Chapters (46)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
Pashla looked at Kyra as she said those last words, and Kyra got the distinct impression that Pashla wanted her to experience this for herself. And there was such concern, such compassion in the clanswoman’s eyes, that Kyra suddenly found herself telling her own story. She told Pashla about her own fragmented early memories, of scavenging in the city’s trash piles and balancing on the edge of survival. She talked of things that she hadn’t even told Bella or Flick, not because they wouldn’t have cared or because she feared their judgment, but simply because they wouldn’t have understood. Pashla knew about desperation, about being utterly alone those early years. After Flick and Bella had taken Kyra in, she’d felt loved, but she’d never felt like she truly belonged. Nighttime was her element. As she’d grown in confidence and skill, Kyra had struck out more and more on her own, and though Flick and Bella would have been willing to follow her, they simply could not keep up.
Pashla listened without interrupting, rubbing Kyra gently on the back as the words spilled out. When Kyra ran out of things to say, Pashla finally spoke. “Now you’ve found your people.”
But even as Kyra gripped Pashla’s hand in gratitude, she remembered her dream. How Bella had pulled her to her feet, and how Kyra’s claws had pierced her skin and brought forth five drops of blood.
Thirty-four
T H I R T Y - F O U R
Kyra healed more quickly than any human, yet it still felt agonizingly slow. Every day was one day closer to the coming raid, and she desperately needed to get word to the Palace. At the Guildhouse, James had proposed a raid in one month. If that were true, Kyra guessed she had two more weeks. But who knew what might have changed since then?
“Are you well enough for a longer walk tonight?” Pashla asked her one evening.
“I think so, if we go slowly.” In truth, the shelter had started to feel restrictive. It was time to start building her strength.
“Good. I had an idea. We can take the kittens.”
Curious, Kyra followed Pashla out into the forest. They found Libena and Ziben tumbling at the foot of a nearby boulder. Pashla barked a command, and the kittens fell into step with them. It was a cool night—autumn was starting in earnest. Kyra shivered and wrapped her animal skin tighter around her. They walked in silence for a while. Then Pashla finally spoke.
“Changing comes naturally to us,” she said. “It is hard for me to teach you how. It would be like trying to tell you how to breathe or lift your arm. But we will try. You’ll have to hunt with me.”
“Hunt?” In her mind’s eye, Kyra saw the wounded deer crashing through the forest.