The Choosing Read online

  He shakes his head, vowing that there’s absolutely no way he’s gutting any of the fish Serim catches, and traipses after her through the woods.

  BY THE time Jerath reaches the fishing lakes, Serim is asleep. He huffs as he spots the black panther sprawled out on one of the large rocks around the edge of the water. She’s lazily soaking up the late afternoon sun, and Jerath knows that if he runs a hand over her sleek fur it’ll feel warm.

  “Thanks for waiting,” Jerath grumbles.

  Serim swishes her tail in a dismissive manner, and Jerath swats at it as he climbs up onto the rock beside her. He loves Serim’s panther form. She’s so strong and powerful, her muscles bunching and relaxing under his fingers as he strokes down her flank. But at the same time she remains soft and feminine. Her fur is smooth against his skin, and her eyes are the most beautiful color Jerath has ever seen.

  They lie there for a while, enjoying the sun and the peace and quiet, but the sun is starting to drop and Serim needs to catch some fish before they can head back to the village.

  “Serim?” Jerath yawns and stretches, trying to wake himself up a bit. “You need to change back and get to work.” He hops down off the rock and places Serim’s clothes in the spot he just left. “I’ll go get the nets out while you change.”

  Serim gnashes her teeth at him and Jerath takes it to mean, “Yes, okay.”

  There are four fishing lakes in total. The people of Eladir need the fish when the autumn and winter months are approaching and hunting is scarce, and they’re very careful not to overfish.

  The nets are kept in a small wooden building set about ten feet back from the water. It’s never locked and Jerath pushes it open, gagging slightly at the strong fishy smell that wafts out at him. It’s almost as bad as the barn.

  He locates the nets and chooses one of the smaller ones from near the bottom. Since there’s only him and Serim, they won’t be able to carry that many fish back. He hoists the bundle of ropes onto his shoulder—hoping the awful smell will wash out because, unlike Serim, he’s not wearing his old clothes—and heads back to see if she’s shifted yet.

  “Hey.” Serim smiles as she walks over to help Jerath with the net.

  “Nice to have you back.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” She looks a little sheepish. Jerath knows that, as a rule, Mahli and Serim try not to shift too much in front of him. He’s told them it’s okay and he doesn’t mind, but they still don’t do it as much as they could.

  “It’s fine, Serim.” He smiles at her, and she grins in return. “Let’s get these in the water.”

  Serim takes one side, Jerath the other, and they walk backward away from each other until the net is spread open between them. On the count of three, they throw it out into the lake and watch as it lands, perfect and untangled, then sinks down to the bottom.

  There are four ropes attached to the net, each one long enough so when the net sinks, there’s plenty of rope left on the surface to pull the ends together and haul in the catch. Serim and Jerath carefully lay the ends down and secure them around several of the trees. Then they wait.

  The fish will all have scattered as soon as the net hit the water. Jerath has been on fishing duty a couple of times before and he knows from experience it’ll be at least half an hour before they start to return. Serim throws a handful of bait into the water to encourage them, and Jerath climbs back onto the rock. He pulls his knees up to his chest and sighs.

  “Jerath?” Serim clambers up next to him, not half as agile in her human form but still more graceful than Jerath. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” He scrubs a hand over his eyes. “It’s just….” Jerath pauses. “You know….” He’s tired of all this—being envious of his friends and feeling left behind as more and more of the boys his age get their fangs. He doesn’t want Serim and Mahli to have to censor themselves around him, and he doesn’t want to keep going on about it all the time either, even though he knows they don’t mind.

  Serim doesn’t say anything; she just nudges him and places her head on his shoulder. It’s exactly what he needs right now and he turns his head to place a barely there kiss on her forehead.

  “Thank you,” he whispers.

  “HERE you go.” Serim grins as she wipes off Jerath’s hunting knife and hands it back to him. “All done.”

  “Finally.” Jerath jumps off the rock and helps Serim put the wrapped and gutted fish in the carrying sacks they’d brought with them.

  “It would have gone a lot quicker if you’d helped instead of watching.” Serim huffs as she pulls her sack tightly closed, and Jerath laughs.

  “Hey, I did my fair share of smelly, disgusting work at the barn this morning. Besides….” Jerath brandishes his knife before hooking it into the sheath behind his back. “There was only one knife.”

