The Choosing (6 page)

J
ERATH
’
S
legs are protesting violently by the time he makes it back to the outskirts of his village. He’s out of breath and sweaty and his clothes are starting to stick to him in the most unpleasant way, but Jerath hardly notices. He looks around for Serim, but he can’t see any trace of her.

He crouches low, taking cover in the tree line that borders the village, and tries to make out what’s going on. The village itself seems deathly quiet, and Jerath tries to swallow but his mouth is so dry it almost hurts. There’s a gentle rustle of leaves behind him, and Jerath whirls around in time to see a very naked Serim crawling toward him on all fours.

He stares at her for a second before turning back to watch the village again. A soft but very pointed cough has Jerath’s head whipping around again. “What?” he mouths at her.

She nods at the bundle of clothes wedged under his arm.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he whispers.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head as he pushes them into her hands so she can hurriedly get dressed.

“Come on, then.” Jerath starts to get up. He’s impatient to check on his mother. He wants to check on Mahli and Kinis too, but his mother is his first priority.

“Wait,” Serim hisses. She pulls him sharply back down and Jerath frowns at her. “We can’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

“Because of that.” Serim puts her hands on either side of Jerath’s face and gently moves him so that he’s looking over toward the barns.

Oh.

Jerath would never normally curse, but fuck it all. He can’t believe this is happening.

There are strangers wandering out of the barn, men Jerath has never seen before. They’re dressed in much the same clothing as the raiders who passed them earlier by the lakes. More and more of them appear, and Jerath can clearly see they are armed.

He turns away and slumps on the ground, burying his face in his hands. He sits like that for a few silent minutes, the enormity of the situation only just starting to sink in.

“Our mothers could be—”

“They’re alive,” Serim interrupts. She peels Jerath’s hands away from his face and gets him to look at her. “I could smell them, Jerath, Mahli too. I don’t know what’s happening to them, but they’re alive and unharmed, so that’s… that’s something.”

She looks close to tears and Jerath grasps her hands in his. He tugs her closer until she settles into his lap and he wraps her up in his arms. “Yeah…,” he breathes into her thick hair, now falling in disarray down her back. “That’s something.”

“What do we do now?” Her voice is muffled by his clothes, but Jerath hears the faint traces of desperation in it.

They can’t stay here. There are armed men in the village, and Jerath has no wish to become one of their prisoners. He’s even less inclined to find out what they might do with Serim. But neither of them has ever left the village before—not overnight anyway. The thought is terrifying, and he can tell by the way Serim goes stiff in his arms that she feels the same way.

“We have to leave and try and get help,” he says eventually.

Serim pulls back so she can see his face. “To Westril or Lakesh?”

“We can’t go to either of them,” Jerath says. “The prisoners weren’t just from our village, Serim. I think they went to the others first. We can’t risk it.”

“So what do you suggest?” she asks.

There’s only one other place they can go, and Jerath knows that Serim realizes this too, so he just raises an eyebrow.

“But we haven’t been in contact with the Southern lands in over five years.” Serim looks resigned as she speaks.

The last time they’d seen the Southerners was when their village had been attacked by raiders from one of the more northern villages. The Northern and Southern lands are separated by the River Valesk. It’s wide and long and flows directly down from the edge of the Arachia Mountains. Jerath had never known anyone to cross it before. But it was a particularly bad winter that year and food was scarce, Jerath remembers. Both their fathers were killed protecting the village’s meager supplies, and the thought of asking the Southern lands for help again dredges up all sorts of awful memories. Jerath and Serim weren’t old enough to be involved with the fighting then—not like now—and Jerath can’t really remember much about the Southern men who came to their village and offered their help.

Serim shifts off his lap and sits beside him again. “How do we even find them?”

Five years ago the Southern men had been hunting out on the plains that lie beyond the forest of Arradil. They’d strayed into the forest and run into some of the villagers who’d managed to escape. Jerath still doesn’t know why they offered to help—no one talks about it even after all this time—but they did. With the aid of the Southern hunters, the villagers were able to rid themselves of the men who raided their homes—but not without cost.

