Chapter 22

A veil of stars covered the dark as Kestrel clung to Sirrsi’s harness. They skimmed above a forest thick with pines and shadows. She glanced up, but the vicious bite of the wind forced her gaze to a lower horizon.

Below and to the left, a river meandered, and beyond that the faint ribbon of the merchant road curled through the vale. She glanced up once more. In the distance, she saw a scatter of flickering lights. Kestrel realized they were close to Four Corners, and memories of the last time she was there flooded her eyes.

You are distressed, child, should I land?

Nay my friend, the night is still young. This place… this place just holds a lot of memories and I couldn’t contain them anymore, so I share them with the wind.

The Yanzul seemed to give a mental nod. The wind shares the joys and burdens with equal grace. You are free to share those memories with me if you like.

Kestrel smiled. She knew Sirrsi meant well, and neither of them had figured out the dynamics of this new relationship. So much had changed since last she saw Four Corners. She hoped she chose rightly.

I will, but not all at once and not today. Do you sense any of the Caravans from the Theracan Plains, any from the Thorn-Wolf Clan?

Sirrsi banked left, gliding out across the river. She kept the height but now flew over the woodlands parallel to the merchant road.

What do you see, Child-of-the-Tree?

The road, the river, a heavily wooded land.

You can see the essence of things, can you not?

“Oh yes, I can do that easily enough,” Kestrel said, her words snatched away by the wind as soon as she spoke. She bent low over Sirrsi’s muscular front shoulder, her cheek up against the dark feather ruff of Sirrsi’s neck.

She whispered, “Sometimes, I just need to speak, so I will remember my voice. It is somewhat confusing for me to carry on conversations completely in my head like this. Please do not be offended, it has not to do with you.”

Be at peace, child, there is no reason to be offended. Now, look out toward the northern horizon. Use the trail as a line and use your Sight. Look for familiar flashes of color. Concentrate on the essence you know best. It may only be a fading impression, but trust your instincts.

Kestrel sat up, craning her neck to see past Sirrsi’s head. She squinted her eyes in the wind and concentrated on looking beyond the reality of things seen to what they were at their pure essence or force. The power in most things was straightforward, but after a while, Kestrel noticed how some seemed more welcoming than others. She also noticed in places there were slight echoes or light imprints of essence no longer there.

How long will an essence stay visible?

For each, it is different, just as each has a different strength and quality, but usually, sunrise to sunset will see it gone beyond retrieval.

Kestrel nodded to herself. She practiced keeping her eyes mindful of both worlds as they flew. Although the wind still stung, she turned her head slightly to the side, staving off the tears. Just before dawn, Kestrel noticed flashes and what almost felt like shadows within shadows. She tensed with excitement and felt Sirrsi muscles bunch in response.

You see something youngling. Would you like me to land?

Not yet my friend, but soon.

Silver limed the horizon to her right. The river still kept pace with the road and sang a quiet lullaby. Ahead of them, in a large meadow between the road and the river, a double handful of wagons circled into a makeshift ring of protection.

Kestrel could smell the first tendrils of smoke from the morning cook fires, as her companion made a lazy circle over the camp. “I will travel with the caravan for this day, while you hunt and sleep.”

Once more tears gathered in her eyes, as she thought about the conversation she would soon have with her great-father Dondorian and great-mother Caussara. “There are people here that I care about. I must bring them word of my mother Moira and let them know I am well and where I head.”

A warm comforting feeling flooded her senses and she wondered how the Yanzul made her feel as though she hugged her with a thought. Sirrsi landed with awkward grace. Her stumbling gate, giving testament to the newness of their relationship.

Kestrel smiled to herself as she braced for the stop. She dismounted in one smooth movement. Grateful, she spent as much time on horseback as she had.

If you have a need… I know you are as close as a thought, Kestrel mind-spoke as she impulsively hugged the owl creature.

Well, maybe not that close. An answer will be that close, but I will need time to fly to you. So please, if you are in danger, call to me before it becomes critical.

Kestrel rolled her eyes. “I will,” she said aloud, removing the harness they had rigged along with the saddlebags she carried. “I think I can make the harness more comfortable now that we have worked with it for a few days,” she said, trying to draw the conversation away from the maternal-like lecture she could hear forming in her thoughts.

The Yanzul looked at her with unblinking golden eyes, her muscles rippled beneath her shiny black fur as she stretched. I shall meet you on the eve, child. Be safe and get some rest. She turned and bound away a few spans before unfurling her wings and springing into the air.

