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And because of our conversation prior to the awful slaughter, I could understand him more than I thought possible. He was as trapped as me, and Aktor was no longer just the male who’d hurt me—he was complicated and complex and had his own reasons, either from loyalty or misplaced desire.
It didn’t mean I forgave him, but it proved to me that nothing was black and white.
Everything was shadows and light and consequence.
I’d done my best to behave.
To tread in the lines that’d been drawn for me by fire, water, air, and earth.
And in doing so, I’d ignored my own power. My own true path.
I’d deliberately tried to be Nhil instead of remembering who I was at heart.
And look what happened.
Pushing to my feet, Niya made eye contact with me across the fire. She shook her head just once. It was the most anyone had moved in a while—the crush of hunters all eerily quiet as they relived what Darro had done.
“Runa...don’t.” Niya licked her hunt-dusty lips. “Don’t go.”
I smiled, knowing she would understand out of everyone. “I can’t be here while everyone eats, Niya.” And then, I told a lie. A blatant big bold lie. The first of many as I chose a path that forked from the one I was meant to follow. “I’ll forage some roots and berries and be back later.” I gave her a smile that I hoped was friendly but tugged at my lips with a harsh kind of warning. “Don’t follow me.”
Syn sat up, yawning with sharp teeth. Shaking away her snooze-fog, she padded toward me, assigning herself as my chaperone without my approval. Using the lynx to my benefit, I added, “I’ll be safe. Syn will protect me.”
She’d be a nuisance when I found Darro, but I’d deal with that when it happened. For now...I just needed to leave.
Finally, Niya gave me a terse nod. “Be quick.”
Glancing at the head of the fire where Solin, Tral, and Aktor sat in a trio of masculinity, I caught Solin’s black gaze. The Fire Reader wore one of Hyath’s newly designed cloaks—a simple fur cut to his height and knotted around his throat with his shoulders and back warmly covered.
I had a feeling that by the end of autumn, every member of the Nhil would be wearing one. The bite in the air was more noticeable now that I stood away from the burn of the flames, and fresh prickles scattered down my spine.
“Runa?” Solin asked gently, scanning the clan with a practiced eye of an elder used to protecting his people. “Are you feeling better, child?”
I nodded, even though I longed for fresh water and not stale liquid from an animal waterskin. I longed for aloneness so I could mourn the bison who had died—so I could give my respects to the dead, away from the Nhil who wouldn’t understand.
Already, the faint taste of celebration had crept in, weaving beneath the shock that Darro’s power had left behind, cracking blank faces with flickering smiles, dancing on whispers that the hunt—a hunt that was supposed to provide nothing more than the walls to Aktor’s and my newly built lupic—had somehow become the most prosperous hunt in Nhil history.
Not one spear had been lost.
Not one bone had been broken.
Yet they had enough meat, furs, ivory, and organs to last multiple winters.
“I’ll see you soon, Solin.” I backed toward the shadows. “I’m just...going to get something to eat.”
He held my stare for a long moment before nodding reluctantly. “Be safe. Call out if you need me.”
My heart pinched.
I loved him.
I loved him like the father I’d forgotten or never had.
And I hated that I had to make a choice.
A choice that had already been made.
I turned away from the fire and caught Olish’s blue gaze. The healer and my friend raised his chin. His lips formed a word I’d given him. A Zenasha word. “Lovinali.”
Farewell.
I whispered the word back. “Lovinali.”
My heart squeezed again, and I made the mistake of looking toward Aktor.
I froze, catching him watching me.
But then...in a rare moment of kindness, he sighed and looked away.
He didn’t move to stop me.
The fire didn’t hiss.
And I put my hand on Syn’s spotted pelt as we slinked into the darkness, ready to follow my one true fate.
* * * * *
I found him in the cloud-shrouded night.
No moon to guide me.
No stars to follow.
Just my heart and the whispers it fed me of his anguish, torment, and misery.
It hurt to sense such things. To know I was the cause.
Darro had done the only thing he could to keep me alive...and he’d done it because he loved me.
He was good.
Even though he believed otherwise.
He stood in the shadowy blackness of night, his skin faintly silver and hair wild from his fingers. His back was bunched while his hips remained hidden by wolf fur. He stood beside a twisted trunk of some ancient tree—the matriarch of this glade, seeds scattered here by birds and pollinated by bees to become a tiny sanctuary for creatures sick of the grasslands.
