Chapter 5
Chapter Five
RANULF
The orcs have made camp. The patrol is eight strong and further bolstered by another five human warriors.
A fire burns low in their circle. They have a keen sense of smell, not quite on par with a wolf, but certainly better than a human, and we’ve been careful to stay downwind lest they catch our scent.
I rumble low in my chest as I survey them through the trees. At my side, Alden and Beric bristle with similar frustration.
“I believe your brother hates you,” Beric says.
“I believe my brother hates me too,” I admit. “The bastard must want me dead.”
“No,” Alden says. “It is merely a challenge.”
Well, no arguing that!
“And when we finish this—as we will,” Alden continues, “it will be a tale worthy of legend, as befits the pack leader’s brother.”
My wolf rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fucking dead. Not much of a legend then.”
Beric chuffs a chuckle. “A hot, fertile woman’s scent still clings to you,” he says dryly. “It is driving my wolf fucking nuts. The old gods themselves could step down and challenge us, and we would prevail.”
The ridge of fur along my back rises at his words. Nothing will come between us and our goal. Not these fucking orcs, nor the weak humans who fight at their side.
Still, that does not diminish the magnitude of the battle ahead.
I lay out the plan in my mind, showing Alden and Beric what I wish them to do.
Our greatest strength lies in our pack bond, and fighting together. But first, we must make them believe there are more of us. Scatter them. Separate them. Then take them down one by one.
They agree. Beric slinks low and pads to my right. Alden lifts his snout, scenting the air before he moves off to my left. Once they are in position, I throw back my head and howl.
They take up the call. They are still howling when I dart into the undergrowth, circling wide before howling again. We repeat the pattern—voices blending with the wind—skirting the camp, drawing closer between each howl until I am almost upon the camp, and take in the scene.
Panic prevails. The orcs stagger this way and that, weapons drawn, eyes wide.
“I told you not to come into this region,” one of them grunts. “The shifters here are crazy bastards. The pack’s a hundred strong.”
“It’s not the whole pack,” another orc snarls.
“I didn’t sign up to take on wolves,” a human man grits out. “We were snatching lasses, nothing more!”
So that was their game. Preying on the townsfolk of Merrywood. Bastards. The place will be safer without them lurking around.
“Something is out there,” another human says. He stares into the forest like he senses us, while his gaze is fixed where none of us are.
Idiot!
“Of course there is something out there,” an orc growls. “My ears work as well as your human ones, probably better! Hold the line. They won’t attack where there’s fire.”
I laugh under my breath.
“What does he think we are? Fucking dogs?” Alden grouches.
“I say we make a run for it,” another human stammers, shifting his grip on his axe.
“No one is running,” an orc snaps.
“Well, I’m not sitting here waiting to be torn apart!”
The fool makes a step as if to run. A nearby orc slams a club into him. He crumples.
One less for us to deal with…
Chaos breaks loose. Humans shouting at orcs. Orcs roaring back.
“You killed him!”
“Nobody fucking runs!”
In the midst of their squabbling, I sense a presence behind me. The mind is simple yet curious and respectful.
A wild wolf—not a shifter—lurks in the shadow of the trees. He lowers his snout in deference then lifts his gaze to meet mine.
Behind him, more shapes gather.
“We have garnered help,” I say through the pack bond.
“Aye, I sense them,” Beric replies.
I lift my head and howl once more. The wild wolves take up the call.
Together we charge.
The fight is fast and vicious. The orcs and humans have been too busy arguing among themselves and are not prepared.
I slam into an orc, jaws closing around his wrist. Beric leaps from behind, teeth sinking into the back of his thick neck. The orc swings his club, but two of the wild wolves are ready, and leap in tandem.
The humans scatter and run as the first orc falls. Alden takes down the second, with the help of two wild wolves. I take the third. Beric lunges for the fourth.
We flash between werebeast and wolf. Fast. Brutal. Bloody.
I’m struck by a club, punched, then slashed by a human blade. But my wolf is strong. I rip, tear, and savage until there is nothing left but dead flesh and silence.
Where once there were eight orcs and five men, now there are only their remains.
