The animal sat by her side, its head level with Gilla’s, its fur a muddled mess of black, brown, yellow and a kind of green. Its bright yellow eyes stared at him unwaveringly. Then it yawned, showing sharp teeth and fangs.
It started to wash its face with its paw.
“They are the reason I am here, in this camp.” Gilla said. “They were born the night of the Sacrifice and exposed to the power that was released by that pillar of light.” She knelt back on her heels, and scratched the creature’s head. “I am not a warrior-priest, but Wild Winds insisted that I travel with him when he saw how fast they were growing.”
“They?” Cadr croaked.
“Six altogether,” Gilla said, and gave a sharp whistle. “I call them warcats.”
Five more large forms slunk into the tent, eyeing him and sniffing the air. And then a last, much smaller version, no bigger than a new-born babe. It had the same color fur, but its eyes were a watery yellow, with a mean look.
“Baby?” he asked.
“Life-bearer,” Gilla said. “It came from the land of the Sacrifice and his Token-Bearer. He called it a ‘cat’.”
“That is not a cat,” Cade whispered. “And how did something so small birth those?” He went up on his elbows, but that was too much. His vision grayed out, and he sagged back on the pallet.
“I know, I know,” Gilla said, reaching for a blanket and covering him. “No one else understands it either. Sleep. You are safe, warrior.”
“Cadr,” Cadr closed his eyes. “My name is—”
“Cadr,” Gilla said. “Sleep. We will watch and guard.”
He gave her a nod, not that he had any choice as his tiredness claimed him.
Movement then, and a long warm body stretched out beside him, making a low grumbling sound with every breath. He shifted, fearing—
“No,” Gilla said. “That’s good.”
Cadr yawned, past the point of caring if the creature ate him or not. He stretched and then let the darkness take him, listening as the rumbling faded into his sleep.
“If she notmove, arms die. Legs die.” Hanstau stood in the entrance to the tent, determined to make himself understood. He waved his hands and spoke slowly in his broken Plains.
The two guards just looked at him.
Hanstau huffed. Trying to explain the idea of atrophy with simple one syllable words was not the easiest task.
“They will not free me,” Reness said from behind him.
Hanstau looked back at her, grimacing in sympathy. Naked, bound hand and foot with leather ties to wooden stakes pressed into the ground, there was no way for her to move or flex. She had to be uncomfortable as all hell, and yet never once had he heard a complaint over the last few days they’d been housed together.
In many ways, she reminded him of his late wife. Stoic, calm, but Fleure had never had such a biting wit, nor would have borne the lack of clothing well.
Modesty was not an issue with Firelanders, but still. And while Hanstau had tried to ease the binds, tried to keep Reness clean, this had gone too far.
“It’s been days. This is intolerable,” he said, and turned back to the guards. “She must move, and clean, and eat or she will die.”
Reness spoke then, hopefully translating to get the idea through their thick heads.
The guards considered for a moment, then one shrugged and trotted off. The other motioned for Hanstau to go back into the tent.
He huffed, and did so, letting the flap fall.
“I explained,” Reness said. “Although I doubt it will accomplish much.”
“Worth a try,” Hanstau frowned at the naked woman, focusing on her wounded leg. He knelt by her side. “If they will let you walk and bathe, we can see about—”
The tent flap was yanked back, and Antas strode in.
