The Hunted & the Hind: Editing sometimes means losing the good bits

Another post about The Hunted and and Hind, including a big deleted scene this week. I have just finalised the audiobook with Callum and so it will be going up to Findaway Voices in the next week or two and appearing at all your favourite online retailers soon after that.

Audiobook cover, The Hunted and the Hind

Hunted is the third in my 1920s London trilogy that began with Lost in Time. They are historical books with a paranormal twist and Hunted is the one with the most paranormal shenanigans and therefore, for me, the most difficult to write. Eventually it came in at just over forty thousand words, edited down from just over fifty.

It was so, so painful to cut out all those words I’d hammered out in the early mornings last summer and I really felt like I’d wasted my time. I’d got sucked down a rabbit-hole of too much fantasy world—in all my other books, not just the 1920s ones, the paranormal world is glimpsed from this one and is supposed to be a tip-of-the-iceberg type arrangement where neither characters nor readers can see all of it. But at the end of Shadows on the Border, poor Sergeant Will Grant got sucked through the border (or maybe he jumped through?) after Fenn, who was returning home. I knew I wanted them to be together, but I also felt it was a cop-out to just have them pop back into 1920s London from Fenn’s world at the beginning of the next book as if they’d hidden in a cupboard for a while and then re-emerged.

I ended up writing quite a bit of what turned into backstory or maybe an alternate timeline set in Fenn’s world. A few of the scenes have ended up in the finished book, but a lot of them were cut—this one for example and the one below. And the not-popping-out-of-a-cupboard problem was solved by having them re-emerge from Fenn’s world in Egypt and having a two week journey back to England.

Luckily this has given me lots and lots of deleted scenes to share! The only thing I kept in the final book from this one is the lim-moss that provides the lighting. Here it is! And do keep an eye out for the audio book in the next few weeks if you are an audio type of person!