The wild wolves gather at the edge of the clearing. I tip my chin, and their leader pads forward and nuzzles my side, tail wagging in submission. I lap up the side of his muzzle in gratitude, and his tail beats faster, excited to have fought beside us.
He reveres us, the way humans revere their gods.
His pack brothers and sisters crowd close, nudging us, jostling against us for attention and with joy in shared triumph, for they likewise hate orcs and humans in their lands.
“That was fortuitous,” Alden says as the wild wolves turn and take off into the forest.
“It was,” I agree.
I lift my head and howl. Beric and Alden join in. The sound carries on the wind, fierce and exultant, carrying south, all the way to Merrywood.
Come, I command.
Come, Beric echoes.
Come to us, mate, Alden adds.
A shiver runs through me.
She is coming.
We share a look. We are bloodied, bruised, and exhausted. None of that matters.
It is done. We have paid our price, completed our challenge, and now we will claim our prize.
EVANTHE
I go downstairs, where Mistress Nina has prepared a simple supper. I’m not one for wasting food, but I take only a small portion of stew and none of the bread. I force myself to eat what little I take. I’ve spent too much of my life hungry. In my childhood home, nothing was ever wasted.
“It’s to be expected,” she says.
I look up, catching her eyes on me, and quickly go back to eating. When I’m done, I gather the bowls, carry them to the sink, and busy myself washing and putting them away.
By the time I’m finished, she is in her rocking chair before the fire with a book in hand. The scene is cozy.
One can almost forget what happened a week ago.
Forget what the townsfolk said and did earlier today.
Forget that there is a wolf tithe upon my head, and a triad waiting to claim me.
“I need to write to my parents,” I say. “They’ll worry when I suddenly… disappear.” I trail off. “They’ll miss the coin.”
“A letter would be wise,” she agrees. Then, gently, “But, my dear, to mate a wolf is not to disappear.”
“What do you mean? Won’t they take me away?”
“That they will,” she says. “But when they’re ready, and the mating is complete, they’ll likely allow you to see your parents and siblings, if that is what you wish.
For all they are stern, and as much as pack life can be challenging, a good shifter is attentive to his mate’s needs.
Some lasses still visit their kin. Quietly, mind.
” She huffs out a little breath. “As you have already seen, some of the townsfolk are not so congenial and are fearful of their own shadows. But the wolves are not true monsters, Evanthe. They have savagery, aye, but so do human men.”
Her words lift the somber. My belly flutters, full of jitters and anticipation.
“I sense they’ll come soon,” I whisper, shyly.
“Indeed, my dear,” she says, nodding. “They may.”
A strange, discordant clamor erupts from the direction of the shop front. Though the kitchen lies at the far back of the lodgings, opposite the sewing parlor, the noise is enough to reach us.
Mistress Nina snaps her book shut, drops it onto the table, and snatches her shawl from a hook.
“I sense foolishness,” she mutters. “Stay here, my dear. I shall deal with this.”
As she opens the door leading into the shop, the shouts grows louder and I see torchlight flickering around the closed blinds. She thrusts the door firmly shut.
Although she told me not to follow, I do, pushing the door open a crack and peering through. Mistress Nina stands in the shadow of the window and glances back, perhaps sensing me.
“Goddess weep,” she mutters, making the sign across her chest. “Every one of them is thick-headed.”
A thud hits the door. Jeers rise outside.
“Are they trying to break in?” I whisper. “Please, Mistress Nina, I can’t bring trouble to your door!”
She waves me back. “They’re all bluster. They’d not risk the wrath of the pack by driving you into the forest tonight…” She doesn’t finish.
Another thud. She pulls the heavy key from her pocket, turns it in the lock, slides the bolts, and throws open the door.
The crowd falls silent. Torches stutter and flicker in the damp air. A red stain marks the shopfront—blood, by the look of it. I move silently to stand beside her. Her swift glance says she wishes I had not, and she takes a step, trying to put herself between me and the rabble in the street.
“Go home,” she calls. “Before you bring their wrath upon us all.”
“She’s marked by the beasts!” someone yells. “Cast her out!”
A man hurls something at me. It bursts, smothering my dress and splattering my face with stickiness… a pig’s bladder filled with blood.
A beat of silence.
