Chapter 13: Why Is Everyone in This Tribe Trying to Kill Me?!

Seraya stared at Vaelira on the bed, still unable to reconcile the woman's appearance with the image of a shaman she had built up in her head all evening.

She was supposed to be some wrinkled crone draped in bones, with hair like a bird's nest and the vacant stare of someone who personally remembered the tribe's inception!

At least, that was how all the witches looked in the movies and stories she knew.

Instead, before her lay a young woman whose smooth, pale face bore no resemblance to the venerable healer Seraya had pictured.

Slender gazelle horns rose from dark tresses, and delicate owl feathers at her shoulders stirred faintly with each breath.

Had she met her anywhere else, Seraya would have pegged her as the shaman's daughter rather than the person who had all of Emberfrost shaking in their boots.

No one in the cave could know what was running through her head, of course.

To the elders standing behind her, that momentary daze clearly looked like the instant the insolent fraud had finally run out of ideas.

Raska, who had managed to slip inside behind them, jumped at the chance.

"What's the matter, demon?" she sneered, chin held high. "Run out of tricks? You won't squirm your way out from under the stone now."

Seraya turned her head, staring at her in disbelief.

Is she truly this stupid?

Morra stood right beside them, beside herself with worry over Vaelira, and this horned idiot was cheering out loud that no help would come!

The massive elder's face hardened in an instant.

"Are you hoping the shaman dies?"

Smug satisfaction wiped from Raska's face as if scrubbed with a wet rag. Her ears flattened, mouth falling open, and she dropped hard to her knees against the stone floor.

"N-no! Elder, that's not what I meant!"

Morra pointed to the exit.

"Get out."

Raska scrambled to her feet and hurried toward the entrance without daring to protest. Only after a few paces did she glance back over her shoulder, meeting Seraya's gaze, whose lips curled in a brief, venomous smirk.

Look at that.

You finally said something useful.

The horned futa clenched her jaw, cords of muscle tightening in her neck.

Laugh all you want.

We'll see how smug you are when Vaelira never rises from that bed!

With that thought, Raska vanished into the night, leaving only the rapid patter of footsteps in her wake.

Morra turned back to Seraya.

"What ails her?"

Seraya looked at the wounded woman, then at the dark stain soaking through the furs beneath her body. Her brief satisfaction vanished beneath a sour knot in her gut.

She hadn't a clue.

She hadn't even located a wound yet, and already they expected a diagnosis, a cure, and an exact time their shaman would be back to dispensing miracles.

"I have to examine her first," she answered, striving for an even tone. "Step outside for a moment and give me some room."

Selka stiffened.

"What did you say?!"

Seraya turned to her with open weariness.

"I said I need to examine her. Unless you'd rather stand over me and yell. In that case, treat her yourself."

For a second, Selka's fox ears looked ready to catch fire with rage, but Morra caught her forearm before she could speak.

"We will do as you ask," Morra said to Seraya, then gestured toward the entrance for the others.

"We step outside."

The woman tending Vaelira rose hesitantly, leaving folded cloth beside the bed. Seraya checked her with a quick gesture.

"You stay right by the entrance. If I call, come in."

The caretaker nodded and followed the elders out, while Morra practically dragged the protesting Selka with her.

"Don't drag me! That outsider is getting too big for her boots!"

Her voice faded behind the rock wall until only the crackle of the hearth, Vaelira's shallow breathing, and Seraya remained in the cave, feeling considerably less confident than she had tried to appear.

She crouched by the bedding and leaned over the shaman's face, watching the faint flutter of her lips and the slight rise of the furs.

One thing she knew for sure: the shaman was breathing.

Seraya let out a breath, but the relief was short-lived; a single glance back at the stained pelt brought all the dread rushing back.

Breathing alone didn't explain the blood or the loss of consciousness.

Damn it... I can't just sit here and wait for her to open her eyes.

"Vaelira?" she called, touching her shoulder gently. "Can you hear me?"

The shaman didn't answer.

Seraya scanned her bare arms, neck, and face, checking for signs of a blow, a cut, or a bite.

She saw nothing that could explain her condition.

Hesitating, she carefully peeled back a corner of the stained wrap just enough to see where the blood was coming from. That was when she spotted a fresh smear lower down, around the woman's hips and thighs.

Her hand paused.

"Wait..."

Seraya didn't need a medical degree to deduce a likely source of the bleeding. She was a woman, damn it, and menstruation was no arcane mystery to her.

Yet what she was looking at didn't reassure her in the slightest.

Could it be her period?

But why did she pass out?

And is that really all it is?

The possibility of a miscarriage crossed her mind, trailed by a handful of other grim prospects she could neither confirm nor rule out. She wasn't about to kid herself into thinking a glance at an abdomen could settle anything.

I don't even know how long she's been bleeding.

Seraya lowered the pelt and shifted closer, glancing toward the cave mouth.

In truth, Vaelira had been struggling with severe menorrhagia for quite some time, draining her strength month after month. Until now, she had managed to hide her weakness and ride out the worst of it in her cave, but this time the pain and exhaustion had knocked her out cold.

The caretaker had found an unconscious shaman and pools of blood, and panic did the rest.

There was no attack, no demon's curse, though the bleeding itself was a genuine danger.

Not knowing any of that background, Seraya could only guess at what was happening to the woman before her.

"Vaelira," she repeated a little louder, touching her shoulder again. "Come on, sister. Open your eyes. You'd really be doing me a solid right about now."

