Chapter Six
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The next day, Darcy managed a shower and made it down the stairs all by herself. Her legs wobbled only a bit—a major victory. Now she wanted a nap after her strenuous endeavors, and how pitiful was that?
She didn’t have time to lie around. There were things to do, beginning with talking the Cosantir into rescuing her villagers. Two-pronged strikes would be the only way. If either the prìosan or the shifter-soldier compound were attacked alone, the Scythe would kill everyone at the other site. She frowned. A simultaneous rescue would require a lot of shifters.
Still, Calum had a whole territory, so he must have lots of cahirs. And he was powerful himself. Once the prìosan and compound were located, surely he’d send his warriors to free the hostages and soldiers.
Look, my brothers, I found help! She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling as if she could fly.
The foot of the stairs opened to a wide sitting area with a couch and chairs grouped around a huge fireplace. Very wilderness rustic, but beautifully done with a high ceiling and gleaming hardwood floors. Red and black Native American blankets and rugs added a cozy warmth. The open design led to the reception area by the front door with rooms off to the left.
As compelling aromas caught her attention, she turned toward the rear of the building. Bacon. And fresh bread. Her stomach growled. Sniffing as loudly as a dog, she followed her nose past a window-filled dining area and into a huge country kitchen.
Breanne was making scrambled eggs.
Darcy’s stomach gurgled loudly enough to catch the curvy blonde’s attention. She laughed. “You’re hungry—and have excellent timing. I was going to bring your breakfast upstairs.”
Spotting bacon piled on a plate, Darcy stared. “Bacon? For me?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look at bacon as if it were Christmas and Easter rolled into one.” Breanne offered the plate. “You must really love it.”
Darcy bit into a piece and purred as the flavors filled her mouth. “When I was young, it was our weekend treat.” At twelve, Darcy and the boys had reached the age where they devoured everything in sight, and they could go through a pound in one breakfast. Poor Mum had been looking forward to when they could hunt some of their meals. “I haven’t had any since…since we were captured.”
When Breanne took the plate of bacon away, Darcy sighed and wished she’d stuffed another piece in her mouth.
“Why don’t you sit at the table in here?” Breanne scooped the scrambled eggs onto the plate and added buttered toast before giving the plate back. “I’ll have another cup of coffee and keep you company.”
The plate of food was heavy. “This is all for me?”
“Sure. Donal told Shay you needed to eat.” Breanne eyed her. “I can see you’re not up to fighting weight, so eat it all, if you can.”
“Thank you.” So much bacon for her? Darcy sank into the chair and tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
“What’s wrong?” After handing over a glass of orange juice, Bree poured herself coffee and sat across the table. Her big blue eyes were worried. “Darcy?”
“My friends back at the prìosan, the other females, they’ll all be eating oatmeal. Since the Scythe won’t waste money on filthy animals, our meals were always the same. Oatmeal for breakfast. Vegetable soup for lunch. Hamburger stew for supper.”
Bree set her cup down with such a violent thump that coffee sloshed over the sides. “For half your life? I-I don’t know how to say how furious that makes me.” Her face had gone red.
Darcy stared for a second and then smiled. “I know it sounds strange, but seeing someone else angry is nice.”
“Be nicer if I could shred some humans.” Grumbling, Bree picked up her cup and wiped the sides with a napkin.
After two more bacon pieces, Darcy started on the eggs. Best eggs ever. “When Donal healed me, he said birth control pills kept you from trawsfurring.”
“True. Apparently birth control pills and shifter chemistries don’t go well together,” Bree said.
“You lived in Seattle?”
Bree smiled. “I did. Being an orphan, I came here, hoping to find information about my parents. Getting out of the city—and off the pills—let me trawsfur. But I’d never heard of the Daonain, so when I shifted into a wolf, it was a shock to everyone…me most of all.”
“I can’t even imagine how scared you must have been.” At least Darcy had known who she was. What she was. “Did you move here and never go back to Seattle?”