Deleted Scene

Will leaned his head back against the wall. It was lovely to be properly warm. He didn’t think he’d been warm in all of his body at once since they’d come through the Border. “I fell.” He stated the obvious. “I fell and I put my shoulder out. I, er. I rather lost track for a bit.”
Fenn was looking at him with that steady, slightly unnerving gaze. “Come, Will. Come and bathe.” He extended a hand and Will grasped it, grateful for the help getting up. Fenn was in some sort of loose robe affair, not quite dressing gown, not quite thobe. Will still wore the remnants of his slacks and shirt.
“Let me help you?” Fenn asked him.
“Yes. All right.” He could do with the help. Fenn stepped close and put his hands inside the padded coat, on his shoulders as he slid it off down Will’s arms. He laid it on the stone bench beside them. Then he started to unbutton Will’s shirt, fumbling a little with the tiny mother of pearl buttons. Will half-shut his eyes and enjoyed not having to think of anything. “That should probably be burned.” he commented as Fenn laid that aside too. “It all should, really. I’ve been wearing it for days”.
“It is certainly not in the cleanest of conditions.” There was a smile in Fenn’s voice as he put his hands on Will’s belt. “This next?”
“I can do it.” Will’s voice was not quite steady as he took over. There was something very comforting about letting Fenn look after him. Dangerous, his hind brain told him. Dangerous to get used to it.
“Very well.” Fenn waited for him to push his trousers down and step out of them and then started unbuttoning his combinations, gently easing them over his duff shoulder. “There. It hurts?”
“Not as much as it did.” He scrunched his face up. “I’m almost getting used to it, it’s been in and out so much.” He carefully pushed his underwear down to his ankles and stepped out, naked.
“Come.” Fenn took his elbow and guided him down some shallow steps in to the pool. The warm water lapping higher around him was an almost erotic pleasure. He sighed. The pool was about chest depth and large enough to comfortably float and splash about. There seemed to be a sunken stone bench around the edges. Fenn drew him to it and sat beside him. The light was coming up from underneath.
“What’s causing the light?” he asked, with idle curiosity.
“We call it lim-light. It’s a kind of moss. We use it everywhere – you just need a little piece of it and it spreads steadily. Very convenient.” Fenn laid his head back on the edge of the pool and sunk down a little further, shutting his eyes. “Graces, I missed this. Your people do not have good baths, Will Grant.”
He sounded so complacent that Will chuckled a little. He could feel the aches soaking out of him already. He splashed Fenn with a small wave that lapped over his face, making his silver eyelashes clump together as he laughed softly and opened his lids a little, directing his sleepy gaze at Will, eyes still protected by that inner eyelid. “It is true. You know it is true. Since, since the Romans! You have not had proper baths.”
Will snorted at that. “You aren’t allowed to read my mind in order to be smug at me.” He chided.
“It was on the surface. You were shouting.” Fenn shut his eyes again, glimmer of humour fading. “You did not ask me about Keren.”
“No.” Will was solemn now, too. “No. I didn’t. I just assumed. When you didn’t come back. Is he still alive?”
“No. No, he is not. He tried to escape when he realised that I could not come back and the carnas got him by the shimmer, out at the Eastern Point, where I first went through. Malach said it was quick.” He passed a hand over his lashes, rubbing dampness off them. “I loathe Malach. I always have. They are always so reasonable.” He sat up and pushed off with his feet, moving to the other side of the pool, unable to stay still. “I understand their position. Of course I do. But to use my sibling to force me in to something I would have done regardless.” He put his hands over his face. “I am at a loss, Will.”
Will stood too and went over to him, waist deep in the warm water. What could he say? There was nothing to say to a man who’s brother, little more than a child, had been killed by those things. And for no reason. Just another senseless death. He found that he had said it aloud. “A senseless death.” He put his hand on Fenn’s shoulder, a firm, comforting grip.
Fenn moved closer, resting his head on Will’s shoulder, his hand on Will’s neck to hold him close. Will brought his other arm around him and clasped him tightly, in silence. It was perfectly peaceful in the cavern, like this. No sound except the deep green lapping of the water and the steady breathing of two people who had lost more than either of them deserved. Fenn stepped back a little, opening up the space between them. “For all that you have done for me, Will Grant …” he raised his gaze from the surface of the pool and met Will’s as he stretched out a hand and very lightly touched Will’s wet shoulder. The water droplets glimmered with lim-light as he removed his hand. Will shut his eyes briefly at the intensity of the sensation. When he opened them again, Fenn was watching him. His nictating membrane was open in the dim light of the cavern and the beech green of his eyes was as startling as the first time Will had seen it. Neither of them moved. They were both breathing as if they had been running. “For all that you have done for me, Will … I am thankful.” His voice was lower than before.
He dropped his eyes to his fingers as he raised them out of the water again to Will’s shoulder, running them slowly down over his pectoral to his nipple. Will watched too, biting his lip and concentrating on keeping his breath steady. The long, elegant fingers circled around the little peak, pearled with water. “Fenn.” He said.
“Will.” Will could hear the hunger in his voice, hidden under a smile.

The Hunted & the Hind: Knitting a universe versus snappy dialogue

Cover, audiobook, The Hunted and the Hind

I thought I’d talk a bit today about the differences between writing historical stories and paranormal stories, with particular reference to The Hunted and the Hind, which is coming soon to audio. Most of my stories have magic and the paranormal in them, but I see myself as being more a historical writer than a fantasy writer—I try and get my history right and then throw in the extra ‘what if’ of the magic.

One of the things I like a great deal about my paranormal universe is that no-one, not even me, knows exactly how everything fits together. This is great as a writer because you can basically darn up plot-holes as you go along, but it is also a bit nerve-wracking, because you can write yourself into those same plot holes and it’s excruciating trying to dig out of them. Someone on twitter asked how I kept track of my magic system a while back and my answer was that I didn’t really, but in my head it looks like a room full of balls of wool and excited kittens. This is still true, although since that conversation I’ve started keeping detailed notes because it was all getting a bit out of hand.

