Free Ghost's Sight by Morwen Navarre Page B

hard as he listened to the Witch. There might not have been any relics left, but the old places crumbled and rotted in silence, and floors that were sturdy today might give way in the next moon. He had heard the tales from the rangers when they wintered in the village. They sat in the meadhouse during the long nights and traded tales with the locals. They spoke of the former rangers, and worse, that walked those dark places. Mother had even confirmed the truth of those stories. The thought of Ghost -- his Ghost -- lying at the bottom of some pit, hurt or unable to escape, made Gerry’s stomach knot.
    Mother nodded at Gerry. “Change into your leathers. We’ll wait. I need to tell Conn where we’ll be, and get my bow and blade.”
    “I heard.” Conn was standing outside the old coop, his tunic streaked with dirt. “It’s my fault.” His head drooped, and Gerry stared at Conn for a long moment.
    “What do you mean?” Mother asked, a small frown on his face. Gerry waited for an answer as well, the hammering of his heart painful as he looked at the younger man.
    Conn did not look up. “He came here last night. After we argued, Gerry, you went back to bed, and I went to take a piss. I came out of the wash-house, and he was in the yard.”
    Gerry felt his hands ball into fists as he managed not to scream at Conn to spit it out for once, without a long, drawn out tale. Conn dared to meet Gerry’s eyes, looking miserable, but for once the kid did not shrink away or whine, so Gerry forced himself to stay patient.
    “I was so fucking mad at you,” Conn said. “I don’t even remember what I said to him, but it was nasty. I was trying to hurt him and make him think you didn’t want him. He got this look on his face, and he turned around and he left. But he didn’t take the path. He went into the woods, and I just went into the house and never looked back.”
    “You just talked to him? You never did anything else?” Mother asked.
    “I grabbed his arm, but I didn’t hurt him.” Conn looked at Gerry. “But they were talking in the meadhouse. Someone saw this guy in ranger’s leathers outside the village, sort of prowling around. They said he looked rougher than usual.”
    The Witch frowned. “Any ranger that close to the village would have stopped in to trade for supplies, or at the least to have a few mugs of mead. If this one didn’t want to be seen in the village, I’m not sure I like the implications.”
    “You think he was dealing in slaves?” Mother turned back to Gerry. “Change and get your weapons. We’ll find your Ghost.”
    Gerry hurried into his room to put on his hunting leathers, his fingers clumsy as he tried to be quick. There were always rumors in the meadhouse about those who had been deemed to be too mad to be rangers, scavengers who had lost their guildrank or never made it into the guild in the first place. Even rangers gave them a wide berth. The older alphas in the meadhouse talked in dark tones about the Westers and their slaves, and the renegades that supplied them.
    With Ghost’s exotic looks, he would be a prize to a body snatcher like that.
    Cursing under his breath, Gerry grabbed his knife and his bow, hurrying out to the yard to rejoin Mother and the Witch. Much to Gerry’s surprise, Conn had changed as well, and held the staff they used to spot sind holes. Gerry glared at the kid. Conn flushed but did not flinch away.
    “Mother says I should come and help.” Conn swallowed hard. “I fucked up, Gerry. I don’t know if I can make it up to you and Ghost, but I’m trying. I have to start somewhere if I’m going to fucking grow up.”
    Gerry would have liked nothing more than to scream at Conn, to shake him and agree with him, tell him exactly how badly he had fucked up this time, but that was not going to help Ghost. When he was concentrating, Conn was a decent spotter. They were going to need all the eyes they could get if they were following a former ranger.
    “I’m