Page 89 of The Last Warrior

Twenty-Two

Though Suzette longed to sing as often as possible, Black Lion would not allow her to hum, croon or even speak until it was safe to do so. These times of safety were rare, but usually occurred in the early morning, when they were settling down to rest.

However, once she did start singing, Black Lion listened to her intently. Oftentimes, her melodies had the effect of lulling him to sleep, a circumstance she favored. But alas, as soon as she stopped serenading him, he usually awakened.

Before too long, her worries increased. Prior to the onset of this journey, she had considered her musical repertoire vast, but she was slowly exhausting her mental library.

Already she had sung all the arias she knew by Wagner, Mozart and Offenbach, as well as a few pieces by the more contemporary composers. Was it possible she might soon run through the works she knew by heart? Worse, what if the sacred song were one she didn’t know?

This thought led to another concern. What if she made a mistake and left out a word or note? Hadn’t Black Lion made it clear that the song must be sung without fault?

Indeed, it was one accomplishment to perform music when the chance of error held no penalty. It was quite another to sing when the stakes were so high. Could she do it?

She had once thought to voice her considerations to Black Lion, but she had hesitated too long. He seemed so happy in the knowledge she was trying to help, she hated to disappoint him. As is so often the case, the more she could have spoken out but remained silent, the more difficult it became to do. As it was, her confidence now lagged.

Perhaps Irena could help. Indeed, Suzette’s grandmother was much more experienced than she, and Irena had a much greater knowledge of songs than Suzette did. Perhaps if Suzette and Black Lion could overtake White Claw and Irena, this terrible burden would be lifted off her shoulders.

On this thought, Suzette said, “Do you suppose we might catch up to Irena and White Claw before it is too late?”

At present, they had stopped to rest and nourish themselves with a supper of dried meat and water. Black Lion had lit a small fire for warmth, but it did little good. It was evening, it was cold, and the wind chilled her to the bone. Black Lion had scooped out a place for them in the center of some scrub bushes, but it was still necessary for them to sit close together, for the extra body heat as well as for the simple pleasure of being close.

She rubbed her hands together, blowing on them from time to time—trying to bring life back to their stiffness. Her toes complained of the weather, her face felt permanently frozen, and, though Black Lion usually ran his hands over hers and her feet when they stopped for a rest, Suzette was beginning to wonder if she would ever be warm again.

At last, Black Lion spoke. “I think our chances are good for us to find them before there is the danger of White Claw taking Irena to the Clan—if, indeed, there be any danger in him doing so. He and your grandmother are at best a day ahead of us, and they are traveling slowly.”

She sighed. “I am glad to hear it. I have been thinking lately. It seems to me that Irena could help. She knows more arias than I do. If you will let me take her into our trust, I think …”

Black Lion nodded. “Perhaps we will do this when we find them.”

He offered Suzette a piece of jerky, and she accepted it. “Good,” she said. “How long have we been on the trail now?”

“Six days.”

“Six days. Can this possibly be true? It feels to me as if it has been a lifetime.”

He said nothing to this, though he scooted closer to her, bringing with him more of his warmth.

After a moment, she asked, “Have you thought that we might freeze?”

“I will not let you freeze.”

“Can you be certain of it?”

He bobbed his head. “Hau. I have survived winters which are colder than this.”

“I wish I could be so certain.” She leaned in toward him, placing her cold hands on his warm chest, and bless him, he didn’t complain. “Have you noticed how dark it is tonight?”

“I have. It is because there is no moon to guide us.”

“Ah, and no stars.” She gestured toward the sky.

“Hau, no stars. There is cloud cover.”

She placed her head against his shoulder, and they fell into a comfortable silence.

For the first time since they had set up their camp, Suzette noticed how quiet the world was around them. Perhaps it was because there was snow on the ground which muffled all sound, or perhaps on moonless nights such as this, no predators roamed the Plains.

“Do you know,” she continued after a moment, “I fear my bicycling outfit will never be the same. Do you see?” She held up a hand. “There are tears all along my elbows, all the way to the shoulder of my jacket, and my knees⁠—”