Chapter Six
Marco opened his eyes but yellow and gray fuzziness blurred his vision.
Am I blind? His head pounded with the worst headache of his life, and he groaned. He tried to sit up but only made it a few inches before slamming back to the ground, too weak to hold himself upright, compounding the agony in his side.
Tears filled his eyes and he blinked them away, his vision still blurry.
Where am I?
Pain seared through his shoulder, rivaling his headache, and his vision blacked like someone had thrown a blanket over his head. Nausea rolled over him and he retched.
What the hell had happened? He opened his eyes again, slowly, and his vision swam into a tenuous focus. In the half-light he saw the dome of stone over him.
“Holy fuck.” His voice echoed off the room’s walls. At least his captors hadn’t gagged him. He was a prisoner, but where?
A vision of being struck by a bullet replayed in his mind, the force of the memory crashing into him like a streak of lightning on a tall tree. The summer sun bearing down on him, sweat and blood and tears, the battle, crawling off to hide lest he be sought out by the bears and put out of his misery. He closed his eyes, inhaling shallowly to curtail the intense pain a deep breath caused.
Perhaps I’m dead. Or a prisoner.
Death likely wouldn’t hurt, so it must be the latter. If he were with his brother, he’d be in a soft bed and getting his injuries tended by the best medical treatment available.
No, he was in deep shit in Deep Creek.
He lay still, eyes closed, assessing the situation. His shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat, and a burning heat ravished one side of his body like a bonfire. He began to shiver and shake. He couldn’t stop, and the chattering of his teeth added to the never-ending headache. One by one he moved his toes in his boots. Everything seemed to work down there. Onto his fingers. One hand, fine. The other...
Shit!
The pain intensified and he stopped. Something was wrong on that side. He could move but he damn sure didn’t want to. The bullet had damaged him and his shifter ability wasn’t healing it quickly enough.
He listened. No voices anywhere. Not even far away. Only a trickle of water, close by, and the buzz of something. Maybe some insects.
Maybe he was unconscious and dreaming? A lantern? Someone had brought him to this place. This prison.
Where’s Mason?
He wasn’t close—Marco couldn’t sense him anywhere nearby. Had he lost his second senses? He sniffed. Nothing but dirt and a bit of organic material he couldn’t place. And dust. Really old dust.
No brother, no twin sense.
Something was very wrong. His heart sped, causing the throbbing in his shoulder to pick up in speed and intensity.
What good would he be to the pride if he couldn’t feel anything or anyone around him? His heart thudded. Used to being in charge, lying on his back in an unknown place and unable to move, he wasn’t comfortable.
He was helpless.
Unacceptable.
He reached inside to find his lion so he could shift, but the ability lay beyond his reach, behind a mass of dark clouds in the distance. He couldn’t get close to where he needed to be to reach his lion. He’d have to heal more first. Thankfully, he sensed where his lion lay in wait. He’d heard horror stories of lions losing the ability or forgetting how to change entirely.
He’d regain his ability. His lion was down, not out.
At least the bullet hadn’t taken that away.
The bullet. He’d been shot at close range. And it’d hurt like hell.
A flash of memory and he saw the woman—a human—holding a gun. And the bear he was fighting, wide-eyed with wonder that the woman had shot the lion. The memories were barely clearer than dreams, yet Marco sensed they were real.
He’d fallen after being shot. He remembered hitting the ground and sending up a quick prayer to the gods that death find him quickly. Sure it was coming, he’d closed his eyes and waited.
What happened after he crawled to the underbrush? He didn’t remember. All he knew was that the woman hadn’t shot him again and he’d struggled to get away before she changed her mind. She’d been more concerned about the bear.
A drop of water splashed on his cheek and he peered up into the darkness. He assumed condensation in the humid room had caused the drip. He shuddered, hot and cold at the same time, his teeth clacking together and his shoulder flaming with a red-hot heat that couldn’t be lessened.
The one thing that could make his current situation worse would be finding out Max or Mason were dead. He pushed the thoughts away. Only positive thinking would help now. The reality of things was simple.
He had to get his ass off the ground, and make it home somehow.
Immediately.
“I can do this,” he mumbled. “I’m strong.”
He focused on opening his eyes again. Slowly. He blinked. Blurriness filled his field of vision, then slowly, things came into focus. Definitely in a cave of some sort. Dark and shadowy, the rocks cast long fingers up toward the ceiling. Tiny prickles of light sparkled on the rock, like glitter.
