Chapter Seven

“You sure you’ve got the right code.”

Aidan looked over at Rhodry, where they stood on a thick branch, high above the clearing where the Earthers’ ship stood buttoned up tight. He didn’t know if the ship’s condition meant they hadn’t yet discovered his escape, or if they had discovered it and were terrified of retribution. They had good reason for the latter. Hell was about to descend upon them.

The rest of the cousins had shifted and lay waiting for the attack to begin, but he and Rhodry remained in their human forms. Aidan, because he’d need fingers to enter the belly hatch access code and to get Rachel safely out of there. And Rhodry because, apparently, he’d become a nervous Nellie in the short time Aidan had been gone. A by-product of his impending fatherhood, perhaps.

Aidan took his eyes off the ship long enough for a quick glance at his cousin. “For the tenth time, I’ve got the code,” he said confidently. “What’s up your ass?”

Rhodry gave him a very unfriendly look. “You mean apart from the fact that one of my favorite cousins was kidnapped by these assholes and about to be cut up in the name of science? And that I’m here instead of back home with my wife who’s pregnant with twins? You mean other than that?”

“One of your favorite cousins? I am the favorite, and you know it.” Aidan turned his gaze back to the ship. “When’s the go-ahead?”

“We’re going in now. They won’t expect a daylight attack.”

“They shouldn’t be expecting an attack from us at all, unless they know about shifters.”

Rhodry nodded. “It sure seems as if someone’s been talking.”

Aidan frowned. “At least some of them knew about it, that’s for sure. But not Rachel. She’s not a part of whatever this is.”

Rhodry slanted a glance at him. “I was right. You like her.”

He scowled. “We’ve been through this before. She has courage, and she saved my life.”

“And she’s quite lovely, I’d imagine.”

Aidan cleared his throat. “That, too. Give the word. Let’s get this done.”

A small smile crossed Rhodry’s face. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll enter the code and go in first. You come in right behind me, and—”

“Good plan, except… I’ll go in first, as we discussed. I know the layout, and you’re way too valuable to risk.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it. Clansmen lead from the front.”

“Good thing I’m a clansman, then. I have the best chance of making this work, and you know it. And if that doesn’t convince you, then consider Amanda and the twins. She’ll skin me alive if anything happens to you.”

“That’s a low blow, cuz.”

“The best kind. What’s the signal once I’m onboard?”

“Your lead, your choice.”

Aidan thought about it. “I’d say you could wait until the screams start, but the lads might resent missing out on the fun. Let’s go with a hunter’s howl instead.” He grinned. “That way everyone gets to play.”

Rhodry studied him soberly for a long minute, and Aidan thought for sure he was going to push for a revised plan. His cousin was used to leading hunts, not following. But this one was personal to Aidan. He’d been the one captured and held in a fucking cage. Besides, only he could ensure Rachel’s safety. He’d initially thought to get her out of the ship before any serious bloodshed began. But once he gave the all-clear, his cousins would attack within minutes. She’d be safer in her cabin until the fighting was over.

Also, that way, he could inflict some serious bloodshed of his own.

Rhodry gave a sharp nod. “Right. I’ll have the others ready to go. He gripped Aidan’s shoulder tightly. “You be careful. I’d hate having to choose a new favorite after all this time.”

“Love you, too. Be ready.”

…

Aidan scanned the ship from end to end, his study slow and deliberate. There was no sign of life that he could see. Heavy reentry shutters covered every window, which he’d expected, but there wasn’t even the tiniest flicker of movement from the many sensors mounted on the bristling exterior. If not for the sound of multiple heartbeats emanating from the ship on the very edge of his enhanced hearing, he might have thought it was abandoned. If the Earthers had hoped Aidan’s people would accept the ship’s status at face value and go away, they didn’t know much about shifter abilities. But then, that was why they’d wanted a live sample or six for their research labs, wasn’t it?

He raced across the clearing in human form, happy there was no one watching from the ship to see him crouched low in the long grasses. Once beneath the ship, he straightened, not wasting any time as he strode over to the keypad next to the landing strut. He entered the code Rachel had used during his escape, half expecting it not to work. If the crew was aware of his escape—and it seemed likely they were—they’d naturally suspect Rachel, whether they had proof or not, since she’d made no secret of her feelings regarding his capture, and she’d had easy access to him. Basic security protocols would then have required them to change every code she’d had knowledge of. Even he knew that. And yet, the moment he tapped the final number into the keypad, the hatch opened with a loud hiss of seals, and the ramp deployed with a smooth, nearly silent glide.

He wasn’t fooled by this easy entry. This was the ship’s main ground-based exit. Basic security protocol would include a warning indicator on the bridge every time the ramp opened. Which meant he’d have company soon. Jumping onto the lowering ramp before it hit the ground, he ran to the base of the ladder leading up to the crew level. He paused briefly, barely breathing as he listened for the blare of an alarm, or the thunder of charging crewmen. Nothing. Death was about to roll over these invaders, and they, apparently, were going to sleep right through it. He shook his head. Rhodry and the others were waiting for his signal, but this seemed too easy. What if it was a trap?

He lifted his face and scented the air. His nostrils filled with the ship’s cold, metal stink. Growling his frustration, he shifted in an instant, rolling the heavy muscles of his huge shoulders and flanks, stretching forward as he welcomed his animal self. He scented the air again, his abilities much sharper in this form, his predator’s nose telling him a much more complex story. He smelled a lot of blood and other bodily fluids that spoke of injured humans. That wasn’t exactly news, but the strength of the scent told him more of the ship’s crew were nursing wounds than he’d thought. If so, it was just possible that they didn’t know Aidan was gone.

Shifting back to human, he climbed the ladder in two bounds and followed Rachel’s scent to her quarters at one end of the passageway. He glanced down at himself and frowned. She might be startled to find a strange, naked man entering her cabin. He had a speech ready about how he was there on behalf of the Ardrigh, who’d heard of the illegal hunts… But that didn’t explain his absence of clothing, did it? He shrugged with a shifter’s disregard for nudity. He couldn’t do anything about it, and besides, if she was going to be hunting the traitor with him, she’d see him naked sooner or later anyway.

He just hoped she didn’t have one of those damn tranq guns waiting when he opened the cabin door.

