Earth Called, page 25
He lifted his head and met her eyes.
“What you are doing for the Herd—for all of us—is important. It’s terrible, but from what I’ve learned from Dove and Nik, Wilkes and Sheena, and the others had Thaddeus been put down Sol would be alive today. The forest fire would never have happened, and Death would not have been able to defeat the Tribe of the Trees…” She paused and snorted. “Not that I have any fondness for your old Tribe, but putting down one evil person would’ve saved so, so many lives.” She moved closer to him. “That is what you are doing—saving many lives by taking a few. Do not forget that. And do not forget that your family is waiting for your return. Now, bend down,” Sora commanded.
Confused, O’Bryan bent, and then Sora utterly shocked him by putting her arms around his neck and kissing him. It wasn’t a long kiss. It wasn’t a deep kiss. Their tongues did not meet, nor did their bodies come together, but it was warm and sweet and full of promise—and when they parted Sora smiled up at him.
“There. Think of that when the horror of your mission begins to overwhelm you, and remember that there are those who care for you—who know how kind and gentle you are—and we wait for you. Come back to us. We will heal your spirit of the horrors you survive.” Then she reached out and pulled Cubby from his shirt. “Now, kiss your little boy goodbye.”
“Goodbye, sweet Cubby.” Still stunned by Sora, O’Bryan scratched Cubby under the chin and then kissed his little black nose. “Be good while I’m gone. I will come back to you.” His gaze went from the wolverine to Sora as he finished, “Both of you. I promise.”
“Good.” Sora cradled Cubby close to her. “Cubby and I will hold you to that promise.” At her feet Chloe yipped. Sora grinned. “Chloe will hold you to it, too. Safe travels, O’Bryan. May the Great Earth Mother be with you.”
Then Sora turned and, with hips swinging, she headed back to the heart of the busy camp. As O’Bryan watched her, his fingers lightly touched his lips.
CHAPTER 21
Had O’Bryan’s mission not been so horrible he would have loved every moment of traveling with the small group of Wind Riders. Their horses were magnificent and kind and strong. He was enthralled by the beauty of Dawn’s Echo, but his favorite was Dozer, the big, friendly gelding who effortlessly pulled the light cart in which he and Dozer’s Companion rode. Not that the light cart was comfortable; it decidedly was not. O’Bryan had never been so bruised or battered, but he adored the big gelding. He adored everything about the horses.
The pace they set was faster than even the Herd had been traveling. With such a small group they didn’t have any elderly or very young with them and they could push the incredibly athletic horses to the limit of their endurance. They made camp only after all light had fled from the sky and began traveling again every morning as the sun lightened the darkness just enough for the horses to move safely.
It took three days to reach Clayton’s camp. Dawn alerted them when they were within half a day’s ride of the rogue Herd. They chose a site in the heart of a thickly wooded grove far enough away from Herd Ebony that even one of Clayton’s Hunters would have difficultly discovering them. There they waited, silent and somber, while Lace stealthily made her way to the place Dawn had described as being Clayton’s campsite.
They didn’t have to wait long. Lace returned before dusk on the third day. Her paint mare was soaked with sweat, and Lace’s expression was grim. As she dried off Lovie and tended to her, Lace filled in her team.
“Clayton and his people are long gone,” said Lace. “Their campfires have been cold for days—at least six. They left their tents up, though—like fools.”
Dawn shook her head sadly. “I explained to Clayton and all of his people that there is an army descending upon our plains. Logic says they will most likely emerge from the Rock Mountains on or near the same path Mari and the Pack took, and that path is only just a couple days’ hard ride from Clayton’s camp.”
“Yet he made no attempt to cover their tracks into camp or camouflage their tents. His arrogance has become willful ignorance,” said Lace as she vigorously toweled sweat from Lovie’s coat.
“Could you tell in what direction Clayton headed?” asked O’Bryan.
Lace snorted. “Easily. He also made no attempt to cover their departure. He’s heading to the Rock Mountain pass.”
“And into the arms of Death,” said Dawn.
