Page 99 of Moon Chosen

“No worries,” Nik said, laughing with forced humor. “Plus, the truth is that I’d be honored if a pup from your Captain and Grace chose me.”

Thaddeus’s snort carried across the water. “You’d be honored ifanypup chose you—even a ghost.”

Nik looked at Thaddeus. He was glaring at him maliciously as he scratched at his arms and, in general, looked grumpy and uncomfortable.Well it’s hot. The idiot shouldn’t be wearing that long-sleeved tunic.But before Nik could open his mouth to tell Thaddeus he needed to cool off—literally and figuratively—Crystal spoke.

“Nik, let’s put some muscle in it and show the rest of the boys the way,” she said, frowning at Thaddeus. “And the company will be more pleasant than it is right here.”

“Wilkes, do you mind if we forge ahead?” Sheena called.

“No, but stay in sight, and let us catch you before we pass the Triangle Bridge. You two know the waters better than all of us combined, and that’s a pretty dicey section of the river.”

“Will do!”

The three of them set to paddling and their kayak shot forward, easily leaving the heavier boats behind.

“I can’t stand that arrogant ass,” Sheena said.

“Yeah, if it wasn’t for his Terrier’s excellent nose, he wouldn’t have any status with the Tribe at all,” Crystal agreed.

“It’s maddening, isn’t it?” Sheena said.

“That he’s an ass? Yep,” Nik said.

“Well, yes, but what I meant was that it’s maddening that he was chosen by a canine—even if it is a Terrier and not a Shepherd—and you haven’t been,” Sheena said.

Unused to anyone besides O’Bryan speaking so frankly about such a touchy subject, Nik stayed silent, searching for words.

“Sheena, hon, Nik doesn’t want to talk about that,” Crystal told her mate gently.

“No, that’s okay. I don’t mind. I know people talk about me—talk aboutit.That I haven’t been chosen and that I’m foolishly fixated on chasing the trail of a pup who’s long gone.”

“We don’t think you’re foolish. We agree with you,” Crystal said. “I’d never stop looking for Grace, and Sheena would never stop looking for Captain.”

“Thanks. That means a lot,” Nik said, and then quickly changed the subject. “So, tell me about this new nest you’ll be building.”

Crystal latched on to the subject like a Shepherd with a hide ball, and soon she and Sheena were having an animated discussion about where their glass-enclosed window should be and whether they wanted a one- or two-story nest. Thankful that he didn’t have to input anything to their conversation, Nik concentrated on paddling and studying the river.

His mother used to love watching the river. Nik remembered that she talked about it as if it were a living being who kept uncounted secrets, and though she’d respected its might, with the remnants of a dead world hidden beneath the innocent mask of its surface, it intrigued rather than frightened her.

Silently, Nik had disagreed with her when he was a child, and he still disagreed with her. It didn’t intrigue him. It thoroughly frightened him, though that truth had died with the only person who had known about his fear—his mother. The tribe called the Killum a mystery, one that ended too often in death for those who spent too much time on it. Nik had watched that death be meted out. The first time had been when he’d been so young he shouldn’t have any memory of it, but the image of a clear, summer day and the fishermen kayaking leisurely and casting wide, lazy nets was burned into his mind. Or rather, what was burned into his mind was the memory of the fisherman who had cast his net too close to a semi-submerged log they called a sweeper. The net had caught on the log, and before the fisherman could right it, he’d lost his balance and fallen into the river where the tangled web of currents that eddy around the sweeper pulled him under so that its roots, hidden beneath the murky, spring-swollen water, snagged him, and like a demon lover held him close until he drowned.

Nik suppressed a shudder at the still vivid memory of the Tribe dragging the sweeper to shore to free the pale, bloated corpse.

But the truth was it wasn’t the sweepers or the unpredictable currents or the remnants of once mighty ships that had become rusted hulks, capsized and useless, clogging the waterway in the heart of the ruined city that haunted Nik. It was the death traps called bridges that terrified him the most.

From Tribal archives, and the puzzle-solving skills of the Builders of the Tribe, it was believed that Port City used to boast twelve massive bridges, spanning the wide expanse from one bank of the Willum to the other. Not one of the bridges had survived the death of the City intact, though to varying degrees all had left their footprints on—or beneath—the river.

“Heads up!” Crystal called from her position at the front of the kayak. “Arch Bridge ahead.”

Nik set his teeth and wiped his sweating palms, one at a time, on his pants before he began stroking the water with renewed vigor. Since his was the position in the rear of the kayak—the main steering position—he was damned sure not going to let them drift anywhere near the enormous broken green arches that jutted out of the water like the rotting teeth of a drowned giant. He forced himself to breathe deeply, slowly, and repress the panic that was too close to his surface as he followed Sheena’s shouted directions to go more to the left or to the right—faster or slower.

“Good job, Nik! Almost past it. Steer us closer to the middle. This bridge isn’t bad, but the run-off will suck us in if we’re not careful,” Sheena said.

Nik bent into the paddling, propelling them to the center of the river and shooting past the deadly run-off. As they passed, well away from it, Nik glanced to his right in time to see a huge sweeper caught in the undertow, upended and tossed around the white-topped rapids like it weighed no more than a Shepherd’s throwing stick, before it was sucked under and disappeared.

Nik shivered and kept paddling.

All that remained of the next bridge were oblong-shaped pillars of crumbling stone that tended to break off unexpectedly. Two winters past a Companion and his Shepherd had been killed when they’d paddled too close to one of the edifices, trying to stay away from the run-off current. The slide of stone had buried them so thoroughly that the Tribe was never able to recover their bodies.