Writing the historical parts of the stories is completely different. I like to have a clear idea of the period I’m writing in—for the 1920s now, I think I’ve got quite a grip on it. I started off with family stories about the period and then did lots of reading around, about specific areas of London, specific things that happened that I wanted to touch my characters in some way. It’s a much more measured approach. I sometimes get sidetracked by research into things that seem to blow up in my mind as immensely important and might only have a sentence in the finished book. In The Flowers of Time, for example, I became obsessed with how to make light in the Himalayas in the 1700s and ended up making not only my own butter-lamps, but my own butter.

For The Hunted and the Hind I got sucked down a sea-travel rabbit-hole that seemed to be endless. The characters take a liner home from Egypt to England and I needed to satisfy myself that I’d got the detail right before I started shoving magical happenings into the story. That seems to be the way it works for me—I get the historical period straight in my mind, I have my characters and then I say ‘what if this happened?’. It’s my own particular version of the writer habit of killing your darlings.

As the writer though, one of the most fun things about the 1920s books is the snippy dialogue between the main characters. It was really nice to get back into that when I began to write again. However, I didn’t want Hunted to be another Alec and Lew book, they’d had their turn and I wanted to focus on Fenn and Will. I ended up cutting quite a bit of Alec and Lew scenes because they were just there so I could write snarky dialogue that ending in shagging. Which is what I have as a deleted scene for you today!

The Hunted and the Hind is coming to audio in the next few weeks, narrated by the inestimable Callum Hale–catch up with the audios of Lost in Time and Shadows on the Border here.

The Hunted and the Hind

#3 in the Lost in Time 1920s series.

Inadvertently tumbling through the border into the Outlands after Fenn, Sergeant Will Grant of the Metropolitan Police has spent three months imprisoned by the Frem. When Fenn frees him, they step through the border to the Egyptian desert. It’s a two week ocean-liner journey back to England, with the possibility of magical pursuit. Will the journey give Fenn and Will time to resolve the feelings they have been dancing around since the day they met?

Listen to Angel Martinez reading an excerpt for Friday Reading Day.

#3 in the Lost in Time series. m/enby paranormal, historical, romantic suspense of 40,400 words set in 1920s London. Sequel to Lost in Time and Shadows on the Border, which should be read first. The Lost in Time trilogy.

Deleted Scene from The Hunted and the Hind

“No,” said Alec, very firmly.
“I think you should,” said Lew, mildly. “It would be very helpful.”
“No,” said Alec, again.
“Please?” Lew tried.
Alec sighed. He was going to lose this battle. “Honestly, I have no idea what I’m going to do about it,” he said. “We can’t go on much longer…his mother…,” he trailed off.
“Well, yes,” Lew said. “You’ll have to speak to her. But…,”
“What?”
“She must know about the border, mustn’t she? Grant had training from his father.”
There was a thoughtful pause.
“Yes…,” Alec said, finally.
“So, and forgive me if this seems in any way less simple than it seems…we could just tell her the truth.”
That honestly hadn’t occurred to Alec. He stared at Lew.
“The truth?”
“Yes. The truth.” He paused. “Horrific thought that seems?”
There was a relatively long silence.
“Well…,” Alec was just making noises with his mouth whilst his brain processed.
Lew turned his head on the pillow and looked at him enquiringly. “Yes…?”
“The truth? I suppose…,”
“Yes…,” Lew’s tone was one of exquisite patience. Alec realised he was taking the mickey.
“Oh, do be quiet,” Alec conceded. “Fine. We’ll tell her the truth.”
“Will said she was away,” Lew said. “Can you find out when she’s back?”
“I’ll telephone her house,” Alec conceded. “And make some inquiries.”
“Good plan,” Lew said. “Well done for coming up with it!”
Alec punched him in a friendly fashion on his naked shoulder and things quickly deteriorated in to activities that meant words weren’t very necessary.

Border Magic and The Green Book: A secondary character

All of the Border Magic books (previously the Lost in Time books) are based around The Green Book. It’s featured to a greater or lesser extent in every book in the series and I am starting to see it as a main character who has it’s own timeline. I’m not entirely sure what it contains myself, but it seems like there’s one spell (except they’re not spells, let’s be clear, they’re just instructions!) for each story so far.