“I guess we just head south and hope to run into them.”

“What if we run into those others first? That’s a great plan, Jerath.” Serim glares at him and Jerath glares back.

“Do you have a better one?” he snaps and immediately regrets it as Serim’s face crumples.

She’s normally so strong and feisty. Jerath hates seeing her like this.

“We need to get them back,” she whispers.

“I know. But we’ll need help for that too.” It’s all too much for Jerath to think about.

They need to help free their village from the armed strangers. They need to rescue their friends and the others who’ve been taken prisoner, but they have no idea where they’re being taken. Jerath feels everything slipping through his fingers and he needs to stop it before he falls apart.

“We’re going to leave and head south until we find help.” Jerath is surprised at how confident he sounds, when he’s anything but that. His heart is pounding and his palms are slick with sweat.

It seems to be just what Serim needs, though. She nods at him and slowly gets to her feet before shaking her whole body out and turning to look at him with fierce determination in her eyes. There’s the Serim that he knows and loves. The one he needs right now
.

“Let’s go,” she says and stalks off into the trees with Jerath scrambling after her.

T
HEY
only manage to get in a couple hours of traveling before the sun begins to drop low in the sky and darkness starts to creep in. It’s worse under the cover of the forest, and Jerath is well aware that it’s dangerous to travel at night. They need to stop and make camp.

“Serim?”

She pauses in front of him and sighs. “Yeah, I know. We need to stop.” She looks up at the sky through the thick branches overhead and then at the surrounding forest. “Not here, though.”

Serim has much better instincts than Jerath, even when she’s in her human form, and he trusts her to find them somewhere relatively safe. There are dangerous creatures this far out in the forest—not as many wildcats as there used to be, but there are still plenty. They wouldn’t hurt Serim, but Jerath hasn’t come into his fangs yet and would be considered fair game. There are also wild boars and bears, and Jerath has no wish to meet any of them.

He follows closely behind Serim as she searches for somewhere to rest.

“Here,” she says eventually.

Jerath surveys the area she’s chosen. It’s a small clearing, about ten paces across, but there are two large boulders at the edge that will give them a modicum of shelter. Jerath walks over and leans against one of them. He’s so tired he could probably sleep standing up. He unhooks his waterskin from his belt, thanking the Goddess that he thought to take one on their fishing trip, and has a small sip. It’s enough to wet his mouth, but no more. He offers it to Serim and she does the same. There’s no telling when they might find more drinking water, so they need to conserve what little they have.

Jerath’s stomach grumbles loudly and, for the first time since they left the lake, Serim laughs at him.

“Why don’t you start a small fire and we can cook a couple of those fish?” She waves at the bag by his feet and Jerath nods. His stomach growls even louder with the promise of actual food.

It doesn’t take him long to strip some branches and get a fire going. They have limited supplies with them, but as Jerath sits and stares into the surrounding dark of the forest, he’s beyond grateful that he brought his knife. Serim has claws and teeth to protect herself, but Jerath only has his hands otherwise.

Jerath keeps the fire small. He’d love nothing more than to pile it high with the dried branches they’ve collected and bask beside the glowing warmth, but they can’t afford to attract attention. Especially not in the dark, when they can’t see. The fire is big enough to cook the fish, though, and provide a little bit of heat.

They both sit huddled around the flames, watching the fish roast with agonizing slowness. Jerath has his arm around Serim, her body a comforting warmth at his side.

“What do you think they want with them?” she asks.

“The rest of the villagers or those they took?”

“Both.”

Jerath sucks in a breath. He’s been trying really hard not to think about this, but there’s really only one reason to take young men from a village and march them away to who knows where. “The men will probably be used as slave labor, I guess.” From what Jerath had seen, there were no women among the prisoners. “But I have no idea why they’re still in the village.”

Serim shudders and sighs. “You know how slaves get treated, Jerath.”

