After almost thirty minutes of walking to no avail, Ena noticed the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, so she decided to give up on her quest for food and head back to their camp.
She was about a quarter mile away from where they’d stopped when she sensed it—a subtle shift in the air, and the smallest depression in the snow at her feet.
There was an animal nearby. But what kind?
She began to look around slowly, and almost missed it. As white as it was, it nearly blended in with the snow-covered ground in the distance, but then she saw the silver on its ears, and the silver-tinted fur around its neck, and she had to hold in her gasp.
A Canus Elk.
This was the second time in her life that she’d seen one of the incredibly rare, supposedly immortal creatures. The first had been with Ty, nine years ago—the day they’d had their first kiss. She’d told her matriarch Heran about it afterward, and the old woman had agreed it was an auspicious sighting, since Canus Elks often portended significant or Gaia-blessed events. Though what it had indicated that day, they hadn’t been entirely sure.
Ena watched the Elk as it moved slowly, stumbling. But that couldn’t be right. The last time she’d seen one, its grace and beauty had been almost ethereal. Something about this one seemed off. What was it doing?
Ena hid, her body partially blocked by a tree, as the Elk lowered its front legs and lay on the ground. What a strange thing to do this close to sundown when predators were emerging, searching for a meal. Was it injured?
Ena took a cautious step closer, using her Knowing to lighten her footsteps, mimicking the rustling of the snow-dusted branches of the trees as they swayed in the wind. The Elk didn’t seem to notice her, or if it did, was too distracted to care.
And then she saw it—a small pool of shimmery, silver liquid spreading out from under the Elk, spilling into the snow.
Ena’s heart sped up—something was wrong. The Elk was injured. They were supposed to be immortal—she’d never heard of a dead or dying Elk being found, ever—but maybe that was just a myth.
What should she do? Should she leave it alone? It was a wild animal after all, and intervening when it was hurt or scared could be dangerous for her.
As she watched it, she could tell its breathing was becoming labored. Its skin sucked in around its ribs as it huffed and puffed, struggling to get enough air.
She couldn’t just stand here and do nothing, but she didn’t want to act alone.
“Ty,” she spoke, her voice quiet as if he were right in front of her. She knew he was nearby and would be listening for her with hisvenator. “I need you,” she said.
The Elk didn’t even seem to flinch at her voice, and Ena Knew it was in pain. Hoping Ty was on his way, she threw caution to the wind and approached it slowly.
Its eyes were closed where it lay curled on the ground. It was clearly a female, lacking the gigantic silver-tipped antlers she and Ty had seen on the buck last time, but it was no less large. Twice as big as the largest deer, its fur looked soft enough to curl up in, the thick, silver-tinted mane around its neck shining in the low light of sunset.
Ena lowered to her knees in front of it and cautiously reached out to touch it. Its fur was unimaginably soft, like the fur inside a kitten’s ear, and this close, she could see its belly was noticeably swollen—it was pregnant. It must have been in labor, but she knew from experience with the animals they cared for in her village, that this was not progressing normally. The Elk seemed highly distressed, and the spreading silver liquid was clearly its blood. Stroking her hand gently over the Elk’s abdomen, she felt the unborn calf inside—only it was still as a stone. No movement, no squirming. It could just be resting, she told herself, but deep down, Ena Knew. The calf was no longer living.
Just then, she heard Ty approach from behind her, and she couldn’t help the tiny flip her stomach did at the sight of him.
He stood in the low light of the evening, his broad shoulders backlit by the setting sun. His hand flexed at his side where he gripped the sole knife they’d escaped with in readiness, as if prepared to fight whatever obstacle stood before them.
Even though they’d been reunited for a week already, her heart still skipped a beat every time she saw him, like part of her still couldn’t believe he was here. That she was here, with him. That she’d chosen to be here.
Ty’s dark brows lowered in concern as he approached. “You called for me?” he asked. Then his green eyes widened as they landed on the Canus Elk before her. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes,” Ena said, relieved by his sturdy presence. She’d always felt safer with him. “It’s a Canus Elk, the same as we saw nine years ago. But it’s a female in labor, and it’s not doing well. I think the calf is stillborn.”
Ty looked from her to the Elk, his face a mix of concern and awe. “What do you need from me?” he asked, sheathing the knife and lowering to his knees beside her in the snow.
“I—I don’t know,” Ena said, suddenly unsure. She wasn’t the one who normally attended the animal births back home, though she’d witnessed a couple. She’d usually chosen to assist Heran with human healing instead.
Cautiously, she reached out to touch the shimmering liquid that was spreading around the Elk, drenching the snow and its fur in a dark, iridescent gray. The liquid was sticky on her fingers, and she was met with an intense sense of foreboding at the feel of it on her hands.
“I don’t see the calf emerging from the birth canal,” she said, looking under the Elk’s tail at the swollen area that was the source of the oozing silver blood. “It should be coming out by now, even if it is a stillbirth, so I don’t know what’s wrong.” She knew from her limited experience that animal births tended to be much quicker and more straightforward than human ones,and the rare times that they did not go as planned, there often wasn’t much to be done to help, especially with a wild animal, and certainly not without her Coven’s stash of potions and herbs.
The Canus Elk shuddered before them, its breathing turned to gasping, coming even faster and shorter than before. Ena felt helpless, and sadness engulfed her for the beautiful creature before her and its unborn calf.
She didn’t know what else to do, so she reached down into her Knowing, hoping Gaia might guide her with her will, and she felt her Gift there—hervisanis.The Gift she’d once been so enthralled with yet hesitant to use, now seemed like second nature to her after their escape from Occidens, and she knew what she had to do.
She gave over to it, letting it grow inside her, drenching her from the crown of her head to her fingertips, like rainfall soaking the earth, until she felt the thread form between her and the Elk.
