“Hunters! I need you and your Terriers to search for survivors while you put out any hot spots still smoldering. Grab a shovel each and be sure your Companions have their feet wrapped tightly in strips of the thick hide I salvaged from the tanning platform. Even though the rain is helping a lot with drenching the forest, much of the area is still dangerous for paws.” Wilkes faced the group of Hunters who had gathered with the Warriors for instructions.
“Warriors! While the Hunters are searching out survivors within the confines of the city I need half of you to go to the meditation platform and get it set up as an infirmary. Gather all of the Healers you can find, as well as all of the infirmary supplies,” Wilkes continued.
“The infirmary burned to the ground,” said a young Warrior named Renard. He’d been the first Tribesman made Companion when Laru’s last litter had begun to choose. Wilkes thought he looked a little wide-eyed and his young Shepherd, Wolf, seemed unable to leave his leg, but the two had worked well that terrible day and Wilkes was sure they would continue to do so.
“Are you certain, Renard?” Wilkes asked.
“Positive. I saw it happen. There were…” He paused and had to clear his throat and wipe his eyes before he continued. “There were people trapped in the infirmary when the trees and the platform caught fire. It’s not something I’ll ever forget.”
Wilkes passed a weary hand over his face. “Okay. Well then, Warriors, let’s see what we can do about medicine and supplies for a temporary infirmary. And I won’t believe all of the Healers perished. Let’s find them. Maybe they got outside the city before it was too late. The rest of you assess how many nests are usable for tonight. Hang tarp over sections of platform that are safe. People can shelter there for right now. Find as many Carpenters you can and get them started on making temporary shelters—especially something that can be used as a kitchen. Any questions?” When no one spoke, he said, “All right then, let’s get moving. We have about an hour until sunset.”
Wilkes hurried away with the group of Warriors and Shepherds, and Thaddeus watched him leave with undisguised dislike, the thought that was never far from him echoing around and around his mind: Why does he get to give the orders just because his Companion is a Shepherd? I’m smarter and stronger. I should be Leader, and not just of the Hunters.
Odysseus whined pitifully, breaking into Thaddeus’s thoughts. He crouched beside his Companion. “I know it hurts. I’m sorry that bitch caused me to drop my dagger. Hang in there a little bit longer, and then you can rest,” Thaddeus told Odysseus as he retied the bloodstained bandage wrapped around the little Terrier’s flank.
“Thaddeus! Where is Latrell?” Thaddeus turned to see a young Hunter named Sean staggering up to him from the smoldering forest. He looked rough—red and singed where he wasn’t covered with black soot. He was carrying his Terrier, Kitto, whose paws were painfully burned.
“I haven’t seen him for hours.” Thaddeus stood, facing Sean, then added silently, And I hope that pain in my ass won’t ever be seen again. “What is it, Sean? What do you need?”
“When Kitto got burned I was with Latrell on the west edge of the city. He told me to carry him and try to make it to the Channel, so that’s what I did. But on the way there the fire shifted and cut us off.”
“Yeah, it’s been shifting all day. Go to the meditation platform. They’re setting up an infirmary there. They can see to you and your Kitto.”
“I will, but that’s not why I was looking for Latrell.” Sean lowered his voice and stepped closer to Thaddeus, obviously not wanting anyone else to hear. “It’s the Council. I—I think they might be dead.”
Thaddeus felt a rush of excitement, which he covered by cloaking his reaction with concern. He pulled Sean by the elbow, guiding him away from the Hunters. “Tell me what you know quickly. Keep your voice down.”
“Cyril called for the Council to evacuate the city and get to the Channel. I know because they were right ahead of me when the fire shifted. Thaddeus, a tree exploded. It set another afire, and then another. It happened insanely fast. One moment there was the wide, clear path to the Channel. The next there was a wall of fire. It cut me off from them, and all I could do was run as they screamed and screamed.” Sean bowed his head, pressing it into his Terrier’s soft neck, and while the little canine whined pitifully in sympathy his Companion sobbed.
Thaddeus pulled the crying man farther away from the others. “Are you sure the entire Council was trapped?”
“They were all there—all twelve of them and their canines.” Sean shook his head. “All those Shepherds—all those Elders. It’s—it’s just too terrible.”
