So it was that hours later, somewhere near noon, Galatry came for the Cubs of the Pack. Ginny and Matt flanked her, but Kane had duty next to Ty while everyone else slept a wink and had a bit of lunch-ish-breakfast.
"What's this about, gala?" Otian asked her as they moved closer to the caravan Ty was in.
"Two things," she replied, turning around and halting a few feet from the caravan. "First, about Ty.
He's just woken up. I might as well tell you he spent a good deal of time asking me why the hell he felt on fire, then yelling at us all and valuable resources on him—" at this point she rolled her eyes and the Pack smiled sympathetically "—and then asked to speak with you lot. So you may do so momentarily.
I've made her situation clear to her, so I might as well do it for you: we cleared the airway, and the mixture that K made her down is going to replenish her blood circulation and level. So she won't bleed to death on us again. But—" she looked at them firmly, as if there was no arguing with her, "—Ty's lung is still trickling. The mixture will keep the blood from forming a barrier, but it isn't going to disappear. It may well get infected. He needs a healer soon—a week is the most I give him if he doesn't find one."
The three boys looked at each other in worry. Kehel was first to think properly. "Can he ride?"
"Not all day, but he can," Galatry replied. "He's got enough strength in him to lead us to wherever he's taking us, but more than five hours in the saddle and we'll lose him from dehydration. It's technically when the body doesn't have enough water to function. If he pukes again, there's no bringing him back."
The boys nodded. Otian passed his hand through his hair, Kehel looked a bit green but determined. Terry was frowning.
"What's the second news?" he asked.
Galatry's eyes closed and scrunched together, as if she was praying no one would kill her. Then, from her pocket, she took out a flimsy piece of blue fabric with silver lining and a single white horsehair caught in it.
"The Own is hot on our tail," she said shakily, eyes open and pleading.
"WHAT?" they all bellowed together.
"Pack, don't kill my girlie!" Ty's reprimand came from the caravan. "I like this one, leave her alone!"
The three boys did not spare Galatry another look. They strode over to the caravan and began shouting.
"The King's Own!"
"They'll kill us all…"
"…won't even get the King's mercy…"
"We are so royally screwed…"
"If they're on our tail…"
"…we'll have to fight if they catch up…"
"We can't attack the King's Own!"
"Jonathon will have all our necks!
"They'll send the Lioness after us—then we're as screwed as it gets!"
"We don't stand a chance—"
A sharp whistle cut through the air. Ty was glaring at all three of her pacing cubs. Otian smiled wryly.
"Nice to see your pipes still work, Tehea," he said, climbing onto the caravan and hugging her. "Gave us the scare of our little chivalrous lives."
"Get off me," Ty said in a disgusted voice, though she was losing the fight against a smile. "And do me the favor of leaving chivalry out of this."
"Done," he replied, letting go and grinning.
"Well," Ty said in a hoarse voice. "I'm better, thank you for asking. Could do with a meal, but K here says I won't keep it down if I have it, so it has to wait till I'm strong enough to swallow my blood draft."
"Why aren't you strong enough to keep it down now?" Terry asked, climbing on with Kehel and sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor.
"Because its made of my blood and tastes like dung," Ty said, grinning. "I learned from the first try, so I'm going to let it lie till K there says I'm good enough to down it."
"Its made of your blood?" all three chorused.
"Well, you've a mind among you today," Ty said. "Yes, it's made of my blood—and something else. Kehel, I would take down that recipe if I were you. That stuff is powerful enough to wake the dead, if they could swallow.
Now cubs, we need to talk about the Own. Yes, they're hot on our heels. Thank the Goddess Matt is fast and silent, he told us of their following. Which means we're going to need your help as well as some of the children's. We need to execute plan 'scram', and I need a glass of water."
"'Scram'?" Terry asked, surprised. "We're running?"
"Hell no," Ty said, thanking Ginny with her eyes as she downed her glass, then coughed on it and shot her a hateful glance. Half brandy, half water, it tasted awful. Honestly, couldn't she be trusted enough to be told what was in her drinks?
Ginny put on her innocent face and pointed to Kane, who gave her a look that defied her to argue about it. Remembering the morning, Ty growled at him and downed it.
"No, but we're going to make them think we are," Ty told her pack. "It's easy really, child's play, so it should be easy enough to accomplish. I'm told there are a few water sources around here, not too far away. We'll split the party into pieces, a part in the caravans, the others on foot.
Each of you will take a team in one direction—north, east, and west. We can't risk south. Now, as you all jog in different directions, you'll leave marks for the Own to follow. Then you'll find the water-sources, which I'll tell you of in a sec, and follow those rivers to the rendezvous. Walking on water leaves no tracks.
As they follow the wrong tracks, I'll take the rest of our infant force to the rendezvous myself, but these three miracles—I knew they were geniuses on first sight—are going to get me their relatives to hide our tracks.
Now boys, no getting caught. You know what'll happen then."
All three boys grinned.
"Yeah, we do," said Kehel, nodding to the other grinning boys.
"If you're caught by the Own, so help me, you won't be in their claws three hours that I'll have skinned you all alive, tossed you into some cave and eaten you alive! Decent cubs don't get caught!" they recited, then burst out laughing.
Ty chuckled, chocked, and was given a reprimanding look by Kane. Ty turned and gave him a look that told him not to push her temper. Kane raised an eyebrow as if pleased, then returned to his concoction.