A/N: Welcome, dearest heart.
If you're still with me after all this time: thank you. Thank you for believing in me and giving me your support. I love each and every one of you. I hope you are never disappointed.
Chapter 1-Places
Hosni yawned.
He opened his eyes and promptly squeezed them shut again, reaching blindly for the nearest blanket. Mmm, he thought dimly. Too bright. Sun bad. Finding the blanket and ignoring that it seemed unusually heavy and quite cold, he pulled it back over his head and rolled onto his side.
It took him several minutes to remember where he was.
Tearing the blanket from his head (and realizing belatedly that it was actually a rather wet deerskin), he sat bolt upright, blinking the dazzling sunlight from his vision and looking around wildly.
The morning forest was fresh and new-looking after its scouring the night before. The grass—along with most everything else—was still damp with rain, and the light looked slightly different; softer, more delicate. The trees were darker than they had been, except for dry strips on the eastern side.
Vesta gave a long, deep sigh; Hosni could feel the movement from where she slept beside him. He sat up and stretched, feeling his legs twinge. He was still sore from the long desert ride, and frowned slightly at the thought.
On the bright side, they weren't nearly as cold or wet as he had expected when he'd slipped out the night before. The trees and the old rockslide had worked together to create a sort of shelter. Vesta had positioned herself so as to block most of the remaining wind; by curling up against her warm side, covering her with the waterproof cloak and himself with the deerskin, they had created quite a comfortable nest.
But the sun was already halfway overhead and his stomach was wriggling disturbingly, so it really was time to get up. He took one last, relaxed breath before swatting Vesta's side to communicate this idea.
After several minutes, he finally managed to irritate her into cracking open one big black eye. He grinned, leaned over to pat her chest enthusiastically and felt her grumble before she rolled onto her other side (making him scramble away to avoid being squashed) and went back to sleep.
He rubbed her tummy, scratched her shoulders and generally fussed until she was once again thoroughly awake.
Vesta threw him a dirty look and gave an irritated huff, and Hosni smiled. The Horse's eyes were crusted with sleep, but the dead, glazed look from the desert crossing was gone. In its place were quiet warmth, and the fiery mischief Hosni had missed.
Her frighteningly large teeth parted in a wide, jaw-cracking yawn, and she shook her mane out sharply, blinking the last of her disorientation away. Well, it said. That's quite enough of that. She gave Hosni a good-natured shove and hauled herself to her feet, flicking her tail briskly as she looked around with renewed interest.
Hosni's innards wriggled again, and Vesta glanced back in amusement. Glancing at his belly and smiling with her eyes, she flicked her tail again. Go eat, silly boy, she said calmly, dropping her head and lipping delicately at a freshly-washed shrub of some sort, and he smiled and went to obey.
He almost crashed into the large black wolf in the tunnel, and scrambled back in fear at the imposition of letting himself in without permission; but the wolf just blinked reassuringly and slipped past him, breaking into a gentle lope down the mountain. His mate, the red female, also smiled at him as he slid into the den. They both seemed friendly enough. He supposed their strange intelligence should have been unnerving, but after spending so much time with Vesta and the rest of Ilona's family, he'd gotten used to the idea.
Breakfast, in the form of a slightly stale roll and a small jar of honey, was snatched from the saddlebags in short order, and he exited the den gratefully. Vesta had apparently not found the shrub to her liking; when Hosni caterpillar-crawled his way out of the tunnel she barely gave him time to stand before leading him down to the open, grassy area they had seen the day before.
Here she had a long drink and a proper breakfast, and he ate his—the honey made the roll taste just as good as a fresh one, and he hoped that Ilona would come back soon so he could thank her.
As he was thinking this, and wondering when he would be able to get his hands on paper, his thoughts were interrupted rather rudely by a hard shove at the back of his head. He turned to peer quizzically at the Horse, and she tossed her head, pawing impatiently at the ground.
Aren't you finished yet? she demanded. Get a move on, slowpoke, some of us want to run!
His eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. Oh, no, he said. I'm not good at it!
Vesta rolled her eyes and pranced, offering her back and flicking her ears in invitation.
Don't be silly, she said, dropping her head entreatingly, and her 'voice' was gentle. Let me show you.