Mistress Nina shoves me firmly behind her. “Enough!” she shouts, her voice cracking.
A whistle sounds at the far end of the street. Booted feet thunder closer. I catch a glimpse of red coats—the garrison—before she slams the door shut.
“Lord Godfrey has sent his men,” she says. “Thank goodness someone here has not lost their mind.”
We peer around the closed blinds, watching the crowd scatter before the soldiers.
Quiet returns.
Footsteps approach and a knock sounds on the door.
“It’s all right,” Mistress Nina says to me, opening the door to a red-coated officer.
“Are you well?” he asks.
“Aye, Captain Anthony, we are,” she replies.
“And the lass?”
“She is fine. Shaken. Percy threw a pig’s bladder full of blood at her! That crusty old goat!”
I catch a small smile on Master Anthony’s face at the last part before he quickly hides it. “We’ve rounded up the troublemakers,” he says gruffly. “They’ll spend the night in a cold cell. Happen it will clear their heads. But I’ll keep extra patrols on the street tonight.”
“Thank you,” she says.
He nods, tipping his hat. “And every night… until further notice.”
He leaves.
Mistress Nina bolts the door and turns to me.
“Oh, look at you. I’ll give Percy a tongue lashing he won’t forget next time I see him.
” Taking my hand, she leads me upstairs to my quarters, where she helps me out of the bloodied gown.
“I’ll get this soaking before it stains,” she says, before disappearing down the stairs.
I wash the blood away, then pull on my nightshift and dressing gown before returning downstairs.
“I’ve made you a tea with plenty of honey,” she says. “It’ll do you good.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking the mug between my hands.
“You’re a good lass,” she says with a tired smile. “A good worker. Quick study. But change is upon us—upon you more than me. I dare say I shall need to find another assistant now.”
“I don’t feel like sleeping,” I admit. “May I stay down here a while?”
“Of course. I’ll stay with you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“It is the least I can do,” she says. “The Goddess moves in mysterious ways. It is not for us to question what is already written.”
I fetch my new book, sip my tea, and try to read. When I glance up, Mistress Nina has fallen asleep in her chair, the book dropped against her chest.
Rising, I take the book from her hand, set it aside, and draw the blanket she has pulled over herself a little higher to keep her warm.
There is always paper and envelopes in the drawer of the dresser opposite the fire, and I gather the supplies and sit at the table where I write.
I tell my parents about the attack, about the wolves who came.
I tell them that I have been marked and that soon, I’ll be going on an adventure.
Finally, that I might not write for a while.
I tell them not to worry. And that the Goddess herself is guiding me.
I sign it, your loving daughter, Evanthe, fold it neatly into the envelope, and leave it on the table.
They will still worry. But at least this way, I have given them something to counter a little of that.
I remain standing, watching the fire sink lower. Hear the familiar ticking of the clock.
My eyes become heavy. I have slept poorly since the marking.
Mistress Nina’s breathing turns to a light snore, and I smile sleepily.
My eyes lift to the little window that looks out the back. Moonlight glitters upon the rooftops of the town.
Come.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I glance across at Mistress Nina, who still snores softly in her rocking chair.
Quickly, I tidy away the rest of the writing supplies. Then I go upstairs and change into a sensible woolen dress, boots, and a warm cloak.
Come, the voice whispers again.
Come to us, mate, a third voice adds.
A single wolf howls in the distance—then another, and then a third.
I swallow hard. Heat settles low in my belly, a fluttering awareness, a pull I cannot name.
My letter is on the kitchen table. Mistress Nina will know what to do and ensure it reaches my parents. She will understand, too, when she wakes and finds I am gone.
There is no more hesitation. Taking my private stairs down to my front door, creeping slowly, I slip outside.
A pair of soldiers patrol the far side of the street, twenty paces away, their backs turned to me.
I wait until they move farther along, then carefully—quiet as I can—I draw my front door shut.
My eyes settle on the marks they left there.
I pause to run my fingers over the deepest gouges in the center of the door, the second set along the frame.
Then I crouch to touch the sharp groove carved into the front step.
I am coming.
I rise, glance once more to be sure the soldiers are gone, and turning, head for the woods.