ATOP A BARREN hill overlooking a waterfall, Tiwaz stood gazing morosely out into the distance. She glanced over her shoulder, speaking wolflen. “When are you going to come out? You have been there for an hour.”

Tracker emerged from the thicket, straightening to his full height in a stretch before joining her. “Two hours. It usually does not take you so long to notice me.” He looked down at her, studying her profile. “Nor so long to call me out. I expected you to come to the huts at sunrise. I even went to Smith and he said you had left long before. Is my company not enough when Doom-Not-Demon hunts alone?”

She winced at the last word, looking away. “My absence was not your fault. I enjoy your company very much. I wanted to think, and I lost track of time, that’s all.” She closed her eyes, leaning against him when he stood behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “Forgive me.”

“Doom-Not-Demon is right,” he pointed out, his cheek resting against her hair. “You are a terrible liar.” He tightened his embrace enough to keep her from moving away. “You cannot lose track of time while watching the sun move in the sky, Cat-Sister. I noticed you have been troubled since you first came to my father to ask to be taught hunting. But I am not very familiar with human behavior, and you are not born human. I thought I was imagining troubles. But ever since the solstice, the shadows over your heart have grown darker.” He paused. “Enough that Doom-Not-Demon asked me to watch over you in his absence.”

“There is nothing wrong,” she insisted.

Unconvinced, he moved to stand in front of her, putting his finger beneath her chin to tilt her face up, moving to catch her eyes with his. “We are pack-kith. You can tell me anything.”

“Why hasn’t Pack Leader and Shaman named you to your own hunting pack yet?” She captured his hand, pressing his palm against her cheek. “You should run with a real pack. Doom and I are outsiders. I am not even a very good hunter compared to either of you.”

The young wolflen snorted, frowning. “There is more to a pack than hunting, and more to being named to a pack than Shaman and my sire formalizing it.” He moved their clasped hands over his heart. “I have the choice. I am happy running with you and your pack-brother. And,” he pointed out with gentle sternness, “you are avoiding telling me what bothers you.”

She smiled wanly, then sighed, looking down. “Yes. I am.” He tilted her head up with a gentle touch; she answered the question in his eyes. “I do not tell you because I do not want to be a burden.”

Tracker scowled at the nuances beneath her words, the fur along his spine rising. “You have never been nor ever could be a burden, Cat-Sister. What torments you? Even Shaman worries about you, and he usually concerns himself only with traditions and duty.” He let her pull away to walk to the flat rock overlooking the waterfall. “Tell me. Please.”

“I do not know the words to explain,” she said after many long minutes. She held her hands out, looking at her wrists. “So much has changed. There is so much I do not know. So much I do not understand. All I ever knew was slavery. All I ever knew was the arenas. The only person I ever had I could trust with my life was Doom.”

The wolflen growled deep in his chest. “You and Doom-Not-Demon…you were slaves? Someone thought to own you?” She nodded, unlacing the bracers to reveal the dreadful scars and discolored flesh. He touched them with great tenderness. “I have seen slave wounds in humans. I have seen many, many types of wounds. But I have seen nothing like these.”

“Our former master stole us from our homes in the Southern Wildlands when we were children. I lost my memory from injuries I had gotten.” The more she told him, the more upset he became, his long fangs bared, though his touch on her wrists remained gentle. “He mutilated Doom by taking his horns and wings, then mocked him by putting them on his dog. Then he…then he…” She clenched her fists, turning away. “He put magic in me that chained my natural abilities. I did not even know I was a shape-shifter until a dragon removed the magic poisoning me.”

“Is this man dead?” he demanded, the fur on his spine perpendicular to his backbone. “Did he suffer for the evils he had done?” She shook her head. “He yet lives?! Why?”

“Because we could not kill him. When I defied him and threw off his spell compelling me to kill in the arena, he beat me until I was on death’s edge. But I was still alive when Doom came for me. Barely. Even he thought I was going to die and escaped just so I would be free when I did…except I didn’t die.” She started to turn away in shame, but he pulled her against him instead, holding her fiercely tight. “Our former master believes we are both dead. He will not come here and endanger your people.”

“I know he won’t because I know neither you nor Doom-Not-Demon would stay if it might endanger any of us. I worry more about you, Cat-Sister,” Tracker murmured. “To know your tormentor lives is a terrible burden to bear. But you are safe here. If your pack-brother is not here to protect you, I will stand in his place.” He looked hurt and worried when she pushed away from him, turning away. “Am I not enough?”

“I am not enough!” she almost wept. “I have more than I had ever dreamed of having. I never even knew what I did not have until Doom escaped with me. I have no master. I have no chains. No poisoned magic taints me. I have Doom. I have you. People accept me here. I have a home.” He drew back, eyes wide in shock when she turned to him abruptly, her face wet with atypical tears. “Why does it still feel like someone cut a hole in me?! Why?” She grabbed the sides of her head, falling to her knees and screaming in agony and frustration. “What is wrong with me?”

Tracker knelt, perplexed and afraid for her. Finally, she let him pull her hands away from her head and hold her. He stroked her hair soothingly as she clung to him. He stared out into the distance, not knowing what else to do.