“Where were you? Which trail?”
“The west one—the wider of the two that crosses that little stream. We were only about ten minutes outside the city.”
“All right. You did well telling me. Now go to the meditation platform and get Kitto tended to. I’ll follow the path. Maybe some of them survived. But don’t tell anyone about this until I know for sure what happened to the Council. There’s no point in adding panic to the chaos of today.”
“I pray to the Sun that they survived, but Thaddeus, I don’t know how any of them could have made it out of that blaze,” Sean said.
Thaddeus said nothing. He just nodded concernedly and gestured in the direction of the mediation platform. Sean staggered away, clutching his Terrier and sobbing softly. Then Thaddeus glanced down at Odysseus. Even wounded, the attentive Terrier was watching him closely. “That’s right. We’re going to do a little hunting of our own. Come here, boy.” Odysseus limped to his Companion. Thaddeus lifted him, settling the small Terrier in his arms before they disappeared into the forest.
It didn’t take Thaddeus and Odysseus long to find the Council members—or, rather, what was left of them. A tree had fallen across the path, which was what probably saved Sean’s life—cutting him off from the Council as the blaze spread toward the Council members, rather than toward Sean.
It was impossible for Thaddeus to tell the bodies apart. They had died piled together—humans and canines almost as one. Even with the still-falling rain, that part of the forest was too hot to trek through—and he certainly wasn’t going to put Odysseus at risk by sending him into that smoking mess of rubble and flesh to try to count bodies, even had the Terrier not been wounded. Instead, Thaddeus studied the area, looking for a way anyone could have broken through the blaze and escaped.
“I think they’re all gone, Odysseus.” Thaddeus gently put his Companion beside him on the trail. He crouched down, scratching Odysseus’s black ears. “And I’d say that leaves quite a gap in the ruling Council, as in no swarm-be-damned Council at all. Seems it’s time for a new Council—like I’ve been saying. One that’s not monopolized by Shepherds and their Leader Companions.” Odysseus wagged his tail so hard the whole rear of his little body was wriggling, which caused the canine to whine in pain. Thaddeus laughed. “Hey, be careful. You’re going to start bleeding again. Come on, boy. I’ll carry you back and see what kind of rabbit stew I can find for us.” Thaddeus had just begun to turn toward the trail to return to the city when a weak voice drifted to him.
“Help! Help me. I’m here. I’m alive!”
Thaddeus peered around. “Who is it?”
“It’s Cyril! I’m here!”
“Where? I don’t see you!”
Odysseus began to squirm in Thaddeus’s arms, so that he had to put the canine down. The Terrier yipped and began to limp to the right of the path, leaving it, and standing, three-legged, at the edge of a sheer slope that bottomed out into a ditch almost filled with rainwater and burned debris, where he barked an alert.
Thaddeus rushed to him, stopping in shock when he realized what he’d thought was a charred log moved, rolled over, and opened his eyes.
“Sunfire! It is you!” Thaddeus didn’t think. He started down the slope, moving as quickly and confidently as a Terrier—inhumanly quickly and confidently. He came to a rest beside the old man. “Where’s Argos?”
“Sent him to get help. How—how did you get down here so easily? It’s almost completely vertical.” Cyril was blinking his vision clear and staring at Thaddeus with a strange expression.
Thaddeus shrugged. “Hunters are good at getting in and out of tough places. Lucky for you, right? How bad are you hurt?”
“Don’t know. I feel wrong inside. It’s why we weren’t with the others. My chest and my arm—they were hurting. Badly. I was having trouble catching my breath, so Argos and I stopped to rest. The others went on. The—the others, they screamed. I can still hear them screaming. Why am I alive? I should have died with them.”
“They’re past pain now.…” Thaddeus paused and then added, “Was that the whole Council?”
Cyril nodded weakly.
“Any chance any of them got out like you did?”
A shudder passed through the old man’s body and he closed his eyes. “No. No one could have lived through that.”
“Okay, let’s get you back. We’re going to need you to head up a new Council. Without you in charge shit happens like Wilkes allows Nik and his Scratcher whore to go free, when they’re responsible for all of this. We need to make sure they pay for what they’ve done.”