She didn’t. Because she wasn’t there. He had a moment of pure, unexplainable rage, wondering where she was and which of the assholes onboard she was sleeping it off with. But before he could wonder at the sheer intensity of the emotion, the full range of his senses kicked in, and he knew she wasn’t elsewhere on the ship. She was gone. The overstuffed backpack she’d carried with her during her excursions into the forest was nowhere to be found, and the scent of her throughout the cabin was at least two days old. Which would put her departure on the same day as his escape. He thought back to the last time he’d seen her, standing at the foot of the hatch ramp, cautioning him about the light she was about to turn on. He’d growled a warning for her to get the fuck back onboard, and he’d left…without bothering to verify she’d obeyed his command.

“Fuck.” She hadn’t followed him. He’d have sensed her on his tail. But she hadn’t stayed put, either. She was somewhere out in the Green on her own, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Because Rachel wasn’t simply in the Green, she was heading for the swamp. And she’d been out there alone the entire time he’d been playing games with Rhodry and deciding the best way to mount the damn assault. “Fuck,” he cursed again, angry at her, at himself, and especially at whoever it was that had brought all of this down on their heads.

Shifting once more, he padded out of Rachel’s cabin and into the main passageway on the crew deck. He stopped there and stared, his eyes blinking slowly, taking in the tiniest sound, the faintest scent before he called his cousins to the hunt. He shook his head. These Earthers were so utterly unprepared for an attack that it almost seemed unfair. But then he remembered the animals they’d killed, the trees they’d injured and destroyed…and the very unpleasant future they’d had in mind for him.

All sense of fair play disappeared in a heartbeat.

These were invaders, and they needed to pay. Not only for the damage they’d already done, but for the harm they’d bring in the future if they, or any of their data, managed to escape Harp.

Ignoring the ladder, he leaped for the lower deck and the open ramp. Baring his teeth in anticipation of the coming battle, he lifted his head and howled. His fellow shifters, who’d been advancing through the treetops like a soft breeze, suddenly dropped to the forest floor and raced into the clearing, their passage barely stirring the long grass, as the trees whispered of vengeance and coming death. Those whispers drifted up to Aidan on the caress of a warm wind. He shifted back to human the moment Rhodry’s dark head crested the ramp’s opening. Shifters were vicious and uncannily strong, but they couldn’t open doors. That would be left to him.

He moved fast, opening door after door, using the code that Rachel had used on the night of his escape.

His cousin Gabriel was first up the ramp, sliding past Aidan and into the first unlocked cabin, so swift and silent that Aidan might have mistaken him for a shadow. Until the screaming started. Door after door opened after that, either with Aiden’s help or in response to the screams. It didn’t matter which, and Aidan didn’t wait to find out. Ignoring yet another ladder, he jumped through the opening to the next deck and, with the sound of screams filling the air, prowled down to the bridge, where, as luck would have it, he found Frank White all alone. The Earther hadn’t raced to help his fellow crewmembers, whose screams punctuated his cowardice. Instead, he’d remained on the bridge, hiding, his back pressed against the big command console, a wicked-looking knife clenched in one meaty fist and a tranq gun in the other.

He lifted his weapons, ready to fight, and Aidan bared his teeth in a deep-throated snarl. White had been his main tormentor, the one who’d used an electric prod on him when no one was around to see. Aidan had thought at first that the Earther was using the shocks to force him to shift, but it hadn’t taken long for him to recognize the truth. The man simply enjoyed causing pain, especially when his victim was unable to fight back.

Aidan lowered his head, eyes fixed on his prey, his growl a steady rumble in his chest. He wasn’t going to kill Frank White in defense of the planet. This one was fucking personal. White was going to discover what happened when his victim could fight back.

Aidan’s howl was a saw-toothed blade of sound ratcheting off the walls as he took a step forward and watched the Earther’s face grow pale.

“You shouldn’t have come back here,” White blustered from a throat gone raspy with fear. “I’ll kill you and that bitch, too.”

Aidan’s eyes never left the human coward, whose fear-sweating body took a final, jerking step back and slammed into the console. He hung there for a moment, looking around desperately as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist. Aidan knew he should kill the man and be done with it, but something inside him, some predator’s need, demanded more. Before the human could react, Aidan swept out a powerful paw, knocking the knife from his hand, raking four-inch-long claws across his hip on the downward stroke, ripping through skin and muscle and leaving a bloody ruin.

White screamed, his face distorted in shocked agony, but he didn’t go down. He might never have faced the likes of Aidan before, but he was a hardened warrior. Using the fixed bridge chair as a flimsy barrier, he shoved away from the console, fumbled beneath it and came up firing a small plasma rifle—a weapon that should never have been brought onto the planet. Teeth bared and eyes crazed, he yelled wildly as he made a run for it, spraying fire behind him, not caring what he hit. He raced down the passageway with Aidan behind him, a laughing cackle howling from between his wide-open jaws, not trying to catch up, playing with his prey. To a point.

White couldn’t be permitted to leave the ship with the plasma weapon in hand. It could do untold damage if fired outside the ship’s shielding. He hit the downward ladder, clinging to his weapon, practically falling the distance to the lower deck, a shout of victory rising from his throat as he saw the open belly hatch, saw the sunlight that promised escape.

Aidan waited until the human made the jump to the ground outside, until his body hung in midair and escape seemed a breath away. And then he pounced. With thrust of his powerful hind legs, he caught the Earther mid-leap, knocking him to the ground and sending his weapon flying. Three hundred pounds of furious shifter landed on the man’s back and pinned him to the ground. Aidan’s claws dug into flesh and satisfaction sank into his bones as White’s terror echoed through the forest, sending a message of vengeance to the trees and animals of the Green in the moment before Aidan closed his teeth over his prey’s neck and snapped his spine.

He was almost disappointed when White went limp beneath him, when his heart stopped and warm blood rapidly cooled. He lifted his head and spat. He was a predator, not a cannibal. As unlikely as it might seem, he and White were both human.

Giving the dead man a dismissive flick of his paw that ripped the body’s jaw open, he lifted his head and roared his victory, then turned and raced back into the ship. The screams had stopped. There was nothing but the victorious howls of his cousins echoing up and down the metal passageways. But that wasn’t his target.

Shifting to human, he climbed back to the bridge and looked around. White had done a lot of damage with his stupid gun. There was still a treasure trove of information to be had here, information that Aidan could have used in his pursuit of Rachel. But it would take time to repair the bridge controls to access the ship’s data, or failing that, to bypass the controls instead. Given enough time, he could do it himself—he had the equivalent of a fleet graduate degree in engineering, and like every other shifter, he’d made good use of the updated database the fleet had provided as part of their arrangement with the Ardrigh. But he didn’t have that kind of time right now. Rhodry would send others to harvest what they could before the Green covered over this ship, eventually destroying it, just as it did every other invader.

