Outcast by Michelle Paver Read Free Book Online

guessed that, like him, she felt better for sharing this between them.
    "When the time comes," she said, "you must make a special drink to purify yourself. Root of hedge mustard, ground with alder bark, betony, and elder leaves, steeped in strong water. Use Axehandle water, that's important, because it gets its power from the ice river in the Mountains. And leave it to stand in the moonlight for as long as you can."
He'd prepared the drink at dusk, mixing it in a cup he'd made of squirrel rawhide and leaving it on the rock to catch the first rays of the moon while he went off to gather rowan branches.
     
"I don't think there's anything in it that'll cause your souls to walk," Renn had said, "but you'd better .mark your face with the sign of the hand and pass rowan leaves over yourself. And of course, I'll be with you, in case--anything happens."
    "What do I use for the Sea?"
"Your father's knife. It's Sea slate. And Torak--grind it sharp. It'll hurt less."
In horror, he watched her take out a little horn needle-case, a coil of sinew thread, and a slender bone fishing-hook.
"What's the hook for?" he asked.
Renn didn't meet his eyes. "You mustn't cut too
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deep, or you'll cut into the muscle."
Torak put his hand to his chest.
    "I'll show you." With her knife she scratched a cross on the knee of her legging. "This is the tattoo. You- you cut round it in a sort of--willow-leaf shape. Then you--you hook the skin in the middle and lift." Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead as she hooked the mark, tenting the buckskin. "That way you can--c-cut under your skin, and lift off the tattoo. Then press the sides of the wound together and s-stitch it shut."
They had both been shaking by the time she'd finished.
     
Spray from the Twin Rivers was icy on Torak's face as he knelt and drank the bitter herb drink. He purified himself with rowan, marked his face with the sign of the hand. Set out the needles and the hook. He felt as if he was going to be sick.
    Below him, Wolf leaped to his feet: muzzle lifted, tail raised. He'd caught a scent.
What is it? Torak asked in wolf talk.
Other.
Other what?
Other. Wolf padded in circles, then gazed up at Torak, his eyes an alien silver in the moonlight.
Whatever Wolf meant, Torak couldn't let it distract him. If he didn't start now, he'd never have the courage.
He pulled his jerkin over his head. Spray chilled his
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skin. His teeth chattered. Shakily, he daubed an earthblood line around the three-pronged fork of the Soul-Eater.
He drew his knife. Fa's knife. The Sea slate felt icy, the hilt heavy and warm. Wolf gave a low growl.
Torak warned him to stay down--and prepared to make the first cut.
It was nearly dawn, and he lay in the shadow of the rock, shivering uncontrollably in his sleeping-sack. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to be. Nothing existed except this blazing pain in his chest.
    A sob escaped him. He clenched his teeth. Fa did this too, he told himself. Fa cut out the mark; he got through this. So can you.
The voice of the Twin Rivers boomed in his head, like the throbbing in his chest.
But Fa had his mate to help him. Not like you. You're all alone.
Snarling, he pressed his face into the reindeer hide.
Something tickled his nose. It was one of Renn's long red hairs, left behind in what had been her sleeping-sack. He clutched it in his fist. Not alone, he told himself. Some time later, he woke to the click of claws on stone. A cold nose nudged his cheek, and Wolf settled
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against him with a humph!
"Not alone," whispered Torak, sinking his fingers into his pack-brother's fur. Don't ever leave me, he said in wolf talk. Wolf gave him another nose-nudge and a reassuring lick. Clutching his scruff, Torak slid into evil dreams. He dreamed that an elk was attacking Renn. Not the young elk that wanted to make friends with him, but a full-grown male.
Torak tried to move, but the dream dragged at his limbs, and he could only watch as Renn backed against the stump of an oak tree, looking about