Shift (The Pandorma Adventures Book 1) (19 page)

I strike out for the shallower water. Holding Ryan’s shirt between my jaws I place my back paws firmly on the bank and I ram my shoulders into the ice with as much force as I can. My lungs start burning with the need for air. I smack the ice again, then again. A satisfying
crack
reverberates above me. I lug Ryan up half way; gulping in a lungful of precious air before I enlarge the hole and lift myself out. I carefully drag Ryan onto shore.
Lissa.

“Ryan!”

No response.
No!
I take in his painfully blue lips and pale skin. The water must’ve been really cold—my fur was so thick I barely felt a chill. I put my hands on his chest then pump three times, hoping I’m doing this correctly.

“Ryan!” I yell.

I flutter my eyes closed, drawing in my reserves of strength. I part Ryan’s mouth and put mine up to his, a jolt goes through me but I don’t back off. I breathe out; angling my eyes so I can make sure his chest rises. It does.
Whew.
I put my hands on his chest again.
Pump, pump, pump.
Again I breathe into him, and again I pump on his chest. I’m about to give him another breath when Ryan takes a massive, choking gulp of air. Gently I roll him onto his side.

“Ryan?”

“Lissa!” Shiver yells fearfully.

Shiver.
I stand up and look around for her. Far off I spy her bouncing around in the snow. The snow is about as high as my knees which means it’s well over her head—her head just reaches the middle of my shin.

I take a step in her direction but the sound of Ryan coughing up water stops me. I look back at him. His eyes don’t open and he starts shivering uncontrollably. I kneel down next to him.

“Open your eyes! Look at me!” I shout desperately. Nothing. I grit my teeth and hit the snow. I look back to where I saw Shiver. She’s not bouncing around anymore so I can’t see her.
Grr.
I feel torn. I can’t leave Ryan or he might freeze to death, but Shiver is so tiny and she could freeze too.
Ryan is in more danger,
I tell myself, but this doesn’t keep from feeling guilty about taking care of him before taking care of Shiver.
Polar bear. You’re not dying on me Ryan.
I refuse to let him.

“Shiver I’m over here!” I yell while I try to pull Ryan onto my shoulders. Scanning the wintry wilderness I fix my gaze on a rocky outcrop and lumber toward it.

I cautiously slide Ryan off my shoulders and place him in the cave. I stare numbly at his violently shivering body before firmly shaking my head.
Lissa. Heat. He needs heat.
I shed my coat and with difficulty begin putting it on him.
No, dummy, he can’t warm with a soaking shirt on. Right.
I pull the jacket back off and grab the corners of Ryan’s shirt. Sucking in a breath, I hesitate. Ryan lets out a hacking cough. I brace myself then hurriedly take his shirt off, rapidly tugging on the jacket afterwards.
Polar bear.
I spoon out any snow lying in the small cave-like structure then I race to the nearest tree.

I hear Shiver call out again as I snatch up branches off the ground and carry them back in my mouth. When I have a good stack I stop. I don’t know whether it will work or not but I have to try. I don’t have a specific image of a dragon, but hopefully a shady picture will do.
Dragon.
At first my body doesn’t move, as if it doesn’t know how to shape itself. But I focus harder and slowly it takes shape. I suck in a breath then let it out on the pile of sticks. Weak fire pours on them and they don’t light. I try again. Little flames flicker feebly before being extinguished. I try five more times, desperation building; I let out a massive roar of fury that causes the structure to tremble when my sixth attempt fails.
Lissa.

Stomping over to Ryan I listen closely to his breathing; super shallow breaths on my ear. I carefully move Ryan up against the far wall then leave.
Wolf.
Snow is starting to fall and the wind has picked up.

“Shiver!”

At first there’s no answer but when I call again there’s a small squeak. I find her huddled close to Ryan’s weapons and the backpack, which she has stacked together.

“I was afraid you might have left me,” she whimpers.

Lissa.
I pick her up and hug her. She’s trembling. “I would never leave you.”

Her little claws dig into my skin and her tail circles my waist. “My mom got killed by a horrid giant monster. I was too scared to come out of my nest for days.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. It’s painful enough to have your parents suddenly leave—I can’t imagine having them be killed by an animal.

She pulls back and looks at my face. “I like being with you and I’m really glad I have you.”

“I’m glad you’re here too.” I bend down to pick up the, backpack, quiver, bow, and sword then hastily make my way back to the cave, feeling chilled to the bone.

Shiver stares at Ryan solemnly. “Will he be okay?”

