Clanless (Nameless #2)
by Jennifer Jenkins
Publication Date: October 4, 2016
Striker Gryphon has lost his position of honor among the Ram, and is now a hunted man. A traitor.
Zo, the object of his affection, was murdered by members of his former clan. To honor her memory, he journeys to the highly secretive Raven “Nest” to warn strangers of their impending demise—though it could cost him more than just his pride.
He doesn’t know that Zo is very much alive and in another part of the region assisting Nameless refugees over a mountain swarming with wild men known as “Clanless.”
As each struggle to make sense of what their lives have become, they fight and claw to reach the Allied Camp, their last hope in bringing peace to the region.
But the road back to one another is treacherous and uncertain. And freedom will come with a price.
Other Books in the Series
About the Author
With her degree in History and Secondary Education, Jennifer had every intention of teaching teens to love George Washington and appreciate the finer points of ancient battle stratagem. (Seriously, she’s obsessed with ancient warfare.) However, life had different plans in store when the writing began. As a proud member of Writers Cubed, and a co-founder of the Teen Author Boot Camp, she feels blessed to be able to fulfill both her ambition to work with teens as well as write Young Adult fiction.
Jennifer has three children who are experts at naming her characters, one loving, supportive husband, a dog with little-man syndrome, and three chickens (of whom she is secretly afraid).
Visit her online at jajenkins.com
A long cut stretched across Boar’s forehead. Blood gushed down his face and into his eyes like red tears. Every muscle in his shoulders and arms flexed as he stomped toward Zo.
He fell before he reached her.
A few of his men rushed to his side. Another thrust Zo’s medical satchel at her and ordered, “Help him.”
Zo’s icy hands hugged her mother’s satchel to her chest. “No,” she said, scrambling backward. She bumped into the chest of another of Boar’s men. She looked over at Boar sprawled out on the ground then down at the satchel in her arms. A clear memory of her mother sprang to the forefront of her mind.
Zo was young, maybe eight or nine years old. Her family had a few sheep that they used for wool and milk. Zo remembered them well because it was her job to care for them. They followed her around whenever she entered their pen. If she turned left, they turned left. If she ran, they ran. It was one of her favorite forms of entertainment.
Until they were slaughtered in a raid.
One of the men who committed the crime was injured and Zo’s mother called for him to be brought to her healing tent. Zo cried and cried over the loss of her sheep and when she learned what her mother had done, she stormed into her mother’s healing tent and yelled, “Don’t heal him, Mama! He killed my sheep.”
Zo would never forget the disappointment she saw on her mother’s face that day. “I am not this man’s executioner, Zo,” she said. “I am a healer. If I do nothing I am as guilty as he is.”
Even as a child, Zo didn’t have her mother’s humanity. Her incomprehensible ability to love and forgive. Besides, this wasn’t about revenge over sheep, it was about self-preservation. Boar’s injury might be the key to her escape.
Zo fought a niggling voice in her head that wouldn’t be dismissed. “Heal him.” It was absurd and utterly foolish, but as those two words gently penetrated her consciousness, a blanket of warmth spread over her body. “Heal him.” It was her mother’s voice.
She’d forgotten just how soothing it could be. Deep and smooth and achingly beautiful. Zo clasped her hands and pressed them to her chest. Remembering brought so much pain, but strangely, comfort too.
Zo raised her head to the heavens, wiped at a tear, and sighed. This is for you, Mother.