There were more urgent matters at hand for Aidan, and Rachel was number one. She might think she was ready to survive Harp. She might even be right on some level. Rhodry’s fleet-born wife, Amanda, had done it. But Amanda had spent months on Harp getting ready for her trial, months spent studying the planet’s unique dangers and learning to use the weapons available to her. And then there were the trees. Amanda could hear Harp’s trees, just as the shifters could. More than any weapon or training, it was her ability to hear the song of the trees that had made her survival possible.

As far as Aidan could tell, Rachel was as mind-deaf as any other norm, on Harp or off it. He didn’t doubt she had skills, and experience with any number of deadly environments, but none of them were Harp. He had to find her before the planet itself identified her as an invader and decided it wanted her dead.

With a quick look around, he hurried back down to the crew level. He needed to consult with Rhodry.

…

Rachel woke with a start, and not for the first time. She’d slept rough plenty of times before this, but there was rough, and then there was Harp. The tree she’d chosen was comfortable enough—the limb was wide enough, and the branching from the main trunk deep enough, that she didn’t worry about falling. The tree was huge, with several other branches interlocking over her head that combined to provide protection against moisture and…other things that fell from the forest’s heights. But the tree couldn’t do anything about the unfamiliar noises throughout the forest—the silent whoosh of winged predators, the deep growls of the others, and the death cries of their chosen prey. Rachel was all too aware that there were plenty of predators on Harp who considered her to be prey, and that, despite the comfort of her tree, she was too vulnerable. The restless night made her realize something about the years she’d spent trekking distant planets—she’d never gone solo before. Most often, she was hired as an expert guide for a select group of researchers or adventurers. But even when she’d been trekking purely for her own enjoyment, she’d gone with friends who shared her years of experience.

On Harp, she was alone. She hadn’t planned it that way. Hell, she hadn’t planned on setting off across the planet at all. But even then, she’d been certain her cat would hang around for the trip. She hadn’t expected the wild creature to become domesticated overnight, but she had thought it would linger in her vicinity, its curiosity protecting her by coincidence rather than intent.

She rose to a crouch, swallowing a groan when her body protested, feeling aches and bruises all over from her unconventional sleeping arrangement. Sometimes interrupted sleep was worse than none at all. She tugged her pack around from where she’d been leaning against it and dug for a small bottle of water and an energy bar, which she swallowed in four dry bites. The bar was tasteless, but it was designed to give her metabolism a temporary boost while covering some basic nutritional needs. As for the water, she took only small sips, not knowing how long her limited supply would have to last. The humans on Harp would drink the same water she did, but they’d had hundreds of years to adapt to any of the planet’s specific parasites or bacteria that lived in the local water supply. The last thing Rachel wanted was to spend the next few days barfing her guts up, or worse, because she hadn’t properly checked her drinking water.

She had water purification tablets and a filtered canteen, but while her maps included the distant main river which ran all through the Green, they weren’t detailed enough to show smaller water sources. She’d spent a good part of her sleepless hours bashing herself for not printing better maps from the ship’s data. The fact that she’d never thought she’d need them was no excuse. She was the person whose job it was to be prepared for the worst. She’d failed miserably so far.

Although she had saved the cat. And she’d stopped the rest of them from continuing their immoral and illegal mission. Well, okay, so the cat had done that when he’d killed three crew and taken Ripper out of the picture for the duration, but she’d done her part by depriving them of their one and only test subject. The image of what they’d had planned for the magnificent creature made her literally nauseous.

The dry energy bar wasn’t helping, either. She took a second tiny sip of water, just enough to wet her throat, and then another. Shoving the canteen back into her pack, she pulled out her map instead. It didn’t show her anything new. The supposed location of the second ship, where she hoped to find Wolfrum, was in a nearly straight line, due west of her current position. There didn’t seem to be any major obstructions between her and there, other than a dense forest filled with deadly life-forms. But Rachel was certain that, just as her map didn’t show lesser water sources, it also didn’t show the true topography of the Green. The planet’s weird magnetic force made it nearly impossible to get an accurate read from space.

“Nothing for it, Rache,” she muttered as she rose to her full height. “You always wanted to investigate new planets. Here’s your chance.”

Looking up, she was more convinced than ever that the sky road was the way to go. The higher one went, the more congested the branches became from tree to tree. Besides, tree climbing happened to be something she was good at. Her father had spent decades as the Research Director and Head Arborist for the Redwoods Sanctuary in old California. Rachel and her brother had grown up playing in trees that rivaled those of Harp in sheer size and age, if not in number. They’d both climbed almost before they could walk. Harp’s giant trees were so old and wrinkled, with so many hand and footholds, that it was like climbing stairs. And if she stayed above the ground, she wouldn’t have to worry as much about bad topography maps.

When she started her climb, the dawn was barely a hint in the sky, more shadows than light amidst the dense greenery of the forest. By noon, with the sun nearly straight up above her, she was sweating and frustrated and coming to realize that she’d had an unrealistic view of what she’d called the “sky road.” She’d envisioned a nearly seamless network of interconnected branches that she could walk along like a literal road. The reality was somewhat more complicated.

She’d been right about the intertwining branches, but most of them weren’t wide enough for a two-legged animal like herself to move along easily. And even when they were wide enough, they were so tangled up in each other that she’d have had to hack her way through—a job her very excellent combat knife wasn’t really designed for. If she climbed even higher, the congestion was less, but the tree limbs, while sturdy, were even more narrow, and with wide gaps that required jumping. Rachel was in excellent physical condition and considered herself to be more than average athletically, but she didn’t think she was up to the task of making ten-foot leaps while two hundred or more feet in the air. She was determined, not suicidal. Maybe if she’d been born on this planet, or lived here for a decade or two, she’d develop the skills necessary. But for now, the sky road was an excellent natural route, but it was designed for four-legged creatures, like her cat.

Accepting the inevitable, she started for the ground, scraping her arms and bloodying her knuckles in her impatience to get there. There was a growing sense of urgency in the back of her mind, a certainty that time was running out. She had to get to that second ship, had to find Wolfrum, before he did something even worse than capturing a lone wild animal.

