Soul Seeker

1: Huntress and the Wolf

After scuffing out the worst of the tracks she had made and retrieving the arrow, scanning warily for Virki hunters all the while, she broke into a run alongside the river, heading west: home.

The water was blindingly blue, so pure it was easy to see pebbles winking like stars from the riverbed, and beyond the banks the sides of the valley called the Cradle reared high, fingers of rock which gave the impression that a giant hand was cupping the basin. A source of shelter and food in the Kvala Steppes, it was easy to see why it was fought over.

Haft Pass, a gap between fingers of rock, marked the western exit of the Cradle and the border between Nome lands and Virki. They usually kept watch over it, but Ciara had been poaching here for a long time. She knew when to slip in and out unseen.

Her sled team was waiting for her, concealed in a dip among the rolling hills outside the Cradle. Six fluffy tails started wagging and six pairs of intelligent eyes fixed on Ciara as she barrelled towards the sled, anxious to get back to the village before the rising sun crested the ridges.

She dumped her pack onto the cargo seat, took her place on the footboards at the back and pulled up the snow anchor which kept them from running off. 

"Hike!" It was freeing, to shout like that, expelling everything from her lungs and body in one burst.

The dogs needed no encouragement. They shot forward with such speed that the sled was whisked after them, runners skimming lightly over the ground even in the absence of snow, and joy rose in her heart like a bird. It was the closest she would ever get to flying. It was... She had no words for the feeling. Perhaps her stomach was left way behind, but it was worth it as trees were reduced to a blur and the freezing wind stung her face until it turned numb and she was hanging onto the handle for dear life. The rock needles behind her were little more than majestic blue giants casting long purplish shadows across the steppes, hazy and insubstantial in the half-light.

Ciara laughed aloud. She never felt so alive as when she let her dogs run at full speed.

They hadn't gone far when the sled jolted disturbingly. It felt like something had hit the runners, possibly damaging them, and that could not do – not today, of all days, not the day that her sled had to be in peak condition. Perhaps getting up early to hunt was a bad idea when she should have been resting in preparation – but no, she had been too restless to stay in bed. Hunting was the only thing that cleared her head.

With a sigh, Ciara stamped on the brake to halt the dogs. When they finally came to a halt in the shadow of a copse of trees, she knelt by the footboards.

Foolishly forgetting to check the spaces between the spruces with their lush arms spread wide or the pines bowing under the weight of their own needles.

The wolf appeared silently, ghost-like, as wolves do.

Her loyal huskies warned her, their hackles rising and ears ramming forward as they caught a scent which, to them, meant one thing. Danger.

Ciara hardly dared to breathe as she studied the pale wolf's long, elegant muzzle. As she watched the way its eyes swept the clearing with the ease of a practiced hunter, perhaps even an alpha. It was a good thing she had stamped the snow anchor into the dirt, because the dogs were straining against their harnesses – she would have lost the sled in an instant. Nervous energy hummed through her, stirring her blood, and she slowly, slowly reached for the bow and quiver slung over one shoulder.

Her instincts warred. Fight or flight? The wolf was working its way through the same problem. Ciara knew it could be upon her in a single leap, and the throwing axes at her belt would do her no good. She knew her strengths. She knew she only stood a chance if she nocked an arrow fast enough to shoot.

Painfully slowly, she eased the great yew bow off her shoulder. Panic clouded her head with white fog. What had her parents taught her about wolves? What had Darius said? What would they do if they were here? Surely she could remember something?

I am going to die. Her heart was pounding. I am going to die a failure and Cali will never be proud of me.

The great beast locked eyes with her, and the rest of the world fell away.

Ciara knew she should have been thinking of what a price the pelt would fetch, or how doomed she was, but the only word in her scattered mind was magnificent. The way the light rippled across the mantle of fur across its shoulders. Those eyes...

The lead sled dog, Rufus, gave a sharp bark.

The wolf's head snapped around. It melted away into the undergrowth as soundlessly as it had appeared, obviously having weighed its odds of taking on so many dogs at once.

Ciara slumped onto the earth as tension leaked out of her muscles, leaving a strange ache in its wake. Gripping her bow with one hand for support, she reached across to Rufus and slung an arm around him. His body shook with tension, and the strength in his muscles was comforting. The dogs were still restless, snapping at each other, whining, and sniffing the air, but the imminent threat had passed.

"Good boy," she mumbled. And then, to the forest, "Thank you for sparing me."

The silent green sentinels rustled gently in response.

Ciara got to her feet. Could she follow the wolf? Find it again, perhaps track it? She had met a trader only a few days ago who told them wolves were valuable in the markets. There had been rumours that even city folk were interested in them. Excitement sparked inside her, the thrill of the chase, but...

No. She couldn't afford to get distracted right before the race.

She turned towards home.