Sun Huntress (The Moon People, Book Three)

—1—

Kiren

This time she knew a real punishment was coming. Kiren dragged her feet through the underbrush at the edge of the den, meandering like a stubborn child in an effort to delay the inevitable. Each step was slower than the last, and still it was one step closer to her mother's tent. Had she invited this upon herself, like the elders always said she did? She did not try to. These things just had a habit of happening, and only when it was too late did she realise her mistake.

The young woman adjusted one of the shoulder ties that held her leather jerkin tight against her body, wincing as her shuffling footsteps scuffed too hard against a sharp stone and opened up a tear in one of her moccasins. She would have to sew that up by herself later on. The last thing she needed today was an exasperated scolding from Craftsmother Mella when she turned up with yet another damaged piece of clothing in need of mending. Kiren's frequent forays out into the swamp and surrounding woodland were precisely why she had taken to wearing tough leathers over clothing made from softer animal pelts, but she still seemed capable of ruining it at regular intervals regardless. Had it not been for the fact that her people inhabited the bodies of wolves when they were hunting or travelling she suspected she would have gotten through twice as much clothing.

To Kiren's growing dismay, her meandering did little to avert the inevitable. Before long she was within eyeshot of her mother's tent, complete with Huntress Vaya standing guard outside. The older woman caught sight of Kiren in an instant, giving her a wry look and a faint shake of the head when she hesitated. It was a fool's errand to try and slip past Vaya.

With a sigh Kiren lurched forward, pretending her shambling pace had only been a momentary stumble. Vaya leaned against the thick wooden totem that stood pride of place outside the clan mother's tent, the soot-stained remnants of a large wolf skull impaled upon the top.

What did you do? Vaya said, her predatory eyes flicking from Kiren's dirty blonde hair to the scuffed knees of her leggings.

I didn't mean to do anything. You go outside the den by yourself all the time.

That is different, the huntress replied. I don't come from your lands. Your mother knows I can survive out there by myself.

Kiren jutted out her chin. You think I can't?

Maybe, Vaya said with a smirk, thumbing one of the bone spikes that pierced her earlobes. It depends on the company you keep.

Kiren felt her cheeks warm slightly. So you do know.

I hear a few things. Go in. Don't keep her waiting. The huntress jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the tent.

Still Kiren hesitated. I don't need you to come in with me, but she'd listen if you were there.

Stand on your own two feet—or four paws, if you think your wolf would stand a better chance against her. That beast does most of your thinking for you, doesn't she?

Don't mock me. Kiren shook her head in exasperation. She swallowed her fear and pushed past, giving the huntress a nudge that prompted an equally competitive dig from Vaya's elbow in response. Even though she had only come to their pack a few years ago, Vaya had quickly established a reputation for herself as a skilled huntress and a fearless warrior. She was one of the clan mother's most trusted followers, and even though Kiren hesitated to admit it, she looked up to her.

Muggy, incense-laced air teased the young woman's nostrils as she stepped beneath the sheltered canopy outside the tent's entrance. She untied her moccasins and shooed a small lizard away to make room for her footwear beneath the awning. Bare toes curling against the ground, she drew a deep breath and pushed past the outer drapes, took a step through the darkness, then emerged through a second layer of hanging furs into her mother's dwelling.

When Kiren was very young, a man she had known only as Alpha ruled their pack. It was now forbidden to utter his true name, and it was his skull that decorated the totem outside Clan Mother Octavia's tent. Every time Kiren felt like defying her mother, she always tried to remind herself of that fact. It seemed a wise thing to keep in mind.

Clad in a crimson-dyed gown, Octavia reclined upon her raised sleeping platform atop a heap of plush furs. Kiren's father, golden-haired and naked, slumbered quietly next to her. Unlike him, the clan mother appeared to have been waiting for their daughter. No fire glowed in the pit at the centre of the dwelling, but a half dozen shallow clay lamps burned their fragrant incense around the edges.

Tucking her braided hair back behind her ears, Octavia swept her legs off the side of the platform and stepped down, approaching her daughter with a face devoid of emotion. Kiren gazed past her, swallowing as her mother drew near.

Why? Octavia asked. The word was phrased simply, but not without annoyance. It was, after all, one she had uttered far too many times in the past. I must ask, for clearly you believe either I am foolish, or you are clever. Neither are truth.