Once she hit the ground, she rested just long enough for another energy bar and a sip of water. The scrapes on her forearms were bleeding beneath the long sleeves of her shirt, but she didn’t want to take time to change shirts or properly bandage what were really no more than deep scratches. She’d clean them properly later, when the utter darkness of the Harp night forced her to stop. For now, she had to keep moving, had to make up for the long hours she’d spent climbing up and down and going nowhere. As for her split knuckles, they weren’t even worth noticing. Every climber, whether it was trees or rocks, dealt with scrapes and scratches on their fingers and hands. It was a given.

Checking the location of the sun one more time, noting the direction of its afternoon motion, she set a punishing pace for herself. The deeper she went into the forest, the darker it became, until she walked in a permanent twilight. The sun was still overhead—she caught glimpses now and again, just enough to tell her she was moving in the right direction. But the trees were so dense, so intertwined with vines, that it was cool and shady on the forest floor. She welcomed the cooler air, but worried that it would translate into an early darkness, forcing her to stop much sooner than she would otherwise. She’d clearly been far too optimistic in judging how long her journey would take, and that was assuming—

A huge roar filled the air, so loud that the trees themselves seemed to tremble with its ferocity. Rachel didn’t hesitate. She spun for the nearest tree and began climbing. Whatever that was, whatever creature had sent the entire forest into a frozen silence, she’d be better off up in the trees. The sound came again, but it was even more terrifying as human screams rose above even the thundering howls of the attacking beast. Her mind, which had been drowning in her body’s adrenaline reaction the first time, was ready for it this time and she realized something. It wasn’t one howl, but many, as if an entire pack of great beasts were sounding off as one. It was difficult to pinpoint the direction of the noise, but the higher she went, the easier it became. Because the growls didn’t stop, and the screams only grew louder.

And then she heard the unmistakable sound of a plasma weapon being fired and her own terror grew. She’d read Admiral Nakata’s official briefing on the tragedy that had caused Harp’s break with the fleet. A single weapon could cause untold devastation. She waited for the explosion, but it never came. The weapon went silent, and the screams continued.

She kept climbing, frantic now to see what was happening. Finally, she was high enough to see beyond the trees, high enough that when she twisted around, following the horrific furor, she found herself looking back toward the clearing where her ship was located. Digging into her pack, she pulled out a pair of small but extremely powerful binoculars and trained them on the distant site. A sick feeling was growing in her gut. She’d suspected all along that her cat was more than a typical predator. There had to be a reason Wolfrum and his crew wanted them captured, a reason someone back on Earth was willing to pay so much money, to finance such an expensive mission, just to get their hands on even one of the big cats.

Zooming in on the ship—which was closer than she expected; she hadn’t traveled nearly as far as she’d thought—she saw two big men standing on the ramp below the belly hatch. They were only half dressed, and barely that, wearing loose drawstring trousers and nothing else. The feminine part of her appreciated the view—they were big men in excellent condition with broad chests and beautifully defined shoulders. The rest of her wanted to know who the hell they were and where had they come from. At least until three huge cats, just like her cat, prowled down the ramp as if they belonged there, as if…

Rachel’s stomach surrendered to the horror of what she was seeing. It was only years of expeditionary experience that forced her to swallow the bile pushing its way up her throat. The big cats were looking like victorious conquerors because they were. The howls she’d heard, the screams…

More cats appeared, and the two men turned as if talking to the cats. Were they domesticated then? Had Ripper and her crew attacked someone’s personal stretch of forest and captured not a wild animal, but someone’s…guard animal? Like the giant working dogs of old earth who’d guarded the livestock herds?

But to attack the ship and kill everyone on it—because she had no doubt that everyone on that ship was dead—it seemed an extreme reaction for the capture of one animal, who’d managed to escape anyway, thanks to her.

Rachel stared through the binoculars until her eyes watered, but there were no answers. She saw a cat that might have been hers, but she couldn’t know for sure. There were at least three others with similar coloring, or so she thought. The cats moved so swiftly through the high grasses that it was difficult to identify individuals, or even count their numbers with any surety.

Finally, she stopped trying. Putting away the binoculars, she stared at the distant ship with her own eyes, seeing nothing, trying to decide what she was feeling. She’d traveled across space with those people, spent weeks in their company. And, sure, none of them were in the running to be her best friends, but they’d been her crew.

She drew a deep breath, held it for a moment, then blew it out. It didn’t help. She was going to need more than meditative breathing to deal with this one.

“This isn’t your planet, Rachel,” she whispered to herself. “Maybe Ripper and the others broke some religious taboo by capturing one of the cats. Maybe the locals believed the souls of their ancestors resided in the animals. Or something.”

It sounded unlikely, given the background of the original colonists, but stranger things had happened. Whatever their reasons, the massacre of her former crew only added to her urgency to get to the other ship. There was nothing she could do for her crew. Their own actions had brought on their deaths. But maybe the crew of the other ship didn’t have to die.

She turned and shimmied to the ground, the action almost automatic now, as if she’d been on Harp much longer than she had. She only hoped that familiarity held for the rest of her journey.

…

“I have to go after her.” Aidan didn’t look at Rhodry when he said it, his attention was on the forest, scanning the trees, listening to their song for any hint of Rachel’s presence. He told himself she was okay, that she wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t inexperienced. And if something had happened, if she’d been attacked, the forest would be singing of it. After all, killing a human—even one of the invading Earthers—was worth a note or two.

“Where’s she going? Or where does she believe she’s going, because we both know she won’t get there alone.”

Aidan gave his cousin a sharp look. “You think she’s—”

“I don’t think anything,” Rhodry said quietly. “You hear the trees the same as I do.”

He sighed, not at all sure that was true. Yes, he heard the trees. He’d been listening to their song all his life, from when he’d been a tiny babe, still in his mother’s womb. But Rhodry was their clan leader, born to rule. Maybe he heard—

“We hear it exactly the same, Aidan,” Rhodry said, as if reading his thoughts. “She can’t have gone far.”

Aidan grimaced. “She has some experience, but—”

“But no one’s ready for the Green.”

“Exactly. I think she’ll head for the city. She said someone on Harp had arranged all of this.” He indicated the ship and the dead bodies it now contained. “She wanted to find him and demand answers.”

“No name?”

“No. That’s another reason to track her down.”

Rhodry nodded. “And when you find her?”

Aidan grinned. “I’ll charm her into telling me what I need to know.”