“And poison and more horrors than he is capable of comprehending,” added O’Bryan. He met Dawn’s gaze. “What now?”
Her answer came without hesitation. “We track them and hope we catch them before they find Death.”
“We cannot go any farther today,” said Lace as she mixed water Stanton had already warmed with the sweet mash the mare would need to restore her strength. “But by first light Lovie will be fully recovered.” She shook her head and frowned as she gave the tired mare the sweet mash mixture. “Clayton is utterly unfit to be Herd Stallion Rider. He might as well have sent up a signal fire to blaze the location of his Herd. You don’t need me to find them. You don’t need anything but eyes and a little sense. It’s like he’s taking his Herd on an outing with no care in the world.”
“Clayton knew we would come after him. In his arrogance he thinks only of taunting us—of showing us how superior he believes he is.” Dawn’s voice broke and she had to pause to collect herself before continuing. “He does not think of his Herd. He does not think of any of the Great Herds or of what destruction his unearned confidence will cause.”
Dodger, Stanton’s big sorrel stallion, squealed and tossed his head. His Rider went to his side and stroked his neck soothingly. “Yes, my boy, I agree. We all agree.” He glanced up, met O’Bryan’s curious gaze, and added, “Dodger says Clayton is not fit to be a Stallion Rider—that it is an abomination to put his own needs over the safety of his Herd.”
“Do all Stallion Riders feel like that?” O’Bryan asked.
“Yes,” said Stanton. “Except for the fools who followed Clayton.”
Dawn spoke up quickly. “Not all of them are fools. Rand and his Merlin showed me proper respect. He acknowledged his mistake in joining Herd Ebony and, though he clearly did not have the ability to sway his course, only remained with Herd Ebony to try to reason with Clayton.”
“I hope Rand can be saved,” said Lace. “I got to know him when I tracked with Cinnabar’s Riders a couple summers ago. He was kind and had a good sense of humor.”
“I hope he can be saved, too,” Dawn murmured as she began to mix Echo’s sweet mash.
O’Bryan said nothing. He busied himself with spitting the pheasants they’d shot earlier and placing them over the fire to grill as he thought, I hope someone describes Rand and his stallion to me. How will I be sure I do not shoot them? He drew a deep, steadying breath when his hands shook. How will I ever shoot a horse?
* * *
The snow had finally sputtered and stopped, though Ralina kept eyeing the low-hanging, slate-colored clouds that were so close she could reach out and run her fingers through their damp coldness.
They had been climbing straight up for days. Ralina’s legs felt as if they’d turned to iron—if iron could be sore and exhausted. Finally, the doe stopped their uphill climb and turned directly into the shrouded rising sun to follow a steady eastward path. Then, unexpectedly, just after they’d paused for their brief midday meal the doe chose a thread of a path that was really more like a rutted water runoff than trail. It took a downward turn that was so abrupt it seemed to Ralina that they were scaling the side of a gorge, and she was glad of the cloudy mist that concealed much of their surroundings. And then they climbed below the clouds and the world dropped off to nothingness beside them.
“Bloody beetle balls! I could’ve gone the rest of the day not knowing that was there.” Renard jutted his chin at the slash in the mountain that fell away into fog and emptiness just off to their left.
“I’d rather know.” His father’s voice was muffled through the wrap that covered all but his eyes. “Looks too easy to fall from here if we didn’t know.”
As Daniel spoke the doe turned to look at them and tossed her delicate head, walking carefully as far from the edge of the ravine as possible.
“She agrees with you,” said Ralina as they continued trudging after the Goddess-touched deer. “I just hope she’s not leading us all the way to the bottom. I can’t imagine climbing back up on the other side—if that’s where we’re headed.”
“Wherever she’s leading us we know it’s the will of the Goddess of Life, and life will always find a way, no matter how difficult,” said Renard.
From his position on the sliver of a trail just ahead of Ralina, Bear barked in agreement. The doe whirled around. She charged back at them, covering the few feet quickly and stomping her dainty hooves at Bear.
