The sun hung low in the sky, a final splash of fiery orange and gold before nightfall. The task of rounding up the pack's residents was a slow, arduous one. A sense of unease rippled through the village; some didn't understand what was happening and became scared, their panic threatening to splinter spread. The Defectives, those whose once exiled, were the ones relied upon to keep everyone in place. Their own grasp on reality was firm, but their connection to the pack was strong enough to help with the gathering. The young children, still clear-minded, moved among them, their innocence a stark contrast to the encroaching madness that would one day claim them. It was only a matter of time before their minds, too, started to slip once they were taught to use their packs and abilities.
"Stop! You're hurting her!" a woman screamed, her voice a piercing shriek of agony. Skylar, her grip unyielding, dragged the woman across the dirt by her hair. The woman, Delina, wailed and clawed at Skylar's fingers, kicking her legs, desperate to escape.
"Stop!" Kelly screamed, her voice filled with rage as she rushed to help Delina. Before she could even reach them, Skylar's foot shot out, a vicious kick to Kelly's stomach that sent her sprawling backward. The sickening sound of bones cracking echoed in the air, a final, horrifying exclamation point to the assault. Kelly cried out in pain, a guttural scream of agony.
"Vermin!" Skylar spat, her lip curling in disgust as she stared down at the groaning woman. With a final, contemptuous toss, she hurled Delina into the center of the village square.
Skylar's senses, already on edge, tangled together. She instinctively reached for her dagger, but she was a beat too slow. The Alpha, a blur of motion, slammed her face viciously into the ground. Her nose broke with a sickening crunch, and her forehead split open, a trail of blood leaking into her eyes, mixing with the earth beneath her.
"No one harms my people," the Alpha's voice rumbled, low and dangerous. Skylar choked on the dirt that had been shoved into her face so forcefully that she couldn't breathe. The Alpha's shifted claws dug into her throat, piercing through the skin so close to her carotid artery. One slight move and she would die.
"You've taught her the lesson. Let her go," Marcus told him calmly, his voice a steady counterpoint to the Alpha's fury.
The Alpha released his grip, kicking Skylar away from him with a final, violent motion before flashing over to the collapsed Kelly. He knelt beside her, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he surveyed her injuries. He then licked the palm of his hand and rubbed his saliva all over her wounded stomach. The cuts healed themselves and the bruises began to diminish, but her bones would take longer to heal. She would need an injection.
"I'm okay," Kelly wheezed weakly, her hand reaching out to touch the Alphas arm.
"I will bring her to our home, mate," the Alpha's mate offered, her voice soft and caring. She knelt, lifting the young girl into her arms with practiced ease.
"All the women have to be in the Square," Skylar growled, pushing herself up from the ground. She felt insulted and challenged that this "dim-witted" Alpha could outmaneuver her. She had felt the attack coming, but she hadn't been able to move in time. It felt as if she had been moving in slow motion while he was a flash of light.
"It's fine. Take her to your home, Alpha mate," Marcus said kindly, gesturing for her to go ahead. He had seen the girl's blood; she wasn't the Queen.
Walking over to the enraged wolf, Marcus looked her square in the eyes. He let his heavy aura press down on her. It was something he normally kept hidden, as it wasn't much of a benefit, but at this moment, he chose to make her submit to him completely. Unable to fight against his dominant aura, her head fell forcefully as she crumbled to her knees.
"I will have a vote with the council when we return as to how long you need to be in our dungeons. Anger me again, and see how well your pack survives!" His words were quiet and lethal, not a simple threat but a promise of what was to come. If she forced his hand, he would become the harbinger of her demise.
"Do you understand?" At her simple nod, he repeated himself once more.
"Yes, honorable council member," she replied, her voice filled with quiet defiance.
Turning away, he went back to monitor the square and make sure all of the pack felt comfortable enough to sit still. He couldn't stand other packs that didn't give the proper respect. Her pack wouldn't exist without this pack; there were a few packs that were the origin of all wolf life, and they were standing on the land of one of those very packs. There was a chance that at least one out of every ten wolves standing here right now had a gene that originated from this pack. And she thought it was right to toss them around like puppets because they gave up their minds to save the rest of us. They weren't just our origins; they were our saviors.
