made from the silk of a small, golden spider and also to the fabric woven from this thread. Twice as strong as plasteel, weight for weight.
 
squeaker: Small forest frog.
 
sugarsip: Parasitic tree plant with sweet nectar in their flowers.
 
treebear: Giant, clawed marsupial standing man-tall at the shoulder. An opportunistic feeder, it can digest bone and most plant fibers.
 
Truemother: A term of deep respect and honor given to the Mother whose egg is used to conceive a child. Even after minor genetic manipulation, she is still considered the Truemother.
 
treehoppers: Large, arboreal marsupial.
 
tubegrass: Tall bamboo-like tree.
 
underager: Children under the age of eight.
 
watercup: Parasitic tree fungus.
 
Waterfall Trail: Road leading out the South Gate.
 
wayfaring boots: Sturdy hiking boots, not worn inside the dome.
 
Weapons Locker: Building on the south side of the Central Plaza where the weapons and tools are stored.
 
Weapons Master: Elder in charge of Weapons Locker, this is a post taken in shifts by the more dominant males.
 
West Road: Road leading out the West Gate.
 
woolsey: Spidersilk and wool fabric.
 

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Rank & Dome Affiliation

 
Cheobawn: Female born in Windfall Dome, Mora is her Truemother, Nestmother, and natalmother. Black Bead in Tam s demi-Pack holding no rank. An Omega Ear.
 
Megan: Female born in Windfall Dome. Amabel is her Truemother. Alpha Ear in Tam s demi-Pack.
 
Tam: Male born in Waterwall Dome. Alpha male.
 
Alain: Male born in Firewalker Dome. Tam s Second.
 
Connor: Male born in Waterwall Dome, Tam s Third, Tam s Truebrother.
 
Phillius: Hayrald s Third. Husband to the Coven.
 
Sigrid: Alpha male to Ramhorn Pack.
 
Hayrald: First Prime. Mora s Fist Husband. Husband to the Coven, titular head of the Fathers of Windfall Dome.
 
Mora: First Mother to Windfall Dome. Alpha Ear of the Coven. High Mother to all the High Reach Domes. Truemother of Cheobawn.
 
Menolly: High Priestess to Windfall Dome, Mora s Fourth Wife.
 
Zeff: Packless oldpa.
 
Amabel: Mora s Second wife and Master Maker of the Living Thread.
 

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Cheobawn s Adventure Continues in the Black Bead Chronicles:

Bhotta s Tears: Book Two
Spider Wars: Book Three
Trade Fair: Book Four
Dunauken: Book Five
 

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Now Available!

Bhotta s Tears:
Book Two of the Black Bead Chronicles

Following their nearly disastrous first foray together outside the dome, the newly-formed Blackwind pack is just getting used to their new lives together, and their bonds continue to strengthen. But Cheobawn can feel something ominous about to happen, something that will put her entire village and everyone she loves in mortal danger. A creature has climbed the Escarpment and now wanders in the southern forests. She knows she must find it before the elders get wind of its presence and go hunting it with deadly intent.
But her pack would never let her go alone. Together, they set out on a dangerous race toward an unknown enemy, hoping Cheobawn can find a way to save not only their way of life, but their very existence on the lush, savage planet they call home.
The epic adventure that began with Black Bead continues in Bhotta s Tears. Journey along as Cheobawn unravels the mysteries embedded in the deceptively bucolic life of her village under the dome.
Read more about this book here.
 

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About the Author

J.D. Lakey was born and raised on the high plains of Montana under an endless sky and as far from civilization as anyone in the twentieth century could get. There she explored the finer nuances of silence and the endless possibilities of the imagination. The stories were always there. The shifting of fortunes finally granted her the time to gather all the stories and give them flesh. An avid reader of science fiction and comics, she currently lives in San Diego, California where she divides her time between her writing, commuting on the I-5, and spending time with her delightful grandchildren.

Read more short stories at JDLakey.com

As a writer there is nothing that gives me more pleasure than to have my books read and to enjoyed by you - the reader! I d love to hear from you, whether it s just to say hello, to ask a question, or to give some feedback.
You can also email me directly at: info@jdlakey.com

 

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mcgrew publishing