What the hell? He must be hallucinating. Caves didn’t have glitter.
Somewhere, a faint yellowish glow cast up onto the stony ceiling but he couldn’t turn to see where it originated. At least he had a light source. The room would be dark as pitch without it, minus the sparkle from the crystals or whatever they were that covered the ceiling like miniature stars.
Had someone buried him? Walled him into a tomb somewhere in the forest, thinking he was dead? If so, why was there a light and a tall stone ceiling? No, that didn’t make sense.
He tried to feel his body with his hand, but every move brought more shivers till his teeth were clacking together so hard, he ached all over. His hand brushed over a blanket. Wincing in pain he pulled the blanket up high to try to get warm.
I wouldn’t be cold if I was dead, would I?
The bears would’ve taken him to the Cave of Whispers if they found him dead. That was a shifter courtesy—one thing the bears had honored.
Whoever had brought him here had left light and a blanket. They wanted him to live, at least. Maybe they’d torture him, but for now at least, they wanted him alive.
He sniffed and his heart froze.
He knew that scent.
Bears. Oh my gods.
Everything rushed his mind at once.
He was in a cave. The cave. The thoughts and memories tumbled into his brain in a tidal wave of information.
A bear had brought him here and he, no she, had wanted to help. She had been kind, even though they were enemies. He closed his eyes. She had sexy curves and long red hair and full lips.
Oh yeah, and she was a doctor too.
A medic or medicine woman or something. That explained the blanket. She was taking care of him. Her voice was deep, too deep for her thin neck and curvy shape, but it fit her personality perfectly.
Oh gods, she was hot too. Like sexy dream hot. Even when she was bossing him around.
Especially when she was bossing him around.
He grinned, then cut it short as the aches intensified. He’d never enjoyed being bossed around—he liked being in control. But the sexy redhead hadn’t upset him. She’d been the one bonus in what had turned out to be a very shitty day.
Why the hell had he been paying attention to her looks when he was obviously dying? No doubt he was all male. He grinned, then groaned at the sudden movement. Served him right for having naughty thoughts while his life was in danger. But that was the epitome of his and Mason’s personalities.
Live on the edge or you aren’t living.
Alicia.
Her name drifted back to him and he spoke it in his mind, savoring the sounds as he imagined her leaning over him, stroking his hair and caressing his cheek. He recalled the warmth of her touch, almost like a vibration throughout his body—even though he was certainly feverish, given the chills and heat that racked him.
In his delirium, had he told her his name? He was pretty sure he had. Great. That was a mistake. She was probably telling the bears now that one of the lion leader’s sons was her prisoner.
She’d said she was going to get the things she needed to remove the bullet. Could he trust her?
He didn’t have a choice.
The cave was mostly quiet except for a trickle of water and bugs buzzing near the light. He listened for footsteps coming, but heard none.
Alicia hadn’t turned him in to the bears. In fact, she’d said after she removed the bullet, he could return to the lions.
Was it possible a bear could be so kind?
He shook, sure he had a fever. If infection was setting in already, he needed medicine and he needed it fast.
Hopefully, she’d be back soon.
What a blessing pain medicine would be. Right now, he’d settle for anything to ease the pain ripping his shoulder apart.
The thin pallet he lay on barely cushioned the rocks, but it kept him from being too cold. He tried to adjust his position again, but his vision tunneled.
Who knew that getting shot would be so painful? He’d always thought he was so tough that he could handle anything, but right now, he’d trade a broken leg for his bullet wound. Maybe even an amputated one.
Nausea rolled over him and he gagged as he fought for control. If he could get to his compound, there were experienced doctors there who could help him. They’d remove the bullet with more up-to-date surgical equipment than Alicia had access to.
Escape was impossible in his condition.
Gods, how he hated being weak. If he could beat his fists on the ground, he would. Instead, he’d settle for a low growl. He’d never really been truly helpless in his life—at least not as an adult.
He decidedly did not like the feeling of being out of control. He clenched his teeth against their chattering. If he got out of the situation alive, he’d see to it that he was never in a position like this again. His vision blacked then came back into focus.
He closed his eyes. If someone or something was going to kill him in his sleep, then so be it. He wasn’t able to fight, so what did it matter if he was awake or not?
