A Day of Fallen Night (The Roots of Chaos)
A Day of Fallen Night: Part 3 – Chapter 79

The Harmur Pass remained shut, but no soldiers defended it now. They swam around the locked gates, hauling their horses through the shallows of the Gulf of Edin.

When they reached the Ersyri side, Tunuva knelt on the sand and gathered it between her fingers, breathing in the scent of the desert. She was back in the South. Every day moved her closer to home.

She watched Wulf as he took it in. He must never have imagined a place like this, with sand to the horizon. Even after weeks of travelling with him, Tunuva could not stop stealing glances at his face, hoping for another shift in his expression, a detail she had missed.

In some ways, he was Meren: thick stern brows, a bony nose. It ached to see those again, in their child – but Wulf was also her. They shared the same narrow ears, the same cheekbones and jaw and chin. His eyes reminded Tunuva of herself, but also of her own birthmother, Liru.

He was no longer the smiling boy she had fed and rocked and sung to sleep. No, those eyes spoke of terrible hardship. He was quieter than she had expected – but then, she tended towards reserve, too. Meren had been more expressive, as free with his laughter as his gestures.

Their child should have learned to speak Selinyi. Instead, Wulf had been taught the harsh language of the Hróthi and the rolling lilt of northern Inys. Each time he fell asleep, Canthe taught Tunuva a little more Inysh, but a few sentences would not make her fluent.

There had been no mother in the house he grew up in. Tunuva was ashamed of her relief. It would have pained her so much more, to know her place had already been filled.

‘What is that?’ Wulf said. His hand strayed to the axe at his side. ‘Canthe, is that a . . . lioness?’

Tunuva followed his line of sight. In the middle distance, a pale shape was kicking up dust.

‘No. Far better,’ Canthe said warmly. ‘It’s Ninuru.’

When she reached Tunuva, the ichneumon pitched her off her feet and licked her face raw. Tunuva flung her arms around her friend. ‘Nin,’ she said, laughing. ‘How did you know?’

‘You fed me.’ Ninuru licked her once more. ‘You left.’

‘I know.’ Tunuva pressed her face into sleek white fur. ‘I’m sorry, honeysweet. I won’t go again. Will you take us home?’

Ninuru looked to Wulf, who was staring at her in amazement.

‘He smells of you,’ she told Tunuva.

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