Chapter 32 Kendra
KENDRA
THREE WEEKS LATER
The bridge stretches out across the two joining lakes that separate Wintermoon from human territory, the Michigan mainland visible on the far side through the morning haze, and I’m standing at the edge of it with one palm on my still-flat belly and the other gripping Alemayehu’s arm.
The woman beside me is about to walk across it and disappear into the world.
My scent changed three weeks ago. Something new threaded through the rain and honey, a frequency that only appears when a Bouda female is carrying a girl.
Alemayehu presses his face into my neck every morning now and stays longer than he used to.
Zaki’s ridge flattens every time she gets close.
I’ve gotten used to both of them treating me like I’m made of glass even though the baby is the size of a walnut and I’m not going to break.
“Am I going to get a ridge?” I asked at breakfast this morning, and Alemayehu and Zaki both laughed at the same time.
Zaki told me no, but I’ll carry some Bouda traits until I give birth, heightened senses, a lower body temperature, a sharper sense of smell.
I rubbed my belly and told them both, “I love the way you smell,” and the room went quiet and Zaki turned back to the stove and Alemayehu’s fingers found mine under the table.
Now Zaki is dressed in her highland garments, the wrapped fabric dyed with ochre and indigo, the leather cord at her waist strung with the carved ivory and amber ornaments that click when she moves.
She is barefoot on the cold ground and her ridge is fully extended and the frequency amplifier bracelet sits on her wrist, the faint blue pulse matching her heartbeat.
She looks like a warrior leaving for war, which is exactly what she is.
We aren’t alone at the bridge. Kade stands with her arms folded.
Leah is beside her, one hand hooked through the crook of Kade’s elbow, her thumb tracing circles.
Amari stands slightly apart in his black suit.
Meekah is the largest presence at the bridge, his mane in the wind, his tail sweeping behind him in slow arcs that tell me he’s working hard to keep his composure.
Zaki turns to me and drops to one knee. Her ridge flattens and her head bows.
“I ask permission to serve as temporary queen of the Bouda. To carry the authority of the matriarch while I am away from Wintermoon so that I may lead our people home.”
I smooth my hand over her head, my palm sliding across her hair. “You have my permission, Zaki. Go find our people and bring them home.”
She rises and her eyes are wet but she holds the tears, ridge extending slowly back to full height. She turns to Meekah and his tail goes still.
“You better come back.” His voice is rougher than I’ve ever heard it, stripped of the theatrical arrogance. “Who is going to make fun of the stinky wolf shifters with me? I cannot do it alone. It requires two of us to properly insult their footwork.”
Zaki cries, the tears breaking loose and running down her face, and she walks forward and wraps her arms around Meekah’s enormous frame and he holds her, his tail curling around her waist.
“You have always been a good friend, Meekah.” She says it into his chest, her voice muffled by the size of him. “I will not let you down.”
He holds her a moment longer and then lets go, his tail resuming its slow sweep behind him. Leah steps forward and hugs Zaki, and when she pulls back her eyes are red and Kade puts a hand on her wife’s back. Kade meets Zaki’s gaze and nods once, and that is enough.
Amari dips his head and the bracelet on Zaki’s wrist glows blue and nothing else needs to be said between them. He built her a weapon and she will use it.
Alemayehu steps forward and grips Zaki’s forearm. She grips his back, her claws dimpling his skin, ridges both extended. He doesn’t cry. His gaze is clear and when he speaks his voice is steady.
“You are the strongest of our bloodline, Zaki. The Matriarch saw it before anyone else did.” He holds her forearm. “Go with Mother Fate. Bring our people home. I will be here when you return, building what you will need.”
Zaki holds his grip for one more second and then releases him. She turns to me and I step forward and take her hands in mine and look up at this woman who terrified me the first night I met her and who I now can’t imagine my life without.
“I love you, Zaki.” I say it looking straight at her, my voice steady even though my throat aches. “You’re my sister. Come home.”
Zaki’s ridge trembles and her eyes fill and she grips my hands hard enough that her claws press into my skin. “I love you, Kendra.” Plain and raw, nothing formal about it. “I will come home. I give you my word.”
She releases my hands, turns, takes the first steps. Then she breaks into a run — ridge spiked, braid swinging behind her, bracelet glowing blue on her wrist, gone before I can take a breath.
A low cackle rolls through the forest from the tree line on the far side of the bridge.
A send-off, deep and resonant, and every shifter at the bridge goes still.
Amir’s Bouda is watching from the shadows between the pines, his massive form barely visible, gold eyes bright.
A king acknowledging a warrior’s departure.
Meekah catches it first, his ears twitching, his tail freezing mid-sweep. “That is my signal to leave,” he says, already turning away from the bridge.
Kade puts her hand on Alemayehu’s shoulder. “We’ll get the SUV back to your cabin,” she says, and Leah nods beside her. “Take your time.”
They leave, and it’s just the two of us standing at the bridge, and the quiet that follows is so vast I can hear the water lapping against the posts beneath us.
I break. The tears come all at once and they are not quiet.
The flat belly beneath my palm holds a girl who will never know her aunt if Zaki doesn’t come back.
I press both hands over my face and my body shakes and the sound I make is ugly and raw and I don’t care.
The one person who would have told me to stop crying and straighten my posture is already a distant figure on the far side of the lake, getting smaller with every second.
Alemayehu picks me up. One arm under my knees, one behind my back.
I press my face into his neck where the claiming scar sits and breathe him in and the scent of him steadies me even though nothing else can.
He carries me down the path away from the bridge and toward home, his stride unhurried, his ridge flat, his heartbeat steady against my ear.
I look back over his shoulder and Zaki is gone, swallowed by the city, but the low cackle still rolls through the trees, Amir’s Bouda holding his position in the shadows, watching over the departure.
I close my eyes and trust that my sister will come back, because she promised, and Zaki doesn’t break promises. Alemayehu carries me home.