* * *
The bonfire licked the night sky with thin fingers of orange and gold and occasional confetti sparkles of bright white. Mason stood to the side, waiting his turn to pay final respects to his father, Maximillian. His heart heavy, he’d never expected this day to come any time soon. How the bears could’ve done this to his father was unfathomable. No respect, even in battle. They’d ganged up on Max and killed him.
The bears were animals.
One by one, the lions approached the fire and tossed slips of curled paper into the flames, said a few words, then moved away. Low moans and sobs filled the night air and sadness carried on the breeze. A few shifted lions hung out at the perimeter of the fire’s light, basking in the warmth and mourning.
Even though the calendar said midsummer, a chill filtered through the trees and the low-lying swampy area near the lions’ compound. Mason shuddered and rubbed his arms. The summer heat was in full force in the daytime, and such an evening chill was unusual.
The rest of the summer would be hot, he was sure of it. He paced along the edge of the gathering, waiting his turn. It would be the final act of memory, one he would cherish.
Despite the sad occasion, Mason took comfort in memories. His father had been well loved and most revered in the pride. He’d been everything a leader should be and all the lions adored him, or at least respected him. As a father, he’d been strong, loving, and had guided his sons on the path of righteousness. Tonight, the lions showed their adoration in the ritual to honor Max’s life and death.
Mason had hoped his father would be around till he was older and his grandcubs roamed the forest. It wasn’t meant to be. Mason gazed at the assembled crowd, somber and solemn.
Will they respect me half as much as they respected my father? Or will my death be celebrated? Mason paced, waiting for the lions to pay their respects. Will the lions prefer my brother when he returns?
The lions took the ceremony seriously, writing their private last words to Max onto paper slips and sending the messages up in smoke to the stars.
Messages for Max. Some likely asked for wisdom, some were blessings, and some may have been prayers. All were of goodwill, Mason was sure. And Max would receive them.
Mason had given a short tribute speech before the fire ceremony and after every lion had tossed their paper, they’d sit down to a communal meal in Max’s honor. A feast fit for the king Max had been. They’d dine and tell stories of his bravery and honor late into the night—maybe until dawn. Mason held his paper tightly, crumpling it in his fist.
As Max’s son, he’d chosen to go last.
Lara was near the back of the line. Tears glistened on her cheeks, and she looked almost fragile framed in the orange glow of the fire. Her shoulders slumped, and her hair was pulled back, revealing a long neck.
Vulnerable. He’d never seen her look anything but tough and ready to kick someone’s ass. Tonight, she appeared breakable. The urge to take her into his arms and comfort her passed through him but he pushed it aside.
Ridiculous.
Mason watched her move toward the fire. She wasn’t the hostile lioness warrior. She was all woman tonight. Mourning the death of his father.
Tonight was not about Lara, and he forced the thoughts of her out of his mind.
He flattened his slip of paper in his palm. Almost his turn. He’d not written much, a few words, in handwriting his father would have chastised him for. But the words carried weight and a promise. One he intended to keep.
I will serve your memory.
He stepped into line behind the last lion, his heart aching as the weight of the moment became real. If only Marco could be with him, the ceremony might not be as difficult. He watched the ashes swirl higher.
He had no choice. Marco wasn’t with the pride and he’d want Mason to proceed without him.
Tomorrow, the search for his brother would get into full swing.
Mason had sent a message to the Green Glen wolves, asking for their help locating Marco. If anyone could sniff out trouble, it was those mutts. No word on Marco’s whereabouts yet, though, so facing the fire was what he’d do alone. He’d do it for his brother too.
The line shortened, and soon no one was between Mason and the fire. He took the deepest breath he could hold then closed his eyes, letting a picture of his father form in his imagination. He didn’t question the memory that arose, he merely watched and waited on it to play out.
He and Marco were young cubs, and they scampered in the dew-damp green field, trying to keep up with their father who wouldn’t slow down for them. Yellow flowers tipped the long grass and bent over as they ran, getting caught underfoot and springing up behind them as they passed.
Marco laughed and jumped, and Max bellowed for them to hurry. When they came to the edge of the meadow clearing, they found themselves beside a beautiful clear pool of deep water and small waterfall surrounded by large, smooth boulders. Birdsong echoed off the stone.
They’d spent the day lounging on the warm rocks and taking turns diving into the cold water and splashing Max. They’d tried to catch fish with their paws, but were too clumsy to get close and had given up by lunchtime. By the time Max took them home, Mason had barely been able to move, he was so tired. Marco had leaned on him half the way home, and they’d supported each other as they walked, Max out in front acting like he was as fresh as he’d been when they’d set out that morning.