I do not think either of those things, Mother, Kiren muttered.

You do not think at all, that is your problem. You are a grown woman. You must know better.

I cannot see what I did wrong. Chali wanted to come hunting with me.

He is not yours to take hunting, or to lie with, or to remind of the things he is better off forgetting. Men do not hunt. They do not take women when they are alone. They do not fight. They do not command. These are our rules, and you have broken them.

We didn't... Kiren trailed off in the midst of the lie, face warming again as she thought back to the many things she and Chali had done together besides hunting. The space between her legs was still pleasantly tender from some of them.

You may do all the things you desire within our den, Octavia said, and all the things you desire outside of it—provided you are in the company of your pack-sisters. You are thankful, are you not, that you have this freedom?

Of course, Mother.

Are you sure? Because the way you act speaks otherwise. Our pack is a haven, Kiren. Here, as a woman, you are free. There are few other clans whose females may say the same.

Chali says not. He thinks the women of the other clans are very happy.

Octavia glared at her, raising a sharp index finger that demanded no further interruption. Chali is fortunate. He showed potential. He showed willingness. I allowed him into our pack because I believed he could learn to respect our ways. He will help father us children and tend to our sisters' needs, but nothing more. Every time you take him out to hunt—and spirits help you if this has happened more than once—you remind him of the life he left behind. You remind him of the other packs and their ways. Those are things he must forget if he is to become one of us. If he cannot, Octavia gave the faintest shake of her head, I will cast him out.

I was the one who suggested it! Punish me, not him, Kiren exclaimed, much against her better judgement.

Will that prevent this from happening again? How many more times must we have this conversation, Kiren? It is not punishment you need, it is a reshaping of your mind. The clan mother sighed, raising her hands wearily. Why have you not chosen a calling? You like to hunt, so hunt. Vaya and the others will teach you. A woman your age must sharpen her mind with discipline. If you did that, perhaps you would not have time for this foolishness.

I do not like hunting with the others. With a group it is long and slow. I lose patience.

Of course you do. Her mother let out another exasperated breath. And without patience you will never be any kind of craftswoman either. Can you cook? Dress meat? Raise children? Octavia stared at her daughter, listing off another half dozen tasks to drive the point home. They both knew that Kiren had never remained dedicated to any one skill for long. The only talent she seemed consistently able to exercise was her propensity for getting into trouble. Barely two seasons ago she had overturned and almost lost one of the logs the craftspeople had been hollowing out in an attempt to mimic the floating canoes of the Sun People. A turning of the moon before that she had injured one of the huntresses in a trap she had set near the edge of the swamp. It would have been a well-made and effective snare, one she had hoped to impress Vaya with, if not for the fact that she had completely forgotten to tell anyone else where it was. Then there had been the expedition she led west to the great water without her mother's permission, the fight with Chali's most persistent admirer, the endless supply of broken tools and torn clothing she was responsible for...

While Kiren never meant for any of these things to happen, fate seemed to have a way of forcing them upon her. She had been born under the face of the moon that held the trickster's spirit, or so the seers had once told her, though Kiren was not sure whether she believed that. The seers were wise, but their visions had never been particularly helpful in predicting her mishaps.

Sometimes, Octavia said at last, after the admonishments of her daughter's past failings had come to an end, I question whether you are suited to life among our pack at all.

Kiren looked up, equal parts curious and apprehensive. It was not unheard of for people to stray from pack to pack as Chali and Vaya had done.

I want to be here, she said. This is my home.

Despite all the trouble you cause me, I believe you. But I cannot have you making a fool of us both by continuing on as you are. You are a woman of age, Kiren, and you must behave as one. Every mistake you make, every time you disregard our rules, you weaken this pack and my status as Clan Mother. I cannot tolerate it any longer.

Kiren bowed her head, waiting to hear her punishment. The shame of it did little to concern her, but there were worse things Octavia could inflict than simple shame.

The clan mother looked down at her daughter for a long moment before saying, What if I send you to the witches?

Kiren almost smirked. Had the words come from anyone else, she was certain she would have. Being sent to the witches was a punishment mothers used to frighten their infant children. No one had ever actually done it.

Smirk or no, something in Kiren's expression must have betrayed her thoughts, for her mother's face darkened in an instant.