“Actually, I did return once, but it was awfully close to being a disaster.” Bree frowned. “Before I left, a hellhound had attacked me, and afterward, it preyed on my apartment complex. A boy lived there who I’d once babysat. It was stupid, but I went back to try to save him and kill the hellhound.”
Darcy frowned. Weren’t hellhounds horrifically dangerous? Yet how could anyone sit by if she knew a child would die? “Did you save him?”
“Not the way I’d planned, although the hellhound did die.” Bree’s mouth twisted in a rueful smile. “Zeb almost died, too. He and Shay came after me, even though Calum had ordered us to stay out of the city. I hated the Cosantir so much right then.”
Darcy stiffened. “But…why would the Cosantir forbid you to go to Seattle?”
“Because the Daonain survive only because humans don’t realize we exist.” Bree shook her head. “I understood, mostly, but I’d never imagined an entire town of shifters could be attacked. Or how horrible it must have been. I’m so sorry, Darcy.”
Houses burning. Bodies in the streets. Caged in a basement. Her mum dragged into the laboratory. Dying there. “My village was called Dogwood.” Named after a grove of the white flowering trees. She’d only lived there long enough to see them bloom once. Now even the name of the village was dead.
Her breakfast had lost its appeal, and the eggs tasted like ash. Darcy set her fork down. “Calum thought humans might discover the Daonain just because you went to Seattle?”
“He had reasons, I’m afraid. Cities are full of people and cameras, and a person turning into a wolf—or bear or cougar—would be impossible to cover up. I was a new shifter with untested control.”
Darcy scowled. She was a very new shifter and probably had atrocious control. “Why didn’t he send Zeb and Shay? They look incredibly strong.”
“Humans aren’t a Daonain concern, especially ones who don’t live in a territory.” Bree sighed. “And cities make shifters weak. Herne’s power doesn’t extend outside his territories, so the cahirs don’t have their added strength.”
“Oh.” Darcy forced herself to finish the eggs, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. Her dreams of an army storming the prìosan and the shifter-soldier compound were sputtering to a stop like an electric motor in the rain.
“Our territories are filled with females and vulnerable cubs. Calum couldn’t risk our people to save a few humans, especially humans who weren’t in his guardianship.”
The Dogwood villagers were shifters but not in Calum’s territory. Dogwood had been in Mt. Hood Territory in Oregon, and she’d never met the Cosantir there. Would either Cosantir take the risk of rescuing the captured villagers?
The dangers were real. Darcy stared down at the table, imagining the black vans driving into village after village. Like in Dogwood. Human soldiers pouring through the streets, shooting their lethal weapons. Snarling horribly, a male falling, blood soaking the front of his shirt. In the street, gory, tangled remnants of people. Over the shouting sounded children’s high, piercing screams. Everywhere, there was only death and burning buildings.
If the Scythe discovered more shifters existed, they’d search the forests. Would find Cold Creek.
As fear pierced her chest, she pulled in a shuddering breath. Right now, the Scythe couldn’t track her and probably didn’t realize others had helped her escape. They’d think Darcy had attacked the hunters since a human couldn’t tell one cougar from another in the dark. A vehicle had driven away, but she might have been the driver. When doing the Scythe vehicle maintenance, she’d learned to drive—although only on the property. But her driving out of the park wouldn’t be impossible.
Right now, the Scythe didn’t know if more shifters existed. A concerted rescue of the Dogwood females and shifter-soldiers would reveal the truth.
“Darcy,” Bree said softly. “I’m sorry. Did you hope Calum could send shifters into Seattle?”
Darcy nodded. “I wasn’t thinking of anything but freeing my friends and littermates. I hadn’t thought of the consequences.”
“Of course not.” As Bree rose, she leaned over to squeeze Darcy’s hand. “Owen should be back any minute, and I’m making BLTs for his lunch. Do you have room for a bit more to eat?”
“No, thank you.” Darcy managed to smile. “It was great, though.”