“Yeah.” The odd escaped slave has come to their village over the years. None of them had been shifters, but Jerath remembers them all as being thin and badly beaten. He has no idea where they came from because none of them ever wanted to say. Jerath just assumes they were still terrified of their captors, and no one ever pushed for information. The elders try to heal them as best they can, but sometimes even that’s not enough. “I know.”

Serim falls silent after that and Jerath is grateful; he really doesn’t want to dwell on what might be happening to the people of his village. It will be hard enough for him and Serim to make the trip south as it is—they only have the clothes on their backs and barely any supplies. They can’t afford to worry about everyone else too.

The fish is surprisingly good, despite its lack of seasoning or accompaniments. That’s probably due to the fact they were both starving, but Jerath isn’t complaining either way. His full belly has made him sleepy, and he yawns and stretches before inspecting the ground for somewhere to bed down. The options are limited. Jerath looks longingly at the fire. It’s going to get cold tonight, and the meager flames aren’t nearly enough to keep them both warm.

He can feel Serim watching him, and she abruptly stands and starts to peel off her clothes.

“Um… Serim?” She ignores him and carries on undressing. “What are you doing?” Jerath moves nervously, his mind full of naked bodies snuggling together for warmth. He’s cold but he’s not sure he’s ready for that. Especially with the way he’s been waking up in the night recently. Serim doesn’t need to see him after one of his dreams, let alone be lying naked next to him. Jerath flushes at the thought.

Serim’s soft laughter brings him out of his internal panic. “Relax, Jerath. I know what you’re thinking.” She folds her clothes and places them carefully on the rocks behind them. Jerath quickly lowers his eyes. “I just think it’ll be safer if I shift. I’ll be much more aware of our surroundings while we sleep and I can keep us both warm with all my fur.”

Jerath does relax then, and when he looks up Serim has vanished and her beautiful, black panther is staring back at him.

Jerath hurries into the trees to take care of the necessary bodily functions and then settles down on his back beside the fire. Serim prowls around the perimeter of their camp and Jerath assumes she’s doing much the same thing, but for scent-marking purposes. The scent of a black panther should keep most things away.

Serim pads back over to him and settles her bulk down along the ground. She presses herself right up to Jerath’s side, and he can already feel the heat from her body seeping into his skin. It’s not long before his eyes fall shut and sleep pulls his exhausted body into unconsciousness.

A
SHARP
,
stabbing pain in Jerath’s gums startles him awake and he sits bolt upright, clutching his mouth. It’s still dark and it takes him a second or two to realize where he is and what’s going on. He gingerly runs his tongue over his teeth, and then it’s all too clear what woke him up.

His fangs have come in.

No! No, no, no!

He’s waited months and months for this and it has to happen now—at the worst possible time. The full moon is tomorrow night, they’re miles from their village, and there’s no hope of performing the ritual there, even if they could make it back in time. He’ll just have to wait and pray that everything is okay by the next full moon, because that will be his last chance. Jerath refuses to accept that he might lose his ability to shift when it’s so tantalizingly close. Sometimes he wonders who he offended in an earlier life, because this really isn’t fair. At all.

He finally notices that Serim is nowhere to be seen. Jerath’s heart rate spikes, his initial thoughts full of all the bad things that could have happened to her. But then he spots her blue eyes glowing in the dark as she walks back over to him, and he relaxes. He keeps his mouth closed, though. He has no other secrets from Serim, but for some reason he’s not ready to share this with her just yet.

She tilts her head at him, probably wondering why he’s awake. Jerath lifts the waterskin, indicating he woke up thirsty, and takes a small sip. Serim eyes him curiously and Jerath gets the feeling she doesn’t believe him. She can’t call him on it, though, so he puts the waterskin down beside him and settles back on the ground. Serim takes up her previous position again, her warm fur a comforting presence against his skin, but it takes Jerath a long while before he can drop off again. He’s never kept anything from her before, and guilt is starting to seep in and irritate his insides.