Something had to change if she was going to be successful at all this. But for now...
“You may go.”
Chapter3
The wolf had never, not once, wanted to eat the queen’s children, even on the day when Llor tried to ride him like a pony and Erian (unintentionally) shot the tip of his tail with an arrow. He did, however, want to eat their picnic lunch. Knocking the lid aside with his nose, he delicately lifted the cooked bird out of its basket. Laying it on the branch, he gnawed at it—the bones crunched, and the flesh tasted nutty. He’d grown fond of cooked meat after all his time with humans. Almost as fond as he was of the humans themselves.
Not that all the humans were as fond of him, of course—Renet, for example, showed no love for his children’s wolf guardian. On occasion, Bayn liked to amuse himself by startling Renet. But today Bayn left him alone, because the children were so happy to be with their father and the day would be cut short if Renet needed to return to the village to change his pants. The wolf understood enough of human behavior to be sure of that.
He understood rather more than an ordinary wolf should, which seemed to disturb other wolves when they encountered him, but had never bothered him.
Whatdidbother him was what he felt from the spirits in the nearby trees. Right now, there were three tree spirits midforest and one in the canopy, plus an earth spirit burrowing beneath the roots of their picnic tree. Spirits were always odd this close to the untamed lands—annoyingly skittish—but this felt...more. He sensed them like itches in his fur—and they felt increasingly agitated, enough to interrupt his meal and cause him to stare hard at the trees.
The forest was still.
Just a breeze that rustled the crinkled leaves.
Just a squirrel that squawked at the sight of a wolf high in a tree.
The autumn sun was still warm, soaking into the branches and into Bayn’s fur, and the air carried the sour smell of overripe berries, rain-soaked moss, and the familiar scent of his humans.
He sniffed the air, alert. Nearby, Erian was showing her father the new knife moves that Champion Ven had taught her. She mimed stabbing a spirit in the eye, a target Bayn approved of. It was always wise to aim for the sensitive parts. He preferred a bite to the throat, but the girl lacked the jaw strength for that. Her father was trying not to look appalled at the sight of his ten-year-old daughter thrusting a knife into the air and talking cheerfully about eyeballs.I would make a better father for her, Bayn thought.
Llor, who was nearly seven years old, was competing for Renet’s attention by tiptoe walking out onto the narrower part of the branch. “Watch me, Father! Look at this!”
“Llor, come back here!” Renet said. “Erian, that’s very nice. You’re very fast. Does your mother know Champion Ven is teaching you this?”
“It was her idea,” Erian said. “She says even people who are smart and kind and careful sometimes have to stab things.”
“Your mother said that?” Renet asked faintly.
Bayn thought he looked a bit wild around the eyes, as if he were a rabbit who wanted to bolt back into a nice, safe hole... like the spirits around them were doing.
The spirit in the canopy was swinging away, dangling monkeylike from a branch then leaping to grab the next one.Something is frightening them,Bayn thought. He sniffed the air again and let his tongue taste the scents around him. The three spirits at midforest were scattering—one running down the tree, one worming itself inside the tree, and the third fleeing to the next tree. Far below, the earth spirit was burrowing between the roots, its claws scrambling furiously at a mat of dead leaves.
Getting to his feet, Bayn growled.
Shooting the wolf a look, Renet said in a sharper voice, “Llor, come back right now.”
“But, Father, I’m fine! I can do this—”
An air spirit dove through the canopy. Its leathery wings hit the branches, knocking off bright red, orange, and yellow leaves that swirled in its wake. Seeing a flash of a long, sharp beak, Bayn bounded across the branch toward Llor.
Llor was screaming when Bayn plowed into him, knocking into his stomach so that the boy tumbled over him onto the wolf’s back. He felt wind from above as the spirit hurtled toward them. Launching himself forward, Bayn crashed down hard on the end of the branch.
Crackle, crackle...
Crack!
They fell.
The spirit’s talons brushed his fur, just missing them. The boy was screaming, but Bayn landed in a crouch on the branch below and was running a second later.
Above, though, the girl was in danger.
Hoping the boy had the sense to hang on tight—and from the grip around his neck, Bayn thought that yes, he did—the wolf leaped from branch to branch until he was back up to where they’d been having their picnic. Erian was jabbing at the spirit with her knife while her father was pounding on its back with a branch the size of his arm.
The spirit pivoted its head and snapped its bladelike beak at Renet. The man stumbled backward, and then his foot stepped onto open air, beyond the branch. He fell, arms flailing, screaming his daughter’s name as the air spirit turned back to Erian.