After putting bacon on to fry, Bree sliced some bread and started to put it into the toaster. With an exasperated huff, she laid the bread in the oven and turned on the broiler.
“Um, Bree? Why don’t you use the toaster?”
“The stupid thing broke yesterday. It burns everything I put in it.”
Darcy’s spirits lifted. “If you have some tools, I can take a look at it. I’m pretty good at fixing things.”
“That’d be wonderful.” Bree disappeared and returned with a small tool caddy. “This is the house set.”
As Bree returned to cooking, Darcy started working on the toaster and felt more…settled. The prìosan had regimented every moment of her day. Here, she had no idea what would happen next. What was she supposed to do today? Tomorrow? The uncertainty left her off-balance.
At least for the next few minutes, she had a job. “Do Owen and Gawain live here?”
“No, Owen has a place way up in the mountains, someplace not even accessible by road. But after a hellhound broke his wrist a couple of weeks ago, he kept reinjuring it. Calum ordered him to stay here until he healed up.”
“Oh, right. I kind of remember hearing that.” Owen would be here for a few days…and the relief she felt was confusing. The male was a grumpy cougar who disliked her. Why in the Mother’s world should she feel better with him around?
Darcy frowned. “Doesn’t Gawain live with Owen?” Littermates usually lived together.
“Huh-uh. Gawain lived down in Oregon, but he’s moving to Cold Creek. He’ll be staying in the lodge while he house-hunts.”
Both of them were here. Darcy opened the bottom of the toaster. “Gawain seems really nice, and I owe Owen a lot for getting me out of Seattle.” Darcy huffed a laugh. “Although, when I tried to thank him, he—”
“He probably glared at you, right?”
“In a way.” Darcy examined the toaster interior and found pieces of bread stuck to the heating coils. No wonder it wasn’t working. “He kind of just walked away.”
Bree rolled her eyes. “The idiot. When it comes to interacting with females, he’s got the disposition of a boggart.”
“Oh.” Maybe Darcy wasn’t the only person who raised his hackles.
“Owen scared me some when I first met him. He stared at me like he thought I’d steal his wallet, although I think he likes me well enough now.” Bree rolled her eyes. “You know, with other males, he’s a whole different cat—relaxed and fun.”
Had Darcy ever seen him look relaxed? “That would be different. But I do know how brave he is.” And she’d put up with a lot from the shifter who’d saved her from the Scythe.
However, she might smack him on the nose if he got too grumpy.
*
As Owen strolled past the Wild Hunt Tavern parking lot, he noticed the young redheaded female he’d mated with at the last Gathering. She and her two loud friends were leaving, having probably gone for a trail run. The tavern’s underground cave system extended into the forest and provided a safe entry for town-dwelling shifters.
After goodbyes, the noisy friends got into a car, and the redhead crossed the lot to hers.
Owen scratched his jaw and then raised his hand to attract her attention.
She flinched.
By the God, he wasn’t planning to claw her. Walking over, he tried to arrange his expression into something that wasn’t a scowl. It would help if he could remember her name. In all reality, he doubted he’d even asked.
Wait, hadn’t Calum called her Nia?
Showing courage, no matter how foolhardy, she lifted her chin. “Owen. Is there something I can do for you?”
Perhaps not behave as if I bit off your tail. He found a better response. “Yes. Accept my apology for my rudeness the other day. Please.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she looked even more immature.
From now on, he’d confine his matings to shifters closer to his age or older. Older would be good. No one under forty-two, at least. “Nia?”
“Why were you so nasty anyway? All I said was I thought you were nice and you liked me.”
So. Fucking. Young. But he owed her the truth. “The way females talk about the God-called pisses me off. It’s all about hunting status and money—not a male to care for. You think cahirs and healers are all just prey.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
Right. Oh. “But I regret having taken a swipe at you.”
“Forgiven.”
“Thank you.” He took a step back.
“Did you realize you act like the females you just criticized? It seems as if you lump all females into one group and think we’re all equally awful.”
The expression on his face must have changed since she took a hasty step back.