  “Yes, well….”

  Jerath laughs again because there’s nothing she can say to that. It was Serim who forgot her knife, after all. He hoists one of the sacks onto his shoulder and starts to walk off. “Last one back to the village has to pack them in the ice hut.”

  “Hey!” Serim calls as Jerath strides into the trees. “That’s not fair!”

  Jerath smiles to himself as he hears Serim hurry to catch up.

  They’re about ten minutes into the forest when they hear it. Serim tenses next to him, and there’s something off in her expression. Her senses are far more acute than Jerath’s, even in her human form, and her reaction makes him suddenly nervous. He would normally go and investigate the unusual noise, but instead he grabs Serim’s hand and pulls her off the path and back into the forest. He puts his finger to his lips to shush her as she opens her mouth, and hurries to crouch down behind a small cluster of rocks.

  Serim points to her ear, for Jerath to listen, and he nods in understanding. They keep still and silent, not making even the slightest sound, and soon enough they can hear the crunch and shuffle of people walking through the forest. Lots of people.

  Serim raises an eyebrow, a look of “What’s going on?” written across her face. Jerath has no idea. Apart from him and Serim, he wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here. The footsteps are getting louder and Jerath hears a voice barking orders.

  “Hurry the fuck up!” someone shouts.

  There’s a loud crack followed by a grunt of pain, and something cold sits uncomfortably in the pit of Jerath’s stomach. He easily recognizes the sound of a whip. Slender fingers slide through his as Serim grips his hand tightly. Jerath feels her trembling, and when he looks over at her, he’s met with wide, terrified eyes.

  “Try that again and I will kill you.” It’s the same voice. It sounds cold and angry and it’s not one that Jerath has ever heard before. He squeezes Serim’s hand.

  “Ghaneth… you need to do as he says.” It’s a pleading whisper, almost too quiet to hear but still horrifyingly familiar. “I think he means it.”

  Jerath’s heart stops. No… it can’t… no. That was Kyr’s voice and he was obviously talking about their Ghaneth. As much as Jerath dislikes Kyr, he would never ever want him to come to any harm. And Ghaneth… no.

  Serim’s hand vibrates in his grasp and she’s the palest he’s ever seen her. Her eyes are starting to turn blue, and Jerath realizes with a jolt that she’s about to shift. He squeezes her fingers tighter, frantically shaking his head. These people have managed to raid their village and take prisoners, which means there are obviously too many of them for one panther to take on. If Serim shifts now, they’ll kill her on sight.

  Jerath pulls her against him and crushes her into his side. He strokes her back, his hand rubbing up and down her spine as he tries to calm her. The men have almost passed them now, so Jerath risks a quick peek over the top of the rocks. There are more than he thought.

  He can see at least thirty young men being marched along as prisoners, and Jerath can tell that not all of them are from his village. They must have raided Westril and Lakesh too. There are about twenty men guarding them
—that Jerath can see anyway. They’re wearing clothes Jerath doesn’t recognize and their accent is unfamiliar. He hates to think where they’re taking Ghaneth, Kyr, and the rest of them.

  Jerath and Serim sit huddled behind the rocks until the footfalls can barely be heard anymore.

  “We need to get back to the village. Now.” Serim jumps up and starts pacing. Jerath can tell she’s desperate to shift and run ahead. She’ll be much faster that way and he has no intention of holding her back. They need to know what’s happened and that everyone else is okay, because Jerath refuses to think of the alternatives.

  “Go,” he says.

  She stops midstep and spins round to look at him.

  “Go,” he urges. “I’ll be as quick as I can behind you.”

  Serim tears off her clothes. She doesn’t give Jerath a chance to look away first, but under the circumstances neither of them have the time to care. With a quick nuzzle against Jerath’s palm, Serim races off into the trees.

  Jerath shoves her clothes under his arm and hoists one of the fish sacks over his shoulder again. He looks with regret at the other one; he hates the idea of wasting all that food, but two bags will slow him down too much. He sighs and heads off after Serim, back to their village, dreading what he might find when he gets there.

  Chapter 4

  JERATH’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.

  THEY 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 b
ranches 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.