Deleted Snippet, The Flowers of Time: The Green Book

The Flowers of Time, now in Audible. "Jones was written perfectly. As a non-binary person I felt seen, and may have shed a tear once or twice". "I loved Flowers. It's sweet and sexy, but also fascinating...and creepy."

As Jones got further and further in to the Green Book (she began to capitalize it in her own mind when thinking about it), she became more and more convinced that her father had believed it to be at least based in fact, if not completely factual.

Some of it she couldn’t translate. It was written in a myriad of different languages and hands. Some of the pages were even printed and had clearly been bound in between other pages retrospectively. The enterprise looked as if it had started out as someone’s journal and then perhaps passed through a few different owners who had continued the work before coming in to her own hands. If Pater had found it in the library at Penel Orleiu, god knew how long it had been there. They’d come out to India in the mid-fifties and Jones had been four when they left England, that much she knew. So he had probably had it a few years before that. It could be forty years old. Or a hundred. She didn’t think it was much older than that, from the gold-tooling on the binding and the way the leather and paper were aged. But it was difficult to tell.

Some of the ink was a faded brown color, clearly not very good quality. And some of it was very clear. One page was written in a very pretty green. It wasn’t a cohesive work at all.

So far, we know the book is bound in green leather with gold tooling and it’s written in lots of different languages with a mixture different handwriting and print, some of it on odd bits of paper that have been shoved in higgledy-piggledy. No-one has been able to work out where or when it originated, least of all me. However, this is what we do know:

1611: The book is known to be in Baden. Piece inserted by an unknown elderly traveller who mentions the Himalayas. They talk about pulling power from the border to make magic. (reference: The Flowers of Time)
1730s to 1779: The book is known to be with Franklin Jones. Franklin finds it in the library in his country house, Penel Orlieu. It probably arrived there in a job-lot of books bought by his Grandfather around 1690. He takes it to India with him in the mid 1750s. (reference: The Flowers of Time)
1779: Jones finds the book among her father’s things. (The Flowers of Time)
1848: Jones leaves it in her cousin’s library at Penel House in London. (The Flowers of Time)
1890 to 1920s: The book is at Webber’s Farm in Somerset, with Arthur, Matty & Rob. (Inheritance of Shadows and Bradfield Trilogy – coming soon!)
2016: Mira finds the book in a second-hand shop in London. The book is left behind at her flat when she and Lew go back to 1919. (Lost in Time)

I have a few more stories for it yet, so this time-line will no doubt expand. Because I write in a bit of a random fashion, the stories start off at one point and I have a fairly firm idea of what’s going to happen; and then the characters all hare off in a different direction with me racing to catch up.

The book seems to have life of its own in much the same manner as my human characters do, and functions as a thread running through all the stories. Because my universe has the possibility of time-travel, that makes the whole thing more complicated. It wouldn’t surprise me if the book turns out to have been made in 2051 and then jettisoned back to the sixteenth century. Or created in 1496 and then jumped a hundred years for some reason.

I see the magic in the universe as very unknown and unpredictable. It’s our own world with a hidden layer beneath, if you like. And there’s always a price to pay if you use it; if you’re lucky, and not a nice person, you can sometimes get someone else to pay the price. If not, you get ingested by a magical squid or sucked in to a vortex of rabid mice or eaten by a guinea pig. (WARNING: These are not real examples).

I like the fact that the reader probably knows more about how the magical bits of the universe work than the characters. Each book is self-contained (except Lost in Time, which has a HFN and sort of runs on in to Shadows on the Border for a proper HEA, because it was my first novel and I wasn’t quite sure how it was all going to work). The central story is always the development of a relationship between two people discovering more about the concept of the Border and pulling energy from it to make magical things happen or stop them.

The characters in the love story change. But behind everything lurks the Border and the magic, and the book.

Taking Stock: Deleted Scene

Here’s a deleted scene I found from Taking Stock. It’s Patsy Walker, who runs the Post Office, talking to HER friend Sally, who’s Laurie’s housekeeper. It’s whilst he’s in hospital recovering from his stroke. I took it out because it didn’t move the story along at all.

