Chapter 9 #2
“Alpha Darion isn’t even that mad anymore, please. Please, we must shift.”
Her hands clenched tightly into shaking fists, and she tensed her body until something warm trickled from her palms.
Blood, her nails having pierced her own skin in her efforts, but they were futile.
Her wolf was gone.
With a deep, shuddering sob, she fell to the ground. Jules circled her once before dropping heavily at her side, his brown eyes fixed on the clan as they disappeared into the dark.
He stayed, despite every instinct in him that must have screamed to run, to hunt, to answer the moon’s call.
And Fern wept into the dirt, knowing even this kindness was another reminder of her failure.
* * *
Dirty, exhausted, and starving, Fern stood in the Council Chamber once again, her cut hands clasped in front of her instead of behind this time.
The alphas had gathered to discuss her fate.
“She has suppressed her wolf for over ten years, I think it stands to reason it might take more than one full moon to awaken her,” Norden offered.
Karn nodded. “Aye. I have heard of wolves imprisoned underground who took several moons to shift again. A barricade made in the mind that must be overcome.”
Alastair’s hands crowned her head, his eyes closed in concentration.
She could feel him inside her, calling her wolf as she had.
But her wolf only watched from the shadows.
“I don’t know if we’ll ever reach her—she will not even come to me and my orders.” He sighed, fingers gently grasping her chin and raising her face to meet his. Fern’s eyelids fluttered, trying to keep back the tears. “You are both willful little things, aren’t you?”
“It is my fault,” Darion said, arms crossed. “I forgot about her, left her on her own. A lone wolf does not know how to serve a clan.”
The alphas grunted in agreement, and Fern began to panic.
“Please, I… I’m learning. I’m trying to be good.”
“Oh, little she-wolf,” Alastair cooed, taking her into his arms. She cried into his chest, the release not the one she’d hoped for, but still better than nothing.
His chest resonated quietly as he smoothed her tangled head with his large palm.
“I know you did not mean for this to happen. But intentions on their own hold little value.”
Value, boiled into something that could be measured, weighed, and counted by those who decided on their own terms what made someone worthy or not.
Fern had feared from the start she would not stack up, and last night only confirmed it.
She was practically useless.
“You bound her, son,” Alastair continued. “It’s your decision.”
“Darion is busy with his courtship,” Eidan said quickly. “I don’t think he has the time to give her the guiding hand she needs. I, however, would be happy to take her under my wing.”
But Darion shook his head. “No, I’m afraid it’s that sort of leniency and attention that has exacerbated the problem.”
Fern bit her tongue hard to keep from arguing. What leniency was there to speak of in his treatment of her? And had she asked for his attention? No! He’d given it, and now meant to punish her for it.
“I’ve heard the Solvekh whisper among themselves that she is special because she is the only female I have bound. Whispers that have even reached Kyntha’s ears.”
“Are they wrong?” Eidan asked.
Darion growled, quieting the other alpha before continuing. “They are. She is a mistake, not an exception.”
Her body flinched so violently Alastair’s hold on her tightened. “Our wolves do not make mistakes.”
“Mine was injured, half out of his mind when he marked her. A nip on the finger. Hardly a rational decision.”
Fern’s wolf was truly gone now, each new word from her alpha forcing her further back, while Fern’s human form crumpled, held up only by Alastair’s steady hand.
“No need to torture the she-wolf, son. If you’ve made a decision, tell us of it so we can be done with this.”
He stood, walking slowly towards the fireplace, when Eidan scoffed. “No, you can’t mean—”
“I do,” he snapped, crouching down to run his fingers through the cinders. “Some wolfkin need to hit the bottom before they can truly learn to rise.”
The bottom of what? She looked frantically from alpha to alpha, hoping for some hint in their eyes.
But they would not look at her, a mixture of disgust and pity pulling their gaze in any direction but hers.
“So you mean to punish her for your mistakes?” His brother stood, pointing at Darion and looking at Alastair. “Father, please, you know this is wrong.”
“I don’t agree with this,” Alastair said, turning her around in his arms. “But it is Darion’s decision.”
“It is,” Darion said.
Fern was more frightened than she’d ever been of what Darion was going to do to her, and yet her body still leaned towards him as he approached, still hoping to find comfort with the alpha who’d marked and bound her. Even knowing he would never offer it.
Their eyes met for a moment, his resolute, before he drew an “x” on her forehead with ash.
Her body began to shake, and she heard Eidan get up roughly, his chair falling backwards and hitting the ground as he stomped out of the room, but she could not tear herself away from Darion, fear and awe compelling her to stay right where she was.
“By moon and clan, you are Ashpaw. You stand apart until your worth is proven anew.”