…

Darkness fell in the Green between one moment and the next. The phenomenon was mostly due to Harp’s distance from its sun and a severe axial tilt, but the heavy shadows beneath the trees didn’t help. Rachel knew the planet had three moons, all named after ancient Gaelic goddesses, but none of them were much help tonight. The largest of the three dwarfed the planet itself and appeared only once every few months. The second largest was a more manageable size, but she was visible only one night a month, and it wasn’t tonight. The third was the smallest and most regular, rising in the sky three weeks out of every four, but at such a distance that one could be fooled into thinking she was a planet instead of a moon. The upshot of all this lunar activity was that there was no moonlight for Rachel to continue by. She could have used her LED flashlight, but she’d been walking all day over ground that was deceptively treacherous. At first glance, the forest floor was a carpet of decaying leaves and other small vegetation. In reality, that carpet concealed a myriad of burrow holes and uneven terrain, not to mention the vines that could trap an ankle in an instant. Rachel had tumbled more than once before she identified the markers of that particular vine and learned to avoid them. She was more than grateful for her sturdy hiking boots, which had seen service on several planets. They were worn to such a perfect fit on her foot and ankle that she’d had them resoled to avoid buying a new pair.

But far more taxing than the ground conditions were the trees themselves. The Green was impossibly dense in places, with heavy growth in between the trunks that was spun with such intricacy and, in its own way, beauty, that there was nothing for her to do except walk around. Which would have been simple if there’d been anything resembling a path. But there wasn’t even an animal trail for her to follow.

And so when night fell, Rachel pulled the flashlight from her pocket, turned it on, and contemplated her choices. The flash illuminated an area roughly three feet in every direction. Enough to keep her company, but little else. She shined it up the nearest tree, trying to decide if she wanted to spend another night in the branches, or if she should roll out her high-tech sleeping pad and stay on the ground. Her stomach growled, deciding for her. Or more accurately, it postponed the decision in favor of food. She’d made it through the day on energy bars, which met all of her nutritional needs without even the pretense of satisfying the psychological demands of hunger. Strictly speaking, Rachel was only as hungry as was normal for dinner after a physically active day. But her brain didn’t give a fuck about what her stomach had to say. She was ravenous for something more than a damn granola bar.

If she’d been on a planet she knew well, she’d have hunted, skinned, and cooked her own meal. But since Harp was a complete unknown, she stuck with the six-pack of Meals Ready to Eat, or MREs, that was a standard component of her backpack survival gear. Since the things had an expiration date that encompassed years, rather than months, the one in her pack had been there for…a while. She wasn’t sure when she’d originally packed it, but she was certain that it was still edible. Standard operating procedure for her before setting off on any expedition, whether for a day or a month, included checking the date on her MREs. They weren’t the tastiest meals in the universe, but they were hot and better than an energy bar.

Dropping her pack where she stood, she started pulling gear. First was a small laser-driven fire pack that she immediately set aside. No lasers on Harp. She knew that and thought she’d removed anything laser-related from her gear, but apparently there were a few pieces that she took so much for granted they’d slipped through.

No problem. She had old-fashioned matches, and God knew there was plenty of kindling around. And if she removed the laser mechanism, she could still use the metal box of the pack to contain her fire and prevent it from spreading to the entire forest. She set about disassembling the fire pack and was so focused on her task that she almost missed the first signs of danger.

Almost.

Like a hot breath against the back of her neck, she was suddenly aware that silence had fallen as deeply as the dark. Moving slowly, forcing herself to breathe despite the pounding of her heart, she set the fire pack down and flipped the safety strap off her belt knife. She slid the knife two inches free of its leather scabbard but didn’t pull it yet. Aware of every muscle in her body, and what it would take to launch herself into action if demanded, she pulled her backpack to her side and began untying the crossbow and bolts she had secured there. The bolts came first. In a pinch, if she was forced to fight in close quarters, the heavy iron bolts could serve as weapons. The bow itself was heavy enough to use as a bludgeon, but also awkward enough to require two hands.

She’d just loosed the sheath and was working on the bow when she heard the first rustle of something big moving through the trees. She glanced up but kept working. If it was big, she’d rather shoot from a distance than fight it nose to nose.

There wasn’t the slightest tremble in her fingers as she untied the final leather strap and pulled the bow free. If anything, at times like this she felt preternaturally calm, as if she’d been born to live in the wild and fight for survival. Adrenaline kicked in with a rush, making everything more clear. Her hearing was more acute, bringing into focus the soft susurration of leaves as the creature drew close. Even the shadows in the Green gained definition, painted in blacks and grays instead of a monochrome palette of darkness.

She notched first one bolt, then the second, and raised the bow, turning slightly as she tracked the animal’s progress by sound. She stepped back from the tree she’d been resting against and aimed higher. The creature was right above her, if not in her tree, then very close, jumping down through the branches with no attempt at stealth, as if completely undeterred by her presence. The realization that it didn’t fear her or her weapon gave her pause at last. If it hadn’t learned to fear humans…

She didn’t have time to finish the thought as at least three hundred pounds of something big and hairy, with a mouthful of dangerous teeth suddenly flashed through the beam of her LED, moving through the web of tree branches with a speed that belied its huge size. Without a moment’s pause, it let out a deep-throated bellow, pounding its chest so hard that she could hear the impact of every fist. And a fist it was, because the creature was much like Earth’s primates, with four long limbs, opposable thumbs on the hands, and long-toed feet that gripped branches nearly as well.

Rachel sucked in a shocked breath and regretted it almost immediately, nearly gagging on the animal’s stink. Her eyes watered as she blinked to clear them, but she didn’t need to see the creature to know she was in a fight for her life. She’d seen enough predators on enough planets to know that this one was a killer. She raised her bow. In a flash the animal moved. Faster than she could react, it threw out a long arm from several feet away and knocked the weapon from her hand, raking its claws along her forearm as it did so.

She cried out as much in shock as in pain, but she didn’t cower, didn’t try to escape. She knew predators, knew how they thought. If you ran, they chased. The best way to deal with them, the only way, if you hoped to survive, was to stand fast. The animal was blindingly quick, its attack nothing but a blur of motion. Her arm was agony, a constant shriek of pain and a distinctive heat that told her the wound might be poisoned, which left her with only one good option.

The creature opened its mouth in a cackling cry. She gripped her blade, holding it low to her side.

Confident of its victory, the creature swung to the ground and stalked closer, its eyes a nictitating gleam of green in the darkness, its arms waving back and forth in wide feints. It was playing with its food, she realized.

