Chapter Text
“Hold it steady,” said Freyja. “And keep your head and hands out of the way.”
“I know.” Neuvy held the twig flat across a chunk of rock and leaned back away from it as Freyja drew her axe from her belt and, with one sharp blow, cut the stick in half. Neuvy picked up both halves and tossed them into the basket on the sledge. Freyja picked up the sledge’s tow-rope and tied it around her waist, pulling the loose end tight with her mouth.
Neuvy scuffed her foot through the dust and followed the sledge. Freyja glanced back at her small companion.
“You feeling all right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said Neuvy.
“No, you’re not,” said Freyja after watching her for a few moments, but did not ask any more questions. They walked together in silence, occasionally stopping to put a few more twigs on the sledge.
“It’s Mum,” said Neuvy eventually.
“What about her?” asked Freyja. “Is she OK?”
“Well, yeah, she’s fine.” Neuvy sighed. “She stopped sleeping in her bed, though – she took all the blankets and stuff off it and put them in the corner of the room, then built a sort of tent over them. She says sleeping in a small space like that feels safer.”
“That’s probably just nesting instinct.”
“And Dad doesn’t go anywhere without his sabre any more. Even when they’re sleeping, he’s got it next to the… nest. And he’s not grumpy with me or Mum, but it doesn’t take much to make him lose it with anyone else.”
Freyja stretched her arm out to the side, rolling her shoulder joint. “He’s protective at the best of times,” she pointed out. “And he was almost as bad before you were born. Always gentle with Tierce, but snappy and aggressive with anyone else. I think what happened to your mum sort of… kicked it into overdrive. Do they know what it is yet?”
Neuvy shook her head. “Mum says she won’t be able to tell for another few weeks. I think she’s hoping for a male, though.”
Freyja nodded. “I suppose that’s understandable. So what’s bothering you?”
“I…” Neuvy sat down on the sledge. Freyja untied the tow rope and sat next to her. “I guess… Mum was so happy when she found out, so I thought that I should be happy about it too, but… I dunno. I guess it’s more… what if they forget about me?”
“Ah. Right.” Freyja looked thoughtfully up at the clouds. “Well, trust me on this: they won’t forget about you. They’ll have to pay more attention to the new baby – ’course they will; it won’t be able to do anything for itself – but that doesn’t mean they won’t love you any more. My parents didn’t forget about my brother when I was born.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. ’Course, we were at each other’s throats all the time until I was about 10, but…” She paused to ruffle Neuvy’s hair. “You’re already five years older than Erik was when I was born, so maybe you and the new kid can skip that phase.”
“What’s your brother like?”
“Well, I haven’t seen him since I was sent away from Lasthaven, but he was the quiet, sensible type when I left. Had a bit of a thing for my friend Astrid, which was probably why he already hated Vidar before I got into a fight with him.” She smiled and rubbed her chin. “He had this habit of rolling his Rs when he spoke. Some of the kids used to try and get him to talk about Norse myths just so they could hear him say things like Rrrragnarrrrok and Jörrrrmungandrrrr.”
Neuvy giggled. “And he fancied someone called Astrrrrid?”
“Who had kids called Rrrragnarrrr and Ingrrrrid. And Tove, but that wasn’t quite as funny to hear him say. He also hissed his esses when he got angry, so it was hilarious to hear him once yelling at ‘Krrrissstof Arrrkturrrrossss Damassskinosss’!”
Neuvy threw her head back and laughed aloud at Freyja’s impression. “How did he pick that up? Did your dad talk like that or something?”
“No, but my grandfather did. My dad’s father, that is.” Freyja stood up, leaning on the handle of her axe before she stowed it back in her belt. “If you’re feeling better, we ought to get this wood back to the Library.”
“I’ll help you pull this time,” offered Neuvy.
“Nah, it’s all right. You keep a lookout for anything else that’s useful.”
It was dusk when Freyja suddenly stopped walking. Neuvy almost tripped over the sledge.
“Freyja?”
“Ssh!”
“Wha-”
Freyja grabbed Neuvy by the collar and rushed to the side of the road, hiding behind the boards nailed over the door of a house.
“Freyja? What’s…” Neuvy slowly fell silent when the sounds reached her ears – sounds that Freyja had already heard.
Footsteps.
“Don’t… make… a sound,” whispered Freyja. She raised her hand, pressing the forefinger against her mouth. Neuvy nodded and stood up on the tips of her toes to see over the lowest board. Freyja crouched a little to do the same.
As the footsteps drew closer, they could hear the sounds separate out a little into the light thump of boots on the frosty pavement and the steady, heavier clopping of hooves. A vast shadow fell across the ground in the street. Neuvy swallowed and looked uncertainly up at Freyja. Outside, the cause of the sounds entered their field of view. Neuvy’s optics widened at the sight.
Six humans were walking down the street, leading a small, dun-coloured horse with them. All of the humans – two men and four women, though Freyja could not see their faces – wore tough woollen clothing with leather boots, while the horse was laden down with what bags the humans could not carry. One of the women – a youngish teenager, by the look of her – wore a heavy glove on her left hand, on which perched a large, black-and-white hooded falcon. The shorter man had a wicker basket tied to the base of his canvas backpack.
“Where are they going?” whispered Neuvy once they were out of earshot.
“I don’t know,” said Freyja. She ducked under the board. “They didn’t notice the sledge, though. Stay close to the buildings. I’m going to follow them for a while.”