Ralina grabbed her Companion and pulled him back away from the suddenly angry doe. “Stop.” She called to the doe, “Don’t hurt him!”
The doe froze and met Ralina’s gaze. Her large brown eyes showed not anger, only concern—even fear—and Ralina loosed her hold on Bear. “What is it?” she asked the doe. “Why did you—”
SILENCE!
The word blasted through Ralina’s mind as the doe’s gaze went from Ralina to Bear, and then back to Ralina again.
And Ralina understood.
“Bear and Kong have to be quiet,” Ralina said quickly. “They can’t bark.”
The doe tossed her head again—her compassionate gaze going from Bear to Kong.
“That’s it.” She crouched before Bear. “Sweet boy, you have to be very quiet. No barking, okay?”
Through their Companion connection, Bear flooded Ralina with the warmth that was his way of telling her he understood.
“Renard, be sure Kong knows he must not bark, too,” said Ralina.
Instantly, Renard turned to crouch before his big Shepherd, who walked between him and his father. “Hey, buddy, like Ralina said to Bear, you have to be very quiet until the doe lets us know it’s safe.”
Kong’s tail wagged and he huffed soft agreement. Renard stood and turned to face the doe, who had been watching them closely. “Thank you for warning us. They’ll be quiet now.” He bowed respectfully to her.
The doe dipped her head in acknowledgment before she turned and continued their downward trek.
Slowly, the three humans and two canines followed.
“That means Death’s army must be close.” Renard spoke softly.
A shiver of terrible foreboding skittered down Ralina’s spine as she nodded in agreement with her lover.
It seemed they had only continued walking for just a few minutes when their path bottomed out and fed into another, much wider trail that wrapped around the side of the mountain. Though it was more like a proper road, it was so snow packed that had the doe not displaced the drifts ahead of them, they could have only inched their way forward.
Ralina turned her head to look behind them, half expecting to see Death lurking in the misty shadows that hugged the side of the mountain, but all she saw was the trail being swallowed by snow. She was just beginning to wonder how the doe would find shelter that night when she heard it—a strange bellow. It wasn’t a roar or a growl, but it was male and powerful, and definitely animalistic.
The doe’s head snapped around to glance behind them, and then she increased her pace so the humans and their Companions had to jog to keep up with her.
It’s Him. It’s Death.
Ralina didn’t speak the words aloud. She couldn’t. If she spoke them, she was afraid she would conjure the God. Just the thought had her gazing to her right at the abrupt drop-off that was only a few yards away.
He won’t take me. He won’t take Bear. If He catches us, I will jump. Bear will follow, and I know Renard, Kong, and Daniel will also follow.
And then the winding path straightened, revealing a snow-covered suspension bridge that stretched over the open maw of the seemingly bottomless ravine. The doe led them to it and then paused as she waited for them to join her. As they did, Renard clapped his mittened hands and smiled fiercely.
“This is perfect. Ralina, your doe is brilliant!” He hugged Ralina exuberantly.
“Well, at least we don’t have to climb up from down there.” Ralina eyed the gorge nervously. “Not that we can even see what is down there.”
Daniel’s hand rested briefly on her shoulder. “Do not fret. It is only a gorge, and this is only a bridge. Were it not safe, your doe wouldn’t have led us to it. We shall cross it and continue on our journey—ahead of Death.”
“Exactly.” Renard’s smile got broader. “And after crossing it we can be sure that we’ll remain ahead of Death.”
And then Ralina understood why Renard was so joyous. “Oh, Goddess! We’ll cut the bridge after we cross.”
“Indeed we will.” Renard gestured to his father. “We’ll need the best knife in your backpack.”
As Renard dug through his father’s backpack, snow began to fall again—hard, icy pellets that stung so that it seemed the clouds had dropped down to them and then crystalized. From her position at the mouth of the suspension bridge, the doe stomped her hooves and tossed her head restlessly.
“We need to hurry,” said Ralina. Her words were punctuated by another bestial roar that drifted eerily up the trail from behind them, this time closer and louder than the one before.
