Nearly a Year Later

The danger of being discovered always lurked in the back of Xenon’s mind as they continued their journey to Fated Mate’s Arizona. The other drakkon would certainly be searching for him. And urgently given they couldn’t make the return trip to Drakkon without him. Which meant he had to remain ever vigilant.

For that reason, he chose to walk beside his mate and child with the Far Travelers, even though he could cover significantly more ground in his drakkon form. He only hunted in drakkon form when the group was in dire need, such as when they’d passed through the snowy mountains to get to the green of the landmass Fated Mate called America. And even then, he made a circular surveillance flight, scanning the horizon in all directions, before he took to the air to hunt for meat.

Most often, he and Golden Son hunted smaller game alongside the male Group 7 wolves Fated Mate had insisted they bring on their journey. The animals—especially the herbivores—had become both smaller and less dangerous the farther south they traveled. He and the other Group 7 hunters had found a more gracile version of the hooved tundra beasts, what Fated Mate called “deer” in her language. They’d also come across smaller versions of creatures Fated Mate referred to as sheep and goats.

However, size had not mattered as much as it had in Zone 7. For the further south they migrated, the more plentiful the animals became. They found meat roaming in abundance nearly everywhere they went.

Not only that but the rivers they walked along teemed with both fish and birds. There was so much sustenance to be had in this land Fated Mate guided them through, that the Group 7 children soon began participating in obtaining food alongside the adults. They gathered berries and nuts to accompany communal meals and climbed trees to pluck eggs from nests. At one point, one of Golden Son’s fast friends, a male lupin older, but smaller, than Golden Son in humanoid form, even managed to kill two tree birds with the throw of a single stone.

Fated Mate had grinned, much amused when Golden Son and his friend returned to the camp with tale of the boy’s deed. “So you’re where that saying comes from!” she had said to the confused boy, laughing.

It had been an arduous journey, but a successful one as far as Xenon was concerned. They hadn’t been found. And the Group 7 female lupin continued to thrive and breed well, despite having gone from a seaside village of fishermen to a nomadic tribe of hunter-gatherers.

This was thanks, in part, to his fated mate, who the Group 7 Wolves called Great Wolf Mother. Early in the journey, she had established a collection of female-centric ground rules: a quarter moon stop whenever a female went into heat, and a half-moon stop whenever one gave birth. She also examined the pregnant female lupin weekly, and if she sensed a gestating baby was in distress, she put the pregnant lupin on what she called “bedrest.” Which meant the female would be carried by Golden Son and the strongest boys in the group on a stretcher of bison hide and sticks.

For these reasons, along with the relative ease of keeping all pregnant lupin well fed, they had yet to lose either a baby or mother in childbirth. Which pleased Xenon, even if he no longer had the tools or means to upload the valuable data he was collecting to the drakkon survey group.

A few day cycles before Fated Mate’s day of birth, an anniversary she insisted on celebrating every year for both Golden Son and herself, she gathered their traveling group for two announcements.

Firstly, they would set up camp for a quarter moon along the river because Female 7-84 could walk no further due to her advanced state of pregnancy. Secondly, they were only a day cycle from their destination. She pointed to a mountain just a few wingbeats away and told the group this would be their new home, where they would set up the new village they had left behind at the glacier station in Zone 7.

The second announcement flickered Xenon’s flame. Before her announcement, he had not been aware they were walking toward a specific destination. Just the “state of Arizona” as Fated Mate had called it. But they had entered this tropical jungle terrain many moons ago, and Fated Mate had continued guiding them further west, and then south, often subvocalizing to her now rarely used bioware. He had thought she sought warmer climes. Or perhaps a less mountainous area, since the mountains became smaller the farther they walked.

But no, it would seem his mate had a specific destination in mind all along.

He found her soon after the announcement, with the Group 7 females, setting up a special birthing shelter for Female 7-84. Seeing her construct such shelters during the journey had become a familiar sight and just one of the reasons her title had quickly gone from Queen of Us to Great Wolf Mother toward the beginning of their reign.