“Of course,” I say, unwilling to let myself think he might not be. I set his weapons against the wall then shift.
Wolf.
I carefully lay as much of myself as I can on top of him. Shiver cuddles up to his neck. An eerie, blustery wind whistles around the outcrop, bringing with it flurries of blinding snow, veiling us from the outside.
Don’t go. You can’t,
I plead to him in my head, my eyes flickering over his deathly pale boyish face.

* * * *

I jerk awake and stare around wildly before realizing where I am. My shoulders slump with relief. I roll toward Ryan. Cautiously I run my hand down his face, ready to jerk it back if he wakes. His skin is so cold, but so soft. I yank my hand away when Ryan slightly turns toward me, his eyelids fluttering open. He frowns in confusion before recognition settles on his face. I watch him anxiously as he gazes around.

After I’d woken up with a nightmare the second time I stopped trying to sleep and instead I sat next to the fire—I’d
finally
been able to start one—, drying Ryan’s shirt until sleep finally overcame me.

“I fell through the ice,” he mumbles. I pull myself up and move away.

“Yes. But you’re fine now.”

Things I could tease him with tumble through my head, but never leave my mouth. Ryan’s eyes flutter closed again and soon he is back asleep. I panic and vigilantly watch his chest rise and fall several times. When I’m positive he isn’t going to die on me, I move away.

“How come he won’t stay awake?” Shiver asks.

“His body is just recovering from the cold. That’s all,” I say simply. I bite my lip though. I wish he would wake up. I want to ask him if he’s warm enough—give him something to eat.

The coat Ryan is wearing is becoming shabby and dirty. It had dried fairly quickly but it seems to have taken a toll on the fur. To dry Ryan’s pants, not daring to take them off, I had held a burning branch as close to them as possible.

Hours pass, and then two days pass. All Ryan does is sleep, but not always peacefully. Sometimes he cries out in pain—that always gets my heart racing— occasionally, in various ways, he’ll say in a perturbed voice, “No! Wait! I didn’t mean to! I swear!” It breaks my heart every time.

Numerous times I’ve attempted to wake him: yelling his name, shaking him, but he never woke. I did find out that if I run my hand along his cheek about ten times he would quiet down. This certain action has got me curious. The soothing affect seems to have taken place before; his mind has grown accustomed to calming down if it is done. Did an old girlfriend used to run her fingers along his cheek or his mother? I bug myself with these questions on nights that I find myself staring up at the gray stone roof.

I go out and hunt five short times—unwilling to leave Ryan or the fire unattended for long—finally on my last try I am able to hunt down a lost caribou. Chasing and killing that thing is an experience I’ll never forget; part of me hopes I’ll never have to repeat it, but I know I will eventually. I never would have had the courage to kill the thing if I hadn’t thought of Ryan waking up starving and me having nothing to feed him.

Instead of dragging the whole thing back—I was afraid of drawing predators—I tore off hunks of meat, washing as much blood off as I could with snow, then hauled it back. I cook the meat even though I worry that the smell of it roasting will draw predators. I waft the smell toward Ryan, hoping to draw him out of his slumber, but it doesn’t work.

What I don’t eat I stuff in the pack. I divide the rest of my time between watching Ryan breathe and watching the blustery world around us, Shiver being unusually quiet.

Ryan draws in the kind of deep breath that means he’s waking up. Slowly he sits up, his gaze roving around before resting on me. I smile with relief. Ryan stiffly reaches over and grabs his folded shirt. He shrugs off the jacket before yanking it over his head and fixing me with a sincere gaze.

“Thank you.”

“You would’ve done the same.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay Ryan! Lis and I were very worried about you. You should’ve seen her dive into the water—she watched over you
very
carefully,” Shiver says proudly, the cloud of sadness that had been around her dissipating.

Positive I’m blushing I ask, “Are you hungry?”

In answer Ryan’s stomach growls. Smiling he answers, “Very. How long was I asleep?” he asks while I get out the meat.

I hand Ryan four strips of meat before answering, “About three days. Do you want me to warm the meat up first?”

Ryan shakes his head and takes the meat indifferently, but the minute the food reaches his mouth, he eats it ravenously. Laughing I hand him three more pieces.

“We need to make the food last as long as we can,” Ryan says although he’s practically drooling for more.

I hand them back reasoning, “You need to eat, get your strength back. Besides, I’m sure we’ll find more along the way.” I don’t have to say anymore, hungrily he wolfs it down.

The next morning, in the form of a wolf since I gave my jacket to Ryan, I squint my eyes against the biting wind, waiting impatiently for him to put on the tattered jacket. Which is taking
a lot
longer than it should. Shiver tries to burrow deeper into my fur.

