Chapter 11 The Shrieking Cliffs
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE SHRIEKING CLIFFS
From the day she was born, Chief Restrina was loud.
There was never a time she was told to speak up.
No one ever questioned if she was in the room or not.
The first time her mother told her to lower her voice, she shrieked at the top of her lungs because she refused to be silenced.
Unapologetically confident, she knew what she had to say needed to be heard.
Until a dark night like any other. Chief Restrina closed her eyes, and for the first time in her life, she was quiet.
She had no more left to say.
Ridan was the one to find her. He’d woken early, told Momma Sehleh he would take his mother breakfast. From that moment, he’d been by her side. Hands clenched and face vacant as he stared down at his mother’s still body.
Sehleh was the most vocal of them, crying for her lost friend. Jonen held her tight, doing what he could to comfort his mother. He said nothing. No words could ease her grief. Only time could do that, and time was a gift no man could give.
Her grief would be misunderstood. There were always whispers about Sehleh and Restrina.
The clan would ask, in hushed tones far from the alpha’s ears, why they didn’t just mate?
But anyone who truly knew them knew it was not that way.
There was love between them, so much love, but it was a softer kind of love than one feels for their mate.
An encompassing, understanding kind of love.
One borne from necessity and friendship.
Restrina and Sehleh lost their mates, and together they combined the two halves of their broken hearts and created a family.
Raised a pack together, provided each other with comfort, serenity, and a home.
What one lacked, the other was willing to give.
Corric stood stiffly by the entrance of the tent, watching his pack mourn with eyes so dry they burned.
He didn’t want to look. Even after Chief Restrina’s pepper scent was embedded in his skin, and Momma Sehleh had fussed over his hair more times than he could count, he still felt like he was intruding.
An outsider welcomed in, but not truly a part of them.
But he mourned. Oh, how his chest ached when he heard of her death. Emotion clogged his throat, and he didn’t know if he wanted to scream, cry, or run until his feet bled.
Chief Restrina changed his life. For reasons he would never know, she took one look at him and decided he was worth fighting for.
When every other person in his life said he was worthless, an omega with no magical ability, Restrina saw something else.
She didn’t just give him a sword or a horse.
She gave him a purpose and confidence to hold his head high.
She gave him a home.
Grow up strong, Corric. Find happiness. Become the man you want to be. That’s how you’ll pay me back.
Tears finally pricked his eyes, and he let them fall. He’d never thanked her. Never told her what she meant to him.
He could still remember the first time he saw her and Ridan sparring.
It was turning evening, the sun nothing more than a smear of color against the sky.
They were alone, focused on each other. The two blondes were a whirlwind of kicked up dust and grunts.
Ridan, smaller than his mother then. Listening to her commands and directions with a focus Corric didn’t know he was capable of.
After a long bout, he finally disarmed her and knocked her onto her back.
He seemed just as surprised as Corric had been, eyes wide.
But Restrina wasn’t. She grinned, grabbed her shocked son, and hugged him to her chest so she could dig her knuckles into his hair until he was squealing and kicking with displeasure.
When they both calmed, she’d scented him, rubbing her cheek against his messy hair.
They didn’t speak, but everything they wanted to say was heard.
Restrina rarely showed her love with open acts of affection. Her love was in strengthening the boy’s arms, making sure they would never be too weak to take what was thrown their way. She made the clan safe and strong, giving them a legacy to fall back on.
And now their chief—their pack leader was gone—and they were lost.
Sehleh sniffed loudly and extended a hand towards Ridan. “Come here, my pup. I need to hold you.”
Ridan blinked once and then went to her with his head bowed like an obedient child.
He ducked so she could get her arm around his shoulder, dragging him and Jonen down to press her nose into their hair, scenting them with her soft beta scent.
She let her tears catch in their hair, hugging them close.
Her watery eyes found Corric. “I need all my pups.”
Corric broke then. As he collapsed into their pile, burying his nose into Sehleh’s wet neck, he felt the tears slide down his face.
Large, gasping hiccups dragged from his chest. He could barely breathe as he sobbed harder than he had since he was a child.