Mason smiled. Max would always be in his memory, a mere thought away. Accessible with the right frame of mind and a little time. He’d be waiting to relive all the good times, and the not so good ones too. The memories were there, held in confidence and sealed with emotion.
Mason flicked the paper into the fire and watched it flash as it burned. Sparks scattered from the flames, and the fire seemed to warm for a second in acknowledgment. He stepped back and waited on the fire to settle.
It was done.
* * *
Alicia sat on the rocky shore, watching Elijah move to the last boat, carrying his flask of lake water. All the other fires were out, prayers had been said, souls released. She crossed her legs and watched the somber ceremony.
Around her, bears huddled and consoled each other, the scent of loss and anguish strong in the air.
Elijah moved into the boat with the aid of the captain who held his hand out to steady his step. She couldn’t hear the words, but she knew Elijah was blessing the family for its sacrifice. Each life was precious. Each life a gift. Each bear taken in the battle, a testament to the clan’s obligation to stand as one.
Her clan. Her people.
Elijah poured the sacred lake water over the small fire and the flames fizzled and went out, smoke rising from the boat like a gray vine, wending itself upward. The lone bear onboard the small boat wept openly, holding his head in large hands. Had he lost a son? A daughter? Alicia didn’t recognize him, but her heart sensed his deep loss and she longed to comfort him. As he sobbed, the small boat sent ripples out from its bow.
Her heart ached to her core. Were the lions as devastated by their losses?
Surely they were.
She had a calling that ran deeper than her commitment to the bears, even. A soul-deep calling planted by the gods.
Healer.
She couldn’t help the bears with their emotional injuries today. Today, she had to treat a physical wound.
No matter it was an enemy’s wound.
Duty.
Tawodi had trained her to look beyond the injured to the injury, and today was the test of all her studies. Today, she would prove her heart’s true intention.
She rested her head on her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs. Her ponytail nearly reached the ground as it fell over her arms, and she pushed it away. Her eyes drooped closed. Exhaustion was catching up with her and the warm air lulled her into a false oblivion where pain and bullets and lions didn’t exist. She yawned. If she had the chance, she could sleep for days.
The medical supplies weren’t going to retrieve themselves. She lifted her head and watched the ceremony with heavy eyes. Everyone was enraptured with Elijah’s movements; it was a good time to slip away. She could be back before the final prayer.
She stood, brushed off her backside, and headed for the tunnel. She peeked over her shoulder, but no one was looking in her direction. Still, her heart hammered with fear.
What she was doing could be interpreted as the ultimate betrayal, regardless of her intention.
She wove between groups of bears away from the lake, walking with purpose and her head high.
The bears wouldn’t suspect one of their own of trying to steal supplies, especially their healer. Wolves, yes, but not another bear. Guilt accosted her and she pushed it away. She was taking the supplies for a good reason.
Healing the lion might be the first step in bringing peace to the shifters. Or it could strengthen him to fight another day.
She crept along the passage, feeling like the worst traitor in bear history. The narrow tunnel was long and dark, and the medical equipment had been moved deeper to an area where they could set up triage bays as needed.
Hopefully, the area wasn’t guarded.
The corridor was empty and she moved quickly, sliding her hands against the smooth rock that formed this branch of the tunnels. Carved a millennium ago by rushing water, the flat walls were cool to the touch. Sometimes the cave felt like a living, breathing organism. Maybe it was. Maybe Shoshannah was the cave. She paused and lay her head against the stone.
“Help me, Shoshannah,” she whispered.
A rush of warmth enveloped her, like a hug, and she smiled. Shoshannah was in the lake with the bears, but she’d heard Alicia’s plea. She knew Marco was in the cave and she supported his healing.
Alicia knew it as well as she knew she was bear.
She focused on her mission.
A simple surgical kit and suturing supplies were necessary, and a medium gauze kit, pain meds, antibiotics and narrow forceps to pluck out the bullet and any shards.
The scent of blood and the faint odor of pain still lingered in the air from triage the day before.
When she reached the alcove where the supplies had been moved, she found them unguarded. Not a bear in sight.
Thank the gods.
She went to work, gathering things from the shelves, cabinets, bins and chests. The bears had amassed a lot of supplies in preparation for war, and not everything was as organized or labeled as it should have been. Then again, no one had expected the lions’ attack so soon. They’d been nosing around, but the bears weren’t prepared for an all-out assault.