Canisp found Orion at the stream just after dawn, fluttering about and tossing cool, fresh water over his dusty feathers. He dipped his beak into the flow and then fluffed his feathers out in a snap, flinging droplets everywhere. He looked quite content.
"Morning," he said happily. She acknowledged him with a nod and dipped her head into the little tributary, lapping up some of the rushing rainwater from last night. It was cold and clean, flowing more powerfully with the runoff from the storm, and she drank gratefully.
She didn't speak, and Orion respected her silence. He hopped over as she lay down with a tired sigh, worn out from the long night and, more so, by the nature of the conversation.
Without a word, Orion bumped his head against hers. She nudged him back before resting her head on her paws, staring into the swift-running stream. He made an odd, burbling sound like a dove, nuzzling in a touchingly wolflike manner into the thick fur at her throat.
Comfort seeped into her very bones at the simple gesture. She leaned unthinkingly into him and gave a long, weary sigh. The rustle of the sun-kissed leaves suddenly seemed very far away.
"Canisp?" Jenga's voice was quiet in the early morning, and she greeted Canisp with a simple nod when the changeling looked up. "Morning," she murmured, lowering her head to the cold stream. "You're up early."
"So are you," Orion pointed out.
Jenga gave a whuff of laughter. "Fair enough." There was silence as she lapped up a leisurely drink, then gave a long yawn and stretched, shaking her fur out vigorously in an attempt to wake herself up. She looked at Canisp with concern. "How's the wing?"
She hadn't thought about her injured wing until it was mentioned, but now that she had no choice Canisp realized it was actually extremely uncomfortable. The tight bindings seemed to have gotten tighter, and the cramped position had become almost intolerable. Besides that, the poinsettia poultice seemed to be wearing off; a powerful, aching pain was beginning to make itself known once more. For the moment it was bearable, but she suspected that once the healing properties of the mix wore off completely the pain would be close to incapacitating.
Jenga winced in sympathy at the look on Canisp's face. "I thought so," she said. "You really should have had your bandages changed yesterday, but we couldn't bear to wake you up and then the storm blew in…"
"It's fine," Canisp said quickly. "Really. You've done too much for us already."
Jenga gave her an odd look; a mixture of surprise, confusion and pity. "No more than any Northerner would do. Anyway, we thought it would start bothering you again by this morning. Kiro's on his way to get his portion of the kill from yesterday. The Calormene horses," she clarified quickly. "Kane and Marina—you met them the day before yesterday, I don't know if you remember?"
"The werewolves?" Canisp asked warily. Jenga inclined her head.
"They assumed the rest of the soldiers must have had horses too, and they were right—there were three more stumbling around at the edge of the desert. Marina said it was practically a mercy kill, they were dying already; one of them collapsed as they were trying to herd them back to the forest. Kane had to send a scouting party to butcher it and drag it in—and since werewolves don't need to eat very often, they're giving us a good portion of the kill."
She seemed almost afraid of how Canisp would take the news; it had been a slaughter rather than a hunt, and all Talking Beasts that depended on meat to survive had a very strict honor code about such things. But then Canisp was as much a predator as Jenga, and prey was prey; as much as she pitied the poor creatures their pain, she had to survive as well.
Speaking of which, she was incredibly hungry. Her stomach announced this loudly to the world at large, and Orion snickered.
Jenga ran out her tongue in a relieved grin. "Kiro should be back soon," she said. "Once you've eaten something we'll find Angela and she'll take a look at your wing."
A powerful sense of unease squirmed worriedly in Canisp's gut at this new mention of the werewolves. She didn't know how Jenga could make such casual mention of them—or, for that matter, what werewolves were doing openly roaming the Southern March to begin with. Not another war, she thought miserably. Not now. I can't do it, I can't bear it, I can't… But she could hardly help trusting their hosts, now; and they seemed willing to trust the creatures.
And so, that was all there was to it. She would try to forget; forget the allies found gutted in the woods, the shuddering call of dark deeds best left unspoken echoing through the trees and making even the dominants quiver, dark shapes in pursuit, eyes glowing red in the night with all the malice of Hell itself, friends torn to pieces in defense of their pups while a lone wolf cried out on a windswept cliff and try—try—to leave the werewolf pack some benefit of the doubt.