Pulling a breath through his nose, he gave her a short nod and stalked away. By Herne’s giant balls, he disliked the young ones.
Especially when they dispensed a Mother’s wisdom.
*
The morning had been frustrating, and as Gawain walked into the lodge, he sincerely hoped the afternoon would improve. Changing towns and territories was more involved than he’d anticipated.
Still, no matter the effort, it would be a joy to live close to his brother and sister. For over twenty years, he’d kept his bargain with their mother—as long as he remained in Pine Knoll, she’d leave Bonnie alone. But last summer, he’d discovered his sister had mated two sturdy males who would never allow their manipulative, abusive mother to upset her.
Gawain pulled in a long breath. Finally, he was free. With any luck, their mother would never learn his location.
He could make a new life here.
Hearing his brother talking with Breanne in the kitchen, Gawain went in search of the female they were supposed to mentor.
On the flagstone-paved patio, Darcy was settled at one of the redwood tables. Barefooted, she wore jeans and an over-large T-shirt that said Seahawks. The bright October sun teased blue glints from her raven-colored hair.
She was watching the gurgling creek, and the look of peace on her face made him smile.
Seeing him approach, she smiled back. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, pretty cat.” He ran his hand down her thick, wavy hair. Soft.
She jumped, then relaxed. It was interesting how her expression changed to both a cat’s pleasure at being stroked…and wariness.
Giving her space, he turned away to check out the stream. Long, finned shapes glinted under the water, swirling and leaping in a happy game of tag. Undines, hmm? With long, sleekly scaled bodies and silvery hair, the water elementals were even more mischievous than pixies.
He’d definitely keep his dangling bits out of that section of the creek.
Sensing him, one undine sent water arcing toward the patio.
Darcy had a beautifully husky laugh. “They didn’t do that before. I think they’re trying to get your attention.”
“Probably. They’re more children of the Mother than the Hunter—and She is strong within me.” He settled into a chair and stretched out his legs with an exhausted sigh. “I think I walked every street in Cold Creek this morning.”
“For exercise or another reason?”
“I’m house-hunting. Calum gave me permission to move here and—”
“Permission?” Her delicate dark brows drew together. “Does a shifter need permission from the Cosantir to move into a territory?”
“Most shifters, no. For the God-called, it is courteous to check first.” When she still looked confused, he elaborated. “For example, it would be wasteful to have three healers in one territory if other territories had none.”
“Oh. Right.” As she studied him silently, he did the same.
Her eyes were such a dark brown even the sun didn’t lighten them…and the pain of her years of captivity lay in the shadows.
She tilted her head. “The scar on your cheekbone. It’s different than Owen’s.”
He touched the silvery-tinted scar of a blade encircled by a full moon. “Aye. Mine is for a blademage.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what a blademage does.”
“Never met one of us, eh?” He smiled. “Your mama wasn’t lifemated?”
“No, she said she’d never met any male she loved enough. My littermates and I were”—her eyes narrowed—“Gather-bred. Is that the word?”
He nodded.
“I’ve forgotten so much.” She made an adorably exasperated sound. “For the first years of captivity, I tried—we all did—to remember everything about being Daonain. But thinking of the outside made the walls higher. So I tried, instead, to forget and live in each day with no future and no past.”
Amazed at her strength, he took her small hand in his. “I can’t imagine being imprisoned, especially in a city. I think I’d go mad.” He stroked his thumb over her palm, finding scars and calluses. She’d had a rough life.
“A couple of the females did go crazy.” Her eyes darkened before she straightened her shoulders and pulled her hand away. “So, Gather-bred is correct?” Efficient as a housekeeping brownie, she tidily brushed away the messy emotions.
“Gather-bred means conceived during the full moon Gathering, so aye, you have used the word correctly. My siblings and I were Gather-bred as well.” His jaw clenched. Four children, four different sires. And their mother had treated each child differently because of those sires. “Among other things, blademages make lifemating bracelets, which are a symbol of love. If the Mother approves of the match, she blesses the bracelets.” Now he and Owen were reunited, maybe…someday…they could find a lifemate.
