White Stag (Permafrost #1)(77)
Breki took the lead, and Soren and Seppo climbed onto their wolves. It was the first time I’d been in the lead of anything. As a human child, I trailed my sisters; as an adolescent, I tracked the men of my village; as a captive, I was dragged behind Lydian’s horse; and as a thrall and companion, I was always one pace behind Soren wherever we might be; and now, fully accepting my power and place in the world, I was in front, leading the charge.
The wind picked up again, and I pulled my hood up to shield my face from the worst of it, concealing my braids underneath. The snow drifted from the sky, flakes dancing in the wind. Then out of the air came a stag—the stag—made of the swirling snow and winter air. Its dark eyes peered into mine, beckoning me forward. Then without a sound, it disappeared into the wind.
“Did anyone see that?” I asked.
“See what?” Soren said. “I don’t see anything but these damn mountains, and I want to stop seeing them as soon as possible.” He threw a smile at me to take the sting out of his words.
From behind him, Seppo shook his head. “Nothing but snow and wind.”
I swallowed. Maybe I was just seeing the goal I desired; there was magic in the mountains, after all. Or my eyes could have been playing tricks on me, the gleam of sunlight on the falling snow playing games with my sight. It didn’t matter. We had an actual stag to find.
“Let’s go,” I said, and Breki shot down the mountain, his two pack mates bounding behind him.
This time, I forced myself to keep my eyes open as the world raced beside me. The wind stung my eyes as we plunged down the mountain; the wolves leapt from crevice to crevice, crack to crack with the grace of dancers. The landscape turned to a blur of blues, purples, and grays as we rushed forward. Every so often, one of the wolves let out a howl of pleasure. They must’ve loved to run as much as I enjoyed riding them.
A foreign presence nudged at the boundaries of my mind. Open your mind to me, Breki said. Let me show you how it feels to be free. I closed my eyes, allowing him to enter and share. Unlike when I was bound with Panic, my mind fought to reject the animal sharing my mind. Relax. I did.
The gray world exploded into color. The cliffs above were dark blue and green, purple on the borders. Skadi’s mountain home shimmered with a dusting of glimmering light. The wind whispered secrets in my ear; it tugged at my skin, my fur, my hair as if inviting me to play. Below my feet the rocks were hard and slippery, but I knew every step of these mountains. I knew every crack and every crevice, every divot and every outcrop. I ruled the mountains.
The smell of ice and cold and sun and prey was tantalizing on my tongue. The frozen ground was littered with the scents of countless animals: small mice and artic foxes, voles and snow cats. They all lived here, but this was our domain.
Each time we leapt, muscles stretching out to lengthen our stride, our heart sped up and adrenaline shot through our veins, and we breathed out in exhilaration as we landed safely on the next rock.
Thunder pounded underneath our feet, the heart of the Permafrost thrumming with strong, even beats. Inside my own body, my heart sung as blood called to blood. Here, now, racing through the forest, I was more connected to the world than ever.
* * *
WHEN THE SUN sank in the sky and the time came to stop and rest, I was breathing heavily. The euphoria from our run down the mountain buzzed in my body. The air down here was easier to breathe than the sparse mountain air, so I managed to recover quickly. The sky swirled with violet and orange, a canvas made by the dusk. Disappointment at the thought that I’d never experience something like this again sank my good mood a little, but the forest called to me like blood to blood. The chirping of birds and the rustle of creatures under leaf reminded me of how much I missed being among the trees.
“We must be closer to the border,” Soren said, looking at the foliage, “if there’s this much life. I can see the stag lines; they’re faint, but they’re there. It will probably take us into human territory if it doesn’t linger on the border.” There was a note of warning in his voice. If the stag was still close to the border by the time the new moon struck, Lydian’s plan would unfold with ease. Even if we found it, it could be too late. If Soren doesn’t survive the fight … I shook myself. I wasn’t even going to think of the possibility.
“Do you think Lydian is nearby?” I asked.
“Yes.” I ignored the chill that went through me. “He’s definitely close. I can feel him. The closer we are to each other, the more danger the stag is in, and the more danger of confrontation.”
Seppo let out a low whistle that shook the leaves from the trees and caused my ears to ring. I brought my hand to my ear to make sure it wasn’t bleeding as Seppo glanced at me sheepishly. “Oh, sorry. Sometimes I forget how powerful they can be.”
I rolled my eyes. Only a goblin like Seppo would have a magical whistle.
“We’re playing a risky game here,” he said, ignoring the face I was making at him.
“You were the one who brought us into the fold,” I reminded him.
He sighed, scratching behind his back again. Red patches dotted with blood cropped up on his arms and shoulders, and he groaned in misery. I shook my head, trying not to laugh. He actually has fleas, then. Well, he’s not sleeping near me. Poor Hreppir. The young brown wolf was trying to scratch his back on a particularly thick tree, only for the roots to snap from the ground. He stopped and let the tree fall back into the dirt, glancing guiltily around the clearing.