Shadow Sun (Nevermor #3)

Chapter Two

1

In the dimming sunset, which was faded as an old photograph in a once colorful world, Wren looked down at her clothes, examining herself. She had adopted a rather uncommon look which differed significantly from the ribbons and petticoats she had worn in her younger years, but if she were to judge herself against her current company, she fit in perfectly well. Her garments now were not something her mother would have dressed her in, but that was a life that she had not known in a long time, and former standards of class and modesty mattered no longer.

She was nearing twenty, unmarried and in a wild world. This was not London.

Her pale nightgown—a relic from the asylum—had been well-worn, but was not completely lost. She had replaced part of the skirt with a stretch of fur. She wore it beneath a Tikilin construction that had been made just for her, shaped like her own ribcage, which wrapped at her waist and let her skirt flare out below it. She'd been given a pair of boots which were much better protection for her feet than the thin slippers she'd worn previously—much better for trudging across uncertain landscapes. Sometimes she was amazed at how she had adapted, but for how long she had been in Nevermor, it seemed more natural than anything.

How long has it been since then? She often wondered. She hardly remembered her misfortunes in the Other World, and even her first meeting with Rifter seemed so long ago. Perhaps that was Nevermor's curse working in her as it had done with the others, gradually leeching away at her memories.

Her current companions—Sly, Finn, Toss, Mach, and the painted huntress, Calico—like her, were wanderers. Not one of them had a home or a place to belong, except with one another. They had only their wits and their weapons, the clothes on their backs. They had clung to each other out of necessity, needing a reason to survive and a company to belong to, for even though things were different now, they were still family. Wren had gone through so much to bring them back together, and though life was trying, she did not regret choosing them a second time. They were the only ones she had left.

Wren had never quite considered herself to be a member of the Wolf Pack, even though she had taken the Vow at the Beginning as well, but she was one of them nonetheless. In truth, the Pack as it had been was abolished, leaving only the few who remained, and Rifter had nothing to do with their union at all. Even so, Wren and her companions were a group unto themselves, shunned by others despite their deeds, disliked for their previous connection to the Rifter.

The group of them had decided that if they were to represent themselves as a tribe unto their own, they ought to mark themselves with identifying symbols. They had adopted a portion of the protective runes Rifter had worn on his arms to ward off the demon. Wren painted hers on her shoulder and down her arm with ash, wearing it until it faded before she would put it back again. Every time she traced those lines, she thought about Rifter.

In their travels, the Pack always kept their camp as simple as they could, for they rarely stayed in the same place for more than a day or two. Each one of them carried his own bedroll which they would position around a central fire once they settled. At times, they would put together makeshift workstations, and at others they had to work out more complicated shelters when the weather was harsh.

How cold must the world get before even the fire and Tikilin won't be able to warm us? Wren wondered.

It was not quite cold as winter, but there was a chill in the air. She sat by the fire as the others continued with their usual nightly rituals of tending to their weapons and belongings, taking stock of what was left. Wren was silent, but was suddenly persuaded to act as they did, drawing out a lengthy dagger from the sheath around her waist. The demon had given it to her, but she had not thrown it away. She had been told that the dagger had once belonged to Rifter and had deemed it worth keeping, but her evaluation of it was pointless. It had not been dirtied since she'd come by it. But there was one thing she knew in her heart that was different from her former outlook: she would use it if she had to.