Heart Fortune

It wasn’t a question. Nothing came free from a cat. “I will,” Jace said. “And you will . . .”

I will help feed Zem. She turned and walked away, tail high and waving. That FamFox is mostly useless. I am a good huntress. I can bring you five bits of food a day, as well as go down into the ship once each day. I am a very efficient Cat. She looked over her shoulder. And for my food—I do not stay in the camp. I hunt in the FOREST and by the lake. I am a Fam trusted in the wilderness and not old and lazy like Shunuk fox.

“You’re wonderful, Carolinia,” Jace said automatically.

Yes, I am, she said before she turned away.

It will be good to have more live food, Zem said.

Jace sighed, stroked his Fam’s head with his forefinger. “I am sorry I’m not providing as well as I should be for you.”

You are a big human and cannot hunt like cats or foxes or hawkcels.

“That’s right. There must be something I can do to provide you with food. At least newly dead prey.”

I would like on your shoulder.

Jace complied.

He continued to mull over the problem as he strode to the dining tent. There he set Zem on a perch and fed him raw ground furrabeast bites the cook had ready for them.

Jace spoke with Myrtus about allowing Zem in by himself; most Fams were not permitted to be in the mess tent alone. He told the cook Zem’s concern about Myrtus’s hands, which surprised the man and he studied his fingers, shook his head. “Gotta admit, I get grease on them, or food, or use lotion. Cleanse! ” Myrtus ordered. The air around his hands wavered, a tangy scent rose around them. Zem cheeped and lifted his wings and Jace steadied his BirdFam.

After a few seconds, Myrtus held out his hands, glanced up at Zem. “Are my hands clean enough to pet you?”

Let me sense, Zem said. I will not bite.

Myrtus lifted his hands. Zem ducked his head. They are good.

“Great!” Myrtus stroked him for a minute before Zem said, That is enough. Jace is my FamMan.

Myrtus scowled.

* * *

Get up! Time to get up. See the sun rise. Lepid’s claws easily pierced the thin sheet.

“Uhng.” She didn’t often watch the sun rise. Maybe in the late days of winter when the days were so short and she had the first shift at the PublicLibrary, before WorkBell. Then she rose in the dark. She’d never been a fan of early mornings.

Come on! Lepid hopped close to her head and licked her cheek. Wet, rough tongue. Sorta nice. Fox breath with the smell of blood, eeeww!

She rolled and her Fam jumped off her to the bedsponge, springing around. “Don’t you go with Jace and Zem in the mornings to get food for the hawkcel?”

Lepid stilled. I want to be with YOU this morning. Lots of fat skirls in the forest yesterday. I caught enough for him and me. Lepid’s gaze slid away. He is not eating much and I have found good caches for my remaining bits. He opened his mouth and his tongue lolled. Hunting is so much more fun than getting food from a no-time on a plate.

Glyssa’s stomach dipped. Life in the wild for sure. Well, this is what she’d wanted. She swept off her nightshirt and put it away and dressed as Lepid zoomed around the pavilion. “All right, let’s go see the sunrise.”

It is bee-yu-tee-ful. Another sidelong glance. Best seen from a special hill outside camp. Glyssa tensed. “Outside camp?” She’d had a mental picture of Jace showing her the beauties of the wilderness, not a young fox, and hadn’t ventured out on her own. “Is it safe?”

Yes, most of the big, mean animals are asleep.

She wondered about the “most,” but leaned down and petted Lepid. His fur was soft under her palm, his body wiry and ready to run. “Sure. Show me the sunrise.”

Yet when she reached the edge of the camp, and the spellshield against larger animals that the Elecampanes and the staff had erected and tended with monthly rituals, she hesitated. She’d never been in uninhabited countryside. She’d lived in the city most of her life, had visited some of the libraries in other towns and cities safely enclosed in a glider along established roads. Her Family had an estate in the south outside Gael City, but that area, too, had long been settled.

Swallowing, she pushed through the barrier, hurried until she caught up with Lepid, who’d paused in his running to look over his shoulder.

Isn’t it beautiful? Isn’t it nice? Isn’t it FUN? He shot off along the side of the dark and towering trees. As Glyssa stumbled after him and her eyes adjusted to the deeper dark outside of camp, she saw that they moved along a path beaten from grass into dirt by many feet. That reassured her and she let out the breath trapped in her chest.

The sky lightened, a few of the most distant stars being lost as the small white sun of Celta approached a horizon Glyssa couldn’t see.

Hurry! Lepid urged mentally, loping up a small incline that was more a rise than a hill.

Her breath coming fast . . . she needed to make this run every day and get into better shape . . . Glyssa shivered in the cool air. She should have brought a thin sweater, but she hadn’t anticipated that the warm summer mornings had welcomed a trace of autumn.

As soon as she reached the top and turned to face east, she caught her breath enough to murmur “Weathershield,” and warmth pressed around her again.

She stared at the tops-of-trees-and-low-hills horizon, the wisps of high clouds taking on red and edged with gold. Brilliant stars still burned and shafts of sunlight lanced through the forest around her as the sun rose. Beautiful. She only wished Jace was here to share it with her. Missed him though he was no longer thousands of kilometers away.

A mocyn! Lepid yipped and took off after the small fluffy-tailed, long-eared animal that Glyssa only saw as a brown blur. And she was alone in the wilderness.

All by herself. Suddenly she was aware of the freshening breeze that rattled leaves on the trees, a susurration that she hadn’t paid attention to before. Other sounds came, animal sounds, a huge thrashing from the path she’d trod.

Alone without a weapon. Her mind scrambled to recall the self-defense all children were taught in grovestudy, a few moves Camellia had taught her more recently. She did recall her teacher saying use any spell you know that might repel an attacker.

Before she could think of one, something roared and grabbed her from behind!

She whirled, whirled! Whirlwind spell! She snapped the Flair Word and the fast- cleansing-and-clothing spell pushed her attacker away.

Sanicle stared at her goggle-eyed as her clothes whipped from her and they and she were cleaned and they wrapped around her again, her hair was yanked and tugged into fancy braids, Flair enhanced her eyes and cheeks, colored her lips. Other than wearing her work clothes, she was ready for a noble ball.

That’s what her personal whirlwind spell did. If she’d been in the pavilion with other clothes near, her very best would be on her now.

Now she had the time and space to teleport away from him to a place she knew well, if she’d been in the city. Or if she could visualize her pavilion, the light, the furniture placement. Or she could summon another spell to send him flying down the hill—one to steady wobbly bookcases. Or she could run, if she thought she could beat him to camp. Which she didn’t.

She did nothing but watch the man double over with laughter at her expense.

What? shouted Lepid in her mind from the forest. She felt him streaking toward her.