Something groaned, like the sound of a tree about to topple in a storm, but the two rowan stood firm. Beyond the gates, out where the Villucatto and Lyralinah had their weapons drawn, rain began to fall with a roar, pelting the ground and stripping the offerings from every tree branch.
Kear was directly ahead of him. Kear turned his head to the person at his side and his mouth moved. He pointed to Zelli.
Zelli had not even a moment to worry over it.
He hit the ground, must have, because he found himself staring up at the sky again. Funny that it should rain only on the other side of the gate, he reflected, not sure why it bothered him. The weather would cause problems for both sides, though possibly more for the Villucatto, who had no shelter unless they broke through the line of Grandmother’s guards, and former Lyralinah guards, and villagers, and Cousin Ona.
Grandmother. Zelli began to panic to think of her. He tried to tell himself that Tahlen would save her but it didn’t calm him. His heart was loud in his ears, louder even than the rain, and he couldn’t catch his breath. He must have hit the ground hard. He must have stumbled over something, though he couldn’t recall what had tripped him.
He lifted his head, which was difficult to do. He frowned at his body, uncooperative yet again, and then at the shaft sticking up from his chest. An arrow, he realized faintly. Larger than the ones he used, but everything seemed to be larger than what Zelli used.
He stared at the arrow until holding his head up made him tired. All of him was tired, no matter how his pounding heart said otherwise. His arms and legs were heavy and he couldn’t draw a full breath. After the way Tahlen had talked about it, he’d thought an arrow would hurt, but for the moment, it didn’t seem to. But Tahlen had been right that Zelli wouldn’t have wanted to do this to someone else. Straw targets were enough.
The sky got darker. He wondered if he ought to try to move again. Before he could attempt it, someone leaned over him and blocked his view.
Bree’s short hair was wet, as were her shoulders. She glanced over Zelli’s body several times, and then stared at the arrow before dragging her gaze up to his face.
She looked feverish, flushed and pale at the same time. Then she tore her gaze away and put her hands on Zelli’s chest before pressing down.
Zelli felt his mouth fall open. A sound pushed out him. Bree pressed down anyway, pressure and fire coming from her palms and Zelli couldn’t even raise his arms to make her stop.
“I’m sorry,” Bree said, kept saying. She wiped her face. Her hand was bloody.
Zelli still could not breathe. Bree’s hand was covered in his blood and she was distressed.
The realization of what this meant was quiet, as if Zelli’s heart and the storm no longer mattered.
He was dying.
He needed to apologize to Grandmother. Then Tahlen.
Tahlen would be in pain. He’d already lost so many and now Zelli too, and whoever else might have died in the skirmish by the gate. He would blame himself. He’d be alone again. That shouldn’t be allowed to happen.
Zelli got his fingers to work and grasped at the fabric of Bree’s pants until she looked at him.
Tahlen. He tried to say it. He meant to say it. He tried again. “Tahl…”
He could barely hear himself, but Bree must have caught the sound. She glanced away, pained, then nodded.
“I’ll tell him,” she promised, without explaining what it was she would tell Tahlen. But she had been through this before, like Tahlen had. Maybe she knew what to say.
Zelli suspected he frowned at her. Since his death wasn’t her fault, he aimed his frown at the dark sky and then at the five figures who walked up to where Zelli lay. The five were arranged in nearly the shape of a v with one of them at the head
They were not tall figures. Zelli wouldn’t have gotten a crick in his neck to speak with them. One of them might even have been smaller than Zelli if he’d been standing. They had short hair and long hair in many colors, and skin the same. Two were naked, with lines of feathers down the backs of their arms and legs, and pointed ears that reached higher than Zelli’s. Fur or more feathers trailed down over the rest of them in familiar dots and swirls.
Of the three in clothes, only one could have been said to have been fully dressed, though that was just a vest, tight pants, and a belt. The pants were short enough to show bare feet that were not completely like a human’s feet.
The last two wore bands of cloth around their waist. Perhaps their heavier fur warmed them enough to not require more.
Zelli stared at the one in the center, the one with what he thought were antlers grown and twisted together, but which seemed more like a circlet the longer he looked at it. The figure’s horns were black and glossy and much bigger than Zelli’s.
They all had dark eyes, darker than Tahlen’s, possibly darker than Zelli’s had been in the mirror that morning. At least one had a tail, a long, lashing thing, tipped with fur. Not like Zelli’s tail at all. But their claws were the same, and the shape of their ears. Zelli had never thought of his hair as beautiful, but theirs was.
He could hear his heart again, too loud and too fast.
As if they could hear Zelli’s panic too, they began to shimmer and change before his eyes until five ordinary, if small and somewhat undressed, humans stood in front of him. They focused intently on Zelli and then four of them turned to consider the one at the center.
That one came closer and dropped down to kneel next to Bree, who didn’t take her hands or eyes from Zelli’s wound, although she raised her head twice to shout something to someone nearby.