Kestrel hefted her bags over her shoulder and then slung the harness over the top of them. She heard the nickered greeting of the horses receiving their morning share of oats as the hush of dawn gave way to the morning ritual of the clans. When she heard a baby cry, she wondered if Thayla and her mate, Haiman, had their child.

She quickened her step, excited to hear the clan news, and hoped it was better than the news she carried. Kestrel wove her way instinctively toward the wagon position reserved for Clan Harskare. She stood back a moment, hidden in the predawn shadows, realizing how much she missed the everyday life of the caravan.

Joy and grief warred in her mind and tears sprang to her eyes as she watched her great-father climb from the back of the wagon. He wore his years well. His tall frame still well-muscled, a good thing she thought, for his shoulders would soon bear one more sorrow.

Kestrel watched him coax the morning fire to life, piling slivers of wood onto the banked coals. He blew gently and stepped back as flames tasted the fresh wood and flared, eager for breakfast. She wondered if she should wait until her great-mother came out of the wagon before showing herself.

But Dondorian took the decision out of her hands when he turned from the fire. His sharp eyes scanned the clan wagons before and behind his wagon. He ran his large hand through silver-white hair and spoke.

“If one is brave enough to approach the Thorn-wolf clan, one should be brave enough to come out of the shadows and ask for traveler’s hospitality.”

Kestrel grinned. He still had sharper eyes and better instincts than any clansman she knew of, living or dead. She scooped up the pack and harness she dropped while watching her great-father and strode out of the morning gloom and into her home.

Dondorian beamed and let out a whoop that brought a handful of heads to peer out the backs of their wagons, including Kestrel’s great-mother.

“What in the name of the first horse are you shouting about this…” She stopped mid-sentence as Dondorian swooped Kestrel up in a fierce hug.

By the time Caussara joined her lifemate, Dondorian Kestrel once more stood on the ground. Her great-father and mother scanned the area with expectation. And at once, both knew the answer to their unasked question.

The noble warrior and clan leader crumbled to his knees beneath the weight of Kestrel’s message, without her saying a word.

“Moira is dead,” echoed a weak whisper of horror and shock from one wagon to the next, and the one after that, and on and on until the circle of grief was complete. And the center of the circle filled with friends and family, all needing something to soothe the pain of their loss. All wanting to help assuage Dondorian suffering.

Caussara seemed to step out of the shadows, her face calm, although the amber flecks in her green eyes seemed to glow even in the morning twilight. “Come, child, you need to sit down,” she said, guiding Kestrel to a camp stool.

She turned to the people crowding the cook fire and their leader and said, “Go! Eat! Let Kestrel break her fast. I am sure,” Caussara said with an encouraging nod toward her great-daughter, “Kestrel will tell us the things our hearts need to hear… when she has rested a bit.”

The girl looked gratefully to her great-mother and, with a slight nod, the older woman busied herself with meal preparations. Kestrel had not realized what a commotion her arrival would cause. Nor was she sure she was ready to recite all that happened to the whole caravan.

A subdued clan leader rose from his knees. He strode around the fire to stand next to his great-daughter, resting his hand on her shoulder. She looked up into his eyes. His grief now hid behind a stoic gaze. The pain only visible in his deeply furrowed brow.

“There is a time for everything. Now is the time of breaking our fasts. The time for stories and grieving will come, but for now, daylight is burning,” Dondorian said with a shooing away gesture of his hands as their friends continued to linger.

Although Caussara cooked enough for three, only Kestrel did more than pick at the food. Kestrel’s great-mother excused herself and disappeared into the wagon soon after finishing with the preparation, and Dondorian nibbled at an oatcake with little enthusiasm.

It wasn’t long before the night’s journey caught up with Kestrel. She stretched with a big yawn, feeling the overwhelming need to sleep before speaking of her mother and her death.

Her great-father understood, as usual, without any words. He strode to her things and slipped the pack and harness over his shoulder, reaching out with his other hand to help her up.

He slung her possessions into the back of their wagon and, after a gentle hug, helped her in. She stood quietly in the sudden darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust. When they finally did, she saw her great-mother had made her a pallet. Caussara stood next to the bed and held her arms open to her.

Kestrel’s eyes met hers. Although there were no tears, she saw her sorrow echoed in her great-mother’s face and ran to her. Enfolded in arms that gave as much comfort as they took, they stood. Her head on her great-mother’s shoulder just like so many other times when she felt overcome with emotion, but this time they both grieved. And then the visions began.