The Group 7 females had built a god story around Fated Mate, the same as they had around Great Serpent King. Just a little while after Fated Mate’s unexpected full recovery from Golden Son’s birth, Female 7-74 and her mate, Male 7-80 appeared at their glacier entrance, carrying an infant too sickly to shift into wolf form to heal itself. They’d brought the sickling as a sacrifice to the Great Serpent King in hopes of more provisions for the village after their hunters had come back without meat or fish.

Fated Mate’s flame had gone deep red with disgust, but instead of letting her mate explain that he would never eat one of their young, nor take it as sacrifice, she mentally asked Xenon to “go find this poor woman some non-drugged meat” as she washed her hands in the station stream. Then, she took the baby from its mother, kissed the wan thing on its forehead, and carried it into the station. Three days later, she walked out with a pup and handed it back to its now well-fed mother…fully healed.

Xenon could have told her what would follow, even before he agreed to let her use the station tubes to help the youngling. Maybe if she had not washed her hands in the stream, or kissed the baby before taking it away, the Group 7 wolves would not have deified her for her compassionate act. But who knew.

It all unfolded as if they had been looking for an excuse to declare the mate who was delivered from the sky for their serpent god a goddess in her own right. And the Group 7 lupin had started referring to her as Great Wolf Mother after she handed the lupin mother her magically healed pup.

After that, every woman in the village brought their child to her to hold soon after birth. And over the course of their long journey, Fated Mate had somehow become the lupin in charge of overseeing all births.

Fated Mate took her duties very seriously. By Xenon’s calculations, the journey would have taken much less time without her specific heat and birthing rules. But these rules only made the female lupin adore the Great Wolf Mother that much more.

Adore the Great Wolf Mother, if not necessarily the Great Serpent King. As usual, whenever he came within a wingspan of the female Far Travelers, they all seemed to find other things to do. In other parts of the camp. Parts much further from where their serpent king currently stood.

Fated Mate had once tried to explain it to him as smelling wrong. “You smell like fire. And lupin have an enhanced sense of smell, so when you get too close, the primal feeling is that they should get farther away.”

“But the males do not respond to me in this manner.”

“Men set the fires and use them. I think they’re less afraid as a result.”

“Yet you did not run when first we met,” he answered.

“Yeah, because I was naked and afraid, and a fire was better than spears.”

“And now? Do you still feel afraid of me?”

“No,” she answered. “I guess I’m used to fire now, too.”

“Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, when she noticed his presence. “She’s going to pop this baby out by nightfall, I just know it. I think we should have a feast to celebrate. Do you mind searching for a larger animal or two? A bison if you can find one. I know there’s a smaller version living on the plains to the east of here—at least, I think there are plains. I wasn’t exactly expecting to find a jungle when we reached Arizona. But whatever, we need to find them and start gathering their hides. The wooly mammoth skins aren’t going to cut it much longer in this climate. We should find a herd as soon as possible.”

These were all good ideas, but he did not like the way she fluttered about. Giving close attention to smoothing the mammoth hide over the structure, even though it was, to his eye, already set up.

“Of course, I will honor you with this extra hunt, but first I would talk with you about your plan to make our home at the next mountain. Why did you not tell me of this plan yourself?”

“Oh, well you know, it never came up. And I kind of knew where I wanted us to settle, but I wasn’t sure if I could find it again, considering I had no real map and my offline bioware can’t deliver coordinates. It only tells me what direction I’m headed in.”

“So you were looking for this mountain all along, then?” he asked.

“Kind of. Yeah, I guess—” She then suddenly broke off. “You know what? I have a mother in labor here. How about we have this conversation later?”

“Of course, Reverence. As you wish,” he had answered, as an acolyte should. But he could not help but note she had not once looked at him directly during their short conversation.

He took the unexpected hunting opportunity to make a scan of the sky. No drakkon. Also, no bison. But he did find one of the small, slope-headed mammoths Fated Mate had referred to as mastodon the first time their group happened upon a herd of the smaller beasts. This one must have been an adult male because he grazed alone, oblivious to his impending death by drakkon fire until the very last moment.

Upon returning to the camp with his kill, he found Fated Mate had been right. The woman had delivered a baby—a healthy one if the hearty squall of its wails could be used as a determinate. After dropping the mastodon next to the river with a ground-shaking thud, he reshelled and went in search of Fated Mate…only to find her still embedded inside the birthing tent with the new mother.

