She moved to meet him, closed her eyes.
His lips were soft, a feather-light brush against her own, gentle as falling petals. She sighed as they touched hers, lighting a fire inside her, surging bright. He was wonderfully clumsy, hands fluttering at his sides like wounded birds, almost losing his balance as she pressed tight against him. She could feel the pulse inside his chest, his mouth opening to hers, breathing in her sighs. Her body waking as if from a dreamless sleep, frissons of light tingling across her skin. Feeling for the first time in weeks. Feeling.
Alive.
She pressed his hands against her, taut muscle beneath her fingertips. Something prowled behind her eyes, something forged in lightning and blinding rain, hungry and hot, bidding her dig her fingers into his skin, to bite at his lip. Her heartbeat was thunder, her blood rising like a tide, the uncertainty, the anger, the voices of the forest, all of it at last falling still—
“Stormdancer!”
The cry was high-pitched, urgent, shattering the moment into a thousand glittering pieces. She blinked, pulled away, trying to catch her fleeing breath. Looked toward the voice, the tempo of feet pounding dead leaves.
“Stormdancer!”
A boy dashed into the graveyard, almost slipping in his haste, red-faced and breathless. Stopping before her, he bent double, gasping, pawing the sweat from his eyes. He was a few years older than she, heavyset, an askew jaw and mincemeat face, as if someone had tried to bash it in when he was a child.
“Takeshi?” Yukiko put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What is it?”
The boy shook his head, hands on his knees as he gasped like a landed fish. It took a few moments to regain breath enough to talk. He looked as if he’d been running from Lady Izanami, the Dark Mother herself.
“Scouts on the western rise … One of the pit traps…”
Yukiko felt dread stab her gut. As if bidden, Buruu crashed into the clearing in a flurry of dead leaves, hackles raised, the air filled with static electricity. His eyes were bright, pupils dilated around slivers of gleaming amber. The western rise was close to the Black Temple, where she and the arashitora had fought a legion of pit demons in the summer. If the creatures were probing the rise near the pit traps, that meant they were creeping closer to the village, and just one of the Dark Mother’s children loose in the lower woods …
“Gods, they caught an oni?” Yukiko asked.
“No. Worse than a demon.”
Takeshi spit on the dead leaves at his feet, shaking his head.
“Another Guildsman.”
She was conscious of Kin’s arms about her waist for the entire flight, strong hands and gentle grip. Soft breath tickling her neck. Warm as firelight. Her headache returning like a faithful hound, broken glass grinding at the base of her skull.
Clasping Buruu’s neck, she tried to ignore Kin’s hands on her hips, the play of muscle across his chest as he leaned against her. She entwined her fingers in the arashitora’s feathers, felt for the heat of his mind, growing more jagged and bright with each passing moment.
You’re awfully quiet.
ABOUT WHAT?
Don’t play coy with me.
YOU CHIDE ME FOR PLAYING COY. AFTER TELLING THE BOY YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW YOU FEEL, THEN LUNGING FOR HIS TONSILS A HEARTBEAT LATER.
I … He makes me feel something, Buruu. Something I think I need right now.
MMN.
Well, go on then. Get it off your chest.
The thunder tiger tossed his head, swooped around a castle of tangled sugi trees, wisps of lightning crackling at his wingtips. She could feel him in her mind, loud as the thunderstorm gathering overhead, stubborn as the mountains around them, reminding her so much of her father she could almost smell pipe smoke. She remembered the beast she’d roamed the Iishi with, the arrogance and pride, the fury coiled inside him. He’d been an animal then. Clever, yes, but still driven by instinct rather than conscious thought. Now he was more; ferocious cunning layered with human faculties for judgment. And she could feel the urge to speak his piece bubbling inside him like a wellspring, until finally he couldn’t stop himself.
I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR KIND. WITH ARASHITORA, THE FEMALE CHOOSES THE MATE WITH THE STRONGEST WINGS, THE SHARPEST CLAWS. THE MALE HAS NO CHOICE AT ALL. HE IS SIMPLY A SLAVE TO INSTINCT AND THE FEMALE’S SCENT.
Well, that sounds awful.
IT IS SIMPLE. YOU HUMANS. ALL THIS SIGHING AND SPITTLE SWAPPING. YOUR COUPLING IS COMPLICATED BEYOND ALL NEED OR REASON.
Gods, please don’t use that word …
MY OTHER OPTIONS ARE LESS POLITE.
Because you’re usually a paragon of courtly manners?
The thunder tiger harrumphed, swooped lower so his belly brushed the tree line. Gentle rain began falling from the storm-washed skies.
TELL ME. THE MASHING OF YOUR FACES TOGETHER …
Kissing.
IT DEMONSTRATES AFFECTION.
Yes.
AND THE TONGUES?
… What?
HONESTLY, WHAT PURPOSE DOES THAT SERVE?
How under heaven did you …
SISTER, YOU WERE PROJECTING YOUR THOUGHTS OVER THE ENTIRE FOREST. IT WAS LIKE HIGH SPRING OUT THERE. A SWEATY TIDAL WAVE OF BARELY REPRESSED ADOLESCENT LUST DROWNING ALL BEFORE IT.
Gods, really?
THE MONKEYS IN PARTICULAR SEEMED … EXCITED.
She pressed her fists to her temples, glanced over her shoulder at Kin.
WELL, PERHAPS EXCITED IS THE WRONG WORD …
Yes, Buruu, I understand. Thank you.
TITILLATED?
Buruu …
ENGORGED, PERHAPS?
Oh my GODS, stop!
The treetops parted like water as they descended through the canopy, showers of severed green tumbling earthward in their wake. Away from the glare of the garish day, Yukiko pulled her goggles down around her throat, ran her hand across her eyes.
You could really hear what I was feeling?
LOUD AS THUNDER. AS IF I FELT IT MYSELF.
She chewed her lip, listening to the faint cacophony on the edge of her subconscious.
The Kenning has never been like this before, Buruu. Your thoughts are louder than I’ve ever heard. If I listen, I can hear every animal for miles. All those impulses and lives stacked atop one another. It’s deafening.
YOUR FATHER NEVER SPOKE TO YOU OF THIS?
He never even told me he had the gift. But, he drowned his Kenning in liquor and smoke. Maybe this is why? Maybe as we get older, it gets louder? Or maybe breaking Yoritomo’s mind did something to break mine?
She sighed, ran her fingers through his feathers.
I don’t understand any of this, brother …
They circled past a copse of maidenhairs, knotted branches and shovel-tip leaves laden with rain. The soft scent of green rot entwined with the perfume of deepening autumn, the leaden smell of the storm above. Thunder rumbled somewhere distant, as if the clouds were great ironclads, splitting and burning and tumbling from the skies. Yukiko could hear the echoes of old screams, faint and metallic, somewhere inside her head. The humidity was unbearable, her body aching, sweat mixing with rain on her skin and stinging at the corners of her eyes.