Book cover of Taking Stock — Taking Stock

“He’s going to be a handful,” Patsy Walker said to her friend Sally Beelock as she filled the tea-pot. “You’ll have trouble with him.”

Sally pulled a face. “You don’t need to tell me that,” she said. “He’s already talking about coming home and the stupid idiot can’t even stand up without help yet.”

“He’s improving though, yes?” Patsy asked.

“Yes, definitely. And it’s only been a week. They say that he needs to keep trying to move everything, his arm, his fingers, his leg, and the more he does that the more it’ll help.” She sighed. “They don’t know if it’ll all come back properly, but they say there’s a good chance.”

Patsy passed her a mug of tea and sat down opposite her at the kitchen table where she could see in to the shop. There weren’t any customers at the moment, but the early autumn day was warm and she had the outside door propped open as usual, which meant the bell wouldn’t ring if anyone came in.

“How are you managing?” she asked Sally. “It must have been a shock. He’s only what, thirty?”

“Thirty-three,” Sally said absently. “Yes. I thought it was curtains for him to be honest, Pat. Jimmy came down to get me at Carsters once the ambulance had gone. He didn’t tell me much, just said I should get into the hospital. Apparently he was unconscious, pretty much.”

Patsy patted her hand. “Well, he’s going to be fine, love. You’ll see. Look at Roger Chedzoy. He had a stroke four years ago and you’d never really know to look at him now.”

“He’s sixty-three though,” Sally said. “I mean, there’s never a good age, is there? But Laurie’s so young.”

Patsy nodded. “And that means he’s got more fight in him and he’ll get over it quickly. You’ll see.”

Deleted Scene: Fenn in the Outlands

As you may have noticed, I’ve been round and about on the interweb with some deleted scenes from The Hunted and the Hind. I wrote a lot of extra words set in Fenn’s Outlands, before I found that I was going down a road I didn’t really want to tread and writing a fantasy novel rather than a whatever-it-actually-is.

It was really hard to take these bits out, but I felt that it made the story waaaaay too ‘bitty’. There was already a lot going on and lots of loose ends to tie up. To introduce a major new setting at this point, with all the world-building that would entail was too much, if I’m quite honest. Here’s one of the bits that didn’t make the final cut!

Fenn Arrives Home

Fenn felt the push-twist that was the shimmer opening and stepped forward. They shoved the carnas in front of them firmly through the gate with a sharp motion and stepped after it, feeling a huge weight lift from their shoulders as they did so. They had done as the Ternant’s asked and the council should now release Fenn from this duty and Keren along with them.
The jangling clatter of light and sound, kias manifest that they recollected from their outward trip to Delf gradually began to subside.
They stood inside the circle, surrounded by the Ternants. Guards were already ushering the carnas away down a side tunnel.
“Where are the eggs?” Malach asked, holding the necklace of gable-stones that had been taken from the carnas. Fenn sighed. Always, Malach.
“I told you, Malach, when we spoke through the shimmer. There was only one egg. And it was broken in a struggle with a human.”
Malach nodded and banged their staff, the staff of the leader of the Ternants, on the floor of chamber. “Very well. I am disappointed, Fenn of the Hunters. We set you a task and you have not completed it.”
Fenn raised their voice. “I completed it to the best of my ability, Malach. I brought you back the carnas. Now release my sibling.”
Malach shook their head. “No. You did not complete the task we set you. Under the terms of our agreement, Keren will not be returned to you. They will be executed. You knew this would happen if you did not carry out the task, Fenn.”
Fenn lunged for them across the sand, but two of the Ternant’s guards grabbed their arms and pulled them back. “No, Fenn of the Hunters,” one said, lowly, in to their ear. Do not do this. Do not.” Fenn subsided as Malach turned away. The guard was right. There were too many people. And what good would it do Keren? They stood down and the guards cautiously released them.
“I did what you asked, Malach,” Fenn called after their half-turned back, instead. “I brought back the carnas. The egg, I could not bring, through no fault of my own. You are not treating me, or my kindred justly in this!” They felt the guard who had spoken wince.
Malach stopped their turn away and moved to face Fenn again. “Do not question the Ternants, Fenn of the Hunters. Or worse things will befall you than the keeping of an agreement. Your sibling will be executed as I told you would happen if you did not bring back both the eggs and the carnas. The word of the Ternants is unbreakable.”
Over their shoulder, Fenn could see that some of the other faces of council members looked sickened. They appealed to them. “Can you not see how wrong this is?” they said. “Keren is a child. This is not the way the council should work, this is not the way the Outlands should police the shimmer. We are not cruel. We are just. This is not just!”
Malach simply shook their head and continued to turn. The crowd of Ternants and workers who had sung kias to open the shimmer for Fenn’s return parted to allow them exit and then turned as one, to follow.
Fenn dropped to their knees and watched them retreat. After a moment, when the last twitch of over-robe had disappeared in to the tunnel, the guard who had spoken before put a hand under their shoulder and pulled. “On your feet, young Fenn. You won’t do any good down there.”
Fenn turned to look at them. Neither they nor their companion were familiar. “What do you mean?” they said. “I need to help Keren. I need to either get Malach to release them, or I need to get them out. Can you help?”
The guard shook their head. “No. I am sworn to serve the Ternants in this. But you are not, and there are others. Seek your parent and your kindred, Fenn of the Hunters. Ana is waiting for you.” The other guard nodded at him in a not unfriendly fashion and the one speaking gave Fenn a gentle push toward the door. “Get moving, Fenn. There’s not a great deal of time.”
Fenn stared hard at both of them for a moment and then did as they were told.