Now was it nightfall. His belly was full of mastodon meat, but he did not feel satisfied as he watched Fated Mate. She stood outside the birthing tent, rocking the newborn pup as she talked with a couple of other Group 7 females. Within sight, if not hearing distance.

Often when he looked upon his mate in this fashion, she would suddenly glance up, as if she could feel his gaze upon her.

But not this night. Her gaze strayed not once to him, even though her cherished Golden Son sat beside him.

Strange, he thought to himself, just as his son said, “Maybe you should talk with Wolf Mama behind a rock.”

Xenon’s flame started at the suggestion. “Talking behind a rock” was the code he used with Fated Mate to signal his mating wish. They had not enjoyed nearly as much privacy on this long journey as they had back at the Zone 7 station, and so it had become necessary to hide behind a large rock whenever he wished to be with his mate in this manner.

An inconvenience to be sure, but a much better alternative to what would have happened to them all if they had remained at the glacier station.

“Why do you say this?” he asked his son now, though his male works swelled with immediate approval of the suggestion.

“Everybody happy because she say we almost there. She talk happy and say everybody dance. But her flame…”

Golden Son did not finish, but he did not have to. Xenon’s eyes once more found where Fated Mate stood. Towering over the group of older female lupin she was speaking with as she rocked the newborn pup.

She smiled and nodded, often bending her neck forward to brush her lips across the top of the pup’s head as she so often did with the Group 7 babies. To others, she would appear animated and just as joyful as the rest of the Far Travelers. But the Far Travelers could not see what Xenon and his son saw. The dark red and black swirl of Fated Mate’s head flame, agitated and obvious—but only to drakkon eyes.

“You are correct, Golden Son,” he decided out loud, rising to a stand.

Once again the Group 7 females scattered like small vermin upon his approach. But in this case, he did not mind their fear, as it left him alone with Fated Mate and the newborn she held so close.

“I do honor you with this feast, Reverence.”

Her eyes shifted left, then right, in that odd way of hers, before she answered, “Um, thank you. I’m sure the Far Travelers appreciate it after that huge journey.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Then why do you not appreciate it?”

“Oh.” She rapidly blinked. And it seemed to Xenon that her head became even more enflamed. “I do. I do appreciate it. Of course, I do. Thanks!”

“No gratitude is necessary, Reverence. It is your honor due.”

She tilted her head but did not say anything further.

And though she had been nothing but accommodating during their long journey, he found his chest flame, agitated with awkwardness as he pointed out, “It has been many moons since last we did congress. Would you like to talk with me behind the rock? I believe it might help with the agitation you experience.”

“The agitation? Oh, you’re reading me again.”

Yes, his readings of her flame had come up more than once in inflamed conversation. She made her feelings about disliking when he did so plain, and she had forbidden their hatchling from doing it at all.

Out of Reverence, neither Golden Son nor his father pointed out that it was biologically impossible for them not to read her flame. And usually Xenon tried to keep himself from referring to the emotions he could so easily discern, as it seemed to vex her greatly.

“I only point this out so I might help with whatever has upset you.”

“I’m not upset. I’m stressed. And you know, I should probably get some sleep. So…”

She trailed off, but he understood her unspoken message. After each birth, the Great Wolf Mother always slept with the mother and young. To keep an eye on things, Fated Mate had told him privately, but of course this, too, had been turned into ritual by the Group 7 lupin.

So he was being dismissed…along with his request for congress.

A few wingbeats ticked by, then Xenon said, “Reverence?”

“Uh, yes?”

“I would have your eyes.”

With what seemed to Xenon much effort, she looked up to meet his gaze. But before he could say anything, she rushed to tell him, “Now that we’re here and we’ve stopped, they’ll probably be fine if I step back a little from overseeing their births. But now probably isn’t the time to end the tradition.” That said, her eyes shifted back to the pup.

Many unreverent thoughts filled his head. He imagined commanding her to give the baby to its mother and come away with him. He thought of peppering her with more questions until she told him what truly caused her head flame to agitate so.

However, in the end, he walked away. Back to Golden Son.

“Tonight, we will sleep as drakkon upon the ground,” he announced to his son. A rare treat as they were both deeply aware of how little Great Wolf Mother cared for their drakkon forms.