The old man’s eyes opened and he shook his head sadly. “No, Thaddeus, this isn’t Nik and that girl’s fault. It’s ours. I’ve been lying here, thinking about many things, especially about what happened last night. I was wrong—we were wrong. The Farm was our fault. Because of us, our Sun Priest, a good and honorable man, is dead. The Council is dead.” He closed his eyes again, as if they weighed too much to keep open. Tears tracked down Cyril’s wrinkled cheeks. “I should have been with them. I should have died, too.”
“Hey, you’re not thinking straight. After you’ve rested you’ll be yourself again.”
“I am thinking straight—maybe for the first time in years. I see that I’ve been wrong, and I’m ready to admit it. The first thing I need to admit to the Tribe is that the girl, Mari, is the daughter of a Companion who was one of our finest Warriors.”
“What are you talking about? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” Thaddeus tried to inspect the old man’s head, but Cyril weakly swatted his hands away.
“I didn’t hit my head. I told you—I’m finally thinking clearly. Mari was Galen’s daughter. I know because I ordered his death for stealing fronds of the Mother Plant for her when she was an infant. Sol was the Warrior who carried out the death sentence.”
Thaddeus’s brows shot up his forehead. “The mighty Sol actually killed a Companion, and that Companion was the Scratcher bitch’s father? Bet if she knew that she’d feel different about her precious Nik.”
The old man stared at him, his green eyes piercing Thaddeus’s soul. He wanted to look away and then reminded himself that there was no damn reason he should look away from Cyril. What was he, really, except a weak, sick old man?
“You’ve changed,” Cyril said.
Everything inside Thaddeus went very still. “What do you mean?”
Instead of answering, Cyril asked a question of his own. “What really happened to you when you were captured by the Skin Stealers?”
“I already told you.”
Cyril grimaced against the pain as he forced himself to a sitting position, clutching his left arm to his side. “No. I don’t think you did tell me everything. You’ve been different since you returned.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you do.” With a shaking hand Cyril wiped rain, sweat, and tears from his face, and then he sat up straighter, as if he’d found his second wind. “I’m Lead Elder, not a doddering fool. I watch everything—everyone. I watch you. I watched you carefully after your abduction. What I’ve observed has me concerned.”
Thaddeus saw the truth in the old man’s sharp gaze and made his decision instantly.
“I have changed. I’m better, stronger, faster, smarter.”
“What did they do to you?” Cyril asked.
Thaddeus smiled, happy to finally be able to share the truth with someone. “They took Odysseus’s flesh and joined it with mine.”
The old man’s eyes widened in horror. “But they only do that to themselves—only with human flesh—and only because they’re all infected with a rotting disease.”
“Well, that’s the thing.” Thaddeus crouched next to Cyril. “Before I went on that foraging trip, my skin had begun to crack and slough.” He shrugged. “Don’t know why, but it had to have something to do with that diseased stag we found.”
“The one you destroyed, but not before his blood spattered your face and body?”
Thaddeus ignored the disgust in Cyril’s voice and continued. “Yes! Exactly! I think it infected me and got me ready for Odysseus’s flesh.”
“Sunfire! You’ve been tainted by the Skin Stealers’ disease. Thaddeus, we have to get you to the Healers. Maybe they can cure you.”
Thaddeus laughed. “Cure me? Why would I want that?” He held out his arms, flexing them. “Odysseus’s flesh has made me better.”
“The disease and his flesh have made you ill. No wonder you were so angry at the Farm. You need help, Thaddeus.”
Thaddeus cocked his head to the side and studied the old man contemplatively. “Didn’t you just tell me you should have died with the rest of the Council?”
Cyril said nothing, but Thaddeus saw pity in the old man’s eyes.
“Well, maybe you did.”
Cyril looked confused. “No, I told you what happened. I wasn’t with them at the end. I’m here.”
“You’re right. You are here. I think you fell in this ditch as you ran from the fire and you hit your head. It killed you.”
“But I’m not dead.”
Thaddeus ignored him, searching the ditch around them until he found what he needed. Then, quickly and efficiently, he lifted the rock and as the old man stared at him, eyes wide with sudden understanding, he bashed it several times against Cyril’s skull.