She grabbed a canvas bag from one of the wooden chests. She’d collected everything and closed all the cabinets and drawers and paused to go over things in her mind, when she saw it.
A white orb, bright and flickering in every hue of the rainbow, like a lighted oil slick, hovered in the corner of the room. Small, yet filling the room with its presence.
Shoshannah.
Heart racing, Alicia didn’t know whether to drop to her knees or back away or run. Was Shoshannah now telling her not to help Marco? Had Alicia angered the ancestral spirit?
Why wasn’t Shoshannah out on the lake with Elijah? Why had she come to the alcove at such a time, and to speak to Alicia alone?
Alicia stepped back. “What would you have me do, spirit?” Her heart slammed in her chest and adrenaline pumped through her veins.
The orb grew larger and brighter, expanding in all directions until Alicia covered her eyes. Then the orb disappeared, flashing out in a bright spark of yellow light. Alicia blinked as her eyes adjusted. What had that been all about? She gazed around the room. Only boxes and bins of supplies. Shoshannah was gone.
Alicia saw it in the chair that had previously sat empty.
Her healer’s bag.
The large tan leather pouch, fringed and beaded with the smallest of glass beads, hadn’t even been in the cave earlier. Alicia had left the pouch at home, not expecting the surprise attack by the lions or the need for it in the aftermath of the battle. She’d wanted to retrieve it, but there hadn’t been time.
Though Tawodi wanted her to use her alternative training at every opportunity, Elijah preferred what he called “tried and true and modern” methods. She didn’t carry the bag very often when she knew she’d be around him.
And she’d been stuck without it in perhaps one of the times it was most needed.
A pop of white light blinked in the room with a chorded chime that reminded her of the wind through thin metal, then a dark hawk feather floated to the ground in front of her, twirling as it made its way toward the dusty floor. It landed with grace, spinning once then stopping like a pointer, directed at Alicia.
A sharp intake of breath. Everything made sense now. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
Shoshannah and Tawodi worked together.
Alicia shouldn’t be surprised in the least. Grandmother Tawodi possessed a wisdom beyond her great number of years and an ability beyond even that of a mystical shifter. But she’d never mentioned she and Shoshannah had a special relationship. Tawodi was often in the caves, flying through the tunnels and bathing in the lake, but Alicia had never really thought much about it.
Shoshannah and Tawodi wanted Alicia to know they worked together. And that they supported her in healing Marco.
A rush of air filled her lungs and Alicia was invigorated. Nothing would stop her.
She grabbed the soft medicine pouch from the chair. The supplies inside would help as much as the gauze and sutures, maybe more depending on how much support Marco really needed.
She was prepared for anything.
After pausing to listen for anyone who might be coming down the tunnel, Alicia picked up the hawk feather and stuck it in the canvas bag then stuffed the bag into her healer’s pouch and cinched it.
She stood tall, all bear in human form. Straight. Strong. She could take care of Marco.
Her path couldn’t be clearer.
No one would question her carrying her healing bag as she walked back through the crowd gathered lakeside. The bears saw her with the bag all the time. Elijah might grouse but he was pretty busy already.
The bag contained her amulets and stones and crystals, plus a supply of herbs and special wood and other things necessary for ceremonial healing and calling spirits and cleansing. She carried a few of her personal amulets too. Carved a millennium ago, the items were some of her most cherished.
Grandmother was brilliant, and with Shoshannah’s help, there wasn’t much chance of failure in healing Marco.
The gods smiled on her and she would not let anyone down.
“Thank you, Grandmother Tawodi and Shoshannah,” Alicia whispered.
Go to him. The words formed in her mind. He’s weakening.
She took a deep breath, her tensions nearly gone, and headed down the corridor to the lake.
She hummed as she approached the lake, stepping out into the cavernous room just in time to see Shoshannah’s light show banking off the ceiling and lighting up the air. Millions of sparkles of red and yellow fluttered from a fiery burst high in the cave, landing on the lake and floating on the water as tiny pinpoints of wavering light, like a million spinning pinwheels on the water’s surface.
Shoshannah romped through the air as a sparkling white bear, half smoke, half corporeal. She sang, but the words were in another language. Tears flowed from her eyes like purple waterfalls, splashing into the lake in discordance with her beautiful singing.