Tomorrow. At first light, she all but growled. I have no patience left for you. Let someone else deal with your insolence.

How? What— Kiren spluttered, still half-incredulous at the idea. Was her mother trying to frighten her?

They take apprentices from all the packs. Why not you? If they cannot burn some discipline into you then no one can.

Kiren's blood ran cold. Her mother truly meant it. As mythical as the witches sometimes seemed, they were very much real, and everyone knew the terrifying stories of the things they had done. Alphas had fallen to their sinister magic. They spoke with the dark spectres that other seers feared, conjured ghosts and demons from the spirit world, and plucked the very stars from the heavens to do their bidding. At least, so the stories claimed. Kiren had never witnessed anything like the power the witches were rumoured to possess, and she had no desire to discover the truth of it one way or another.

She swallowed, realising that her mouth had grown dry. The witches?

They are no demons, Daughter, they are women like you and I. Octavia smiled then. And what I would not give for a pair of eyes within their coven. We hear so many whispers about the other packs, so many tales that can be turned against them, but never a word from the witches in the north. Yes, you will go to them, and a few summers from now you will return home a seer. She paced around her daughter, appraising her like a craftswoman trying to seek out the tool inside a spall of unfinished flint. Or a witch. Or a herb-picker. Whatever they make of you, I am sure it will be much to your own good. She raised a hand to silence her daughter as Kiren tried to speak. Do not argue. I have decided.

Kiren bit her lower lip, trying to find a balance point between her heating temper and the anxiety brewing in her stomach. I am sorry I disappoint you so.

Do not pity yourself, Octavia replied. You are better than that. If you think I am disappointed in you, then prove me wrong. You are my daughter, are you not? Find your wits. Find your passion. Come back to me with skills of your own and secrets of the witches to share, and I will welcome you gladly.

Kiren turned away, swallowing down the bitter taste her mother's words had left in her mouth. She had passion, but not when other people were telling her what to do. Not when they were commanding, admonishing... and never truly believing that she might succeed. Though it hurt to admit it, she knew that her mother expected her to fail. She had given up on having faith in her daughter long ago, seeing not a young woman who needed guidance, but a problem that required fixing.

How was she supposed to become a seer? She had not the first clue about what she might learn from the witches, nor any understanding of their ways. She let out a long breath, trying to calm down and push her worries aside. The witches only ever took apprentices during the great gathering of the clans, and this summer's gathering had already begun. Despite what her mother had said, it was too late for her to depart now. It would be another year—perhaps even two or three—before Octavia had the opportunity to send her away again.

I will have travelling food prepared for you. There shan't be time to hunt on your way.

Kiren spun back around as if she'd been stung. What?!

I told you, you are leaving at first light tomorrow. If you hurry you will make it to the gathering before it is over.

I can't! I must say farewell to everyone, I must prepare— You cannot make me go like this!

And yet I am. As I said, Kiren, my patience has ended. If you have farewells that need saying, you'd best say them tonight.

Incredulous at her mother's dismissal, Kiren felt the spirit of her wolf surging up within her. Had she been in the presence of anyone else, she might have allowed it to slip loose, but Octavia's harsh gaze held her daughter in check. Muttering something under her breath, Kiren yanked the tent's drapes aside and stormed out, ignoring another one of Vaya's digs as she walked by.

Fine. If that was what her mother wanted, she would do it. She'd go to the gathering, seek out the witches, and learn to be the greatest seer in the whole pack. There were lands beyond Octavia's territory just waiting to be explored, and Kiren had always wanted to see them. Maybe she would learn how the other packs lived. Maybe she would find a man and take him as her mate, and then bring him back home whether her mother approved or not. She forced a smile across her lips, imagining the freedom she would have the moment she stepped out into the forests beyond the edge of the swamp.

Fierce and fanciful thoughts kept her legs moving as she hurried back to her hut to gather what she needed for the journey.

Such thoughts were better, after all, than the chilling unease that crept up her spine when she imagined what might await her once she reached her destination.

—2—

Friend Vaya

Kiren barely snatched a few moments of sleep in the evening before getting up again, unsure of whether or not to tell the others about her mother's decree. There were a few people with whom she wanted to share her farewells, but the thought of not seeing them again for many years saddened her. She preferred to focus on the uneasy excitement tickling in her belly, imagining the adventure that awaited her rather than the seasons spent away from home. Despite never having been outside the den for more than a few days at a time, she had often wondered what lay in the lands beyond.