Darcy wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “I used to daydream about finding my mates.”
“Used to?”
The sadness in her laugh was heartbreaking. Again, she brushed away the emotions. “Have you been a blademage long? Do you meet lots of shifters who are lifemates?”
“I’ve been a smith since the age of sixteen and was called to serve the Goddess a few years later.” He frowned as the years turned into decades. “I’ve met many, many lifemates.”
“Then you’d probably know… I’ve always wondered if people fall in love instantly, or is it a process that takes time?” Her eyes were alight with interest.
“A few do fall in love upon meeting.” He stroked his beard as he thought. “Perhaps they were mates in a previous lifetime and simply recognized each other.”
“Oooh,” she sighed. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
For a moment, he could see the starry-eyed cubling she would have been. All feelings and passion. But now the little female kept her emotions under careful control, and his heart hurt for the change. “After most shifters meet, there seems to be an adjustment period. Their beliefs and habits change in tiny ways until everything matches seamlessly.”
“Change?”
He smiled. “It always reminds me of how I create a knife shaft for a blade. I’ll adjust the size, working at it little by little, until the haft slides into the wood for a perfect fit.”
Someday, he and Owen would find their perfect fit.
*
“Thank you, Breanne. You’re going to ruin me for stalking my own food.” As the pretty blonde chef laughed, Owen swallowed the last of the bacon-lettuce-tomato sandwich and headed out of the kitchen.
Through the dining room windows, he spotted his brother and Darcy on the patio. Sunning sounded good, but he’d have to converse with a female and… He winced, remembering Nia’s accusation. “…you lump all females into a group and think we’re all equally awful.” By the God, he’d become the kind of a person he abhorred. The realization was as painful as a reprimanding swat from the grizzly cahir, Ben.
True, his childhood had given him reasons to avoid females, yet not all were like his mother or the ones who chased after the God-called merely for status.
Time to change his ways. To observe each female with the clear eyes of a hawk rather than a snake’s vision, which would note only moving prey. And he needed to learn to be polite.
He walked over and set his hand on Gawain’s shoulder, smiling as his blood and muscles recognized the soul that had shared his mother’s womb. “Are you two ready to go for a run?”
“A run?” Darcy’s expression was that of a cub considering how far to venture from the den. Anticipation, excitement, anxiety. “I guess?”
When Gawain laughed, she smiled ruefully. “I thought I was supposed to stay put and heal.”
“Shifting helps the healing process, since the magic gives everything a lift,” Gawain told her.
Owen nodded. “Since you’ve had problems with shifting, it’s best if not much time passes between trawsfurs.”
“Oh.”
When Gawain took her hand, she startled, then let him pull her to her feet.
Gawain kept her hand in his, and Owen noticed she didn’t tug away. His littermate had apparently exerted his charm.
“We can use the side door here since the exit was designed for shifters.” Owen led them inside. His healed wrist could use the magical boost, and he’d make sure he and Darcy took it easy today.
Down the back hallway, the door at the end was marked Private. Owen punched in the code for the door lock, which had been added after a cub used the door. In the tiny changing room, he and Gawain started stripping.
Darcy’s face lost the soft flush of color. “Um. You two go on ahead.”
Females. Didn’t they… Catching himself running the familiar trail of disparagement, Owen skidded to a stop. Altering his ways might be more difficult than he’d anticipated.
“Gawain and I have seen hundreds of females without clothing.” He tried on a smile. “You all have the same parts. Today, you will be shifting several times as you learn how to survive in the wild. This is your first lesson: Lose the embarrassment.”
She’d listened, nodded, but at his final words, an irritated red swept into her face. “Fine.” The sideways slant of her mouth held the same warning as the lashing tail of an irritated cougar.
Ah-huh. Like his mother, her words said one thing and her body language another. Was any female honest?
