Page 17 of Moon Chosen

“I think you should let Nik explain what he does and does not mean.”

Nik lifted his hands in a noncommittal gesture. “I think it’s obvious. Maeve’s seen, what? Over fifty winters? There is no doubt that she is gifted at tending the Mother Plants, and has a voice that is still crystal and true, but shouldn’t she be passing her gifts on to someone younger? And there are so many younger people who are waiting to be made Companions and Leaders, but now that a Leader pup has chosen Maeve, there’s no chance of that—no chance for anyone else to take her place for at least a decade or two. Plus, she’ll probably die before her Companion’s life is over, which means the Tribe will have to deal with the mess Maeve leaves behind.”

“Bymessdo you mean her grieving canine?” The Carver asked the question in a deceptively cordial voice.

“Yes, but I also mean that the Mother Plants and the birthing women of the Tribe will have lost an experienced Caretaker who might not have passed along all of her knowledge because she was still taking the active part of a Leader long after she should have retired to teacher.”

“And yet the pup still chose Maeve.”

“And yet I still think it’s a waste,” Nik insisted. “I’m not being callous. I’m being practical.”

“Practical, you say? Nikolas, do you know how many canines have chosen me?” the old man asked abruptly.

“No, I don’t,” Nik said.

“Two?” O’Bryan answered hesitantly.

“Paladin is my third canine.”

“Three!” O’Bryan grinned at the Terrier, who wagged his tail in response at the young man. “That is impressive.”

“Yeah, but none of them have been Shepherds. None of them have been Leaders,” Nik spoke quickly, as if his response was automatic.

“Do you think that makes a difference to the depth of the Companion bond?” The Carver skewered Nik with his moss-colored gaze. “Do you think the life I share with my canines is something less worthy because they are not Shepherds, are not Leaders?” The hand that had been resting benignly on Paladin’s head slapped against the workbench with such force it made the bits and pieces of half-carved wood tremble. “Without Terriers we would have no Hunters. With no Hunters the Leader canines and their Companions would starve, and then what would happen to yourpracticalnotions about class and worth?”

“All must have a purpose. In fulfilling the needs of the Tribe, the individual’s needs will then be fulfilled,”O’Bryan spoke calmly, attempting to diffuse the tension that was building between the old man and his outspoken cousin.

Nik and the Carver seemed not to have heard him.

“You’re missing the point. I didn’t mean that you and Paladin lack worth,” Nik said, sounding more frustrated than contrite. “I just mean that I care about what is best for the Tribe.”

“Your father’s Laru is the second canine that chose him,” the Carver said.

“Carver, everyone in the Tribe knows that,” Nik said.

“And how old was your father when Laru chose him?”

Nik frowned, realizing what the old man was getting at. “He had seen forty-seven winters when Laru chose him. Everyone in the Tribe knows that, too.”

“True, and even though I am an old man with failing health, I can easily remember back seven years to Laru’s choosing of your father. You rejoiced then with the rest of the tribe, did you not?”

“I did, but that was different. Sol was our Sun Priest then, and he’s still our Sun Priest. The Tribe needs him, and there’s no reason for him to retire unless—” Nik broke off, realizing what the old man was baiting him into admitting.

“Go ahead. Continue. Unless what?”

Nik drew a deep breath. He would not let this sick old man get him to admit aloud what the entire Tribe gossiped about—that the only child of their beloved Sol, who had been groomed to become Sun Priest after his father, and who almost everyone thought should be Sun Priest when his father retired, could not be considered for that Leader positionbecause he had not been chosen Companion by a Shepherd. He had not been chosen Companion by any canine.And so the Tribe and Nik waited—perhaps for Nik to be chosen—perhaps for another to be groomed by Sol to take his place. But instead of voicing his shame, Nik said shortly, “All I was saying was that Father has many years left to him before his successor, whoever that might be, will enable him to retire from his Leader duties. Maybe you’re right, though, sir. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to judge Maeve because of her age.” Nik shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, as if dismissing the subject.

“You can’t fault Nik for believing that his father is unusually strong for a man of his years,” O’Bryan said, as always supporting his cousin. “We all want to believe that about our fathers, and in this case Nik is right!” O’Bryan grinned.

The Carver was studying Nik as if O’Bryan had not spoken. “Remind me, son of Sol, how many winters have you known?”

Nik narrowed his eyes at the old man, wondering about this sudden change of subject. He should, perhaps, pity the Carver. His gaze returned to the man’s wounded leg. Maybe his mind was beginning to fail along with his health. “I have known twenty-three winters, sir,” he said, making an effort at sounding respectful.

“And remind me, what age are the great majority of Companions when they are chosen by a canine?”

Nik felt as if the old man had punched him in the gut, but he made sure his answer was no more than an emotionless retelling of that which all of the Tribe of the Trees knew. “Most canines choose Companions who have known eighteen to twenty-one winters.”

“Indeed. Indeed they do.” The old man’s sharp gaze skewered Nik. “And you, the son of the Tribe’s Sun Priest, Sol, Companion of the sire of the Tribe’s last six Shepherd litters, have passed twenty-three winters without being chosen.”