Free Sons of Destiny Prequel Series 003 - The Shifter by Jean Johnson Page B

damage, yes, but I've also learned how to survive it."
    "Good. You'll need to be tough. Just don't show it. That boy down there is a weakling," the unnamed man dismissed. "Pretend to be him, and you'll get close enough to the blacksmith to be trusted. The moment you are that trusted, we'll tell you what to look for." Crossing to the bed, he whacked the frame with the stick. "Wake up, Zellan Fin Don!"
    Zellan, or rather the shifter playing him, woke with a snort. Twisting onto his side, he pushed halfway up on one elbow, blinking at the two of them. "Wha...? Oh. It's time, already?"
    "Yes, it's time, you lazy mutt. Go drag this son of a cur through the mud, then haul him back home to that Healer bitch and her little girl," the elder ordered.
    "As for you, and Cullerog," Kenyen interjected, "keep the real Traver alive and unharmed. I know I didn't learn enough to imitate him flawlessly. That means I'll need more cooperation out of him."
    Zellan snorted. "Are you concerned for him? I thought you ate people."
    "Only when I'm in the mood." The words turned his stomach, but they had to be said. Kenyen didn't want to give these men any excuse to doubt that he was as much of a bastard cur as they were. "Besides, any herdsman will tell you that you always tend your flock carefully when raising them, even if the end result is an intent to slit their throats and hang them up to bleed dry."
    "I'll go get that pony ready," Zellan stated, levering himself off the bed. "We can pretend it was lost when you fell, then recaptured shortly before finding you."
    "What about my horse?" Kenyen asked. The elder snorted.
    "That'll be your 'gift' to join us, of course. Traver wouldn't have the means to acquire such a fine steed," the stocky, older man dismissed. "He's just a farmer's boy. A dirt grubber."
    "I'm expecting to get back four times what that mare is worth, off the Plains," Kenyen warned him. What he wanted to do was protest the mare's loss, period, but couldn't. That wasn't a part of the role he was supposed to play. "As it was, they barely let me keep her when they threw me out. So whatever it is you want, it had better be worth it."
    "Oh, it is. If the rumors are true..." Grinning, the elderly shifter patted his flap-covered forehead with his fingers, then shooed Kenyen and Zellan out of the cottage. "Go on; you've a long ride to get back home, and a bit of a rough time dragging yourself around, making it look like you really did fall."
    Nodding, Kenyen headed outside. Not to the barn, though that was his eventual goal. The first thing he had to do, however, was to clean off that... ring... hastily buried in the skin of his palm, and dredge up enough courage to apply it to the necessary spot. Being a Shifterai, he wouldn't have to actually pierce such delicate skin, but he would have to shift a small hole for it... and then remember to maintain it, so that he didn't accidentally lose said ring down one of his trouser legs later.
    As dangerous as his situation was, Kenyen couldn't stop worrying over one particular thought in the back of his head. What kind of woman, outlander or not, would want a man to pierce that part of himself?
     
    The slopes of the Nespah Valley, covered in the tea plantations and terraced gardens of the various holdings claiming the land, looked like a patchwork blanket sewn from a thousand shades of living green. Most of it was darker than the paler pastels of spring, but here and there, the stone hedges supporting each terrace had been strewn with wildflowers, sending streaks of bright colors across the hillsides. Fruit and nut trees lined the ridges and the vales, waves of wheat and oats rippled in sinewy streaks, and mossy-roofed, pale stone cottages dotted the landscape.
    The scent of tea perfumed the air; not quite pungent, it played the dominant scent for all but the closest of those blooms. Still, Kenyen breathed in a hundred different aromas, from the wild roses lining the hedge walls rising up on his