Ana, Fenn's parent. Starting a revolution.

It wasn’t far to Ana’s quarters. They and Cora, Fenn’s other parent, had shared a set of family rooms quite high in the caves for their use when they were here in the Underhalls. Fenn and all three of their older siblings had grown up there until they had reached maturity and moved out in to the dormitories for the unattached. When Cora died two years ago, Ana had continued to live there with Keren, a constant stream of cheerful visitors sitting on comfortable couches or on the soft, deep rugs, discussing books and travel and kias and the ideas they had about everything under the sun.
Ana had clearly been pacing when Fenn chapped on the door and immediately entered.
“Fenn!” they wrapped their arms around them and they responded in kind. “I felt the working, but I couldn’t follow closely enough to know the result. Are you well?” They pushed Fenn back and looked at their face, framing it with their familiar, long-fingered hands. “You are tired? And…” they scowled, reading Fenn’s tumultuous thoughts. “And Malach refused to free Keren.” Their voice dripped vitriol. “The bastard. I knew they’d pull something like this.” Their hands dropped to Fenn’s shoulders, steadying. “Fenn, what of the one who came through behind you? There were two of you. Where is your companion?”
Fenn looked at them. “What?”
“Your companion. There were two come through. I felt them. Where is the person who accompanied you?”

Detective Sergean Will Grant. A magician.