The doe snorted and moved onto the bridge, which swayed under her weight. She didn’t pause to look behind her to be sure they followed. She trotted quickly, her hooves displacing the snow so that they clattered against the wooden slats and echoed around them.
Bear whined and looked up at Ralina, who bent to stroke his wide head. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay. Like Daniel said, the doe wouldn’t lead us into danger. She’s leading us away from it. Come on, Bear. We can do this.” Purposefully, the Storyteller kept her gaze focused on the doe. She did not look for the opposite side of the gorge as it had already been obscured by the snow. She did not look down—for that way lay fear. She strode with confidence out onto the swaying bridge, holding tightly to the rope railing, and followed her Goddess-given guide, only glancing once behind her to be sure Renard, Kong, and Daniel followed.
Though the bridge swayed with their weight and the wind that whirled up from the gorge below them, it was surprisingly easy to cross to the other side. Of course, that was mostly because the doe displaced the snow and ice that coated the wooden slats, but it seemed little time had passed when Ralina’s feet were once again on solid, but snowy, ground. As the others spilled from the bridge, they took off their backpacks and each of them grabbed a knife, though only the blade Renard used was sharp enough to saw completely through the thick ropes that held the suspension bridge above the seemingly bottomless gorge.
The doe stood close to them, ears pricked as her gaze was focused on the opposite side of the bridge. Every few moments she would stomp her hooves and toss her head restlessly.
Ralina felt her impatience like a hot poker fresh from the fire. “We need to hurry,” she murmured to Renard and Daniel as the three of them sawed at the ropes, fat as tree boughs.
“Got it!” Renard said victoriously as he severed the last rope that held one side of the bridge. Then he quickly moved to continue the work Ralina and Daniel had been doing on the other arm of the bridge.
Ralina stepped back, acknowledging that the men were stronger and able to saw through the thick rope faster by giving them room to work. She wiped her sweaty forehead, glad at least to feel warm from the effort of trying to hack through the almost impossible thick—and frozen—braided rope. For a moment the icy wind that swirled up from the gorge felt good against the heated skin of her flushed face, but then she realized that the wind, eddying up and around them from the slash between mountains was intermittently blowing the falling snow away so that she could, occasionally, glimpse the opposite side of the bridge.
What she saw chilled her blood and had fear spiking through her body.
A dark line of huge, shaggy beasts had plowed through the snow and stood, paused, staring across the length of the bridge at her. Leading the line of beasts was an enormous creature shaped like the others, but this one glowed, much like the beautiful spirit of the doe Death had entrapped to guide them through the pass. Ralina blinked, thinking all those days of trudging after the doe had caused her to hallucinate. But then she realized that she stared at the glowing spirit of the bison bull Death had battled and killed and whose living heart He had gorged on right before the snowstorm began—right before she escaped. The bison is bound to Death. He must be close!
Suddenly, Ralina was filled with an overwhelming urge to run—to bolt away in panic—to put as much distance between her and the glowing spirit as possible.
The doe snorted and butted Ralina gently with her muzzle before she whirled around and trotted a few feet away. She paused there and stared back at Ralina as the Storyteller was flooded with an undeniable urgency to run. She stared at the doe, meeting her expressive brown eyes that seemed to beseech her to understand.
Ralina nodded. Yes. Yes, we need to get out of here.
The doe tossed her head again, snorted, and trotted backwards several paces, compelling Ralina to follow.
“Renard, we have to go. Now.” When he glanced up at her, she pointed across the gorge and his eyes widened as he stared at the glowing beast and the stationary line of creatures behind him.
“Bloody beetle balls, it’s Death’s spirit guide. Father! Hurry. The army. It can’t be far behind the bison spirit,” Renard said.
His father followed his gaze and then nodded as he bent over his rope, sawing with renewed vigor
“Why have you stopped?”
The bellow drifted across the bridge with the wind. Ralina’s body went numb with fear. She would know His voice anywhere.
As she stared in horror, He strode into view, shoving aside the enormous beasts with such disregard that several of them tumbled soundlessly over the edge to be swallowed by the eddying snow and mist.