Shoshannah suffered. Like the bears and lions, she’d lost much because of the battle. She couldn’t possibly want the war to continue. Too many lives lost, too many people now fatherless or husbandless.
Shoshannah’s purple tears drained into rotating swirls with the red and yellow lights like tiny vortices. The wind picked up in the cave, a giant hiss crossing through the air. Everyone held their ears and stared, wide-eyed, as Shoshannah screamed, the sound echoing through the caverns and piercing Alicia’s heart.
The spirit was hurting for the great losses.
Alicia stared, mouth open, unsure of what to do. She glanced around. What were the other bears doing? Were any of them knowledgeable about how to soothe the bear spirit? No, everyone remained in shock. Some even hid or cowered on shore. No one wanted the wrath of the spirit turning on them.
Shoshannah’s cries turned to sobs and sighs, and she pawed at her face as she wept.
No one knew how to make her feel better and her suffering reached every bear. On shore, Elijah hung his head. Shoshannah stopped, hovering over the lake, her reflection like cotton, white and pure, then she faded into a fog-shaped white bear with eyes like blue diamonds, faceted and crystalline, piercing through the dim light of the cave.
Her voice came from everywhere and nowhere as she spoke.
My bears. I love you.
Alicia crept onto the rocky beach so she could hear Elijah respond.
Elijah wiped a tear away and stared at the ground. Alicia’s heart seized at the pain on his face. She wasn’t used to seeing the old bear hurting. He was always the strength of the clan. The powerful force that held them all together, even during tough times.
Shoshannah blew a cool, purple wind across the lake, her form fading. Elijah...
“Shoshannah, we are at your mercy!” His head jerked up and he raised his arms. “Help us.”
Elijah, you must find the path...
Shoshannah flew around the cave in swirl of white and the sound of rain, a trail of color behind her like a smudged painting. With a pop she was gone, and the only color left was the deep gray of the cave walls. The air stilled, and the only sound was the slow drip of water onto stone from an outcropping somewhere in the cave. No one moved. Alicia held her breath.
With no specific guidance, what would Elijah do? He needed Shoshannah.
He heaved a great sigh and clasped his hands behind his back. For perhaps the first time, Alicia noticed how age had caught up with him. He wasn’t the youthful bear she once brought tea to or practiced bandaging while he played a board game with Derek and Griff. No, Elijah was an old bear. His stance, stooped. His demeanor, almost one of resignation.
How he remained so strong and in charge of the clan was a miracle. His shoulders slumped and his back hunched and yet he stood before them, representing all the bears who’d lost their lives, and all the bears that remained. So many would be lost without his leadership.
She didn’t want to admit it, but his days were numbered. What would happen then? With Maximillan gone, the old shifter guard was changing. What would it all mean?
Griff stepped from the crowd, hands on hips. “We can handle the lions, Elijah. We need a little time to recover, but if we hit back soon, while they are still weak from this battle, we have a good chance.” His face glowed with angry passion.
Amy looked up at him with a mixture of worry and love. Griff meant everything he said. He wanted to attack. Alicia recognized that look.
Elijah shook his head. “No. Though revenge is heavy in our hearts and in our minds, we have to remember that we bears did not want this war. The cunning lions along with the sly wolves have forced us to take up arms against other shifters.” He motioned around the cave. “But now is not the time to be impulsive. We still have the defensible position, the upper hand. We defend, no attack.”
“We need to take them out.” Griff set his jaw, the muscle flexing.
“We need to stop the war. But not tonight.”
A few other bears gathered in close, murmuring about the attack.
“I think the lions learned that we aren’t as weak as they thought.” Griff crossed his arms.
“I agree,” Derek said. “We ran them off. Maybe they won’t be back any time soon.”
Bria smiled and leaned on Derek and he put his arm around her.
A few bears clapped. Alicia watched the crowd, seeing the fire to protect what was theirs still alight in the bears’ eyes.
She tugged her medicine bag up on her shoulder and held the strap tightly. She could feel it deep inside that his healing was somehow critical to the war. He was the key to something, she didn’t know what.
But she’d find out.
She slipped out of the crowd and hurried toward the corridor that led back to where Marco lay. He needed her right now, and she was on a mission that both Tawodi and Shoshannah supported.
As long as Elijah didn’t catch her before she could heal the lion, she’d be fine.
Chin up, she marched down the corridor toward the makeshift triage room.
Marco had better be there.