In the end she shared the news with only a few of the girls she had grown up with, both friends and rivals. They clustered together around the communal fire in the centre of their ring of tents, enjoying a modicum of privacy thanks to the distance between their small encampment and the more permanent dwellings of the pack elders.

The witches are no demons, just women like you and I, Kiren said, echoing her mother's words from earlier.

How do you know? her cousin Pyria retorted from across the fire. "You've never even been to the gathering. I went with my mother last summer. Everyone there is scared of the witches. She drew herself up a little taller as the other girls looked at her, adjusting the long red feather she wore in her hair. Not me, though. A seer doesn't need dark magic to be respected."

Kiren might, one of the other girls said, and a ripple of laughter ran around the circle.

As if she could learn any kind of magic, Pyria replied. All she's good at is running away with males. I think she would rather live like the women from the other clans. Kiren's cousin adopted a high-pitched singsong voice as she continued her mockery. Alpha, please! Take me into your den and ravish me every night!

Another bout of laughter. Kiren felt her cheeks burning. She might not have been a talented apprentice seer like her cousin, but at least she never put others down to make herself look better.

That isn't the only thing males think of, you know, she said. If you talked to them sometimes maybe you'd understand that.

"Is that what you did out in the woods with Chali, Cousin? Days and nights of talking?"

Yes, we did! Just because no one can stand listening to you—

I don't need to lower myself to speaking with males if I need conversation.

Kiren's throat tightened, fingernails pressing into her palms as the heat in her cheeks spread to her eyes. You don't know anything about them.

Why would I want to? Spirits help you, Kiren, you don't have to act like your father just because you look like him. Pyria laughed. Your mother is only sending you away so that she can be rid of you.

That isn't true!

She already told me I would make a better clan mother once her time has passed. She doesn't need a disappointment like you getting in the way. I found a new poison in the tree snakes just last season—what have you done for the pack lately, besides taking people off on your stupid adventures?

I like Kiren's adventures, one of the younger girls said in a soft voice. They're always fun.

Shut up, Meeri. One of Pyria's friends silenced her with a glare. You're just a child. What do you know?

Leave her alone, Kiren said as she put a hand on the young girl's shoulder. The others seemed like they were about to continue their mockery, looking nervously to Pyria for confirmation, but for once Kiren's cousin held her tongue. She crooked a condescending eyebrow at Meeri, let out a light huff through her nostrils, and shook her head.

At least the pack will be nice and quiet with you gone. I'll enjoy it while it lasts. Knowing your luck the witches will have sent you home by winter.

The girls laughed again, all except for Meeri. The corners of Kiren's eyes creased, her stiff posture threatening to buckle under the weight of their scorn. Whether it was meant in jest or with genuine malice, none of them truly believed in her. Just like her mother, they didn't think she had the determination to succeed.

Well, they were wrong. Rising to her feet, she swallowed the painful lump in her throat and let the fire of her anger take its place.

Enjoy your quiet, then, she said. You'll have years of it. And when I am a witch— Pyria voiced a dramatic yawn, but Kiren ignored her and continued, —my mother won't want someone like you as her successor any more.

As she turned to leave she heard her cousin and the others tittering behind her, but she no longer cared what they were saying. No sooner had she stepped out of the firelight than she almost stumbled when a small pair of arms threw themselves around her waist from behind. Turning around awkwardly, she found Meeri clinging on for a goodbye hug.

I'll miss you, she said in a tearful voice. It'll be boring with you gone. Pyria never does anything fun, she's just mean and bossy.

Kiren rubbed the girl's shoulders, returning the hug. You'll have to make things fun for the others while I'm gone, then. Put frogspawn in Pyria's sleeping furs if she's mean to you. It'll make her scream. That drew a giggle from Meeri, and Kiren smiled. We'll prove them wrong. I'm going to be a witch.

You'll be the best witch.

At least someone thinks so. Go back to the others now. You know they'll only make fun of you if they think you've been crying over me.

Meeri nodded and released her tight grip, then took a step back and sniffed away her tears. Raising her right hand to her forehead, she turned her palm outward and pushed it toward the horizon in the formal farewell of their clan. Kiren bowed and returned the gesture, glad that her final goodbye was not destined to be a sad one.

