Page 152 of The Hunter

Garahk, his white hide marked by new scars, bowed before Tas, Shir, Jehk, and Sahn, tapping a knuckle to his headcrest. “Should you ever need aid, send word. Yours will always find welcome and friendship in Kaldarak.”

“You are also always welcome here,” Shir replied as she and the other winddancers tapped their own headcrests. “We hope you and yours can consider our Nedrayas your own.”

“Yours are ours, and ours are yours. Nothing in the Tangle shall sever our bonds.” Garahk crossed his arms in the sign of the Eight. “It is true under sun and sky.”

Tas dipped his head in a bow. “We thank you, Garahk ki’Tuun. We thank all of you for what you have done for us. What you have given, we can never repay.”

“Anything you require that we may give, you need but ask,” Shir said.

Chittering, Garahk glanced at his companions. They all carried bags full of supplies—food for the journey, jars of vineroot oil, herbs, and more hunter’s eye than they’d ever expected to collect. “You gave much already. More, and even Ayali will strain under the load.”

Ayali chittered and patted the bags tied atop her hindquarters. “I have strength to carry more.”

Zesh puffed out his chest. “As do I.”

Shaking his head, Ess scoffed. “You already complained of the weight.”

“I did not!”

Ayali brushed a hand down Zesh’s shoulder. “My heartsflames are both strong, but your wounds are still mending.”

“If you require more time to recover, we will gladly have you,” Sahn said, gesturing up toward the village. “You need not push yourselves too soon into this journey.”

No one who’d joined the final kurghest hunt had returned unharmed. Even after nine days, Telok still had wounds that throbbed and ached. Several of the winddancers had suffered injuries that would likely pain them for moon cycles.

Telok petted Lacey’s braided hair, following it until his hand reached the top of her backpack. His mate’s wounds had been deep, requiring fresh sticky silk daily. She referred to them as butt silk stitches. He’d tended to them every suncrest and sunfall to ensure they healed properly and did not fester. Thankfully, despite her having briefly come down with a mild fever, the marks on Lacey’s side had started to mend.

But Telok would never allow his mate to suffer such wounds again. Never.

He clutched his spear.

The Tangle could fuck off.

Telok glanced at his weapon. It had been given to him by the winddancers, and though it was well crafted, it could not compare to the spear Lacey had so thoughtfully made for him. The lack of adornments normally wouldn’t have bothered him, but he missed the little lock of braided red hair he’d so often stroked with his thumb.

He would long mourn the loss of that spear, the most precious object he’d ever owned—but it was a sacrifice he had gladly made and would make again to keep Lacey safe.

Telok looked down at his mate, once more running his palm over her hair.

Cole limped toward them, using a walking stick to keep weight off his injured leg. Gently, Lacey drew Telok’s arm away and stepped forward to meet the male human, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace.

Thunder rolled in Telok’s chest. His body tensed, hands curling to fists. A male was touching his mate. That was a challenge to be met with force and ferocity, a threat to be destroyed.

No.

He would not give in to that instinct, would not harm a member of his tribe, would not harm his friend. His mate’s friend. This was a normal display of affection for humans. Cole already had a mate; he wasn’t trying to take Lacey from Telok.

Hunter grant me patience, how did the others control themselves through these instincts?

“I’m gonna miss you,” Lacey said.

Cole chuckled. “You gonna actually miss me, or miss throwing insults my way?”

She laughed. “Both.”

“Same here, Lace,” Cole said as they pulled away from each other.

Sophia stepped forward and hugged Lacey. “I’m so happy to have met you.”