Will Grant. It had to be Will Grant. They were closest to the shimmer when it opened and had been helping Fenn herd the carnas through. Fenn had been focused on keeping it under control and had trusted the team of humans to help open the shimmer and keep onlookers away.
“They were not with me when the gateway closed. We must have been split up in the shimmer itself.” Fenn looked up at Ana as they sank in to a chair and fought exhaustion, anger and the slight nausea left from coming through the shimmer. They shut their eyes briefly. They were so tired. “Where is Keren, Ana? Can we get them out? It will have to be quickly.”
Ana shook their head. “Perhaps. Things have happened whilst you were away.”
“How long was it?” Fenn asked. Time sometimes got twisted when you traveled through the shimmer. Some people could control it and use it to move back and forth in the when as well as between the worlds. Fenn couldn’t and had relied upon the council to pull them through in the right time. Now though…now they didn’t trust anything the Council of Ternants did.
“The third time of trying, that they arranged before you left. So three months.”
Fenn nodded. That was good. It had been their first trip through the shimmer and they had been frightened of all sorts of things. Not least Malach’s word.
“Where would Will Grant have gone? What happened, Ana?”
“I think the gate was shutting behind you as they entered. They could be anywhere. Anywhen, even.”
Fenn made a noise of distress. “They helped me find the carnas and looked after me when the Ternants would not let me through. I must search for them.”
Ana shook their head. “There is very little to be done without a circle to try to trace their kias from the closed gate. That is not a priority. I need to speak to Malach, to see if I can get them to release Keren.” They knelt down between Fenn’s feet and took their hands between their own. “Fenn, child. What did Malach say? What happened in Delft?”
Fenn told them. “The carnas was killing humans. The humans were searching for it. There are a few who use kias…Will Grant is one. We found the egg…the carnas only laid the one. I had it safe and tried to come through with it at the second meeting-time that the Ternants gave me. But Malach would not let me through without the carnas as well. They said one egg wasn’t enough.”
Fenn bent forward and put their forehead on Ana’s shoulder, allowing them to slip their arms around Fenn’s back. It was a relief to have someone else take some weight, just for a moment. Ana’s hands moved gently up and down Fenn’s back, soothing as if Fenn was still a child.
Fenn continued. “And then, Will Grant found me. They broke the egg. I had not told any of them about Keren. When I did…Will Grant was sorry. They took me to their family home and cared for me. I was…” they paused. “I was distraught.”
Ana made a comforting noise. They smelled of home.
“And then…we went back to the city and the other humans had managed to find the carnas. So…I went. And we found it and I managed to push it through.” They drew a breath. “Why do they want it so badly, Ana?”
Ana made a noise in their throat. “Not for anything good. Malach has been consolidating their power for years. The carnas…the carnas should never have been used like this. We should never have consented, when they first came up with the idea of using them to track kias and help police the border. It has been nothing but trouble. Malach uses them like a blunt weapon, aiming them and letting them go. The result is never good, for the hunted for the carnas themselves. It is cruel.”
They released Fenn from their embrace and pushed them a little apart, hands on Fenn’s shoulders, staring urgently in to Fenn’s face. “We can fix this, Fenn. Once and for all. And I need you to do as I ask, now. And not ask me questions. Can you do that? There’s very little time.”
Fenn nodded. “Will you get Keren out?” they asked. “Can you get them?”
Ana shook their head. “I don’t know. I am not even sure Malach has kept them alive this long. Keren is a threat to them. Yes, Malach can use them as leverage, to maneuverer you and I and your other siblings. But on the other hand…Malach must know that using children in these games of theirs is opening more and more eyes to their true nature. If Keren is already dead, then there is no risk of Malach’s own people freeing them.” Her hands tightened on Fenn’s shoulders. “You should think of Keren as already dead, Fenn.” Their eyes filled with tears. “Think of them as already gone and plan your actions accordingly.”
Fenn swallowed. “Namma…,” they said, slipping in to childish language. They had called both their parents by their given names since they left home. They put their hands on Ana’s shoulders, in turn. “Namma…I will find Keren.”
Ana shook their head. “No. Leave Keren to me. You search for the human. And wait. Wait. Trust no-one who is not recommended to you by me or your siblings. Do you understand?”
Fenn nodded. “Very well.” They dropped their hands from Ana’s shoulders and they both pushed to their feet. “Very well.” Fenn drew Ana in to their arms again. “Ana. I am so pleased to be home.”
Ana wrapped her arms back around him. “I am so pleased you are home, too, Fenn. Your other siblings are well. We will make this right, I promise. It may be too late for Keren and I ache for that. I am so angry. It’s time to move against Malach, and we are not alone in being poised to make that happen.” They pushed Fenn an arms length away again. “Now, go. Go back to your quarters. Assume Keren is gone. Grieve them. Rage against Malach. And wait.”

Fenn did as they were asked. Ana was no longer on the Council of Ternants, but the Hunters still had supporters there. Ana had stepped down when Cora died, saying they had both done their duty to the council. Malach had stepped up. And here they all were.

buy the hunted and the hind