Strong arms clung to him, and he clung back.
Jonen’s black tea, Sehleh’s baking bread, and Ridan’s sweet pepper scent drowned him, and it wasn’t enough. They were missing something, and it ached like nothing had before.
Sehleh didn’t say anything. She could tell them Restrina was proud of them.
That she would take the time during the day to watch the boys—whether they were sparring or doing chores—and chuff.
She could tell them she watched them sleep sometimes, counting their breaths even when they were too old for such things.
She could tell them that Restrina passed quietly because she knew that her story had ended, but her pups’ was just beginning.
But they knew. Because if Restrina had something to say, she made damn sure she was heard.
Brune shifted from foot to foot as he stared at the tent.
Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he belonged here.
The clan had gathered outside the tent, waiting for…
something. Brune wasn’t sure what. They stared expectantly at the closed flap; their whispers so hushed they sounded like nothing more than wind rustling through trees.
Tension and sadness hung over the crowd. Some people openly wept, unashamed of their emotions. Others had a hand clasped over their heart, staring forward with nothing but grit etched on their faces. Most were waiting.
Chief Restrina’s responsibilities had been spread among her advisors and Ridan for the last couple of months, but it was always viewed as temporary. That one day she would stride from the tent with a fresh scar and a smirk on her face. But she didn’t, and now the clan didn’t know what to do.
The shield on his back weighed him down, the straps cutting into his shoulders.
It was heavy, even after weeks of practicing with it.
His arms ached from the strain, but he could tell it was lessening.
Just yesterday, Ridan helped him design a way to carry it on his back with a series of leather belts across his chest to distribute the weight.
It was clean now—Brune spent an hour every night polishing each scale and rivet before rubbing animal fat on the leather to protect it.
He touched it, letting his fingers drape across the riveted leather. Restrina had given this to him. Every time it dropped from his hand; he questioned it. Why him? But then he’d remember the way she looked at it, the way she looked at him, and he’d pick it back up and try again.
He had been hoping that one day he could present himself, kneel before her and show her he’d become worthy.
Now she would never know whether her faith was misplaced.
Henroen stood to his left, Gustall behind his bulk. They had their arms crossed; eyes dark.
“What happens now?” he asked Henroen, keeping his voice low.
The big alpha sighed. “The pack will grieve privately. When they’re done, the clan will either accept Ridan as chief or they won’t.”
Brune swallowed. “And if they won’t?”
“He’ll be challenged,” Gustall answered, his face impassive. “If the challenge has merit, they will fight. The winner will be chief.”
He didn’t need to explain what would happen to the loser.
Fear lanced through Brune’s mourning. What would he do if someone challenged Ridan? Could he just stand by and watch as he was struck down?
No. He’d already proven that he couldn’t. That when it came to Ridan, Brune would never hesitate to be his shield.
Clenching his fist, Brune made up his mind.
The sun was just beginning to beat down on them when the flap finally opened.
Ridan stepped out first, the sun catching the gold in his hair. His eyes were red, but dry. His angular chin lifted, eyes narrowed against the glare. Even in grief, he looked confident, shoulders back and hand resting on his father’s sword.
Behind him, Sehleh was escorted by Jonen and Corric. She was standing, tears clumped to her lashes, but the boys each had an arm around her. Jonen’s arm extended past his mother to rest on Corric’s back, holding them both.
Ridan’s necklaces tinkled—bone, claw, and clay bead rustling against each other as he took a deep breath.
Under them he was bare chested, only the thick belts holding his weapons crossed across his skin, leather pants dragged low by the weight of his sword.
He was looking out at the crowd, no doubt memorizing what his people looked like.
It was still as they waited for him to speak. The words out of his mouth would be so much more than the parting of lips. They would usher in a new era—a time of before and after. A life event that would be so heavily rooted in the people waiting to hear them that they would ripple out like a wave.
“Chief Restrina’s battle has ended.” His words were strong and even, but Brune could see the whites of his knuckles where they clenched around his sword. “Her valor will give her passage to stand beneath Artrax’s wings.”