“Come on!”

“Okay, okay. My fingers are numb.”

Instantly I worry that I hadn’t done a good enough job keeping him warm. Ryan seems to sense this and assures me that it’s from last night.

“Which way?” he asks.

Inhaling deeply I can faintly smell a forest. I turn the scent of the forest over and over in my mind. It smells strange, and not in a good way. Instinct warns that the forest is dangerous but still I say, “Let’s go this way.”

* * * *

It takes us half the day to reach the end of the wintry land. Ryan sheds his jacket, shoving it into the pack.
Lissa.
I have never been so thankful to feel warmth on my skin. Ryan looks just as appreciative. The heat rolls off the forest in front of us in thick waves. But I’m not going to complain. The forest has an alluring golden shade to it. Beautiful green leaves rustle lazily.

“Wait,” Shiver says suddenly.

We stop and look down at her. Hesitantly she says, “The forest is a trap.”

Ryan looks at me. “How do you know?” he asks.

She takes a few steps back. “My mom told me about places like this. The creatures are nasty—they play tricks with your mind to lure you in. Can’t we go around? Please?”

“Sure,” I agree reluctantly.

Shiver sticks very close to me as we go around the forest. At one point I hear laughter that resembles a hyena’s. I look at the others but they don’t seem to hear it. I think I glimpse an ugly looking creature with red eyes, but it’s shrouded in mist and hard to make out. It disappears. Whatever it is must be bound to the forest—nothing has tried to attack us yet.

I scan the field we’re walking through even if there’s no point. I’m not picking up any traces of other animals—just small critters and cheerful songbirds.

A part of me is disappointed. I’m eager to put Cuven’s training to use—prove that I’m capable. Instead, I try to relax and listen to Shiver’s happy chatter.

Chapter 14

“When do we stop walking?” Shiver asks through a yawn.

“Soon,” I say.

“The sky is getting dark. Maybe we should find a safe place to sleep now,” Ryan counters.

“Oh yay,” Shiver tries to say enthusiastically but I think she’s already half asleep. “Will you carry me Lis? I think my paws have fallen asleep.”

Laughing softly I pick her up. Ryan scans the jungle. We entered it a few hours ago. It resembles the jungles I’ve seen on TV. Heat muddles around the trees, which are extremely tall and thin, their bark sleek, their smell tangy. The foliage is thick in places and we have to walk around it.

“What about here?” Ryan pokes at a thick tangle of vines and leaves with his bow.

“That should do,” I say and walk over to him. I peer underneath. Hollow. Basically.

I pick through the vines. Most are about the size of my wrist. The twisting vines are a dark coffee brown, the leaves a pine green. I have always been terrible at recognizing plants, unlike Trevor who seems to know every plant species on earth. I just hope these aren’t poisonous.

Ryan crawls underneath and I follow. Resisting the urge to curl up against him, I keep a good foot between us. Suddenly exhausted, I fall asleep instantly.

* * * *

The luscious smell of cooking meat coaxes me out of my dreams. Dim sunlight pools on the dirt floor and on my eyes, waking me. I crawl out from under the vines. A small fire burns a few feet away. Three slabs of meat—a stick going through them—are hanging from crudely made posts carefully placed beside the fire.

“You’re finally up.”

My head snaps around at Ryan’s voice. His arms are full of small dry sticks.

“Was I asleep long?” I ask. I take the sticks from him and place them near the fire, adding several.

Shiver bounces out from behind him, carrying a few sticks of her own. She spits them out and says to me, “I thought you were going to sleep
all
day.”

“No, you weren’t asleep that long,” Ryan says. “Shiver just woke up really early and then she woke me up by throwing dirt in my face. I bet it was revenge for grazing her with that snowball.”

“It was an accident! I was hungry and looking for some food,” Shiver chirps apologetically.

Ryan laughs. “I know. I’m just teasing,” he tells her gently.

“Do you think this is done?” I ask, my stomach growling.

“Yes.” He gives Shiver a piece and then hands one to me. Ravenously I bite into the meat.

After I’ve eaten some, I look around. It looks like an ordinary jungle stretching ahead of us, of course ordinary would include tigers and such.

An hour later, I wait as Ryan meticulously puts out the fire and clears away any sign that we’d been here at all.

“We still heading straight?”

“Yes.”
I think.

“I’m glad you guys know where we’re going. Every time I try to go in a straight line I always end up going in a circle,” Shiver says.

