him growing. His rutting, while always fierce, was even more so with each passing night.
She understood. Her nerves were stretching tighter and tighter, too.
Before Grif, she had been miserable and unhappy and solely alone except for Sharluff. Now, she had so much.
Which also meant she had so much more to lose.
Low growls reverberated through the air.
Sharluff!
She’d left him near the shore contentedly snacking on his own dofels meal. He no longer sounded so relaxed.
If he’d gotten free again, they were both going to be in trouble.
She hurried around the last turn. His big feathered body came into view. Her steps slowed.
He was still tied by two strong ropes to a boulder even larger than him, but he wasn’t alone. Someone else hovered nearby.
“You can pet him if you like.” Nayla advanced, working to hide her surprise.
Cam whirled around, her eyes wide. “Oh, you startled me.” She clutched her chest. “He is so unusual looking.”
“Yes. And loud while he eats.” Nayla had not spoken one-on-one to any of the females since her last talk with Lana, but Cam, with her quiet, reserved manner, seemed a good place to restart.
Rising onto her tiptoes, she dug her fingers into the feathers behind Sharluff’s ears and gave him his favorite greeting. “Give me your hand. Let him smell us together.”
After a small hesitation, Cam moved closer. The thin scar on her cheek all the more prominent now that her face was pale. “You’re sure he won’t bite?”
“Yes. If I can get Sharluff to not bite Malin, I am sure I can get him to not bite you.”
Cam didn’t laugh.
Nayla cleared her throat.
“With me here, he will feel comfortable. We take it slow.” She took Cam’s hand, and guided it to Sharluff’s neck.
Her pet shifted under the strange touch, but quieted under Nayla’s repeated coos. Soon, he was leaning into Cam’s palm, especially after she learned to scratch behind the small earholes at the top of the neck.
Nayla removed her hand. Cam kept stroking. Sharluff remained content.
“It’s working.” The female never smiled, but she seemed pleased.
Nayla remembered what Grif had told her in the night. How Cam had been one of the females in 223’s prison. How each time he looked at her it renewed his determination to bring Melody and Hope’s mother home. It made Nayla wonder if being on this mission was Cam’s way of healing, too.
“Yes. Sharluff is not so scary now.”
“He’s not as scary. But that’s not saying much.”
Nayla was almost certain that was an attempted joke. She wasn’t sure, though. Clearly, neither she nor Cam had much practice.
It made her feel closer to the other female.
“Have you always kept him tied up?” Cam studied the intricate knots Grif had done to keep Sharluff from breaking free.
A stab of guilt. “No. When it is just me and Sharluff, he roams free. But Grif thinks it is better for everyone’s nerves.” She patted Sharluff’s side and barely missed getting poked by his beak as he scratched his front leg. “Better anyway, because there is always a chance he just go home.”
“He knows his way?”
“Yes. One time, when running from animal attack, I was knocked out. He carried me to village for help.”
“That must have been scary.”
“It was.” She’d woken up in Talg’s dwelling, his enraged face looming above, but that was not a story she would share with anyone but Grif. “I would not have given such a command, but his instinct to protect me is strong.”
“Amazing.” Shadows thickened Cam’s voice. “That kind of loyalty is rare.”
Again, Nayla wondered about the pain beneath the other female’s words.
“What are you doing out here?” The barked question made Nayla jump.
Cam’s spine snapped straight, her hands leaving Sharluff to fist at her sides. The animal growled and chuffed.
Nayla didn’t have to turn around to recognize the speaker. The suspicion shading the voice was indicator enough. Her heart beat fast.
“We are petting Sharluff.” Keeping a hand on her pet to hold him in check, she turned to bring Malin into her sights.
Ever since the incident with Sharluff, he’d been even more hostile.
Before Grif, such a harsh tone from a male would have sent her cowering to her knees, terrified of punishment. No longer. Of course, the instinct was still there, but she fought it, Grif’s words of praise and strength ringing in her ears.
“What are you doing here?” she challenged instead.
There was a long pause as if Malin debated whether to even answer. Finally, he did. “Patrolling. You can’t be too careful these rotations.” Contempt blazed