Dani lowered her hands and stayed squatted, watching her.
They looked like a pack of wolves to her, ready to pounce.
Slowly, she slid off her pack. This time she wouldn’t be encumbered by it if they attacked her again.
Skeever circled her.
The black man with the pistol stood a few steps apart, arms folded across his chest as he glanced around the square that had served as a hunting ground. He didn’t seem interested in current affairs. The pistol gleamed in his holster, definitely on display. There were others, but the machete-wielder whistled sharply, and Lynn’s attention jerked back to her before she could take them in.
Skeever whined. He glanced at her with his trusting eyes and then to the machete-wielder. Slowly, he pulled away from her and trotted over to the stranger, tail between his legs. He pressed against her submissively.
As Lynn adjusted her balance, something stung in her back. Great. Another injury. She ignored it; she needed what little reason was left in her adrenaline-sodden brain to figure out Skeever’s odd behavior. It hit her like the boy’s punch: Skeever knew these people.
The machete-wielder didn’t reach down to pet him; her one hand still held the bloody blade, and the sleeve on the other side of her body was bunched up near the shoulder, made redundant by the lack of a right arm. “Can you talk?” Her voice was cold and hard.
To spare her throat, Lynn should have shook her head, but she nodded instead. With the strength of the bold and proud, she stood.
When she wobbled, Dani shot up and took her arm.
Lynn shook her off and gave her a death glare.
She backed off with a shrug. “Suit yourself.”
“Did you kill him?” the machete-wielder cut in.
“W-Who?” Pain flared again, but she clenched her fist and refused to back off. Gauntlets were obviously being thrown, and she’d just had to fight for her life. She’d be damned if she showed weakness now. Besides, she was finally getting answers to questions she hadn’t even had time to formulate, such as why the boy had attacked her. Surely it had nothing to do with the elephant.
“The man who owned the dog. Did you kill him?”
Realization hit like a bucket of ice water. “N-No.” She cleared her throat in the hopes of getting out more than a rasp and winced. Ouch. “I found him dead.”
The severe woman searched her features through narrowed eyes. Seconds passed. She was, perhaps, in her forties. Her short hair was graying at the temples, but most of it was a dirty blonde that was now splattered red. Her angular jaw was set, and, along with cold gray eyes and a hooked nose, it made her look avian. “What did he look like?”
Lynn steeled herself for a full sentence. The more she spoke, the worse her throat felt. “Mid-forties, maybe? Brown hair.” That could be anyone. Shit. She racked her brain for something that had stood out, but she hadn’t exactly lingered. Then she remembered something she’d puzzled on at the time. “He had a cord on his belt with a bird skull and a small metal tag with the letter R on it.”
That was enough. The bird-skull memento obviously registered. Machete-wielder’s eyes watered, and her lips set into a thin line. She did not cry. Instead, she holstered her machete and held out her one hand to her son. He had to be her son, Lynn thought. The resemblance was too striking even though his hair was darker. And he would have cause to attack her if he thought she’d killed his father.
Which I didn’t.
The boy broke free angrily now that the men restraining him lessened their hold. He stepped forward and flung his arms around the machete-wielder’s torso in a way only a teenage boy could: too proud for a gentle hug, too young to go without comfort altogether.
The machete-wielder whispered something to him and wrapped her arm across his shoulders.
Lynn glanced away out of a vague sense of intruding and found Dani looking at her. Lynn stared right back. The brunette was about her age, Lynn guessed, maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight. She was covered nearly head to toe in blood, but it didn’t all belong to the elephant. Near her left temple ran a small but angry-looking gash, and a trickle of blood soaked her cured leather top.
“Take her to the Homestead.”
Lynn looked up sharply.
“—and take those weapons off her.”
Dani nodded at the machete-wielder. “I will.”
Lynn was fairly certain she would not get a say in the matter. A glance at the faces around her confirmed her suspicion. Still, not all of them were looking at her with murder in their eyes; that was just the boy. The rest of the expressions ran the gamut between disinterest and curiosity. Only two refused to meet her gaze when she looked at them.
“Skeever, come!” The machete-wielder turned on her heel and strode off.
Skeever glanced at Lynn but then jogged away.
Lynn’s heart sank.
After a few seconds, Dani turned to her and sighed. “His name was Richard, and he was Kate’s partner. Dean, the guy who attacked you, was his son.”
“I figured.” Her voice sounded oddly flat in her own ears, a combination of a lower tone to spare her voice and her conflicting emotions. She felt sympathy for the group in losing one of their own, but she was also angry. No, not angry—indignant. She hadn’t done a damn thing wrong, and yet this guy, Dean, had gone off on her so ferociously that she could have ended up dead. She brought her hand to her throat and rubbed carefully. It felt swollen and hot.
Dani ignored her tone and extended her hand. “I’m Dani.”
Lynn regarded the dirty appendage for a few moments, then took it. “Yeah, I got that.” They shook. How long had it been since she had last touched a human being? In a friendly matter, that was. Well, friendly-ish. “Lynn.” She tried not to sound too pissed off. It wasn’t Dani’s fault Dean had lost it.
Dani scanned her with a slight squint.
Lynn didn’t like to be examined. “It’s not going to get prettier.” How bad was the damage to her face anyway? Her left eye was still swollen shut, but her right had cleared up considerably. She resisted the urge to feel at her face even when Dani released her and stuffed both hands into her coat pockets instead.
“I di—”
“Dani! Kate didn’t say to babysit her. C’mere and pull your weight, will you?” Cody stood bare-chested and bloody atop the carcass. He glowered at Dani and completely ignored Lynn.
While they’d talked, the rest of the group had begun to dismantle the elephant. Initial cuts to the skin had been made already.
“Coming.” Dani’s voice did not show the annoyance Lynn’s would have. Or maybe it did, in its metered neutrality. She glanced at Lynn. “Are you going to run off the moment I turn around?”
Lynn considered it. “Probably not.” She wanted to, but that Kate woman had taken Skeever away, and she wanted him back.
Dani inspected her again. “Then why not make yourself useful while you’re with us, hm?”
“Let’s not pretend it’s a voluntary stay.” The painful rasp made the statement sound reproachful, to say the least, and she didn’t try to bend it into anything else.
Dani just shrugged. “Do what you want, but we like people who pull their weight much better than people who watch others work. We might be more inclined to believe hard workers too.”
Lynn searched Dani’s eyes. The implications were clear: they didn’t trust her, nor her story. Lynn probably wouldn’t have trusted her story either, but it still pissed her off. She nodded. “Fine. I’ll help.”
“Good choice, Wilder.” Dani extended her hand, palm up. “Your weapons?”
“What exactly did you want me to cut with if I gave you those?” She pointedly arched her brow. No way was she handing her weapons over without a fight while everyone else was armed to the teeth.