“Although my brother has the manners of a drunken dwarf, he’s correct, catling.” Gawain took her hand again. “You don’t live with humans any longer. It’s time to learn shifter ways.”
Her jaw relaxed. “You’re right. I’m sorry for holding up the lessons.” Without further ado, she stripped quickly, folded her clothing, and set everything on the shelf next to Gawain’s pile.
She apologized? Owen watched her simply getting on with the task at hand…and it took him a minute to recover.
Owen was watching her with dark green eyes sharper than any emerald, and Darcy felt like a mouse facing a hawk. Because she was naked.
He was naked. Gawain was naked. Feeling the heat in her face, she stared at the floor.
Feet appeared in her field of vision, and she jerked her head up. Owen stood in front of her. When his hand came up, she flinched. Just a little. Hardly at all.
But more than enough for the observant cahir. “I’m not going to hit you, female,” he growled. “No male would hit a female.”
She snorted, thinking of the beatings and canings she’d endured.
Gawain cleared his throat. “Unlike with humans, it’s extremely rare for a shifter male to hurt a female. The shifter would have to be crazy.”
“We did have a crazy one, once,” Owen muttered. “When Calum found out, he sent the male straight back to the Mother.”
Back to the Mother. Calum had killed a shifter? For hitting a female?
Owen set his fingers against her ribs over the healed bullet gouge and pressed. “Does this still hurt?”
“No, it’s good.”
He went down on one knee and curled powerful fingers around her right calf, just below the healed bullet wound. His hand was warm—but when she tried to move away, his grip tightened to steel.
She stared down at him.
The cahir’s shoulders and arms were so powerful and ripped; she could see each striation of the muscles. He was sleekly lethal and yet strong. Not a lightweight sports car, but a streamlined SUV, capable of…anything.
Gawain pulled her attention away as he walked around her to unlatch the door. He was even more muscled than Owen. Probably not as fast, but she’d bet he’d plow through any obstacle like a military tank.
The two of them were a bit scary.
Owen traced a finger around the pink area on her calf and told Gawain, “It’s healing, but we’ll have to keep this lesson short.”
“Aye.” Gawain’s voice sounded…odd. Dark and angry.
Darcy looked over her shoulder.
As Gawain stared at her back and shoulders, his every exhalation held a growl.
After a second, she realized he’d seen the spattering of scars on her back.
His gaze lifted to meet hers. “Those scars aren’t from claws.”
“No.” Her laugh sounded as if she was choking. “Humans don’t have any claws worthy of note.”
Owen joined his brother and ran one finger over her scapula. “From a whip?”
“Cane. The prìosan guards used them to keep the hostages obedient.”
Owen’s growl was as deadly as his brother’s. “I look forward to meeting these guards.”
“As do I.” Gawain patted her arm and then gave his brother a rough shove. “Let’s be away. I need to run.”
With a shoulder, Owen pushed him back and walked out the door first. “Look around, Darcy. See how private it is?”
She could see how the tiny clear spot outside the door was enclosed by tall evergreens and head-high underbrush. “Yes.”
“If you don’t have anything as private as this, then the tavern has a portal through caves beneath it. Everyone in town is careful to shift only in designated areas—or they hike well into the forest before stripping and trawsfurring. The Cosantir is very strict about this.”
Even as she nodded her understanding, she felt sick to her stomach.
“A shame other Cosantirs aren’t as strict. In Mt. Hood Territory, the Daonain are pretty careless, and our mother is one of the worst offenders.” Gawain shook his head.
Owen was silent, and his face had gone expressionless.
After a glance at him, Gawain winced. “Let’s get moving.” He frowned at Darcy. “What’s wrong, catling?”
“That’s how they found Dogwood.” She pushed the words past the nausea in her throat. “I heard Director. The Scythe use wilderness areas to train their human forces and had a camp near Dogwood. Some soldiers spotted a few new teenaged cubs shifting and followed them back to Dogwood. They did surveillance on the village and figured everything out. And later, attacked.”
Owen’s expression was grim. “I wondered how it had happened.”
