She squirmed. “I can walk.”
“You are weary already.”
Ursula huffed in disgust with her own lack of strength and stamina. “I ought to be in better shape.”
“You are female.”
“That has nothing to do with it. Besides, I’m too heavy to carry.”
Zul snorted. She hardly weighed more than two of the packs he carried.
“I’m going to have to start exercising after we get back home,” she muttered. After a pause, she asked, “We will go back home, won’t we?”
“I hope so,” he replied, not sure there would be a home to go back to. If the Council Supreme succeeded in squelching therebellion, they’d raze the manor to the ground, have both Gil and Bran executed, and confiscate their wealth. If that happened, he would be responsible for ensuring his mate and her son had sufficient food, clothing, and shelter. Perhaps he could find work as a mercenary or a guard on some other planet, because exile from Uribern would be the less lethal option. Would a pampered Ahn’hudin mogul hire a mated Urib berserker? And he had to hope that the Council Supreme did not set their sights on Ursula or Crow as traitors in collusion with Bran and Gil, but one could not count upon the sensibility of the ruling council members.
Ursula continued questioning him. “Why are we not riding the wyverns?”
“Their range is limited before they must rest.”
“And after they rest?”
“Then they hunt. We did not carry meat for them.”
“And we can’t wait for them to hunt?”
“Not if they’re going to hunt us.”
“Hunt us?” She frowned. “Aren’t they, like, domesticated?”
“No. Anyone who claims to have tamed a wyvern is lying. The beasts can be trained, but never tamed.”
Ursula stopped asking questions.
By the time they reached the small box canyon Zul remembered from his decades of wandering, Suvesh was once again carrying the youngling. The castratus, although surprisingly tough, was nearing the end of his strength and endurance, too.
“We’re here,” Zul announced quietly as he scanned the space from where they stood at the canyon mouth.
High walls of jagged rock rose on either side of them. Out of sight around a corner, the music of falling water resounded. The small pool flowed into a rushing stream limned by a thin line of gravel and sand which gave way to a spread of wiry grass, rocks, scrubby trees, and brush before more walls of rock rose to tower heights.
“What is this place?” Ursula asked. “It looks like Box Canyon State Park in Idaho, but a lot smaller.”
“It has no name that I’ve discovered,” Zul replied. “But I have stayed here many times. It’s a good place for a respite.”
Suvesh glanced around and nodded. “Small game only. The wyverns would not be interested.”
“And they prefer less enclosed spaces,” Zul added.
Suvesh nodded. “They do.” He glanced up at the craggy walls, noting the holes in the rock. “There may be an oryxis or two lurking in those caves.”
Zul shook his head. “Oryxis can’t climb that well. There are some smaller predators—kodos and yirklas—but they’ll likely avoid us.”
“What are kodos and yirklas?” Ursula asked.
“Yirklas are …” Zul’s voice trailed off as he struggled to come up with a description his mate would understand.
“Yirklas are a bit like the wild dogs of Africa on Earth,” Suvesh said.
“How do you know about the wild dogs of Africa?” Ursula asked.