She watched its approach, waiting for her chance. The animal didn’t know it yet, but she was no easy prey. Even so, she’d have only one shot at this, one shot at survival.

The beast slowed, some instinct warning it at the last minute that it should use caution. Rachel grinned, letting the animal see her teeth. Blunt as they were, it was a provocation to the primitive creature before her. It roared, blasting her with a wave of hot, fetid breath, and then it moved, blindingly fast. There was no time to aim, no time to consider strategy or even target. She simply reacted, stabbing out with seven inches of the best carbon steel. She didn’t stop when she encountered resistance. She pushed harder until her fist slammed into a furry chest, and then she gripped the blade tighter and jammed it upward, nearly suffocated by the long hair and unbearable stench of the animal as it screeched in her ear and fought back. Its arms closed around her and squeezed. Rachel’s lungs emptied, crushed beneath the pressure, as her heart fought to keep beating. Hot blood coated her hand, nearly buried along with her blade in the creature’s chest, but still it kept squeezing, its arms growing tighter. She fought grimly for air but couldn’t move. Her mind raced for a solution. She’d never faced a predator like this. She’d hunted before, she’d defended herself and others. But she’d never fought a battle that was life and death, never had her hand so close to the animal’s heart that she could feel it beating against her own flesh.

Beating heart. She blinked in confusion as clarity slowly dawned. The creature’s heart was so close. If she could just… She wrenched her left hand up between their bodies, fingers meeting on the sturdy handle of the blade. Closing her eyes as she sucked in a final desperate breath, she let go of everything except the need to survive. Both hands gripping the blade, slick fingers twisted with each other, she gave a hard, upward shove.

Blood gushed, hot and toxic, burning her skin as the animal’s heart pumped ferociously, trying to function despite the fatal wound. The creature—whatever it was—slumped forward, which shoved the blade deeper into its chest, shredding more of its heart and severing critical arteries and veins. Rachel stumbled back under the weight, grunting as she hit the ground, thick roots digging into her spine as the full heft of her attacker pressed her into the dirt. She gasped for air, thinking how ironic it would be for her to have killed the animal only to have its dead carcass crush the air from her lungs.

“Oh hell no,” she muttered, spitting out a mouthful of the beast’s hair.

Putting her shoulder into it, she shoved up and rolled, throwing the dead animal to the ground with her on top.

“Disgusting.” She fought the desire to vomit, suddenly glad she’d had so little to eat that day. She remained there for a few minutes, straddling the creature, letting fresh air fill her lungs. A sudden wracking cough reminded her that there was no such thing as fresh air within five feet of this thing, dead or alive.

Finally pushing herself upright, she staggered far enough away that she could draw breath and sank to the forest floor. She’d move in a minute. She had to get up, had to get away from the carcass. The scavengers would come soon enough, and they wouldn’t be picky about whether the meat they munched was dead or alive. It was one thing to fight off a lone, big hairy thing, but it was something else entirely to survive a swarm of tiny, vicious biters. She didn’t know what kind of scavengers they had on Harp, but she knew, whatever they were, she didn’t want to deal with them tonight.

She peeled off her fitted, long-sleeve shirt first. It was a goner—stiff with the creature’s blood, reeking of that awful stench, and irritating her skin where it made direct contact. She had a second top underneath. It was short-sleeved and not as warm, but that was okay, because the lightweight thermal jacket in her pack retained more heat than jackets twice its size. Rolling the destroyed shirt into a ball, she tossed it back on top of the carcass, where it would disintegrate as the carcass rotted. The dead animal must have a name or designator. It was too vicious a predator to have gone unnoticed. She’d have to find out what it was, so she could enter it in her notes. One didn’t survive a fight like that and not make note of it.

Before pulling on the jacket, she took what was left of the water she’d been sipping during the day and poured it over her hands and arms. The blood was having a toxic effect on her skin, turning it red and itchy. Rachel hoped it was no more than that, but even a topical irritation could become serious. She followed the water with a couple of cleansing wipes and donned her jacket. The night was cold, and she still hadn’t managed to eat anything.

She needed food and a fire. She needed to get moving.

She bent to pick up her backpack, swinging it up, sliding her arms into the straps and settling it on her shoulders. A sudden flash of movement in the trees made her jerk in dismay. Another one of the creatures? A mate perhaps? But, no. Rational thought defeated panic, and she remembered the stink of the dead animal when it attacked, the rustling sound it made as it slid from branch to branch through the trees.

This was different. More graceful somehow, sliding through the trees like liquid…gold. Golden fur. She searched the surrounding trees, convinced her cat was back. It had moved like that, graceful and deadly. But though she searched until her eyes burned, she didn’t find him. Sighing, she settled her pack more firmly and buckled the straps, then turned her back on the dead creature and took a step…

“You can eat that, you know.”

Rachel stifled a shriek of surprise and stared at the man standing just a few feet away, blocking her escape.

“They smell bad, but they taste good.” He took a step closer. “Good job taking him down, by the way. Pongos are a nasty lot. You must be stronger than you look.”

Scowling inwardly at the backhanded compliment, she raised her light and flashed it in his direction, starting low as a warning, but quickly moving it up his very large body to his face. His lids closed down to almost nothing, before gradually opening to reveal gold-flecked eyes that gleamed too brightly in the glow of her light. Rachel blinked. He appeared human, but that retinal reaction wasn’t quite normal. And his clothes—a lightweight tunic over similarly lightweight, loose-fitting pants and soft boots—definitely weren’t fleet or any other Earth origin.

She was looking at a native of Harp, a descendent of those long-ago colonists. Simple courtesy demanded she drop her light, but she couldn’t stop staring. He was good-looking, though she couldn’t see many details. His hair was light, probably blond, and hung past his shoulders, which were broad and thick with muscle that even the loose tunic couldn’t disguise. He was also very tall, easily over six feet, which spoke to the genetic traits of the original colonists, but also to their survival. They hadn’t simply survived, they’d clearly thrived.

She tilted her head, frowning.

“I know you,” she said, puzzled as to how that could be.

“Not likely, sweetheart.”

She did a double take at the familiar endearment. She’d known that Harp natives spoke the trade common language, but she’d somehow expected something…different. He was right, however. There was no way she could know…

Her eyes went wide as knowledge tightened her chest. “You were at the ship,” she whispered. “You killed them all.”

…

“We delivered justice,” Aidan corrected. He was grateful to Rachel for what she’d done in getting him off that ship, but he would not apologize for defending his people and his planet.