She couldn't stop the shiver of revulsion and fear, and while Jenga's eyes tightened, she didn't comment on it.
"Who's the boy?" she asked instead, her voice light as she changed the subject. "He didn't introduce himself, so I didn't ask. And the Horse who was with you doesn't talk much, either—she hasn't forgotten how, has she?"
She sounded genuinely horrified, and Orion was quick to ease her fear. As quickly as possible, he explained Vesta's condition, and how curiously it seemed to mesh with Hosni's. About Hosni he said only that the two had made friends and they'd brought him out of slavery in Calormen. He looked worriedly at Canisp, and seemed to decide not to mention Ilona.
She didn't know whether or not to be grateful, and before she could decide a loud, lupine howl split the air, piercing and confident and coming from very near by.
Canisp's body responded before she had time to. Her good wing flared, so suddenly the snap was almost painful. She whirled to face the sound and braced herself defensively, fur standing on end and a vicious snarl rising in her chest.
Jenga yelped as the powerful wing caught her hard upside the head. Orion started violently at the sudden flash of white, and only just barely stopped himself from taking off.
"Canisp!" he cried. "It's just Kiro!"
The rush of panic and bloodlust that had sped to the surface at the sound of a male Wolf's call disappeared as suddenly as it had come, leaving Canisp reeling in its wake. That could not have been a normal response…
Orion looked as alarmed as she felt; Jenga, while her eyes were sad, didn't seem surprised.
"Are you back?" she asked simply. Canisp took a moment to balance herself before giving a slightly shaky nod, and Jenga inclined her head in return. "Then if you're not in too much pain yet you really do need to eat. With a wound like that you need your strength."
"It's not that bad," Canisp said distractedly as another, sharper wave of pain spread through her injured wing.
"Liar," Jenga grinned. "But come on, or Kiro will eat everything while he's waiting."
The natural way she moved on from Canisp's brief fit of insanity was reassuring, and Canisp found herself steadying much more quickly than she'd expected.
As Jenga led them at an easy, jogging trot back toward the den, they heard a distant whinny. Canisp's ear twitched toward the sound, followed an instant later by the rest of her head, and she heard Orion's faint laughter from somewhere over the trees.
After a moment, she saw the source. Vesta, cherry-red against the Northern summer, danced in circles at the base of the mountain, tossing her head in the open clearing. Hosni chased after her, slipping slightly in the wet grass, snatching at the scrap of grey cloth held teasingly out of reach between the Horse's teeth.
Prancing to a stop, Vesta reared and tossed the cap cheerfully over her back; Hosni jumped for it, missed, and ran to pick it back up off the ground as she gave another whinnying laugh. He threw something at her flank in retaliation—probably a pebble, too small for Canisp to see; Orion would know what it was. Vesta bolted into a short, instinctive gallop before pulling up and neighing at the boy, pawing fiercely at the air in a great demonstration of feigned anger; then, giving up the show, she bumped her nose lovingly into his shoulder and lay down to let him onto her back. He had to cling to her mane as she heaved herself back up, but he stayed seated and that seemed all the encouragement she needed. She gave a little skip, held herself to a slow canter while Hosni adjusted his seat; and then her hooves flashed again, mane tossed back in defiance of the world, and the two disappeared into the trees.
"There's a Narnian boy if I've ever seen one," Jenga said warmly, and Canisp gave a tongue-lolling smile in response, watching the forest below for the telltale bursts of color that were the only hint at Vesta's wild games. After several long minutes in which they sensed rather than saw the pair's elation at being free, Jenga glanced over at Canisp.
"You know he can't stay here," she said quietly.
Canisp looked over in shock. "What do you mean?" she asked, defensive. She didn't like the way Jenga said he; Wolf or no, Hosni was as much a part of her pack as…as Orion. If Jenga didn't want a strange pack to remain on her territory it was certainly her right to say so, but Canisp wouldn't stand for any one member being singled out.