“What you are doing for the Herd—for all of us—is important. It’s terrible, but from what I’ve learned from Dove and Nik, Wilkes and Sheena, and the others had Thaddeus been put down Sol would be alive today. The forest fire would never have happened, and Death would not have been able to defeat the Tribe of the Trees…” She paused and snorted. “Not that I have any fondness for your old Tribe, but putting down one evil person would’ve saved so, so many lives.” She moved closer to him. “That is what you are doing—saving many lives by taking a few. Do not forget that. And do not forget that your family is waiting for your return. Now, bend down,” Sora commanded.
Confused, O’Bryan bent, and then Sora utterly shocked him by putting her arms around his neck and kissing him. It wasn’t a long kiss. It wasn’t a deep kiss. Their tongues did not meet, nor did their bodies come together, but it was warm and sweet and full of promise—and when they parted Sora smiled up at him.
“There. Think of that when the horror of your mission begins to overwhelm you, and remember that there are those who care for you—who know how kind and gentle you are—and we wait for you. Come back to us. We will heal your spirit of the horrors you survive.” Then she reached out and pulled Cubby from his shirt. “Now, kiss your little boy goodbye.”
“Goodbye, sweet Cubby.” Still stunned by Sora, O’Bryan scratched Cubby under the chin and then kissed his little black nose. “Be good while I’m gone. I will come back to you.” His gaze went from the wolverine to Sora as he finished, “Both of you. I promise.”
“Good.” Sora cradled Cubby close to her. “Cubby and I will hold you to that promise.” At her feet Chloe yipped. Sora grinned. “Chloe will hold you to it, too. Safe travels, O’Bryan. May the Great Earth Mother be with you.”
Then Sora turned and, with hips swinging, she headed back to the heart of the busy camp. As O’Bryan watched her, his fingers lightly touched his lips.
CHAPTER 21
Had O’Bryan’s mission not been so horrible he would have loved every moment of traveling with the small group of Wind Riders. Their horses were magnificent and kind and strong. He was enthralled by the beauty of Dawn’s Echo, but his favorite was Dozer, the big, friendly gelding who effortlessly pulled the light cart in which he and Dozer’s Companion rode. Not that the light cart was comfortable; it decidedly was not. O’Bryan had never been so bruised or battered, but he adored the big gelding. He adored everything about the horses.
The pace they set was faster than even the Herd had been traveling. With such a small group they didn’t have any elderly or very young with them and they could push the incredibly athletic horses to the limit of their endurance. They made camp only after all light had fled from the sky and began traveling again every morning as the sun lightened the darkness just enough for the horses to move safely.
It took three days to reach Clayton’s camp. Dawn alerted them when they were within half a day’s ride of the rogue Herd. They chose a site in the heart of a thickly wooded grove far enough away from Herd Ebony that even one of Clayton’s Hunters would have difficultly discovering them. There they waited, silent and somber, while Lace stealthily made her way to the place Dawn had described as being Clayton’s campsite.
They didn’t have to wait long. Lace returned before dusk on the third day. Her paint mare was soaked with sweat, and Lace’s expression was grim. As she dried off Lovie and tended to her, Lace filled in her team.
“Clayton and his people are long gone,” said Lace. “Their campfires have been cold for days—at least six. They left their tents up, though—like fools.”
Dawn shook her head sadly. “I explained to Clayton and all of his people that there is an army descending upon our plains. Logic says they will most likely emerge from the Rock Mountains on or near the same path Mari and the Pack took, and that path is only just a couple days’ hard ride from Clayton’s camp.”
“Yet he made no attempt to cover their tracks into camp or camouflage their tents. His arrogance has become willful ignorance,” said Lace as she vigorously toweled sweat from Lovie’s coat.
“Could you tell in what direction Clayton headed?” asked O’Bryan.
Lace snorted. “Easily. He also made no attempt to cover their departure. He’s heading to the Rock Mountain pass.”
“And into the arms of Death,” said Dawn.