Go well, Pack-Sister, she said. When she turned to leave this time, no one else came after her.

The talk had lasted late into the night, and as Kiren looked up she realised dawn was almost upon them. In a panic she rushed back to her tent to finish packing, looking down in dismay at the scant few necessities she had thrown into her travelling sack. The stiff fur at the edge of her bedroll poked out of the hide bag haphazardly, barely leaving room for anything else. Unpacking it again, she took the time to roll it up properly, binding it with stiff bark cord until it was compact enough to leave room for her other belongings. There was a long leather smock she wore for making tools, comfortable fur-lined moccasins, pyrite, and a striking stone for fire. What else?

She considered the trinkets she had collected over the years: carved wooden animal figurines, ornaments of beads and feathers, an impression of a bird burned into a flat piece of wood, and an assortment of unfinished crafting projects, to name but a few. A sudden pang of preemptive homesickness hit Kiren as she realised how much she longed to take everything with her, but it quickly vanished. There was no room for trinkets. She needed to pack light.

Cramming a final few pieces of clothing and a flint knife into her sack, she bound the top closed with a leather tie and hefted it over her shoulder. It was heavier than she had expected. Having never travelled far, there had been no need to pack so many things before. And there was still the food her mother had promised.

Noticing the faint blue of dawn stealing away the night's blackness, she hurried through the collection of dwellings until she was outside her mother's tent again. Beyond the edge of the den the trees rustled quietly with life. In the far distance she could hear the trilling croak of a toad.

Ready? a dry voice sounded behind her.

She turned around to see Vaya sitting cross-legged in the shadows, eyes fixed on the ground where she was spinning a flint-studded club between the dirt and the tip of her index finger.

Must we leave now?

I have been ready all night, Vaya grunted, tossing the club into the air so that it spun on its axis, the sharp flint spikes coming within an inch of grazing the huntress's hand before she caught it again as easily as if she had been snatching a piece of falling fruit. Vaya eyed the weapon for a moment as she rose to her feet, then tossed it down behind her.

Will we need that? Kiren asked.

We have our wolves. We don't need the weapons of the Sun People.

My mother asked you to bring it, didn't she?

A thin smile pulled Vaya's lips tight. She told me to see you safely to the witches. I can do that better without a club digging into my back.

What about me?

What about you?

What if I need it?

Vaya shook her head. I'll show you how to fight properly, with your fangs and claws, the way you should.

Kiren returned the huntress's smile. Will we have to fight often?

No. The world is large and quiet. But if we do, I will make sure you know how.

What is it like out there? Kiren asked excitedly, hurrying to catch up with the other woman as she made for the trees.

There are more forests. Vaya shrugged. A lot of them. Especially here. If you cross the eastern mountains there are great plains instead. Like I said, it is large and quiet.

But what about the other packs? The people? Do you think we will meet many of them?

You will see most of the great packs at the gathering, but maybe not all of them. It has been a peaceful year, so they say, and the clans only like to meet when there is trouble. Vaya bent down and dragged out a second travelling pack from beneath a pile of leaves. Even within their own den, she had a tendency to hide things from prying eyes. Perhaps it was just a bad habit left over from her years of travelling alone.

Put that down, Vaya said, nodding to Kiren's sack. We'll be travelling as our wolves. One needs to carry, the other needs to bind the packs on them.

Kiren's heart sank a little. She had never travelled like this before. While wolves were strong and fast, they had difficulty carrying supplies unless they had another person's dexterous hands to help them. Thankfully Vaya seemed to know what she was doing, using the long straps trailing from her own bag to bind it together with Kiren's as she wove an improvised leather lattice between the two. Without another word the huntress took on the shape of her wolf, her silhouette rippling in the dim light as clothing bristled and peeled into a coat of fur. Twice the size of any wild wolf, Vaya's dark, earthy coat ruffled in the breeze, her nostrils flaring as she breathed in the night air. Seeing the predatory grace with which her companion moved, Kiren had no doubt that her mother had been wise in tasking Vaya with her safety.

With a grunt of exertion Kiren threw their travelling bundles over the huntress's back, then bent down as Vaya rose to bind the rest of the hanging straps around the wolf's shoulders and midsection. If the burden was at all heavy or uncomfortable, Vaya gave no indication of it.