“Now you are dead.”
Thaddeus waited, feeling for Cyril’s pulse as blood drained from the old man’s head wound and his body twitched soundlessly. After his pulse slowed and then finally stopped, Thaddeus lifted the dead man, slinging him carelessly out of the ditch—tossing his body toward the path. Smiling at the ease with which he handled the old corpse, Thaddeus scrambled out of the muddy ditch and up the steep incline where Odysseus waited for him. Then he hefted Cyril over his shoulder and picked up Odysseus, holding him snugly in the crook of his other arm while they started back down the trail.
“You see, Cyril, I’ve been thinking, too. And what I’ve been thinking is that it’s time new blood ruled the Tribe. Odysseus and I shared flesh, and now we share everything—intuition, senses, strength. That’s not a disease, or a sickness. It’s a miracle.”
Tucked against his side, Odysseus barked his agreement, and Thaddeus laughed with pleasure.
* * *
“Two apprenticed Healers? Surely more survived than that!” Wilkes stared around the triage area of the old meditation platform. He was horrified by the cries of the wounded and dying—but even more horrified by the lack of trained medical personnel to care for them.
“Keep your voice down. The truth is bad enough. The injured don’t need to know that the rest of us are as frightened as they are.” Ralina, the revered Storyteller of the Tribe, grabbed Wilkes by the wrist and steered him to a relatively secluded section of the crowded meditation platform. She wiped her sweaty face with the back of her blood-spattered tunic and blew out a long, exhausted breath before continuing. “The Healers wouldn’t leave the infirmary. There were too many people there who couldn’t be moved. They decided to stay with the sick and hope that the fire would be stopped before it reached them.” Ralina shook her head sadly. “They all burned, Wilkes. The Healers, the sick and blighted, the old, the newborn infants and their mothers, everyone.” She paused, her shoulders shaking as she fought for control of her grief. “Thank the Sun that Kathleen thought to send her two apprentices with a store of supplies away before they were destroyed by the fire as well.”
“Kathleen was a wise Healer. She’ll be greatly missed,” Wilkes said, trying to reason through the shock that felt as if it was pressed down on him, layer by layer, as he discovered more and more about the tragedy that had struck the Tribe. He leaned against the ornately carved railing and bent to stroke Odin reassuringly. The big Shepherd was, as always, hyperaware of Wilkes’s emotional distress, which was at that moment at an all-time high. “It’s okay, big guy. We’ll get this sorted out. Everything will be okay.”
Ralina’s Bear whined fretfully, and the Storyteller rested her hand on his broad head as he leaned against her for comfort. “How?” Ralina asked softly. “How is everything going to be okay? So many of the Tribe are dead or dying. More wounded keep staggering in here every moment, and we don’t even have a real Healer.”
“We’re going to survive, Ralina. The Tribe is strong.”
“Where is Sol? Why isn’t he here after he stopped the blaze?” she asked.
Wilkes didn’t want to tell her, but there was no point in putting off the inevitable—at least not now that the fire was out and the recovery could begin.
“Ralina, Sol is dead.”
“Oh, sunfire! No.” Ralina slid down the railing, dropping heavily to her butt. She wrapped on arm around Bear and leaned into him as tears dripped down her cheeks. She looked hopelessly up at Wilkes. “Was it too much for him? Did the amount of sunfire needed to save us destroy him?”
Wilkes drew a deep breath and told the truth. “No. Sol was killed at the Farm, where the fire started. It was an accident. Thaddeus was trying to shoot Mari, and Sol pushed her out of the way, taking the arrow meant for her.”
“Wait, what are you talking about? Who is Mari, and how did the fire get put out if Sol was dead?”
“It’s a long, strange story, and I don’t have all of your answers. I can tell you that Mari is a Scratcher—they call themselves Earth Walkers.”
“Earth Walkers?”
“So Mari says. She also says her father was a Companion—one of the Tribe.”
“Bloody beetle balls! That’s impossible!”
“Apparently not. She looks more Companion than Scratcher. Laru’s last pup—the big male Nik’s been hunting for weeks—chose her. And she called down the sunfire that saved us.”
The Storyteller shook her head. “I—I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it. I saw it. Nik helped her control the sunfire, but she called it down herself.”
