The Ice Ghost by Kathleen O'Neal Gear

Author:Kathleen O'Neal Gear [Gear, Kathleen O'Neal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2022-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

22

LYNX

The sweet tang of pines carries on the wind.

The storm was so powerful it scoured the snow completely off long strips of the mountainside. Rather than slog through snowdrifts, I’m using the open patches of gravel and dirty ice, leaping from one to another like a giant lion, then trotting where we can, heading for the pine grove that whiskers the curve of the mountain.

I’ve lost sight of Xeno. His trail across the slope above us was visible for a while, but it vanished in a rim of eyebrow-like cornices.

Panting behind me, RabbitEar says, “Took us longer to get here than you thought. You said two hands of time.”

“Sorry. I found the fastest path I could.”

When we enter the mosaic of shadows cast by the flailing branches, I hear the long drawn-out howl of a wolf. It’s almost ghostly, rising and falling with the gusts like a hawk struggling to ride the fierce air currents that rip the upper reaches of the sky. The kind that twist the clouds into fantastic creatures.

When the howl comes again, closer this time, I turn to RabbitEar. “That’s Xeno.”

RabbitEar holds a hand over his eyes to scan the grove of trees. “I don’t see him. You sure that isn’t just another wolf?”

“I know his howl.”

Ice crystals coat the pointed ears of RabbitEar’s hood, and glitter when he lowers his hand and turns to face me. “He’s an odd pet, Lynx,”

“Xeno is not a pet. He belongs to himself. He’s as wild and ferocious as they come.”

“Tear out your throat on a whim?”

“If he doesn’t like you, yes. He followed Arakie’s orders, but not mine.”

RabbitEar smiles as he wraps one of the wolf legs around his throat with the kind of flourish worthy of a high clan matron. “Where did you find him?”

“He found me. Or rather, he found me and Arakie.”

“And he’s stayed with you ever since?”

“He comes and goes as it pleases him. He’s often gone for weeks at a time.”

Picking my way through the trees, it doesn’t take long to realize there’s a solid sheet of ice beneath the snow. “Careful here, RabbitEar,” I call over my shoulder. “This gully must have been running water a few days ago. This is more like skating than walking.”

“Already know that,” he says, and I hear twigs snap and crackle as he grabs for the nearest branch.

Two small ponds decorate the forest floor ahead. They’re flat and frozen smooth, easier for walking, but I have no idea how deep they are, or if there’s still water beneath the layer of ice.

“You’re not planning on walking across those frozen ponds, are you? The last thing either of us needs is to get wet. That could be deadly.”

I shake my head. “I’m not walking across the ponds. I know there’s no time to build a fire to dry out.”

“Good. I was worried.”

When we manage to slip and slide our ways to an opening in the trees, I turn and gaze down the mountain looking for the Dog Soldier, but I don’t see him.

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