Page 37 of Challenged

“You do not wish to seek out your Angie now?” Anghar’s brows raise.

I pluck at my clothes. “I need to wash and change my clothing. She is not so keen on me that she will disregard my stink.”

“Yet,” Anghar says, grinning.

“Better to do the rest of the work first. I do not have so many fresh clothes left.”

We head over to where the tents are being put up. Despite what I said about needing to wash, I scan through the faces, looking for my Angie. I spy Rachel sitting on a chair brought out for her from inside the Mercenia hut. Vantos hovers nearby, unable to finish one element of putting up their tent without pausing to check in with her.

I see Sam, also, standing with Dazzik, the two of them looking at the Mercenia base with a fondness no one else would manage. But otherwise, human faces are difficult to spot amongst the raskarran bodies. I wonder if my Angie would even want to be out here, with so many unfamiliar faces. Probably not. I only hope Brooks has been able to look after her. That my Angie has found it in her heartspace to start letting her sisters in.

Anghar walks with purpose through the chaos, aiming straight for a particular tent. It is his father, Harton, who builds it. I am surprised to see Harton has come out all this way. He may not be an elder truly, but he has grown fond of his comforts of late. With the addition of Walset and Darran’s brothers to our tribe, he has even been able to slow down a little, to rest more, as those approaching elder status have earned the right to do. I wonder what prompted him to travel, but suspect the answer is the same as it has been for others not hoping to find their mates. They just want to see this place for themselves.

Then I have an even greater surprise as I spy Callif heading in our direction, carrying piles of pelts and other supplies in his arms. I go to him, taking half of his burden and greeting him with a broad smile.

“You have managed the journey easily enough, then?” I say, noting his good colouring and the strength in his frame.

“It has been some seasons of the moon since I was injured,” Callif says, a little snippy. “I am well enough to go walking.”

“And we will have you out hunting again in a few more sunsets, it seems,” I say, trying to bolster his pride some without encouraging him too far. It has taken a lot for him to recover from his grievous injuries - not just physically, but in his headspace and heartspace also.

“I hope my travelling here persuades you all to stop coddling me,” he says, frustration sharpening his tone. I suspect he is tempted to snatch what I have taken from him back into his arms, as though he could prove his strength this way.

“I think I would enjoy a little coddling, personally,” I say, my smile broadening once more as I see another surprising, but welcome, face. “What are you doing here, little one?”

Molly beams at me, giving me a brief moment to set down my load, before leaping into my arms for an embrace.

“Liv want humans to help with new females,” she says in her ever improving speaking of raskarran words. “Liv make Khadija chieftess for when she is here. Ellie-” She gestures to her belly, shaping a large bump with her hands. “Carrie have Ahnjas. Hannah and Mattie…” She shakes her head, indicating their reluctance to leave the borders of the village. “So Sam come and I come.”

“And you will be a great aid to Grace and Rachel, I am sure.”

Molly’s smile is dazzling. It is strange, but she has grown so much in these past few seasons of the moon, and yet it has only made her look younger. She is more vital, more relaxed. More willing to be the youngling that she is, rather than striving to be a female full grown.

“Have they started with the waking yet?”

Molly shakes her head. “Soon. Just letting Rachel and Grace make tent. We wake only one today, maybe two. Tomorrow, many. Once we have learned how.”

“They should wake them all now,” Callif says, looking up at the Mercenia hut and shuddering. “No one should be trapped in such a place.”

My ears prick, listening for a hint of the fervour his tone used to possess when discussing the females in any capacity. I can detect nothing. Only concern for their wellbeing. Somewhere on his long journey back to health, I think my brother has finally grown up.

The tents are already mostly built, so I aid in other ways, bringing over supply crates and helping to distribute the contents. It does not take long before everyone is situated and supplied.

“These things are for the females,” Rachel says, resting her hand atop one of several crates that have not been touched. “Clothes. Boots. More tents for the return journey.”

Of all the females who arrived on the beach, Rachel’s speaking is the best. She is almost as fluent as Sally and Jassal now, after a rainy season spent practising with her mate.

“Perhaps you could help me find some clothes for my Angie,” I say.

The beaming smile she shoots me puts some colour back in her cheeks. “You are mated? Rardek, I am so happy for you. I have not met your linasha yet. She is nervous of the forest? The tribe?”

I nearly laugh. “Nervous is not the right description. Unhappy, yes. A little angry. Perhaps a lot angry.”

Rachel puts a hand to my arm, her smile all warmth and sympathy. “Hard for her, being brought to this place without her knowledge. Perhaps I would have been angry also, in her situation.”

That does make me laugh, and I lean close to her. “You do not have a single speck of anger in your spirit, sweet Rachel.”

We look through the crates, finding a soft pair of leathers and a long-sleeved top perfect for the cooler weather. Rachel finds three pairs of boots of different sizes for my Angie to try, and hands them to me with a smile.

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