Page 51 of Unleashed

Vortok dropped his gaze to his thick, blunt fingers. The threads were tiny, his hands were clumsy, and the intricate work wasn’t easy for him, but he would not let that stop him. Before the change, he’d taken joy in such tasks. He’d taken pride in the quality of his work. This was the first time he’d done any of it in a thousand years, and he would enjoy himself despite the circumstances, despite some of it being more challenging than it used to be.

He looked at Balir, whose long, flexible fingers would’ve been perfect for such work were it not for the impediment of the hooked claws at their tips. The concentration on Balir’s face was almost comical.

“You have done much already, Balir,” Vortok said. “Perhaps Aduun could use your help outside.”

Balir completed the thread he was working on, set it aside, and stretched his fingers. “It seems neither of us is well-suited to this work anymore. I’ll send Nina in. She’s been out there too long.” He gathered the pieces he’d woven and placed them on the blanket beside Vortok before standing up and making his way out.

Finishing the last of his weave, Vortok turned to the pile of threads and spread them with his fingertips. It would be enough for his purposes, with some to spare.

He was arranging pieces of hide on the ground when Nina entered. He glanced at her over his shoulder. She wore the heavy fur from Aduun’s first kill like a cloak; crude, but far better protection than her clothing provided.

Vortok would see to that now.

She brushed snow from her shoulders and slid the fur off, carrying it across the shelter, where she laid it near the fire. Turning back to Vortok, she smiled. “Balir said you had some work for me?”

He returned her smile and nodded, producing a deep hum in his chest. “Come.”

Nina sat in front of him, and he lifted one of the hides, comparing the cut to her body one last time to be sure. Satisfied, he lowered it again and motioned to the various pieces.

“These will become your new coverings,” he said, flipping a piece over so the fur was face down to show her the holes he’d punched. “We will use the thread to bind the pieces together into a whole.”

Nina’s eyes widened, and her brows rose. “You made that for me?”

“I ammakingit for you,” he replied. “It is not done.”

Her cheeks darkened in a blush as she looked down at the hide, but her smile didn’t fade. “That’s what I meant. Where would you like me to start?”

Vortok showed her how the pieces fit together and demonstrated using the thread to bind them. She was working in no time, her nimble fingers making it look easy.

“You’ve done this before,” he said. He couldn’t help a pang of jealousy at the dexterity of her hands, but it was quickly replaced by admiration.

Nina looked up from her work to meet his gaze. The light from the low burning fire cast a soft glow upon her skin. “My father wanted me to be able to survive on my own if I needed to, so he taught me everything he knew. He’d say that the things left behind by Kelsharn would eventually be gone, but my knowledge would remain.”

Vortok worked on another piece of hide as she spoke. His progress was slower than hers, but he wouldn’t allow his ungainly fingers to reduce the quality of his bindings. “Sounds like wisdom to me. Orishok was young when Kelsharn took our clan. I am glad he grew into a man and has remembered our ways.”

Her fingers stilled. “He never knew what happened to you. He thought he was the last…” She frowned. “Well, heisthe last of what Kelsharn shaped him and the rest of the tribe into.”

Dread formed in Vortok’s gut, a heavy weight threatening to pull him down. What he and his clan had become was unnatural enough. “What were the other clans shaped into?”

“Death.”

Vortok’s fingers halted, and he lifted his gaze to meet hers. If her tone weren’t enough, he knew by her expression that she meant what she’d said.

“He shaped them into walking embodiments of death. He’s…not like you or the others. He has no living flesh, no heart, no blood. He doesn’t eat, drink, or sleep. He’s alive, yet…not. My mother, Quinn, calls it magic.” Nina resumed her stitching. “He used to be unable to control his power. Anything and everything he touched would wither and die. There was no life in Bahmet until Quinn arrived. Before her, he’d been alone for more than one hundred and fifty years.

“His people, what remained of them, had simply…given up. Kelsharn had hidden their heartstones, leaving them devoid of emotion, devoid of hope. They gave in to the death within themselves one by one, until only Orishok remained, and he’s held their vigil ever since.”

Vortok frowned deeply, dropping his gaze to his hands as a confusing mess of emotions swirled through him. That was what Kelsharn had made after Vortok and his ilk, the beast valos, had proven themselves failures. He’d infused the other clans with death, and stripped away their emotions…

And only one remained. His memory drifted back to those gatherings that had occurred every spring, after the snows thawed, when all the clans would come together for trade, to celebrate old friendships and forge new ones, to take mates. When they would come together as one huge tribe, one people. And each year, Vortok’s hides had been considered the finest. His leatherworks the most sought after.

All that was gone now, and there was a chance that Orishok, Aduun, Balir, and Vortok were the only ones left.

Nina covered one of his hands with her own, drawing his attention back to her face. “The others are down here somewhere.” She smiled when their eyes met. “Wewillfind them.”

Her certainty rekindled his own; whether chance was in their favor or not didn’t matter. They would push forward and prevail. Even if they couldn’t reclaim what had been lost, they would make something new in the face of Kelsharn’s evils.

He turned his palm up, curling his fingers gently around her little hand, and brushed her skin with his thumb. Her hands were red, and her flesh was dry and cracking around her knuckles thanks to exposure to the cold, but that did not detract from their beauty.

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