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In the end, the guards took him to the cave while Kyelle went in search of Harth. Tarkyn kept his mind open, but didn’t reach for her because he had to concentrate and make certain that there was no ploy in giving them space. After all, they were still separated. Had these guards been given quiet orders to take him?

He wouldn’t allow Harth to feel that if it happened. He’d close the link in his mind so that she didn’t hear him die.

But then… what if she died too?

He shook off the terrifying thought and kept walking, circled by three, large wolves and another male, broad and muscular, who smelled like a goat, though not the goats of the Anima tribes.

As deeply as he wanted to find peace, he was also exhausted, and in pain. So it was something of a relief to find that he was being led out of the main encampment to a small wood to the east where tents were scattered and isolated.

Then they followed the curve of a rise in the land to a small cave and he was ushered inside.

It was instinct to brace when the males opened their hands to urge him to precede them inside.

Was it a trap?

.....

He prayed for courage—and for strength despite his wounds—if he was attacked. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he led them inside.

But when he turned, the guards had only stepped into the mouth of the cave, and one of them—the goat—was pointing out the basic amenities there.

“The roof slopes up to the opening, so it will vent, but keep the smoke as minimal as you can. There are furs at the back. If you need more, you can ask…”

He kept waiting for the surprise. The ambush. The glinting eyes. But after he’d been shown where to find the kindling and flint to start a fire, the guards filed out. “We’ll be in sight and sound, but as long as you stay here, there won’t be a problem.”

Tarkyn nodded and watched, surprised, when they all walked out, brushing through the ferns and underbrush at the opening, until he couldn’t see them anymore.

‘Are you safe?’ His mate’s voice was thin and worried, but such a relief to hear.

‘Yes. They’ve given us a cave. I don’t quite know what to—’

‘I’ll be there in five.’

He saw her in his mind then, hurrying towards him, holding her ribs and wincing against the pain in her back—his pain. But she was rushing, and his heart squeezed.

As quickly as he could, he made a small fire so that it was crackling merrily when the entrance to the cave darkened.

“Tarkyn, thank the Creator!” Her voice was choked and she threw herself at him, straight into his chest.

He grunted at the impact, but wouldn’t let her go when she gasped and apologized and tried to pull away.

“No, stay here with me,” he whispered. “Let me hold you.”

So they stood there for several minutes, just holding on.

She cried a little, but more from relief than pain, he thought. Then they spent half an hour where she sternly made him lay on the furs while she checked and treated his wounds. Or tried to. One of the healers had been kind and sent her with a pack and some food. Tarkyn was relieved they didn’t have to go back out yet. He wanted some time with her, to reassure himself that she was only feeling his pain secondhand, not carrying her own.

Her eyes were bright, though, and her skin flushed, not pale, as she made him roll over and she tsked at his bruises, touching them so lightly he barely noticed the pain.

She poulticed the two open wounds on his ribs where the skin had split, and one place at his back where the bruising was significant enough to indicate a broken bone. But there was little else she could do. His eye needed a steak that they didn’t have, and the rest of his body was just… weary.

He couldn’t stop touching her. Her arm when she examined his ribs. Her knee when she made him lay on his stomach. Her hands when he finally sat up, then all of her when he pulled her into an embrace.

And even though he knew that this journey had only just begun, he found himself overwhelmed with gratitude. They had gotten this far. They would make it. They would bring their loved ones together. He was certain of it.

*****

They ventured carefully out of the cave as the late afternoon sun slowly disappeared behind the mountains, and the light near the cave became darkness under the trees.

Tarkyn found himself oddly separate—as if his mind observed where his body went, rather than experiencing it all in one piece.

A part of him was always on the defense—watching the guards that circled them because Harth walked at his side. Watching the other Chimera when they made it to the small fires. Watching himself. Watching for Zev.

There was a tension in this place. He’d thought at first that it was just his own tension, his awareness of the danger. But when he’d settled next to the fire and Harth insisted on making their evening meal, Tarkyn had a chance to watch the others that moved around them. None of the Chimera that greeted Harth came to join them. There were several fires, and many friend groups coming and going. Tarkyn supposed that he shouldn’t have expected them to feel friendly towards him. Of course they’d want to watch him for a while, measure him. That was only natural.

So he did his best to relax and wait. To keep his posture submissive and show that he posed no threat in case any of them did want to approach.

He found himself fascinated by the many and varied scents of the Chimera, and when Harth had prepared them each a rabbit, along with greens and something similar to a potato cooked in its skin in the coals of the fire, she sat close to him, both of their backs against a thick log that had been placed there to sit on or lean against.

He asked in her mind about the different scents, the different tribes—clans, she called them.

There were mostly wolves nearby, but Harth confirmed that one of their guards was a goat, though a species she called an Ibex. A mountain goat. Larger and more aggressive than the Anima goats, he understood.

And even though they were eating rabbit, she smiled as she pointed out the hares clustered near a fire within sight.

‘Whatever you do, don’t call them bunnies. They’ll kill you for it.’

He couldn’t immediately tell if she was joking. ‘The hares?’

‘Their Alpha—Oska—is a lovely male, but a bit pompous. He’s smaller than most of them, though still one of their fastest runners. Anyway, I guess he was teased a lot as a kitten and now he’s… a little touchy about it.’

Tarkyn couldn’t help but smile as Harth showed him a few interactions through the link in which the male had made a scene when someone called him or one of his clan a “bunny.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he muttered, trying not to grin.

But Harth beamed. “Honestly, if we get through this, I’d love to see you trigger him. He’d be no match for you—except maybe to run away—and it would be kind of hilarious to see him try to fight you and you just… hold him off.”

“My mate has a vindictive streak,” Tarkyn smiled, though he was a little surprised.

“No, just an immature reaction to watching males fight—when it’s not serious,” she added hurriedly, her smile falling away quickly.

She went back to her food then, but picking at it, no longer grinning.

‘Harth, I’m going to be fine. I’ve taken worse wounds in training.’

‘Not when you’re still surrounded by people who might add to them,’ she said, her eyes scanning the fires around them and her jaw going tight.

He put one hand to her thigh, and they sat together quietly for a long time.

But the longer they sat there, the more concerned Tarkyn became.

It was an unspoken agreement that they would enjoy the freedom of the meal fires—though they were watched, they were at least out in the open air and choosing their movements.

But because they were quiet, and no one had joined them, it was also a chance for Tarkyn to watch the others nearby. And the more he saw, the more his senses prickled with the intuition of a fighter and leader.

The tension he’d felt in this place, among these people, didn’t just come from his own precarious position.

The uneasiness in those around the fires—the more submissive of them hunched over meals or huddled together. The more brazen walking with purpose, chins jutting out.

He would have put it down to his presence, that they were all aware of, even if they didn’t speak to him.

But it wasn’t him that they watched.

As Tarkyn sat with his mate, holding her hand and resting, letting his body heal, he observed the Chimera acting like children whose father was angry.

Whispered conversations.

Wary or nervous glances in the direction from which those in power might emerge.

Twitching movements, and fastidious cleaning even among those who weren’t soldiers.

Something crackled in the air in this camp, and it wasn’t just the presence of an unknown male.

No.

The Chimera were scared. Not of Tarkyn. But of their own.

And that was never, ever good.