Even though council members didn't have a pack, they all started somewhere. As a young man, he had wanted to know which pack he had belonged to, the one his family had belonged to at one point. It was this pack. His unknowable amount of great-grandfathers had been the first wolf to lose his mind, the first wolf to learn how to move like the wind and disappear like a ghost. He lost his mind to save the wolf world, and even though Marcus had never stepped foot in this pack as a member, his family was completely uprooted from this pack, it didn't diminish his connection to it.
"You're such a good boy," an elderly woman whispered, her voice like the rustling of dry leaves. She patted Boris's cheeks as he carried her gently in his arms. He smiled down at her; he had found her in the forest in her wolf form. For a woman of her age, he was shocked she was still able to shift back and forth. Her mind was fuzzy, but she hadn't been dangerous. In her human form, she could barely walk a few steps before feeling fatigued, yet in her wolf form, she was still as fast as ever.
He grinned down at the elderly woman. Once at the square, he set her down on one of the stumps gently. "This won't be long. Just stay for a little bit," he said to her sweetly before heading off to find the next person.
Deborah's gray hair blew around her, so long it practically touched her knees. Her wrinkled, elderly form felt tight and tired. She rarely spent much time in her human form anymore; she felt frail and unlike herself. But when she was her wolf, she was free. She was strong again. She wanted to die as a wolf, her heart beating strong and fierce, living in tandem with the nature around her, versus in a bed, shivering and removed from what she loved the most.
Her mind kept moving forward and backward in her memories, unable to organize them properly. Some were clear as day while others were blurry. She knew she had the sickness of her pack, the payment to be able to do amazing things. She was almost 413 years old. She knew she would die soon, but it was nice to die in the presence of a new Queen.
As the sun descended completely, drenching the world in darkness, the large fire pit at the center of the village was lit, illuminating the area in a dim, flickering light. They had finally found every member of the pack. As expected, most didn't come alone. Even some of the ferals playing in the forest came back to the village center, simply to watch in peace. Something that the visiting wolves around them felt very uncomfortable with.
They had never seen ferals that just seemed lost versus their violent and bloodthirsty counterparts in the rest of the forest.
"Hello, friends," Marcus spoke, giving a peaceful smile to the entire group. "I'm looking for someone. We will do a little test to find her. Your finger will be pricked. It won't be painful. We need to see your blood. We will speak words to you. If you know how to respond, you can. But you don't need to do anything."
His words were patient and kind, the words of someone who had true care for this pack. It was beyond a council member taking care of a pack under its territory; this was something deeper. The other three council members had noticed Marcus's change while in this pack. He wasn't cold, clinical, and cynical. He treated them like they were all his family, like he belonged here as well.
"Is this his pack?" Philip needed to know, his senses still on high alert. It was making his stomach feel ill from his neurons being so exposed, but he had to pay attention. He needed to safeguard what wasn't supposed to be known.
"We are servants of the queen! We do not have a pack," Marina said, the official statement they all said. But each of them knew that they had an origin pack, even if they were never allowed to interact with them again. At one point or another, everyone wanted to know where they originated from. Being outside of the pack ecosystem made it that much more intriguing.
"It would make sense. He cares about them too much," she had noticed it instantly. Marcus balanced what it meant to be good, and good could be quantified. His level of kindness was something outside of what could be quantified, which meant that this had to be his home pack, where he was meant to be. She couldn't picture someone like him, so intellectual, someone who prided themselves on the value of their mind. He couldn't keep his head out of a book. He was supposed to be one of them, impossibly fast, but their minds completely lost. She just couldn't picture it. No one as curious as Marcus could ever be erased by speed.
"It's unwise to care about any pack too much. It makes it harder when choices come up.
Distance is always better." She fought back the wave of memories. Her home pack, their story was sad too, just a different kind of sadness that she could never help feeling every time a piece of paper slipped across her desk with her home pack's name on it.
The four council members spread out, all beginning to test the Shadowfang Pack women, eager to see if any of them were the soon-to-be Queen.
Looking at the bead of blood at the tip of her finger, Deborah stuck out her tongue, licking the small amount of blood, forcing the wound closed that much faster. Just as her tongue touched the tip of her finger, she paused, her mind reeling, sending her tumbling back into the past, to a memory.