“Yes.” She shook her head. “Everyone in the village was Daonain, so…they weren’t as careful as shifter-human towns are.”
“That was…an ugly price to pay for carelessness,” Gawain said softly. He glanced at Owen.”
Oh, it had been.
“Shift, Darcy.” Owen glanced at his brother and nodded.
Gawain grinned at her, and a second later, he was a cougar.
She stared. He had to be close to two hundred pounds, and his feline body was as thick with muscle as his human one. As with most panthers, his throat and chest were white, and his muzzle stripes, the fur behind his ears, and the tip of his tail were black. She smiled because his tawny pelt was the same color as his beard.
Setting a giant paw on her foot, he rubbed his jaw and cheek over her bare leg, marking her with his scent.
Unable to resist, she stroked his head. Short, plush fur, prickly whiskers.
He purred, low and beautiful.
“Back up, brawd, and let her shift,” Owen said.
Right. She needed to trawsfur. Okay, then. First, find the door. Darcy looked inside her mind and found the dark wooden door, now clear of any barriers. But would she be able to open it? She had to do this correctly. Carefully. Not mess it up. Really, it should be simple. Walk to the door in her head. Find the—
“Darcy. Less thinking, more action.” Owen’s voice held impatience.
Honestly, didn’t he know things needed to be done properly? That people got…hurt…if others lost control and simply acted? But she could do this. Pull open the door.
Take a step.
As she changed, the full force of the Mother’s love hit her, flowing up from the ground, through her paws…so achingly beautiful her heart swelled.
When she lifted her head, she saw Owen had trawsfurred as well. Although taller, he was sleeker than Gawain and moved with a lethal, predatory grace. Gawain’s pelt held a few claw and bite marks from fighting. Owen’s darker fur showed so many scars she wanted to weep for the pain he must have endured.
The cahir had fought and survived—and grown only more deadly. The knowledge should have made her fearful.
Instead, when he stalked over to her and put a big paw on top of her neck, she sank to the ground, curving her neck as if in invitation. What…what had she just done? Yet the purr filling the air was her own.
Owen rubbed his furry chin over the top of her head. When his deep, rough purr joined her own, the sound filled the gaps in her heart. His raspy tongue smoothed the fur behind her right ear.
Gawain chuffed at him, as if laughing.
Owen turned. His tail lashed, once, twice, and he sprang at Gawain.
No! Don’t fight! Darcy danced in anxiety as the panthers rolled on the ground.
Gawain’s hind paws scrabbled at Owen’s pale belly fur. Only…his claws were sheathed. They rolled again and leaped apart, curveting away from each other in a sideways dance, which was as funny as it was graceful.
Playing. They were playing. They’d probably had mock-fights since their first shift at thirteen or so.
Regret seeped into her. She, Patrin, and Fell should have spent the last decade learning how to be cougars. Playing games and pouncing on each other. Fell would have been awesome at hide and seek. Patrin loved heights and would have lurked on low branches. Her? Undoubtedly, she’d have gotten caught up trailing something, and they’d both have ambushed her.
Because of the Scythe, they’d missed all that.
But she’d get them free. She would.
Turning to look at her, Owen chirruped and trotted forward, taking an almost invisible trail through the brush. She glanced at Gawain.
He waited for her to go next.
All right then.
As she trotted across the space, she realized they’d been right. She did feel better, just from trawsfurring. Happily, she leapt after Owen in long bounds.
Soon, the undergrowth hid him almost completely. All she could see were occasional flashes of movement, a flash of dark ochre fur, and the black tip of his tail.
He disappeared entirely.
She stopped and looked around.
Joining her, Gawain made a huh-huh sound. He was laughing at her.
Her ears flattened, and his huff grew louder. He shifted smoothly to human form and stood straight. “You kept him in sight longer than I thought you would. But Owen’s better than anyone I know at disappearing. Alec, one of his cahir partners, calls him ghost cat.”
Her tail lashed. Weren’t they supposed to be running together? He’d cheated.