An awkward moment of silence passed as they stood there at the edge of the den, no longer able to converse with one another. All of a sudden it was time to leave, and Kiren was unsure what to make of it. Vaya cocked her head inquisitively at the younger woman, the vaguest hint of a challenge evident in her body language.

Flashing her teeth in a grin of determination, Kiren leaped into the shape of her wolf and felt the scents of the nighttime forest hit her like a gust of wind. Rushing to greet them, she bounded away into the trees without a backward glance. A feral growl of amusement answered from behind her, then Vaya's paws were beating the ground at Kiren's side.

As dawn pushed away the darkness beneath the trees a thin mist seeped into the air. It was unusual for the summer season, but not unheard of in Octavia's territory. Between the patches of forest a great swamp sprawled for roughly a day's travel in every direction, humid and treacherous. To the inexperienced traveller it was a maze of trees and marshland, where sure footing could give way to impassable bog in an instant. It was thanks to this wicked terrain that Octavia's den had remained safe for so long, even when the female-dominated pack had invoked the ire of the other clans so many years ago by overthrowing their alpha. Kiren's mother had known that her pack was neither the strongest nor the most prosperous, but she was cunning, and she realised that the swamp would keep them hidden.

Even so, the threat of conquest by other alphas was an ever-present worry, and only in recent years had it begun to subside. The rise of the witches in the north had demonstrated to the other great clans that women were not so weak as many thought, and in turn Octavia's standing had improved in the eyes of the Moon People.

Vaya led the way south as the sun continued to rise, taking the paths she knew were safe and avoiding the worst patches of swamp. Despite never having travelled far, Kiren still knew her mother's territory well, and it was not until late in the day that she began to question her surroundings. The trees thinned, the sky opened, and a clear view of the southern mountain range swept across the horizon before them.

We go around, on the shores of the great water, Vaya said after they had reverted from the shapes of their wolves and set a small camp. There was no dry wood nearby for a fire, but they had their bedrolls and the fur of their wolves to keep them warm.

How long will it take to reach the gathering? Kiren asked, itching to get moving again despite her weariness. Now that she could see the mountains so clearly, she longed to get closer to them.

I've never run there like this before, but I think less than half a moon if we are fast.

Kiren nodded. One of us should stay awake, to keep watch. I'll go first.

Watch if you want. Vaya smirked. I'm going to sleep. You will be tired tomorrow.

Perhaps Vaya was right, but Kiren was still too enthused by the prospect of the journey ahead. She sat up against a tree, feet tapping as she watched the sunset slowly cloak the mountains in darkness. The soft sounds of Vaya's wolf slumbering behind her were a comfort, but with the energy of the day's run still stirring her blood Kiren had difficulty dozing off. If there was anything to watch out for in the darkness, she did not see it. Not until a sleepy snort from Vaya broke her reverie and prompted the girl to glance back over her shoulder.

For a moment she thought the huntress was stirring in her sleep, about to wake, but the faint moonlight reflecting off her back moved with an uncanny smoothness. Kiren dismissed the sight, yawning as she slipped into the shape of her wolf. If Vaya was about to wake, then it was time she caught some sleep of her own. Perhaps her companion had changed her mind about keeping watch after all.

As Kiren began to pad toward her bedroll she froze, noticing with her wolf's night eyes what she had missed before. The moonlight shining upon Vaya's back was not reflecting off her fur, but a long snake slithering its way across the body of the slumbering wolf. Without thinking, Kiren lunged. Poisonous snakes were rare, but the risk of letting one sink its fangs into her friend was too great to ignore. Her teeth closed around the creature's tail, jerking it back sharply. Unable to find its head for a quick kill, Kiren flicked her neck to the side, sending the snake spinning through the air to land in the undergrowth a short distance away.

Vaya jerked upright with a bark, eyes gleaming and teeth bared. After sniffing the air for a few moments she looked at Kiren and reverted from the shape of her wolf, motioning for the other woman to do the same.

What was that? An animal? the huntress said.

A snake. I got it off you. Are you glad I stayed awake to watch now? Kiren rubbed her eyes, her vision suddenly dull again after the shift. The speed with which she had changed had left her groggy. A skilled individual could control the change as smoothly as a bird taking flight,