Jenga lowered her head but didn't bow it; submissive but not subservient, a gesture that was very Narnian. Canisp instantly felt guilty for assuming the worst of her. "He doesn't belong here, Canisp," she said. "He's a human with no training—and with no way for you to teach him. He'll die."
"We could keep him alive," Canisp said. "He's not stupid, we could figure something out."
"And what would he do with his life?" Jenga countered. "Just sit around and let us feed him?" Canisp noted the 'us' with no small amount of surprise. "Canisp, that's no way for a growing Man to live! He'd go mad. Sons of Adam aren't so different from Wolves, you know—they need to do something with their lives. He can't stand sentry and he can't scout, without being able to hear a threat coming. He certainly can't hunt, can you imagine trying to coordinate? What if you were attacked in the Wild? You couldn't shout a warning to him, and even with Vesta to make up for his hearing, eventually something would go wrong. He can't communicate with us, Canisp, and you know as well as I do that pack life depends on communication. He can't live as a Wolf."
She was, unfortunately, right—it was something Canisp, much as she hated to, had been forced to think about as well. "I know," she admitted reluctantly. "But I don't know what to do with him. He's part of my pack, he's my responsibility. And I promised… someone, that I would take care of him."
Jenga gave her a curious look, but didn't ask who. "He needs to be with people," she stressed, as kindly as she could. "There are other humans in the North now. You could take him to Anvard, it's closest; he could find light work somewhere, I'm sure. And of course Vesta would be with him; she's welcome anywhere in Narnia or Archenland, this is her home."
The mention of Vesta's home jogged Canisp's memory. "What about the Hermit?" she said suddenly. "Vesta grew up with him, he's practically her father. Hosni could help him there, he'd be safe and happy-"
"And completely alone with only a mute Horse and an old man for company?" Jenga finished helpfully.
Canisp gave her an irritated look as her sudden flare of hope was snuffed out, but before she could say anything she was interrupted by a polite cough from the trees.
"Hate to interrupt," Orion called down breezily, hanging almost upside-down from a thin branch. "But arguing before the thermals are up is a terrible way to start a morning." He let go of his branch, which snapped back up into the tree, and fluttered down onto Canisp's shoulder. She yelped as he dug his talons into her unbound wing to steady himself.
"Sorry," he said. "But really. You're both acting like this is permanent. We're not locking Hosni up somewhere for the rest of his life, you know. He's a free Northerner now, he can go wherever he wants. We just need a safe place and an understanding human to take care of him until he's ready to be on his own. The Hermit is actually a good idea, if he's willing, and I'm sure it would be easier for him to find Hosni a good place than us." His tone turned musing. "I can see him as a craftsman—remember the necklace he made Ilona? And that was without any kind of training or proper tools…" His eyes widened as he realized his mistake. Trying to cover it up, he added hastily "Or even an architect, maybe, if he had the skill. He's certainly smart enough to-"
"Ori!" Canisp ended up snapping more than she'd meant to, but there was no real anger in her voice. The Eagle coughed, and while Canisp couldn't see his face, Jenga gave a slight laugh at his expression.
"You're right," the other Wolf conceded. "It's a good idea, though I still say Anvard should be first. The Hermit is…well, he's a hermit. I'm sure he'd love to see Vesta again and I know he would look after Hosni if there was no better place for him, but if we went to the Hermit without even trying anything on our own I doubt he'd appreciate it." Seeing Canisp's hesitation, she pressed, "Anvard is only a day's run, as long as Hosni's on horseback; and however kind the Hermit may be it would still be healthier for Hosni to be around people. If there's no luck in Anvard, we'll only have lost two days and we'll at least know we're doing what's best."
Canisp felt Orion nod from her back. "She's right," he said. "Anyway, it's an excuse to take a nice long run through the most beautiful part of the Southern March in high summer. Now look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to do it!" He laughed and nibbled teasingly at her ear.
She flicked it, and tried not to laugh when the quick twitch smacked Orion in the face. Glancing over her shoulder, she grinned. "I can't," she said wryly. "Mostly because my neck doesn't bend that way, but you're still right. Anvard it is, then."
"But not yet," Jenga said sternly. "Take a few more days to recover your strength and let them enjoy themselves. And for the Lion's sake eat breakfast, or Angela will kill me!"
