Aela Darkwood's Arc

Chapter 5 of 13

They walked until the trees thinned into another ring of pines. Ten trunks stood in a circle. Moonlight fell clean through the open center onto flat moss. Lyra leaned on Aela's shoulder. Her tattooed palm hung dead at her side. Four nights left. Maybe three. "Sit," Aela said. Lyra sat with her back against a trunk. Sweat wet her hairline. "I can't read the knot. Not for days." "I know." Aela knelt in the pool of light. She pulled the book from under her arm and set it on the moss. "Then teach me to read it." Lyra's eyes closed. "You don't have the mark." "I have four nights." Lyra was quiet. Then she reached into her torn pocket and drew out a magnifying glass. The frame was silver. Small marks ran around the rim. "Cipher lens. Shows the pattern under skin when the moon's on it. Won't cut the knot. Only lets you see it." "Give it." Lyra placed it in her hand. "Ribs. Left side. That's where I saw it." Aela lifted her shirt to the bottom of her ribs. She held the lens over the skin and moved into the moonlight. At first she saw only her own scars, thin and old. Then the lens caught. A dark line surfaced under the skin, looped and doubled back on itself. A knot. Ugly. Tight. "I see it," she said. "Count the crossings. Out loud." "One. Two. Three." Her hand shook. She steadied it. "Four. Five. It goes under itself here. Six." "Seven?" "No. It stops at six and ties back." Lyra opened her eyes. "Six is a binding knot. Not a killing one. Someone tied you to keep you, not to end you." Aela lowered the lens. "Keep me from what." "The wolf." Lyra swallowed. "Whoever tied it wanted you stuck. Half." Aela's stomach dropped. She thought of running as a full wolf. The ground gone under her. The old speed. Someone had taken that on purpose. "Who," she said. "Six crossings is a hand knot. Close work. Someone who could touch you." Lyra's voice went shorter. "Someone you let near." Aela sat back on her heels. The moss was cold through her jeans. She pulled her sleeves down over the scars without thinking. Then she pushed them back up and looked at them. Old cuts. Straight. Placed. "I need to write it down," she said. "Before I forget the shape." Lyra broke a slim branch from the trunk beside her. The wood had pale veins in it that gave a soft green light. "Draw with the wet end. It'll hold on the page till morning." Aela opened the book to a blank leaf and copied the knot line by line under the lens. Six crossings. One name she did not yet have. The curse still counted down. But the shape was hers now.