“Dah’Te . . .”
Shivering from the cold, he collapsed and allowed the shadows to consume him.
Night nibbled at daylight as Dah’Te followed the river, searching from aloft for evidence of Ronan. She’d seen him fall into the swiftly moving water as she grappled with the Talehon clansman.
When the first attack came, she’d pursued the Talehons. They had soon separated, the largest one turning on her. The battle had been brief. He’d outmatched her in strength, but her smaller size allowed for quicker strikes. She’d left him sprawled and lifeless on the forest floor.
She’d seen a second Talehon carrying away Ronan and attacked from above. Seeking to damage his wings and force him to land, she’d accomplished her goal, but Ronan had been lost to the river. The third attacker had vanished.
Guilt stabbed at her. It had been her suggestion to take her younger brother Linse hunting. When he’d challenged her to an aerial race, she’d joyfully accepted. But she’d been careless and hadn’t noticed that they’d strayed into the territory at the heart of the dispute between Azein and Talehon clans.
The Talehons had attacked without warning. She and Linse had fought them off, but not before Linse had taken a strong hit in his left wing. He’d been grounded, injured, and she had been forced to leave him to seek help.
That she had thought to go to the humans – to Ronan – instead of her own clan surprised her. She liked the human healer. He freely answered her questions and asked only for his own to be answered in return.
But, again, her carelessness had demanded a price, and now Ronan was lost.
She banked and dropped lower to the water. Her eyesight adjusted quickly to the gloaming, but it would still be easy to miss Ronan as darkness obscured the landscape.
Movement in the water pulled her into a dive. An object bobbed along the surface, caught in an eddy between two boulders. She swooped low, snatched her target from the current, and glided to shore. The red-and-white markings blazed in the dying sunlight.
It was Ronan’s pack.
She spread her wings and ran for a large boulder near the shore. Using it as a springboard, she launched into the air. Ronan’s pack weighed her down, forcing her to stay low to the river. Wing tips skimmed the water’s surface as they bent and flexed to keep her aloft.
Her eyes scanned the shoreline. Twice she thought she saw a human form only to find it was a downed tree or rock outcrop. A third such shadowy form appeared to her left. She veered toward it and hope blossomed as light from the newly risen twin moons highlighted a shock of blond hair.
She landed in a run. “Ronan!”
He groaned as she slid to a stop beside him.
Carefully she rolled him onto his back. Deep wounds marred his chest and shoulders from the Talehon’s claws.
“Ronan.” She cradled his face. “Wake up.”
He moaned but didn’t open his eyes.
Dah’Te ripped away the remains of his shirt to expose the wounds. She grabbed his pack and dumped its waterlogged contents on the ground. Searching through the devices and supplies, despair crept into her heart. She wasn’t a skilled healer. The contents spread before her meant nothing to her untrained eyes.
But she had to try.
She forced herself to be calm. She’d seen Ronan use his healer’s tools. She only needed to remember.
Picking up a cylindrical device, she examined it. She tapped its ends with a talon. It remained silent.
Laying it aside, she picked up a strange wand-like instrument. She pressed a small button on its side. Blue light filled the wand.
Recognition slammed into her.
She held the wand over a small cut on her arm. The skin beneath warmed, tingled, and then stitched itself together. She smiled and moved the wand to the worst of Ronan’s wounds on his chest.
Long minutes passed before the first signs of healing showed, and the blue light was dimming. The wound closed slowly. The light flickered once. Twice. Vanished.
Dah’Te grunted in frustration. She shook the wand and pressed the button. No light showed. She smacked it against her palm. The light didn’t return.
Ronan’s chest wound was mostly healed. It still had a jagged and raw look but it no longer bled. The gashes along his shoulder weren’t as severe, but required cleaning if they were to heal on their own.
She tore the rest of his shirt into strips and washed them in the river. Using the damp cloth, she cleansed the shoulder wound as best she could and rummaged through the remaining supplies. She found a packet of ointment that stung her nose when she smelled it. She smeared a fingertip’s amount onto one of her own cuts.
It burned and stung and made her gasp, but after a moment the pain dulled.
She applied the remainder to Ronan’s shoulder and a little to his chest. Using white cloth squares and strips of his shirt, she covered and bound his wounds.
Dah’Te gathered the pack’s contents and returned them to their home. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her wings around herself like a cloak, watching the steady rise and fall of Ronan’s chest as he slept beside her.
Ronan was unlike any Auilan man she’d known. Tall and lean, with a muscular frame. Golden hair cut close to his skull. No tribal markings. No wings. Small dark eyes that couldn’t see the same distance as hers could. Physical appearances aside, his easy smile and laughter lightened her.
Something stirred within her as the twin moons moved overhead in their immortal dance with the stars.
She longed for that familiar lightness to find her, to comfort her. She traced the shape of his mouth with her finger. On impulse she leaned forward and briefly pressed her lips to his.
He sighed. “Dah’Te . . .”
She stretched out on the ground next to him. The exertions of the day had weakened her, and fear for her brother chilled her. She laid her head on Ronan’s chest, mindful to stay clear of his wounds.
He stirred, wrapping his arms around her.
Stretching her wings over them both for warmth, Dah’Te lay in the darkness and listened to the sound of Ronan’s breath for a long time before sleep finally pulled her into its embrace.
Ronan awoke to sunshine and splashing water. He lifted his upper body, resting on his elbows, and grimaced as his muscles protested at the movement. Pain spread from his right shoulder, across his chest to the left, and choked his breath. He forced himself to sit and was surprised to find his chest, shoulder, and ribs wrapped in what could only be the remnants of his shirt.
Confusion fogged his mind but soon cleared as the memory of being carried away by an Auilan surfaced. Blinking against the bright dawn light, he studied his surroundings.
He sat on the riverbank, sunlight glistening off the water as it tumbled over rocks in a miniature waterfall. His medikit lay next to him. He frowned. Hadn’t he lost it in the river?
Searching the pack, he found one of the seals had been damaged and water had seeped inside. Most of the sterile first-aid supplies were still intact. The bio-scanner wasn’t so fortunate. Water had corroded the circuits, making it a useless paperweight. The dermal regenerator seemed to work, but the charge was expended so it was nonfunctional as well. He sighed and closed the kit.
Once more the sound of splashing water called to him.
He stood and waited for the world to stop its insane spin. A breeze swayed the trees, and a flutter of white drew him toward the river. Reaching the shore, he picked up the flimsy white material the wind had knocked loose from a branch. The splashing water sounds ceased and he glanced to his right.
Dah’Te stood in the river’s shallows, the supple curve of her buttocks visible beneath the water. His eyes tracked the gentle curve of her spine upward to where her wings melded with flesh, and across her shoulders to the profiled swell of her bare breasts hidden by her arms. Her spiraling tattoos flowed with the contours of her muscles.