Clan and Crave (CLAN BEGINNINGS) by Tracy St. John EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Tracy St. John
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
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“Hoslek, wait for me!” Conyod raced toward the paddock’s shimmering
force field as his older brother rode chestnut-furred Ges through the
opening he’d ordered. Another command closed it behind him.
At nine years old, Hoslek was already an accomplished rider of the sixlegged kestarsh their parents bred, raised, and sold. He was also on the
bossy side when it came to seven-year-old Conyod.
“Can’t wait. Two of the mares got loose, and I have to find them.”
Hoslek spoke in a firm tone, but his gaze cut in the direction of their home
worriedly, though the boys’ parents hadn’t yet returned from a trip to town.
“Let me go too, or I’ll tell them you didn’t properly close the
containment when you brought them in from the pasture.”
Hoslek paused for an instant before scowling. “Don’t be a jerk, Conyod.
As long as I bring them home, I won’t get in trouble. Stop slowing me
down.” He shouted at the paddock’s system, though the nearest tall metal
pole emitting it was mere feet away. “Corral containment, don’t unlock for
Conyod. Disable his voice commands.”
Hoslek might have been only nine, but he already had a born Dramok’s
command. Conyod’s first instinct at his brother’s order was to obey. By the
time he’d recovered his stubborn nature, Hoslek was galloping toward the
foothills of Mount Evar.
“I’ll tell!” he shouted after his brother, who’d already spurred Ges out of
hearing distance. Conyod kicked a divot into the ground where the passage
of numerous kestarsh had worn the grass away. Even if he’d been able to
commandeer a mount in the locked corral, he wasn’t big or strong enough
to saddle them alone. He was left behind. Again.
“I’ll tell. You’ll be sorry!”
* * * *
The escaped mares returned home of their own accord at their normal
mealtime. It was the next morning when the first searchers found Ges,
viciously clawed and shivering, between outcroppings of rocks. The
evidence of a zibger’s attack was obvious. There was no sign of Hoslek.
Conyod’s mother, who’d stayed reluctantly behind while his fathers, the
ranch hands, and local villagers spent the entire night until daybreak
searching for her eldest child, collapsed to her knees in the yard when her
Imdiko mate Sema brought the horribly injured Ges home. Sema
dismounted and held her, his arms wrapped around her shaking shoulders.
He was forced to remain at her side for the rest of the rescue attempt…
which most acknowledged was now a recovery effort.
Conyod’s other two fathers continued the search. “We won’t stop until
we find him,” Nobek Vel vowed.
Hoslek’s body wasn’t recovered. Like hundreds of riders, hikers, and
adventurers who’d dared the mountains brooding over the plain, he was
never seen again. In the end, even Vel was forced to admit the child
wouldn’t be returned for a proper funeral.
The family descended into unrelenting grief. Conyod suffered endless
nightmares of his brother riding away and of his own angry cry, the last
words he’d spoken to Hoslek a mortal prediction: “You’ll be sorry!”
* * * *
Seventeen years later
Nobek Sletran sat in a bar in Kalquor’s capital city, convinced he’d
made a mistake. It wouldn’t be the first time, but since this potential error
involved a sensitive Imdiko, he winced in anticipation of committing it.
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