Tonight, he would let her have her way, he decided. But tomorrow…

Tomorrow he would get his answers.

Xenon was right about that, as it turned out. But the answers he sought did not come in the form he’d expected.

The next morn, he gave early rise and found his son in wolf form beside him. He, like his mother, was larger than any of the other pups his age. Over twice as large in Golden Son’s case. But unlike the other pups and his mother, Golden Son still did not have much control over all his forms. And he often shifted from wolf to drakkon, or drakkon to wolf over the course of a night.

But after Xenon shook him awake and his son morphed into a drakkon to receive his father’s message, Xenon couldn’t help but think how small he appeared. What would have happened to him if the red drakkon had been able to tell the rest of the group of his existence?

Pushing that dark thought out of his head, Xenon told Golden Son of his plan, and that he could be found to the east upon the plains if such need arose. His son agreed, and fell back into his sleeping wolf form so fast that his drakkon wings remained folded upon his furry back.

Golden Son was the greatest honor Xenon had ever received, yet even he knew not what to make of his strange hybrid nature at times.

No matter. Xenon would do whatever it took to keep him alive. Including kill any drakkon who found their camp and tried to label Golden Son an anomaly.

Any and all of them, he vowed, as he launched himself into the air and gave the surrounding areas a dark patrol.

But so far, there were no other hominids he could see in this area. He had spotted a few tribes during the northern part of the journey, and he suspected if he went south, there might be more hominid tribes gathered closer to the equator.

But for now, without knowing it, Fated Mate had found the perfect place for them to hide. So far from Zone 7 that the other drakkon might not think to look this deep into the unsettled lands. And in a mountain range, which provided good cover, making them difficult to see from above.

He flew east, determined to find the steppe bison Fated Mate assured him lived in these lands, even though they had yet to come upon a herd. However, she should not have doubted his clever treasure. He soon found what looked like a pack of furred tapirs without long noses, grazing upon a grassy flatland east of the mountain she wished to call home.

However, just as he decided to set his course back, another drakkon call rent the air.

Bringing his tail, he turned to see his son zooming toward him. “Blue Papa! Blue Papa! Come quick! Wolf Mama need you!”

He followed his son, but only for a short distance. For as it turned out, she was not back at the camp she had commanded the Far Travelers to set up, but at the mountain she had told them they would soon call home.

By rote reverence, he shelled in the air, converting from drakkon to his hominid form so he’d set down on two feet instead of four. He found her kneeling on a long ridge of land on bent knees, screaming sobs issuing from her mouth as she rocked back and forth.

Calm her. Protect her. Help her. Those were his first and only thoughts upon finding her. For she was crying much harder than the night she came upon the two full moons.

But what had upset her so this time? He looked around for answers.

Beside him, his son set down, too distressed to reshell as was their habit. “She tell me make myself drakkon, and take her to new mountain after you go,” he told his father, as if in answer to his unspoken question. “She say we must go now. So I take. But after we come she hug me and say strange words I no understand. I know not why, but strange words make her cry. I no understand. She yell strange words, and also say they should be working on ‘the gate’ many times. What is a gate, Blue Papa?”

Gate… Wasn’t that the term she had used to describe the fating portal?

Xenon looked around again, but this time his answers came like an icicle falling upon his head. An empty ridge, too high to be seen from the valley floor, but in direct contact with the sun’s bright light, no matter the time of day. It would be, if he were choosing, the perfect place to install a fating portal.

Understanding chilled his fire blue. The story coming together as if she had told it herself. Her crying not because of something she had found, as had been the case with the two moons. But because of something she had not found.

And now he suddenly understood why she had been unable to look him in the eye last eve. Why she had denied his request to “talk.” She had been planning to leave this place. And Xenon… With the help of the only gate she knew for sure had worked. And she would have taken Golden Son with her.

If her plan had worked, she would have left him without his son or his mate.

But it had not worked. And now she would be forced to deal with the mate she had just attempted to leave behind.

“Go back to the camp,” he chirred to his son.

“But what is wrong with—”

“Go back to the camp,” he repeated. “And do not return until I caw for you. Tell the Far Travelers this as well.”