“I wasn’t going to hurt anyone,” Braeden replied. “I swear. Nothing happened.”
“Something always happens with that thing,” Waysa said as he stepped out of the forest. His long dark hair hung down around his shoulders and his brown skin glistened in the morning light. His chest was bare and he wore simple trousers. The pattern of his tribe’s ancestral tattoos marked his face and arms. “What’s wrong with you? Why did you put on the cloak?”
“I’m sorry,” Braeden said to him, shaking his head. “I…”
“What was it?” Waysa demanded. “What happened?”
“My aunt and uncle were having a party in the rose garden with all the guests—”
“Oh, yes, that’s a good reason. Lots of excellent victims to choose from,” Waysa said sarcastically.
“No!” Braeden said. “I was sitting on the bench up on the Library Terrace away from everybody else. And then a strange feeling came over me.”
“What do you mean, a strange feeling?” Waysa said, narrowing his eyes.
“I don’t know what it was,” Braeden said. “Terrible sadness and pain…like I was going through it all over again, like she was actually there and she needed my help, but I couldn’t help her. It felt like I could almost reach out and touch her, but I couldn’t. I just felt so hopeless, like all this was never going to end. I thought maybe if I put on the cloak I could find her, reach her somehow, and help her…I had to do something.”
“But not that!” Waysa said. “Never put it on. It’s too dangerous. Especially now.”
“I won’t be doing it again, believe me,” Braeden said. “It was awful. I need to find my own way through all this.”
Waysa nodded, seeming to understand. “You frightened me, my friend,” he said as he walked toward him. The two boys shook hands warmly, with the ease of familiarity, then embraced briefly and separated.
Serafina was happy to see Waysa here, but it surprised her to see them greet each other so warmly. They had first met during the battle against Uriah and Rowena, but they had not been close. It was a peculiar feeling to have her two friends become friends without her.
She thought it was interesting how different they looked from each other. Waysa was taller than Braeden, and much physically stronger, with muscled arms and legs. He was a boy of action, taut and fierce. Braeden had lighter hair and a younger, softer face. He was a quiet, polite, smartly dressed boy of the house, with his dog at his side.
Waysa turned and looked at her body lying the grave. She could see from the moody look in his eyes that he wasn’t in agreement with what Braeden and Gidean had done. “First you put on the cloak, and then you do this…”
“I don’t understand what comes next, Waysa,” Braeden said. “What are we waiting for? What’s going to happen?”
But Waysa didn’t reply.
“That’s all that’s left of her,” Braeden said despondently, pointing at the body in the grave.
“You know that isn’t true,” Waysa said, setting his jaw.
“But she’s been buried here since the Loggia. How can this go on?”
“This is just her human body,” Waysa said. “As long as the angel protects this part of her, then there is hope.”
“But hope for what? Where’s the rest of her? Where’d she go?”
“I’m right here!” Serafina said.
“I’ve seen her,” Waysa said.
“What?” Serafina said, looking at him in surprise. “You’ve seen me? What are you talking about? You haven’t seen me!”
“Sometimes she lingers here, near the grave…” Waysa said.
“Yes, I’m here! I’m here now!”
“Does she recognize you?” Braeden asked, keenly interested in what Waysa was saying.
“I don’t honestly know,” Waysa said sadly. “She seems as wild as the forest itself. The last time I saw her, I tried to follow her, but she attacked me.”
Serafina frowned. They weren’t talking about her spirit. They were talking about the panther.
Braeden shook his head in sadness. “I’ve seen her from a distance, but she doesn’t come to me…”
“Her tso-i is split,” Waysa said.
“I don’t understand what that means,” Braeden said.
“Her three, her trinity, has been torn apart,” Waysa said, trying to explain it the best he could. “Her a-da-nv-do is gone.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s her heart, her spirit,” Waysa said.
Braeden shook his head as he looked down at her body. “I wish I could have done more for her.”
“You did all you could do,” Waysa told him.
“But I didn’t save her…” Braeden said.
“We don’t know that yet,” Waysa said. “There are still many feet traveling many paths.”
Braeden looked up at him. “What do you mean? Is something happening? Have you spoken with Serafina’s mother?”
“No, it’s not that,” Waysa said, shaking his head sadly. “Her mother was devastated by what happened. After Serafina’s death, she lost all hope.”
“But where is she?” Braeden asked.
“Everything in these forests reminded her more and more of Serafina: the trees, the rivers, the rocks and sky, even you and me. It was breaking her heart to stay here. She went west with the cubs to the Smoky Mountains to find more of our kind.”
“I understand,” Braeden said, nodding.
Serafina listened to Waysa’s story of her mother with fascination. It made her so sad to think that her mother had gone, but she was relieved to hear that she and the cubs were all right.
Then she thought, Serafina’s death. That was what Waysa had said. That was what they were calling it. Her death.
Braeden looked at Waysa. “But you didn’t go to the Smoky Mountains with them.”
“No.”
“But why?”
Waysa lifted his eyes and looked at him, almost angry that he would ask him that question. “The same reason you didn’t go to the hospital in New York when your aunt and uncle told you to. The doctors might have been able to fix your leg.”
“You’re right,” Braeden said. “But what did you mean that there are still many feet traveling many paths?”
“Something is coming this way,” Waysa said. “I’ve seen a clawed creature with terrible powers. Dark storms have been ripping through the forest each night. The rivers are swelling, destroying everything in their path. And the black folds are increasing. The people of Biltmore are in grave danger.”
“Is it her?” Braeden asked, a sudden fierceness in his voice.
“I do not know.”
“But you’ve seen her again, haven’t you?”
“No, not since the night she left.”
Serafina didn’t know who or what they were talking about, but when Waysa said these words his voice was edged with emotion, almost as if he felt guilty about what had happened.
“Not since you helped her, you mean,” Braeden said, his voice filled with bitterness. “I still don’t understand why you did it.”
“When I found her in the forest she was bleeding so badly. She couldn’t move or speak. She was going to die, Braeden.”