Analla Faestar's Arc

Chapter 3 of 6

Analla knelt on the shrine stone and thought about the collar in her pack. She had brought it up the mountain for this moment. A sturdy leather band, worn soft, with a bright buckle. She had meant to fasten it around the hound's neck. A mark to show the world the beast was hers. Now she drew it out and turned it in her hands, and the plan felt wrong. The hound watched from the center of the circle. Its black coat drank the light. Pale eyes tracked her fingers on the leather. She saw its shoulders tense the moment the collar appeared. It had worn something once. The scars said so. Someone had chained it, named it, made it serve. A collar meant an owner. An owner meant no choice. Analla understood then why it would not leave the grove. Out there, people put collars on beasts. In here, it was free. If she fastened this band around its neck, she would become one more hand that took its will away. The bond would hold, but it would hold like a leash. She wanted a companion who chose her, not a slave who feared her. So she made a different choice. She lifted the collar to her own throat. The hound's ears pricked. Slowly she buckled the leather around her neck. The strap sat snug against her skin. She held her chin up and let the beast see it. "You do not belong to me," she said. "I belong to you. If you come, you come free." The hound rose. It stepped off the sacred stone and crossed the circle. Its huge head lowered to her throat. The wet nose pressed the leather, then her jaw, then her cheek. She stayed still. She let it read the collar with its breath. A low sound rolled in its chest, softer than a growl. Then it sat beside her, shoulder against her arm, and looked toward the shrine steps. Analla stood. Her legs shook. She walked to the top of the steps and stopped. She did not call it. She did not reach for it. She only waited, the collar tight at her throat. The hound rose again. It followed her to the edge of the sacred ground. There it paused, one paw lifted above the last stone. For a breath it looked back at the circle where it had always been safe. Then it set the paw down beyond the grove, on ordinary earth, and stood at her side. It had chosen. The bond held now not by food or fear but by will. Analla let out her breath and touched its scarred shoulder. The beast did not flinch. Below them the mountain fell away into forest and open country. The hound stared into it, hackles rising. Something moved in the trees. Analla had won her familiar. Now she had to keep it alive in a world that had taught it to bleed.