A childlike giggle slipped past her lips, startling the onlookers. She rocked back and forth on her seat like a small child, her elderly frame unsuited for such activities.
"I know I know I know I know it's right there and it's I know," she muttered incoherently to herself over and over again as she pulled at her gray hair.
She slipped off her stump, sliding onto the ground as she laid her head on the grass, her fingers picking at the greenery as her eyes looked unfocused.
"I did this before," she giggled again like a small child, the sound so absurd coming out of such an elderly woman's mouth. Her words were so quiet, as if she was talking to herself, telling herself a story, as she kept picking at the grass.
" pricked my finger." She held up the finger that Carly had pricked a moment ago, as if she was showing everyone, even though her finger was already healed. "Give me thy hand, lass, for I must have thy blood.'" Her once childlike voice took on a deeper, more baritone tone, as if she was imitating someone who had spoken to her before. She laughed again, her head rolling back, her gray hair becoming brown in the dirt as she smiled at the sky.
"What is she talking about?" Kevin felt his interest perk up as he heard the obviously insane woman ramble. He knew she was old, almost at the age of death, which meant that she was old enough to be alive for many queens. A soul who had been alive this long was rare. Some Queens reigned longer than others. It was considered unlucky to live through multiple queens. The times felt as if they would change so dramatically; you could never truly make a life for yourself. Every Queen had their own agenda and rules, and no two queens have ever been the same.
"Cold. fire! burning out," she said, curling into a ball. Her joints creaked and cracked with her movements, her bony spine pressing against the thin fabric of her night dress. "Forsaken by the goddess. Cold! So cold!"
One of the Defectives, a young woman named Tilly, came over to wrap her arms around Deborah. The nights were warm, but she knew that Deborah was just lost in her mind, in her memories. Her mind told her she was cold when it was warm. Tilly thought it was better when they were lost to their wolf; their mind wasn't so shambled. It worked simply. Nothing else bothered them. "I'll keep you warm, Grandma," she tried to soothe her.
"We don't go to the old oak tree. It's not allowed. It's forbidden. It's a bad place. Bad things happen there. Don't go! It's bad! Evil happened there! Only evil things. Bad! Bad!" Her voice carried as her agitated tone spewed words of gibberish that very few could understand.
But one man did understand. Philip watched as the old woman spewed words on the cusp of exposing what was never meant to be known.
His lips sat in a tight line as he stormed over towards the woman. Her eyes shot to him. He looked familiar, she thought. "Hello, friend," her words, gently spoken, seemed to bring her back from wherever she had been.
Philip raised his hand to slap her, only to be stopped by Boris stepping into his path.
"What are you doing?" His cold words were loaded with accusation. Unlike other wolves, Beta Boris was not someone to be easily offended. He was known for his overwhelming strength, his kind nature, and his ability to hold a grudge until time itself stopped.
"Shut her up, or I will. We are conducting Council business. We cannot be interrupted every second." He tried to sound calm and collected, but Philip knew there was still an edge to his voice. If he had his way, he would kill the old fool. She was so close to death anyway; it wouldn't matter. It would be a kindness.
The old woman cackled as she pulled away, moving like a ghost. She reappeared a few feet away from everyone. "Saw you! Blood. Claws. I saw I saw saw saw. eight red dresses. By the old oak. Evil place. Bad place. You can't kill me, too!" she growled before disappearing again, transforming into her brown wolf and taking off into the forest.
Everyone stood still in frozen silence, wondering what she could have meant. It became clear she wasn't just some crazy woman spouting nonsense. She knew something. Something that Philip didn't want anybody else to know. All of their eyes shot accusatory glances at Philip, but none of them said anything.
Relief washed over Philip as the old woman disappeared into the forest. With any luck, she wouldn't come back before they left. Deciding to ignore the awkward stares and probing glances, he went back to testing the pack, making sure that none of them were the next Queen.
Unlike the other two, Marcus caught on far faster. He had put the pieces together easily. Deborah had been a child when the 11th Queen had been in this pack. She had met the 11th Queen, probably lived alongside her.
He didn't trust Philip. Whatever Deborah knew, Philip seemed to know, too, and he wanted to keep it hidden. No one knew much about the 11th Queen, but it seemed as if, at least to Marcus, that Philip had been the one council member who knew too much. He resolved that he would find Deborah before they left.