We push our way through the giant, broad leaves, thick, dangly moss-covered vines, and trees that tower like buildings. The chatter and screams of monkeys and shuffling of little animals scurrying under the brush follow us as we wind through the jungle. An hour later, and my shirt is thoroughly drenched with sweat. Ryan sits on a fallen tree and starts wringing his shirt out as best he can. He mutters something then just pulls his shirt off and twists it. I look away and plop down next to him, the soft sponge-like bark squishing.

“What are the chances of us running into a tiger?”

I inhale deeply but I can’t pick up anything that warns of a predator. “I think we’re fine.” I bunch up my hair and fan my neck. “I might be able to hear it before it’s on us.”

“Might? That’s reassuring,” he says.

“Cats are very silent even when they’re not stalking their prey. There’s only so much I can do.”

I glance around the thick foliage, my eyes slowing when they reach him. I mentally relax when I realize his shirt is back on.

“What about water?” he asks.

“Not unless we stumble upon it.”

Ryan snorts. “Why don’t you just turn into a tiger or snake or gorilla and lead us to it?”

“Gorilla? Really?”

He shrugs. “Just popped into my head.”

“I can try but I’m not a dog, mind you.”

Tiger.
I open my mouth and draw in the muggy air. After several minutes I pick up something. “Let’s try this way.” I pad through the bracken slowly to make sure I don’t lose the scent of what I anticipate to be water.

After a short walk we reach a small stream. I give the water a small test lick.
Yuck.
The water is warm and heavy, parching my mouth more instead of hydrating it.

“It’ll have to do.”
Lissa.

Ryan gets on his hands and knees, peering closely at the water.

“Think it's safe?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” I say.

Shiver gulps up some water before saying, “I drink from murky pools of water sometimes. This stuff tastes fine to me.”

Ryan shrugs. Cupping the water he quickly drinks it, water dribbling down his arms and chin. I can’t help wrinkling my nose at the thought of drinking the warm water. But I force myself to bend down and cup some of the water.

“That’s all you’re going to drink?” Ryan asks.

I wipe off my hands on my shorts. “Yes.”

The look on his face says he thinks I should drink more but I don’t so we keep walking.

I gratefully stop at the edge of an empty riverbed and plop down. It's difficult to tell how late it is, but I’d guess there’s an hour or less of sun left. I’m not enthusiastic about staying in the jungle overnight. We’ll have to keep going even if trekking through here in the darkness would basically be a suicide mission. But if I shift we should be fine.

I look up at Ryan when he draws in a quick breath. He’s staring at the riverbed, his eyes not actually seeing it. His gaze hardens and he abruptly turns away. If we do stay here—which we might be since Ryan doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get going—we don’t have many options about where to sleep.
Trees are out of the realm of possibility.
The branches don’t start until hundreds of feet up. There’s no tangle of vines here, just thick vegetation, which any forest animal could quickly trample through.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

Ryan has set his stuff down and disappeared into a thicket of leaves. I can hear him, but not see him.

“I’ll sit guard first while you sleep then we’ll switch,” he tells me, sitting beside me.

“We can’t stay here. If anything decides to attack us we’ll be dead in minutes.”
You could be dead in minutes.

“Ah, your trust in me is so little,” Ryan jokes. “We’ll be fine. I didn’t have all those lessons with Cuven for nothing. Besides, out of all the things in the forest what are the chances it will single us out?” Ryan pulls me up and guides me over to the spot he stomped down.

“That’s always how it happens,” I mutter.

Reluctantly I lie down in the small clearing and gaze up. Nothing but endless treetops laden with leaves turned orange with the setting sun. Shiver yawns and curls up close by. I shift uncomfortably. I want to see the stars. I sigh in my head.

“You okay?” Ryan asks.

I must have sighed out loud as well. “I’m fine. I just would like to see the stars.”

I roll onto my side and shift so I can see Ryan when he doesn’t say a word. Shadows mask his face.

“My mom loved the stars. She told me once that stars were people’s souls. That . . . once you die you became a star so that you could provide light in darkness, be a comfort to those you left, because even though you’re gone you’re still there. She said that the weaker stars were evil people and the brightest ones were the purest people. It's ridiculous but . . .” Ryan shrugs.

I look back up at the dizzyingly high trees.

“No it’s not. I think we all need something to believe in. It keeps us together in some ways. Provides comfort when we’re lost, or just need something to hang onto in times of trouble.”

Ryan stares into the darkness and starts softly murmuring. I can’t understand the words, but his gentle voice lulls me to sleep. And for the first time since I got here I'm not afraid of the nightmares I’ve been having recently.