“And poison and more horrors than he is capable of comprehending,” added O’Bryan. He met Dawn’s gaze. “What now?”
Her answer came without hesitation. “We track them and hope we catch them before they find Death.”
“We cannot go any farther today,” said Lace as she mixed water Stanton had already warmed with the sweet mash the mare would need to restore her strength. “But by first light Lovie will be fully recovered.” She shook her head and frowned as she gave the tired mare the sweet mash mixture. “Clayton is utterly unfit to be Herd Stallion Rider. He might as well have sent up a signal fire to blaze the location of his Herd. You don’t need me to find them. You don’t need anything but eyes and a little sense. It’s like he’s taking his Herd on an outing with no care in the world.”
“Clayton knew we would come after him. In his arrogance he thinks only of taunting us—of showing us how superior he believes he is.” Dawn’s voice broke and she had to pause to collect herself before continuing. “He does not think of his Herd. He does not think of any of the Great Herds or of what destruction his unearned confidence will cause.”
Dodger, Stanton’s big sorrel stallion, squealed and tossed his head. His Rider went to his side and stroked his neck soothingly. “Yes, my boy, I agree. We all agree.” He glanced up, met O’Bryan’s curious gaze, and added, “Dodger says Clayton is not fit to be a Stallion Rider—that it is an abomination to put his own needs over the safety of his Herd.”
“Do all Stallion Riders feel like that?” O’Bryan asked.
“Yes,” said Stanton. “Except for the fools who followed Clayton.”
Dawn spoke up quickly. “Not all of them are fools. Rand and his Merlin showed me proper respect. He acknowledged his mistake in joining Herd Ebony and, though he clearly did not have the ability to sway his course, only remained with Herd Ebony to try to reason with Clayton.”
“I hope Rand can be saved,” said Lace. “I got to know him when I tracked with Cinnabar’s Riders a couple summers ago. He was kind and had a good sense of humor.”
“I hope he can be saved, too,” Dawn murmured as she began to mix Echo’s sweet mash.
O’Bryan said nothing. He busied himself with spitting the pheasants they’d shot earlier and placing them over the fire to grill as he thought, I hope someone describes Rand and his stallion to me. How will I be sure I do not shoot them? He drew a deep, steadying breath when his hands shook. How will I ever shoot a horse?
* * *
The snow had finally sputtered and stopped, though Ralina kept eyeing the low-hanging, slate-colored clouds that were so close she could reach out and run her fingers through their damp coldness.
They had been climbing straight up for days. Ralina’s legs felt as if they’d turned to iron—if iron could be sore and exhausted. Finally, the doe stopped their uphill climb and turned directly into the shrouded rising sun to follow a steady eastward path. Then, unexpectedly, just after they’d paused for their brief midday meal the doe chose a thread of a path that was really more like a rutted water runoff than trail. It took a downward turn that was so abrupt it seemed to Ralina that they were scaling the side of a gorge, and she was glad of the cloudy mist that concealed much of their surroundings. And then they climbed below the clouds and the world dropped off to nothingness beside them.
“Bloody beetle balls! I could’ve gone the rest of the day not knowing that was there.” Renard jutted his chin at the slash in the mountain that fell away into fog and emptiness just off to their left.
“I’d rather know.” His father’s voice was muffled through the wrap that covered all but his eyes. “Looks too easy to fall from here if we didn’t know.”
As Daniel spoke the doe turned to look at them and tossed her delicate head, walking carefully as far from the edge of the ravine as possible.
“She agrees with you,” said Ralina as they continued trudging after the Goddess-touched deer. “I just hope she’s not leading us all the way to the bottom. I can’t imagine climbing back up on the other side—if that’s where we’re headed.”
“Wherever she’s leading us we know it’s the will of the Goddess of Life, and life will always find a way, no matter how difficult,” said Renard.
From his position on the sliver of a trail just ahead of Ralina, Bear barked in agreement. The doe whirled around. She charged back at them, covering the few feet quickly and stomping her dainty hooves at Bear.
