Page 18 of Moon Chosen

“No one knows why canines make their choices,” Nik said, hating that he couldn’t stop himself from sounding defensive and desperate.

“True, we do not know why canines make their choices, but we do know why they do not.”

“Not always!” Nik tried hard to control his anger. “My mother was the most talented artist of the Tribe. She was beautiful and smart and loved by all, and she wasnevermade a Companion.”

“Ah, but did it eat at her spirit as it eats at yours?”

“You were her favorite teacher. You know the answer to that question as well as I do, Carver. Were my mother here she would say the asking of it was unworthy of you.”

“I have no doubt that she would. I also have no doubt that she would have words for you as well, Nikolas. Words that you might not want to hear.” As if their exchange had wearied him, the old man deflated back on his chair, slowly stroking the Terrier, who stiffly climbed onto his lap. “Ignore this old man’s musings, the both of you. Nikolas, you are free to join the Tribe in celebration.”

“Nik, let’s go! The sun has almost set. We’re going to miss the last of the rays, and there’ll be a celebration tonight. It’s going to be ridiculously crowded. We need to get to the Gathering before the best perches are taken.” O’Bryan bowed his head to the Carver. “Sir, do you need help to make it to the Gathering?”

“No, son. Paladin is all the help I need. We shall follow you—slow and steady, slow and steady.” His sharp gaze went to Nik. “Nikolas, I need not see you on the morrow.”

Nik frowned and his hand went to the crossbow he had been carving, tracing the intricate design he had begun. “Sir, the stock isn’t finished.”

“The stock will wait.”

“Should I return the day after tomorrow?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Wait for my call. When I believe you are ready to resume your training I will send Paladin for you,” said the old man.

Nik felt his cheeks grow warm.Did the Carver think to punish him for speaking his mind?“You expect me to just wait for your call? Like I am a novice in training and not a skilled artisan?”

“I expect you to do as you are told, Nikolas. And no one would dare to question your skill as an artisan—it is indeed as vast as your skill as a bowman. It is only your skill as a human being that I dispute. Perhaps with a break from your carving duties you will discover a way to apprentice more successfully for your humanity.”

Nik felt his hands fist in impotent fury. If the Carver wasn’t four times his age and half dead already Nik would make him regret his harsh words.

“Cuz, it is past time for us to go,” O’Bryan prodded.

“You’re right, cousin,” Nik said, turning his back to the old man and his gray-muzzled Terrier. “I’m more than ready to go.”

***

The familiar excitement that filled the Tribe after a choosing was bittersweet for Nik. It was hard not to be caught up in the celebration. Another Companion had been made. A Leader had been chosen, demonstrating once again that the Tribe continued to thrive. Five Shepherds had been whelped and all five had survived to be weaned and grow to almost six months of age. And now four of the five had chosen Companions. Nik’s father’s Laru was siring strong, intelligent canines—a sure sign that the Sun was blessing the Tribe of the Trees. That made Nik feel secure in the strength of his people. And yet Nik was heading into his twenty-fourth winter and no pup—Leader or Hunter—had so much as given him a glance during a choosing.

“The old man was right.”

“Huh?” O’Bryan called from over the laughter and music of the Tribe’s celebration. He lifted the wooden pitcher from a convenient niched fork of branches in the massive pine. “Ready for more beer?”

“Sure, why not?” Nik held out his barely touched beer mug to his cousin.

O’Bryan grabbed a jutting branch and pulled the little hammock-like swing toward his cousin, topping off his mug with frothy, yeasty spring beer. “Don’t let what the Master Carver said get to you. You know he’s not well.”

Nik looked away from his cousin’s kind gaze and repeated, “The old man was right. It’s winters past when I should have been made a Companion. There’s something wrong with me.”

“That’s beetle shit and you know it. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Then why haven’t I been chosen? An old woman gets a second chance,” Nik thrust his chin in the direction of the group of the jubilant people who surrounded Maeve and Fortina in their place of honor near his father. “And I sit here with my dick in my hand.”

O’Bryan grinned. “Sothat’sa dick. And all this time I thought you were holding a mug in your hand. No wonder I can’t get one of those pretty maids to take me seriously.”

“I’m not joking,” Nik said, scowling.

“Cuz, did you ever think that you haven’t been chosen yet because the perfect Companion for you hasn’t been born yet?”

Nik opened his mouth to respond, but his words were stopped by the sight of the big male pup trotting through the Tribe, making his way confidently to where his littermate was cozied beside Maeve. He touched noses with Fortina, and then affectionately licked Maeve’s offered hand before settling next to his littermate. He put his nose on his paws and yawned. Then, before he closed his eyes, the male gazed across the Gathering platform, unerringly finding Nik. The pup’s unique amber eyes met Nik’s. Nik stopped breathing. The pup held his gaze, and held it, and then held it even longer. Slowly, the pup closed his eyes and slept.