“This is a lesson, Darcy.” Gawain’s voice was patient. “What should you do when your prey disappears?”
She stared at him. Oh. In Seward Park, when she’d stalked a rodent, it had faded into the brush. She never did find it.
She shook her head to show she didn’t know the answer to his question.
“Learn to use your other senses. You see, the human form relies almost entirely on sight. As a cat, you’ll want to use your nose and ears, as well.” He grinned. “The lesson on whiskers will come later.”
Whiskers? She realized she could feel the long, stiff hairs on her muzzle. Could move them. Could—
“Can you hear anything moving?” Gawain tilted his head. “Point your ears and listen.”
Her ears swiveled obediently forward and sideways. The rustle came from something tiny—maybe a mouse or shrew. The wind stirred the tops of the conifers. Bird song came from farther away, probably by the creek. There was the smack of an axe against wood from someone cutting firewood.
Nothing related to Owen. Giving up, she looked up at Gawain. Was she missing something?
“I can’t hear him either,” Gawain said, easing her worry. “Use your nose. You should know his scent.” The male grinned. “He rubbed it on you before we split up.”
Oh. Both males had, and she’d recognize them anywhere now, whether human or cat. Lifting her head, she inhaled, caught a whiff of bitter minerals and smoke, and wrinkled her nose.
Gawain’s eyebrows lifted, and he sniffed. “No, that’s not Owen. I’d guess there’s a dwarf hall around. Try again.”
This time, she caught something elusive on the wind.
There.
“Good. Let’s go.” Within one heartbeat, Gawain was a cougar, tail lashing as he waited for her to lead out.
With no hesitation, she bounded forward. Oh, when she found sneaky Owen, she was going to bite his ear.
His overwhelmingly male scent drifted to her, and when the wind shifted, Gawain taught her to sniff the trail for scent markers left by cat paws.
Farther on, she found the stinky urine Owen had obligingly provided on a tree. Ew.
She discovered a faint trace where he’d brushed against a huckleberry.
The forest opened into a sun-filled meadow. They were so high that much of the grass was still green, and a tiny stream rippled through the center.
Owen, still in cat form, was sunning himself on a flat rock. The jerk looked far too comfortable.
With three swift bounds, she sprang across the clearing, landed on him, and tumbled him off the rock.
Success. Delighted, she grappled with the cougar, pretending to bite on his ear, clinging with her paws to his muscular shoulders. Huge shoulders, she realized, as his giant paw curled around her neck.
Suddenly Gawain joined the fray, and she was squished between two huge panthers. Unable to move.
A second later, she was in human form. What?
Stepping away, Gawain shifted.
Freed, Darcy scrambled away from Owen. The late season meadow grass stabbed her bare feet painfully as she retreated farther. “I…I…what happened?” She stared down at her arms. Her human hands. “I didn’t look for the door.”
Gawain’s dark beard showed his white teeth in a smile. “It happens with new shifters, some more than others. I enjoyed teasing Owen back in the day.”
She blinked at Owen as he shifted to human form. The deadly cahir had accidentally trawsfurred? “You?”
Owen’s grin was a revelation. Had she ever seen him simply enjoying himself? “Aye, me. Frustrated me no end until I finally got control.”
“I bet.” She’d been terrified when she couldn’t shift back to human for all those days. And now she was trawsfurring accidentally? Her jaw clenched. No, she wouldn’t have it. Just, no.
“Catling, accidents happen,” Gawain said gently. “Within a few months, most Daonain get enough control that they won’t unexpectedly shift.”
Most, but not all. She remembered the Scythe basement. The guards had dragged a young male of about seventeen into the laboratory. He’d been begging. “No. Please.” He’d shrieked in pain…then human screaming came from the room. “A bear. He’s a bear.” The guards had rushed in, shooting. She and the rest of the children could smell the blood. The death.
Her heart ached even as anger made her growl. She wished the young werebear had killed more of them. All of them.
Suddenly she was a cougar again.
Oh, bloody scat.