She shook her head. “You used those cats. They could have been killed, and you—”

He made a scoffing noise. “Those cats are more dangerous than any human, lass. Believe me. They were never at risk.”

“But why risk them at all?”

“Because it was a cat those bastards tried to capture. Justice was theirs.”

She shook her head. “There are laws against what that ship’s crew did, and the fleet is responsible for Harp. They should have been turned over to—”

He interrupted her with a bark of laughter. “Harpers are responsible for Harp. Your fleet has no authority here. That ship was on our planet, killing and imprisoning our animals, and destroying our forests. It was our right to determine punishment, our laws, not your beloved fleet’s. For all we know, the damn fleet was the one buying the cat they captured.”

She had the grace to look uncomfortable at that. If she had any knowledge of United Earth Fleet at all, she had to know that it was a strong possibility they’d financed the hunt. She finally met his eyes, seeming more sad than angry. “But…did they have to die? I don’t question your jurisdiction,” she hurried to add, “and what they did, what they planned to do, was monstrous and unforgiveable, but—”

“There’s no ‘but,’” he said with a gentleness he wasn’t feeling. He wanted to shout at her, to tell her that he was the cat they’d kidnapped, that they’d known what he was and had still intended to cage him, to force-breed him for their experiments. But he bit back the words, not willing to trust her with that much truth. “We have families living in the Green,” he said instead. “Our children play here. Do you think your friends worried about them? Do you know easily someone could have been hurt with all that wild gunfire?”

She paled. “Please tell me no one was killed,” she whispered.

“No people,” he clarified. “But the Green is filled with living things, all of which are necessary to this ecosystem which, in turn, supports our continued survival. Though I doubt your friends knew or cared about that when they began their destructive campaign.”

She sighed deeply, then seemed to gather her courage. “So if there was someone on Harp who’d helped the ship evade detection, and who’d known what they were going to do, you’d—”

Aidan went predator still. Fighting back a growl, he asked, “We have a traitor? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“No,” she insisted, biting her lip in obvious distress. “Well…” She stared at him in indecision, then sighed and said, “Yes. I think so. That’s what I’m trying to find out. But if there was somebody…I mean, you must have laws. He’d go on trial. Your president—”

“Ardrigh.”

“Right, your Ardrigh,” she repeated, carefully pronouncing the unfamiliar word. Ard-ree.

“There are laws,” he agreed, then gave her a smug smile. “But you’re in clan territory now. The Ardrigh has no authority here.”

“Clan territory? What does that mean?”

“It means the best fighters and fiercest hunters on the planet all hail from the mountain clans, and the Ardrigh is smart enough to reward our loyalty by not interfering in our affairs. It means anyone invading clan territory with an eye toward harming the forests or anyone living there, human or otherwise, will be judged by the clans, not the city.”

She stared at him unhappily. “The person responsible is more dangerous than you know. If I’m right, he’s risked everything for this. He won’t hesitate to kill you, and he won’t care how much damage he does to Harp.”

“Let us worry about that. Where is he?”

Her expression shut down. “I’ll tell you. But I’m going with you.”

Aidan pushed away from the tree to stare at her. “I don’t think so. Time is of the essence, and you’ll slow me down.”

She actually appeared to be offended at that. “Well, then, I guess you’ll be figuring out who he is on your own.” She turned away and hefted that big pack onto her back. “Nice meeting you. Not that I did.”

She would have left then, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. She looked from his hand to his face, giving him a challenging stare, as if ready to take him on for daring to touch her. He was amused at the prospect. No question she was tough and capable. She’d taken on a pongo and survived. Sure, the animal had been a young female, but it was still impressive. But he was no mindless pongo, for fuck’s sake. He was a shifter. She wouldn’t stand a chance against him. Of course, she didn’t know that. Hell, even if he’d been nothing but an ordinary human male, he still outweighed her by a good hundred pounds of mostly muscle.

“You can’t stay out here alone,” he said.

…

Rachel gave the hand on her arm a cool look. He’d said that last as if the subject were closed. As if he’d decided, and she would obey.

Not likely. Her back stiffened, and she looked up to meet his assessing gaze. “I’ll be fine,” she informed him. “I have maps, I’m armed, and I have years of experience in the wild.”

“Not Harp’s wild, you don’t. You won’t last a day.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said dryly, “but I’ve survived worse.” She gave the dead animal a meaningful glance, and when he opened his mouth to argue some more, she cut him off.

“Look, the man who hired me for this mission, your traitor, has put more than his reputation on the line. He’s put mine right there beside him. Not to mention my fucking life. He owes me some answers. Hell, he owes this planet more than that. I’m going to find him and demand an explanation, no matter what it takes.”

“You’re sure he’s on Harp,” the blond said, his tone calculating.

“Yes, probably in your city,” she said, deliberately not mentioning the second landing site. She didn’t want this guy and his people looking for that ship. It wouldn’t be as simple this time. Not even the most vicious pack of giant cats would be enough. Her crew had been wounded and unprepared. If Wolfrum somehow found out the first ship had been discovered and its crew destroyed… If, for example, this hunter’s clan had sent word to the Ardrigh about it… Clearly Wolfrum had connections enough to get the two ships on-planet in the first place. What if he had a spy in the Ardrigh’s circle? If the second ship was armed as heavily as hers had been, they could wipe out an army of local clansmen in a matter of minutes. They wouldn’t give a damn how much damage their weapons did to the Green or to Harp. Their only concern would be escape.

Rachel would have liked a companion for the journey. Particularly this one. It wasn’t his looks, or not simply his looks, though they were fine enough. But there was something different about him that intrigued her, something more than a little bit wild that called to the adventurous part of her soul. The way his eyes glinted gold in the firelight as they studied her, following her smallest move just as a predator would. The confidence in his big, muscled body, the grace in his every move. It made no sense, and yet, more than anything, he reminded her of the big cat who’d so captivated her that she’d been willing to risk everything to set him free.

Unfortunately, he also refused to see reason, despite the evidence of her abilities now stinking up the small clearing. But her mind was made up. Her ship and crew were gone, which left her only one option if she wanted the truth—find Wolfrum and demand answers, or failing that, contact the local fleet authorities. They couldn’t all be corrupt. “I have maps. I’ll be fine,” she said again.

He eyed her unhappily, clearly trying to decide what to do with her, not seeming to understand that she didn’t need him to do anything. She’d take care of herself, thank you very much. She was worried about the cat, though. “The cat they captured was tranquilized heavily,” she said. “There might be some lingering effects, and I don’t want him to get hurt because he can’t defend himself or move about properly.”

