Hounded [Wild Hunt Series: 2]

22: the troop

There was only so much controlling a wild animal. Dakota and I scrambled out of the creek and past him, but Shail did not budge. Shail seemed somehow a century removed from the wild,  and I couldn't be 100% sure, but I was fairly certain a year hadn't passed since I had first looped a couple vines around his neck to collar him. He was finicky, and he was a cat and he did what he felt like doing and nothing else. Training was strong, but instinct stronger. The crag cat dashed into a secretive location underneath a boulder, overgrown roots and wild flowers, and stood watchful.

Dakota had my arm tight.

The louder the noise in the forest grew, the stiller the crag cat's body got. He dropped low to the ground- the towering trees of the Malumbrian Oaks were large enough to support a crag cat's weight among other creatures, but Shail was an animal of stone and water. His first instinct was to hide along the ground. He was an ambush predator- I didn't have a lot of experience beyond the Hunt for what happened when he faced things he considered worth running from.

The crag cat seemed pensive tonight, hunkered into a crouch, head lifted and wavering from side to side as he sought to glimpse what was coming. It was incredible, how a creature of his size and stature could go so completely quiet. Not even his tail moved. It'd smash everything like a wrecking ball the moment he leaped, but until then there was nothing to be done but observe and decide.

Dakota glanced at me with a nod at the cat. "You think he'll attack?"

I really hoped not, unless they attacked first. Didn't want to call attention to ourselves, but I already knew that if Shail launched himself there was no way in this hell or the next that Dakota was taking me away from him, not after the last few weeks of journeying.

"I'm rooting for stationary and possibly defend," I said.

"Be real nice if he took commands," Dakota whispered.

"He does," I pointed out. "He's mostly loyal."

Her head was turned another direction. "Think we can make it," she whispered, hurriedly pulling at the fabric around her neck. She reached inside her shirt. "We've got a calling system figured between us. Yarah's got her ears on tonight. We might be just close enough. If we are, they'll hear I'm in distress and come charging." She lifted a chain around her neck, pulling into visibility a small piece of white wood carved in the shape of a tulip shell.

"Will that give our position away?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Depends on how well they know their lizard song. According to the Walrus, it's a species common to this area. More of a twilight caller. It's a little late now. Someone might stop and think it got disturbed. And if you don't know jack about it, then I suppose it's just another creepo night beast. You know what tends to be the worst, at least from what we've encountered? The shit that sounds like it's coming from something sweet and innocent. Maybe a baby's giggle . . ." She caught herself. "Or a squeaking mouse or some little coo of a dove. The more pleasant the sound you hear, at night anyway, the more awfully you'll die."

"Lovely," I said. "You wanna give me an idea of the landscape we'll be rushing blindly through?"

"Bound to get scratched up," she said in a low voice, turning her head back. "I tore a hole through my heel stepping on some wretched thorn earlier, and that was with me being careful. Say," with the carved lizard call bouncing on her neck, Dakota pointed to the blend of shadow and vine containing Shail. "Think you can get our big boy up and moving?"

"Depends," I replied. "Don't suppose you've got anything food related? I had a bit, but it's back there now."

She shook her head. "If I pretended . . .?"