She looked at the pale face and felt a flash of helpless irritation.

Please wake up.

You can't just lie there while they wait outside to cave my skull in.

As if on cue, Vaelira's lips twitched, a faint, raspy groan slipping from her throat.

Seraya leaned in at once.

The shaman's eyelids fluttered, then slowly drifted open.

"There!" Seraya breathed with such sudden relief that she nearly laughed. "Can you hear me? How are you feeling?"

Vaelira stared back blankly for a moment, trying to grasp why a strange face was hovering so close. Then her gaze tracked over Seraya's odd clothes, the crimson mark on her right cheek, and the hand resting near her shoulder.

Confusion turned to fear.

"Who are you?!"

The shaman jerked and shoved Seraya, who was sitting too close to the edge to keep her balance. Seraya tipped backward and landed hard on the stone floor, bruising her backside.

"Someone help!" Vaelira cried.

A cold chill shot through Seraya.

Just what I needed.

If the elders rushed in now to find a terrified shaman screaming at an outsider, she wouldn't even get half a sentence of explanation out.

"Quiet, damn it!"

Scrambling onto her knees, she slapped a hand over Vaelira's mouth on pure reflex before the woman could shout again.

The shaman stiffened, eyes going wide.

"Listen to me for a second," Seraya whispered, leaning close. "The elders sent me. They thought you were dying, understand? I'm trying to help you. Nod if you get it."

Vaelira looked her dead in the eye.

After a moment, she gave a slow nod.

Seraya let out a breath, too focused on the gesture to notice the shaman's hand sliding behind the furs.

"Good. Now…"

She didn't get to finish. Pain exploded in her shoulder.

A staff hidden among the furs cracked into her from the side, hard enough to knock her grip loose.

"Ah, fuck!"

Seizing the opening, Vaelira shoved her again and hauled herself up, gripping the staff in both hands. Her hair fell over her face and her slender horns cast trembling shadows across the wall as she tried to rise.

"Which cave are you from?! How dare you enter here?!"

Seraya scrambled back, clutching her throbbing shoulder.

One more hit like that and my arm will fall off.

"Morra brought me in, damn it!"

"You lie!"

Vaelira swung the staff, and Seraya rolled sideways on instinct. The wood struck stone with a dry crack right where her head had been a heartbeat before.

Scrambling up awkwardly, she nearly tripped over the edge of a pelt.

What is wrong with this cursed tribe?! Does everyone try to smash your head in first and ask questions later?!

She spun around with a string of curses ready to fly, but before she could shout, a dull thud sounded behind her.

Vaelira had collapsed beside the bed.

The staff slipped from her fingers as she pressed a forearm against her lower belly, doubling over in agony. Fine beads of cold sweat broke across her forehead, glinting in the firelight.

Seraya froze mid-stride.

"Hey... Don't tell me that's on me. I didn't lay a finger on you!"

The shaman didn't even try to answer. She breathed unevenly through gritted teeth, trying to weather the cramp that had folded her over her knees.

Seeing that, Seraya lowered her hands.

She lingered at a safe distance for a moment, rubbing her shoulder and eyeing the staff warily, then stepped forward and nudged the wood out of Vaelira's reach with her foot.

First we ditch the damn club. Then we talk.

She crouched a short distance away, leaving enough room to dodge if necessary.

Vaelira looked up at her.

"Who are you?" she forced out through clenched teeth.

"Seraya. The one Morra brought in to help you." She pointed to her bruised shoulder.

"I got a whack with a stick for my trouble, so forgive me if I don't sound terribly polite."

"Nonsense..."

Seraya twisted her mouth.

"Call Morra and ask her, then. Maybe you won't try to club her."

Vaelira didn't look toward the entrance. She studied her closely, pain and suspicion mingling on her pale face as she tried to fit the stranger into something she could comprehend.

Seraya sighed, glancing toward the soiled bedding.

"Does this happen during your period? Bleeding this heavily and passing out?"

The shaman froze. Her fingers clamped onto the fur wrap, eyes widening wider than when she first awoke.

"You know...?"

Seraya frowned.

"I see blood and found no wound. And you're clutching your stomach," she answered, trying not to sound too sharp.

"If you lose this much regularly, it's bound to drain you. Might be anemia, though I don't know if that's the only reason you fainted."

Vaelira stared at her as if she had heard something far worse than a diagnosis.

"Bad..." she whispered. "This is very bad..."

A fresh twinge of unease pricked at Seraya.

Did I guess wrong?

Maybe it was something else entirely, and the shaman was trying to warn her they had no time to talk?

She leaned closer on instinct to catch the faint whisper.

"What's bad? Tell me what…"

Vaelira lunged forward.

Both hands flew toward Seraya's face, fingers hooking into claws that grazed inches from her cheek.

"Holy shit!"

Jerking her head back, Seraya scrambled away, nearly losing her footing on the rough stone. The shaman's fingers swept past the crimson mark, and Seraya clamped a hand to her cheek to make sure her skin was intact.

For a second, she stared at Vaelira in utter shock.

Then shock gave way to a surge of fury that made her grit her teeth.

Motherfucker!

First a staff to the shoulder, now claws to the face?! I'm trying to save your life, and you're hell-bent on shredding me to ribbons?!

Seraya lowered her hand, eyes locked on the shaman.

"Keep your damn hands off my face!"