Palatan soon heard it—Sensed it, a vibration against his breastbone. A song, a story, a rhythm like to any drum, in truth, setting a-quiver the great Starry basket. And others answered, sought to join it… unwelcome, off-key and asyncopated, brittle ice reaching, seeking…
Hunting.
Beneath Palatan’s haunches the chestnut began to prance in place. Arrow growled, rolling to his feet, and the younger ones followed suit, silky hair shivering erect. Palatan swayed beneath the force of it, for a lingering breath taken in the Dance.
“Yeka?”
Palatan couldn’t answer. The ice shivered and cracked, warming, and with no more than a waft upon Anahli’s Wind, the new and homely voice whispered along the soft, Starlit grass. Beloved and ai-so-familiar, carrying a wish—
If only you were here
—fading as quickly as it had approached.
“Gone.” Anahli’s gaze, turning to him, had dimmed, any hint of Starlight fading, revealing that her connexion with Tokela had dissolved. “He’s not in midLands, Yeka. Where is he?”
Where is he?
If only you were here.
Possibilities lingered, burrowed deep into Palatan’s Spirit, and began to gnaw.
“TOKELA?”
A familiar voice broke the quiet, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. Wanted to just burrow down, curl up in the sudden surcease of everything…
“Cousin?” Insistent, and a hand lighted upon his arm, gave a brief, firm shake. “Tokela. Wake.”
N’da, he wanted to growl, but even that would make noise, and it was so welcome, so foreign, so… silent.
“Tohwakelifitčiluka!” That got his attention even as the grip upon his shoulder pinched, shook.
Slowly—unwillingly—Tokela opened gluey eyes. A familiar, broad figure knelt besides, hair shining mahogany, for Fire lay just beyond, stirring upwards sparks and demanding notice.
Yet still, the quiet.
Tokela blinked, rolled onto his back. A blanket arched overhead, shielding him. But spilling over Našobok’s sleek hair and wide shoulders, the void of adamantine neverending shone. Stars reached for him, glimmered. Tokela squeezed his eyes shut.
“Come, my heart.” Našobok shook him again, his voice purling soft but grim. “I need you alert. We have company.”
Company. It shivered cold into even Našobok’s endearment, stirred the possibility: had the tall ones had found them after all? But n’da, nothing lingered. The icy presences remained distant, sniffing around the internal barricades he’d erected.
At that last, thankfully, he was very, very practised.
Tokela heaved himself upwards, shivering beneath the blanket, trying to read their surroundings. There was a makeshift lean-to beneath which he lay; Našobok crouched beside him with longspear and hunting knife crossed ready; the mare snorted defiance just past, weaving back and forth. Fire flickered, catching reflections. Luminous pinpoints blinked in the dark, wary. Tokela shielded his eyes from Fire and squinted across the plain. Darksight betrayed furry, brindled bodies pacing, making the Dance of prowlingKin.
“I suppose,” Našobok drawled, “we should thank Grandmother they are Kin, and not cursed Chepiś.”
A grin quirked at Tokela’s lip. “How…?” It wavered; he sucked in a shaky breath, held it, let it out. “How many, do you think?”
“Six at least. Maybe more.” Našobok rose from his crouch, let out a growl that carried outwards. The wild dogs whined and gave ground, but didn’t retreat.
“They know I’m down,” Tokela reached for his own hunting knife, found it gone. Našobok saw the motion, for without taking his eyes off the pack of predators, he drew a knife from his belt and threw. It sculpted a copper arc against Fire’s light to bury itself in the sand beside Tokela’s knee.
“I wasn’t keen leaving it close, earlier. Now?” Našobok shrugged, eyes flickering upon every direction. “You’re right, long as you’re down they’ll think to chance it. Even with your elder cousin growling at them in their own talk and a pissing-mad mare ready to kick shit from anything that moves. Are you with me?”
Tokela took knife in hand, started to rise.
A quick smile, and Našobok bent down, still not taking his eyes from the half-circled predators. He took the bow from its place as hide prop, proffered it.
Tokela came forwards…
Staggered as, from the black, silence broke into screams. Shrilling, beckoning, Stars flicked an icy-bright touch over his face, ran cold-flame fingers through his hair, grabbed hold…
But others also raised a chorus… closer, expressions and forms, stray images, patterns that drummed as they wove and unwove, attempting translation. As if some ancient, nimble-fingered weaver plaited connexions into the loom of his Spirit, his heart opened and gave voice:
Stop them. Tame them. You must keep Stars in check; I can help if you can listen. The sand beneath his feet bore him up, kept him upright.
Do not give. Fire insisted. You must be sharp, have foc—
Staggered again, as something thwacked into his solar plexus, huffing his breath and sparking pain across his ribs. Starlight broke into small scatters just beyond his vision. Tokela shuddered beneath the relief of it, eyes clearing to see Našobok with bow raised, ready to whack him again.
“Stay with me, now,” Našobok warned. “Better bruises than our blood on the sand, eh? If you can’t pull your bow then take this.” He tossed the spear; Tokela managed to catch it, hefted it as Našobok strung his bow. A brace of arrows were already stuck in the sand beside him.
The points of light began to glide closer.
The surcease of breathlessness and pain was subsiding; brilliant shards were starting to flash and regather behind Tokela’s sight. He gritted his teeth, let one sharp canine score his tongue.
Intent upon the predators’ advance, Našobok also kept an eye upon Tokela. “Perhaps you can make their talk better than my feeble attempts?”
Make their talk? Wasn’t he there enough to contend with, with Elementals nattering and complaining and singing—Ai, shrieking—in his Spirit? As well as Stars?
Stars…
This time Našobok brought the bow against the small of Tokela’s back.
This time it really hurt. With the pain came clarity, and anger. “Yuškammanukfila ikšo!” The epithet snarled and snapped. “Reason with hungry prowlingKin? Are you mad?”
Is it so different? Another Voice, dispersing Starlight. River, then Fire; now the sand beneath his feet echoed Grandmother. Are you not all kindred and my children?
“Ai, there you are,”