Ralina grabbed her Companion and pulled him back away from the suddenly angry doe. “Stop.” She called to the doe, “Don’t hurt him!”
The doe froze and met Ralina’s gaze. Her large brown eyes showed not anger, only concern—even fear—and Ralina loosed her hold on Bear. “What is it?” she asked the doe. “Why did you—”
SILENCE!
The word blasted through Ralina’s mind as the doe’s gaze went from Ralina to Bear, and then back to Ralina again.
And Ralina understood.
“Bear and Kong have to be quiet,” Ralina said quickly. “They can’t bark.”
The doe tossed her head again—her compassionate gaze going from Bear to Kong.
“That’s it.” She crouched before Bear. “Sweet boy, you have to be very quiet. No barking, okay?”
Through their Companion connection, Bear flooded Ralina with the warmth that was his way of telling her he understood.
“Renard, be sure Kong knows he must not bark, too,” said Ralina.
Instantly, Renard turned to crouch before his big Shepherd, who walked between him and his father. “Hey, buddy, like Ralina said to Bear, you have to be very quiet until the doe lets us know it’s safe.”
Kong’s tail wagged and he huffed soft agreement. Renard stood and turned to face the doe, who had been watching them closely. “Thank you for warning us. They’ll be quiet now.” He bowed respectfully to her.
The doe dipped her head in acknowledgment before she turned and continued their downward trek.
Slowly, the three humans and two canines followed.
“That means Death’s army must be close.” Renard spoke softly.
A shiver of terrible foreboding skittered down Ralina’s spine as she nodded in agreement with her lover.
It seemed they had only continued walking for just a few minutes when their path bottomed out and fed into another, much wider trail that wrapped around the side of the mountain. Though it was more like a proper road, it was so snow packed that had the doe not displaced the drifts ahead of them, they could have only inched their way forward.
Ralina turned her head to look behind them, half expecting to see Death lurking in the misty shadows that hugged the side of the mountain, but all she saw was the trail being swallowed by snow. She was just beginning to wonder how the doe would find shelter that night when she heard it—a strange bellow. It wasn’t a roar or a growl, but it was male and powerful, and definitely animalistic.
The doe’s head snapped around to glance behind them, and then she increased her pace so the humans and their Companions had to jog to keep up with her.
It’s Him. It’s Death.
Ralina didn’t speak the words aloud. She couldn’t. If she spoke them, she was afraid she would conjure the God. Just the thought had her gazing to her right at the abrupt drop-off that was only a few yards away.
He won’t take me. He won’t take Bear. If He catches us, I will jump. Bear will follow, and I know Renard, Kong, and Daniel will also follow.
And then the winding path straightened, revealing a snow-covered suspension bridge that stretched over the open maw of the seemingly bottomless ravine. The doe led them to it and then paused as she waited for them to join her. As they did, Renard clapped his mittened hands and smiled fiercely.
“This is perfect. Ralina, your doe is brilliant!” He hugged Ralina exuberantly.
“Well, at least we don’t have to climb up from down there.” Ralina eyed the gorge nervously. “Not that we can even see what is down there.”
Daniel’s hand rested briefly on her shoulder. “Do not fret. It is only a gorge, and this is only a bridge. Were it not safe, your doe wouldn’t have led us to it. We shall cross it and continue on our journey—ahead of Death.”
“Exactly.” Renard’s smile got broader. “And after crossing it we can be sure that we’ll remain ahead of Death.”
And then Ralina understood why Renard was so joyous. “Oh, Goddess! We’ll cut the bridge after we cross.”
“Indeed we will.” Renard gestured to his father. “We’ll need the best knife in your backpack.”
As Renard dug through his father’s backpack, snow began to fall again—hard, icy pellets that stung so that it seemed the clouds had dropped down to them and then crystalized. From her position at the mouth of the suspension bridge, the doe stomped her hooves and tossed her head restlessly.
“We need to hurry,” said Ralina. Her words were punctuated by another bestial roar that drifted eerily up the trail from behind them, this time closer and louder than the one before.