“The cat’s fine, lass. Fully recovered and then some. He led the pack that tore that ship apart.”

“I wondered. I’m glad he’s recovered.” She swung the backpack around and slipped her other arm into the strap. “Well, I imagine the scavengers will be homing in on this carcass soon,” she said, reminding him about the dead creature, which shouldn’t have needed any reminder. With Harp’s jungle-like climate, the stench was quickly attaining unbelievable heights. “So I’m going to get going.”

…

Aidan had no intention of letting her walk away, but he liked her spirit. “Fine, then. You lead, I’ll follow. But I need to know where we’re going, and what guidance you’re using to get us there. This is the Green. There are no maps that give the whole truth about its dangers.”

She regarded him for a long moment, as if deciding whether he could be trusted, then shrugged—not as if she’d decided, but as if she had no other choice. It was vaguely insulting and made him wonder if she could be trusted. What was on her precious map that she didn’t want him to see? It had to be more than directions to the city, because he didn’t need a fucking map to find that. Even she must understand that much. And he sure as hell didn’t need some Earther woman judging his honor when he’d spent most of his life—”

“All right,” she said, interrupting his private soliloquy. “I’ll show you what I have, but I suspect you’re right about its usefulness. It doesn’t have enough detail to provide an accurate topography.”

“An accurate topography,” he repeated, grinning. “We’re going to work great together. I can tell.” He laughed at the squinty-eyed glare she gave him.

“Can we at least move away from that first? Unless you’d like to eat it for dinner?” she added sweetly.

He winked. “No thanks. And you’re right. The scavengers are already gathering.” He could hear them in the treetops and underbrush, circling. He didn’t tell her that it was only his presence keeping them at bay. “We should head out that way,” he gestured. “I’ll take the lead. If it’s all right with you, that is.”

She rolled her eyes but turned to follow him. “I don’t think we’re going to work that well together at all,” she muttered, no doubt thinking he couldn’t hear. But he did and it made him grin. Because he had a feeling they were going to get along very well, indeed.

…

Rachel followed him through the nighttime forest, impressed by the ease with which he maneuvered between trees and around obstacles as if he could see in the dark. She had her little flashlight, which she’d offered to him. His words had been polite enough, though his expression had been more amusement than gratitude.

“You keep it. I’m accustomed to the dark,” he said, then turned and kept going.

Rachel swallowed her sigh. She was tired, though she’d never admit it to— She frowned. What was his name? “I’m Rachel, by the way,” she said, aiming for a friendly tone.

“Aidan.”

That’s all he said. Just his name. He might be one hell of a good-looking man and move like a giant jungle creature, but he wasn’t a great conversationalist.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked.

She was so surprised by his question that she stumbled. “Sure,” she said, glad that his back was to her so he couldn’t see.

He stopped and turned. “You okay?”

So much for him not seeing her tripping on her own feet. “Yeah, there’s just a lot of—”

“The ground’s especially uneven around here,” he offered unexpectedly. No joke at her expense, not even another smug look of amusement. “And the dark doesn’t help, I know. We’ll travel mostly in daylight after this. But I wanted to get away from the carcass before the scavengers became impatient.” He tilted his head, studying her for a moment. “Why’d you help the cat?”

Rachel blinked at the abrupt change of topic, and then asked in surprise, “How do you know I—?”

“The cats are important to us. We keep track. So, why help him?”

She looked up at him, meeting eyes that definitely weren’t human norm. The pupil appeared to have changed shape as they’d moved farther into the darkness under the trees, adapting to the absence of light. It was certainly a possible evolution on a planet with minimal technology. And it would explain the ease with which he traversed the cluttered ground of the Green.

“I didn’t come here to capture a trophy animal for some collector back on Earth, or to give the fleet something new to torment. I mean, yes,” she amended at his doubtful look, “I was on that ship, but their mission was never mine. I was told this was for research. That we had the Ardrigh’s permission to study, not capture, the cats. I’m a scientist, not a murderer.” She looked away, then continued more subdued. “When I saw what they did, what they meant to do…” She shrugged. “I didn’t sign up for that. There was no question in my mind that I had to get him out of there.”

“And we’re grateful you did. Like I said, the cats are important to us.”

“And you’re sure my cat’s okay?”

He grinned crookedly. “Your cat?”

Rachel blushed, hoping his night vision wasn’t good enough to see. “I was worried about him when he didn’t come back. And then I saw the attack…”

“How did you see the attack?” he asked, as if it had just occurred to him. “There was no one around; I’d have known.”

“There must be limits to what even you can do,” she said, teasing him dryly. “I was roughly three-hundred yards away in a tree, using binoculars, obviously.”

“Obviously. You climbed a tree?” he asked, his tone skeptical, as if that was the most unbelievable part of her explanation.

She gave him a flat look. “Yes, Aidan, I climbed a tree.”

His teeth flashed in another grin, which was somehow just as charming as it was irritating.

“Your cat’s fine,” he said. “All the cats are fine. There were some minor injuries in the raid, but they heal quickly.”

“Oh. Well, good.”

He reached out and cupped her cheek, shocking her into stillness. His hand was more than warm. It was like a brand against her skin, reminding her of something she couldn’t quite place. The scientist in her registered the heat and what it might mean for his metabolism—for healing and longevity. But the woman…she caught herself rubbing her cheek against the calloused palm. She looked up and met the odd glow of his eyes. Without thinking, she took a half step closer as Aidan tipped his head down and—

She froze as loud yipping and whining erupted from behind them, like the Earth hyenas she’d seen on video, but somehow creepier. Maybe because this time she was in a dark forest along with them. But for all that, she was grateful for the distraction. Had she been about to kiss Aidan? Had he been about to kiss her? She swallowed, desire sliding down her throat like a hard apple.

“I’m guessing those are some of those scavengers you mentioned,” she said, refusing to look at him as she needlessly adjusted the straps on her pack. “How much farther do you think we’ll go tonight?”

His broad fingers brushed over her bowed head to tug on her braid, which had to be a wreck by now, what with all the climbing trees and fighting off vicious beasts. Her head came up, and she fought the urge to run a smoothing hand over it.

“Not much farther,” he said. “About half a mile’s walk, and we’ll rest for the night.”

“And in the morning?”

“We’ll take a look at that map of yours. Let’s hope it’s good enough to give us a trail.”