“Nik! Oh, Gods! With Sol and Laru gone, he has no one except the O’Bryans.” Ralina wiped her eyes and then jerked her chin in the direction of a tarp that had been hastily erected on the forest floor, several yards from the meditation platform. Beneath it Wilkes saw mounds of what looked like dirty clothes. Then, with a terrible start, he understood he was looking at bodies—many, many bodies. “Lindy and Sherry O’Bryan are dead, along with their Shepherds. I haven’t seen their son’s body yet, but I assume he was with them. And that means Nik has no one left in this world.” She shook her head sadly. “I know he hadn’t been chosen by a Shepherd yet, but I always believed he would be. Many of us thought he was destined to be Sun Priest after Sol.”
“Laru chose Nik.”
Her eyes widened and joy flashed across her face. “Good for him! Laru is in his prime. I’m so glad he didn’t choose to die with Sol.” She looked around as if trying to find Nik. “But where is he? His presence, with Laru by his side, will calm the Tribe.”
Wilkes set his jaw. “Gone. He left with Mari. Davis and his Cameron left with them, too, as well as that damn Lynx man, Antreas.”
“What? I don’t understand. Gone where?”
“Scratcher territory.”
Ralina was shaking her head back and forth, back and forth, mired in disbelief, when the shouts started. Wilkes turned toward the sound in time to see Argos, the Leader of the Council’s old Shepherd, run into the clearing.
Odin and Bear began to whine in unison, which brought Ralina to her feet. She shared a look with Wilkes, and then they were sprinting to Argos, their Shepherds beside them.
Wilkes reached him first. “Hey, big guy, are you okay?” He dropped beside the canine, running his hands along Argos’s body. The old canine’s face was completely gray. As Wilkes examined him, thoughts cascaded through his mind—that he had known forty-two winters and could not think of a time when Argos hadn’t been by Cyril’s side. Argos was the oldest Shepherd in the Tribe and greatly revered by everyone. “Nothing’s broken. His fur is singed, but he seems okay,” Wilkes told Ralina as Odin and Bear sniffed the old canine, whining in concern.
Then Argos barked sharply and turned to sprint back the way he’d come. The canine stopped, though, to look at Wilkes, barking desperately again.
“It’s Cyril. It has to be,” Ralina said. “He must not have been able to make it back, so he sent Argos. I’ll get a medical pack together and follow him.”
“I’ll come with you. You’ll need help getting him back here.” Ralina nodded, and she and Bear hurried back to the platform. “Argos! We understand! We’re coming. Hang on, big guy.” Odin went to the old Shepherd, touching noses with him and licking him comfortingly while Wilkes paced and tried to think positive thoughts. Cyril must still be alive, or Argos would never have left him.
Ralina was sprinting back to them when more shouts were heard. At first Wilkes couldn’t make out what was being shouted—he could only hear screaming sobs, with words jumbled beneath the cries. When the cries grew closer, he began to understand.
“Oh, sunfire! No!”
“It can’t be!”
“Oh, Gods! No!”
Wilkes’s stomach had already begun to roil with foreboding when Argos’s demeanor changed. The big canine began to whine fretfully. The force of his whines grew, changing to a strangled, keening howl that had chills skittering up and down Wilkes’s spine. Then, right before them, Thaddeus staggered from the forest carrying a body cradled in his arms like a sleeping child.
Argos reacted instantly. He raced to Thaddeus and then froze just before him, as if the canine had been turned to stone.
Thaddeus went to his knees and placed Cyril’s body oh, so gently on the mossy ground. Companions and canines poured from the meditation platform and the forest around them, forming a desperate circle around the old canine and the body of their fallen Lead Councilman.
Argos staggered to his Companion. When he reached Cyril, the Shepherd slowly lay down beside him, stretching his gray muzzle up to tuck it into the crook of the old man’s shoulder. Wilkes saw the Shepherd’s body snuggle against Cyril and then completely relax. Argos closed his eyes, drew a last, long breath, and then he released it with a sigh and the loyal old Shepherd joined his beloved Companion in eternity.
Every canine in the clearing raised his or her muzzle to the sky and howled their sadness to the sun as the Tribe of the Trees wept.