The doe snorted and moved onto the bridge, which swayed under her weight. She didn’t pause to look behind her to be sure they followed. She trotted quickly, her hooves displacing the snow so that they clattered against the wooden slats and echoed around them.
Bear whined and looked up at Ralina, who bent to stroke his wide head. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay. Like Daniel said, the doe wouldn’t lead us into danger. She’s leading us away from it. Come on, Bear. We can do this.” Purposefully, the Storyteller kept her gaze focused on the doe. She did not look for the opposite side of the gorge as it had already been obscured by the snow. She did not look down—for that way lay fear. She strode with confidence out onto the swaying bridge, holding tightly to the rope railing, and followed her Goddess-given guide, only glancing once behind her to be sure Renard, Kong, and Daniel followed.
Though the bridge swayed with their weight and the wind that whirled up from the gorge below them, it was surprisingly easy to cross to the other side. Of course, that was mostly because the doe displaced the snow and ice that coated the wooden slats, but it seemed little time had passed when Ralina’s feet were once again on solid, but snowy, ground. As the others spilled from the bridge, they took off their backpacks and each of them grabbed a knife, though only the blade Renard used was sharp enough to saw completely through the thick ropes that held the suspension bridge above the seemingly bottomless gorge.
The doe stood close to them, ears pricked as her gaze was focused on the opposite side of the bridge. Every few moments she would stomp her hooves and toss her head restlessly.
Ralina felt her impatience like a hot poker fresh from the fire. “We need to hurry,” she murmured to Renard and Daniel as the three of them sawed at the ropes, fat as tree boughs.
“Got it!” Renard said victoriously as he severed the last rope that held one side of the bridge. Then he quickly moved to continue the work Ralina and Daniel had been doing on the other arm of the bridge.
Ralina stepped back, acknowledging that the men were stronger and able to saw through the thick rope faster by giving them room to work. She wiped her sweaty forehead, glad at least to feel warm from the effort of trying to hack through the almost impossible thick—and frozen—braided rope. For a moment the icy wind that swirled up from the gorge felt good against the heated skin of her flushed face, but then she realized that the wind, eddying up and around them from the slash between mountains was intermittently blowing the falling snow away so that she could, occasionally, glimpse the opposite side of the bridge.
What she saw chilled her blood and had fear spiking through her body.
A dark line of huge, shaggy beasts had plowed through the snow and stood, paused, staring across the length of the bridge at her. Leading the line of beasts was an enormous creature shaped like the others, but this one glowed, much like the beautiful spirit of the doe Death had entrapped to guide them through the pass. Ralina blinked, thinking all those days of trudging after the doe had caused her to hallucinate. But then she realized that she stared at the glowing spirit of the bison bull Death had battled and killed and whose living heart He had gorged on right before the snowstorm began—right before she escaped. The bison is bound to Death. He must be close!
Suddenly, Ralina was filled with an overwhelming urge to run—to bolt away in panic—to put as much distance between her and the glowing spirit as possible.
The doe snorted and butted Ralina gently with her muzzle before she whirled around and trotted a few feet away. She paused there and stared back at Ralina as the Storyteller was flooded with an undeniable urgency to run. She stared at the doe, meeting her expressive brown eyes that seemed to beseech her to understand.
Ralina nodded. Yes. Yes, we need to get out of here.
The doe tossed her head again, snorted, and trotted backwards several paces, compelling Ralina to follow.
“Renard, we have to go. Now.” When he glanced up at her, she pointed across the gorge and his eyes widened as he stared at the glowing beast and the stationary line of creatures behind him.
“Bloody beetle balls, it’s Death’s spirit guide. Father! Hurry. The army. It can’t be far behind the bison spirit,” Renard said.
His father followed his gaze and then nodded as he bent over his rope, sawing with renewed vigor
“Why have you stopped?”
The bellow drifted across the bridge with the wind. Ralina’s body went numb with fear. She would know His voice anywhere.
As she stared in horror, He strode into view, shoving aside the enormous beasts with such disregard that several of them tumbled soundlessly over the edge to be swallowed by the eddying snow and mist.