The sun sank below the buildings. The humans kept walking until they reached a small square, no more than half a mile from the Library as the crow flew. They took shelter in the ruins of one of the houses, huddling against an intact wall as the young man with the wicker basket built a fire. Two of the women took the horse’s load away and tied a feedbag to its rope bridle.
Neuvy stepped forwards to get a better look, but Freyja caught hold of her collar.
“We need to tell the others about this,” she said. “Back to the Library, quick.”
“What do you think they’re here for?” asked Neuvy once they were a safe distance from the humans’ camp.
“Maybe looking for somewhere to settle,” said Freyja. “You saw the falcon, didn’t you?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, they’re prepared to hunt if they have to,” she said. “They seem to know how to live off the land. It could be that they’re a travelling band just passing through-”
“Like the Bos crew?”
“Something like that, I suppose,” said Freyja. “Could be awkward if they mean to stay here.” She adjusted the tow-rope at her waist. “I don’t want to leap into anything until we’ve spoken to the others.”
After twenty minutes of silence, Freyja stopped walking again, suddenly aware that the only footsteps she could hear were her own. She glanced back. Neuvy was nowhere to be seen.
“Oh, you stupid little…”
Neuvy climbed up a rubble heap close to the humans’ little camp and crouched down behind a brick. As an afterthought, she picked up a dead leaf and laid it over herself. As camouflage went, it wasn’t the best, but none of the humans seemed to notice.
The fire was burning nicely. Every so often, one of the humans got up to throw another stick into the flames. The boy with the wicker basket had taken it off his rucksack and was holding some kind of long-bodied furry animal. As Neuvy watched, he put the animal down and it crawled away into the shadows.
A chill breeze picked up, blowing away Neuvy’s leaf. Instinctively, she shrank down against the rubble, but none of the humans reacted and she propped herself up on her elbows. A sound in the ruins behind her caught her attention; she looked back. A plank of wood propped against a wall toppled over, blown by the wind. She returned her attention to the little camp, and frowned. The boy had disappeared.
Neuvy stood up and brushed herself down with a little sigh. She clearly wasn’t going to learn anything else here.
She hadn’t even gone three steps before a tin cup slammed down over her.
“And you left her out there!?” roared Sixte. Tierce grabbed his arm to stop him drawing his sabre.
“Sixte. Calm down.” She let go of his arm. He didn’t draw his sword, but both of his hands had clenched into fists. “How far away were these humans?” she asked. “Where would she have gone?”
“Not far,” said Freyja. “They set up camp in a square, over in that direction.” She pointed. “We can get there in maybe fifteen minutes if we take Shuck or the Beta.”
The Beta scratched the back of its head. The Beta is not certain that it would be wise for it to come, it said quietly. It has not seen a human since the Tallest Prey acquired its new body. It does not know what instinct would cause it to do. It inspected its curved claws. It may well be that there is a small part of the Beta’s mind that still wishes only to kill, as its original purpose dictated.
“You know what happened the last time a human made it to these ruins,” said Sixte coldly. “I’m not risking anything happening to Neuvy. You’re coming.”
The Beta stared at him through wide optics, then laid its head down on the ground. The Beta is aware that it is not truly the beta of its new pack, but neither is Sixte its alpha. Its gaze slid over to 7 and 9.
“How are you so sure that these ones are a threat?” asked 9, folding his arms and fixing Sixte with a level gaze.
“Well, I-”
“He’s not,” said Tierce firmly. “But I’d rather not take any chances anyway.” She laid a hand over the faint glow in her stomach.
7 rapped the butt of her spear against the Beta’s armoured foreleg. Everyone looked up at the sharp sound.
“How many humans did you say there were?” she asked.
“Six,” said Freyja. “And one of them had a falcon,” she added, clenching her fist and holding it out as if allowing a bird to perch there, “so if you’re planning to go and scout, you should leave Audacia here.”
7 glanced at 9 for a moment. He nodded. 7 took a deep breath.
“Freyja, show me where this camp is. 9, Sixte, you come as well. Beta, Tierce – stay here with the twins and keep an eye on Crow. Don’t let him sneak out after us; you know what he’s like.”
“You?” said Tierce.
“Without my experience.”
The Beta chuckled and lay down in front of the globe. The new pack will return if the Beta is needed?
Sixte drew his sabre and whipped it through the air. “You can be sure of that,” he muttered. “7, why aren’t we taking it anyway?”
“Because it’s enormous. Stealth and speed will help more than brute force, anyway.” She pointed out at the Library door with her spear. “Come on.”
“It was this way,” said Freyja quietly.
It was fully dark as they ran through the streets, but Freyja’s directions and 7’s knowledge of the ruins were enough to keep them on track. Finally, they spotted the glow of a campfire among the stones of an old house. 7 held her arms out to the sides, stopping her companions in their tracks.
“Stick to the shadows,” she told them. In single file, they crept towards the flames. Freyja peeked around a stone block to study the humans silhouetted against the firelight.
“I don’t see Neuvy anywhere,” she said. Sixte stood up on his toes to see over the block.
“If they’ve hurt her-”
“Then what?” Sixte looked at 9. 9 folded his arms. “You can’t kill every human in the world because of what two of them did to Tierce.”
“Ssh!” 7 made a short, sharp gesture, ordering them into silence. One of the humans on the other side of the fire had stood up and lowered their hood.
“Ah, Herregud,” breathed Freyja after a couple of seconds.
“What?” hissed Sixte.
“I didn’t recognise him with the beard…”
“What?” repeated Sixte.
“That’s my brother.”