Chapter 5 - Wilf
I tell myself I’m just sweeping the western line before heading home.
That’s my official line and has been since the meeting let out at four.
The first team was already back from the first sweep while I wrapped up with Luna and Nick.
Connor was heading out with six betas to work the valley road beading up north, Bryan and Ethan are running the smaller eastern stretch, and Thomas is with a few of the newer wolves doing another sweep of the deer track from where I made the kills this morning, and heading out west. The talismans are at the pack hall, sitting on Nick’s desk, where no one wants to touch them, and I don’t blame them.
Luna has already been on the phone with her witch friend, Anya, and the woman is driving up tomorrow to help Luna figure out what the rogues are up to.
No one is taking any chances when it comes to Cheslems’ love of dark magic.
So, the talismans are being handled, the rogues are being looked for, the forest is being swept, and I have been told to go home.
But I’m not at home.
The afternoon has long since faded into evening by the time I’m on the ridge and letting my wolf run.
I’ve taken the line that I know the patrol covered this morning, but I also know it’s a hard area to search and worth a second look.
I told Connor I’d run the trail on my way home, and he didn’t say anything, which I took as permission.
The human trail I picked up this morning has long since gone cold.
Twelve hours is a long time out here, and all that’s left is the suggestion of a trail rather than a genuine path.
I work it the way you have to work a faded scent, which is solely low to the ground, casting wide on either side, and pausing a lot.
I lose it completely several times and circle back to find it.
By the time the sun dips behind the ridge, I’ve lost it completely.
I almost give up. I’m not even sure why I’m chasing this particular ghost. The female has probably gotten off the mountain and is heading back to wherever she lives.
I don’t need to be out here. The patrols are strong, and the sweeping plan is solid; if there are any more rogues out here, they’ll find them.
They can handle this; I helped train them after all; I know how good they are.
I keep going anyway, working further along the trail, feeling my wolf urging me on.
I tell myself that he’s just spoiling for another fight, but he pushes back with worry about the female.
I shake that thought off immediately and push on, focusing on the sweep, the rogues, and only following the female's trail in case it also leads to those hunting her. That is what I tell myself as I crest the ridge and then dip back down onto one of the trails. I tell myself I will do one loop and then head home because it’s been a long day and I don’t need to be doing this.
I push my wolf harder, trying to run off the frustration that has been simmering all day.
I almost miss the hut altogether.
The hut network is an open secret out here, and I’ve found a few over the years; I even holed up in one myself during a snowstorm.
But I didn’t know there was one near this outcrop until the scent of human mixed with the faintest whiff of rosemary hits me.
There’s no rosemary growing this high, but I know they use it in the huts because it does genuinely confuse our wolves; right now, the scent of human is only making the rosemary stand out more.
There’s something else, too: the faint hum of magic that has faded but is still hovering in the atmosphere.
I follow the scent up and slightly west, off the path, and follow the outcrop down and round, the smell getting stronger as I go.
The huts all look different, and this one is one of the best I’ve seen.
It’s not even a hut; it’s a cave built out under the outcrop and covered with overgrown foliage and moss.
Someone could walk straight past a hundred times and not even see it; the door itself is a masterpiece of concealment and takes me time to find the handle because it’s so hidden.
I only know to look for it at all because my wolf is riding the human scent so hard, and it congregates in one spot.
I know without any doubt that the female is here.
The door is locked, but as I test it, I already know it will give.
There are clothes hanging from the top of the frame, which I realize is the source of the rosemary.
The magic is stronger here, but still far too faint to be of any use.
The huts have ward stones, but if this one was activated, it’s long since faded.
If the female is still here, she must know she’s vulnerable to any passing wolf.
If I could find her, the rogues could too if they’re still looking.
I shift outside and unstrap the patrol pouch from my leg as the shift is happening.
The folded shorts are almost nothing inside, just a thin pair that every man on patrol has started carrying because we’ve all been caught out before.
It was Connor’s idea, and I thought it was pretty unnecessary because shifters don’t give much of a shit about things like that, but for some reason, the thought of busting in on this human female makes me think the shorts are a good idea, so I pull them on.
I’m about to bust the obviously inferior lock when I pause for a moment and knock instead.
“I’m not one of the rogues, but I’m coming in if you don’t open the door.” I try to keep my voice neutral, not as impatient. When there’s no reply, I knock again. “I’m coming in.”
There’s the smallest sound but no words.
I’m done waiting, though, so I push the door, and the lock gives way almost instantly.
These huts were designed to be concealed with magic, not to withstand an assault.
The scent of a human female hits me full force once I’m past the last of the ward and rosemary, and my eyes zero in on the small figure on a bunk in front of the stove.
It’s still warm but burned down to nothing more than embers.
She’s under a blanket and I expect some kind of shock or resistance, but instead she remains completely still. Far too still.
I cross the floor to reach her and crouch down.
She’s small and looks incredibly fragile—too fragile to have survived out here in this condition.
Her long dark hair is tangled, and there’s blood on the side of her head.
I can’t focus too much on her features because of the dirt and injuries, but she looks pale—not really just pale, but white, and her lips are an unnatural shade.
I can barely hear her breathing and press two fingers to the side of her neck, looking for her pulse. Satisfied it’s still there, I shake her shoulder gently.
“Hey,” I whisper, “Hey, can you hear me? I’m not going to hurt you, but we gotta get you out of here.”
Her eyelids flutter but don’t open, and I notice one of her hands twitching slightly.
I decide to just go for it and pull the blanket off gently, sliding my arm under her shoulders to lift her slightly before my other hand hoists under her knees, and I lift.
She weighs nothing, even less than I was expecting, and I settle her against my chest before turning.
I cast an eye around the hut and see that it is completely empty, no obvious food or water, and no sign that she’s eaten.
My heart clenches as I realize she probably made it to the hut, only to find it bare.
I try not to jostle her head injury any more than necessary as I maneuver us out of the hut and back up onto the slope.
I only make it about three hundred yards before I catch wind of the one thing I don’t need right now: rogues.
The scent is fresh and stronger than this morning.
They’re still a way off, but the wind is a threat if it shifts.
With the patrols coming from all sides, there’s a good chance they’ll get picked off, but I can’t take that risk; they’re probably following this female's faded scent markers, so they’ll close in fast and stand between me and my cabin.
That changes my plan. The pack summer hunting cabin sits two miles in the other direction and deeper into Silvercreek territory.
It hasn’t been used since the end of last summer when we wrapped up a training program with a camp out for the recruits, but it’s always left well stocked, has decent security measures, heating, and a medical kit, all things this woman needs.
I can let the patrols sweep up the rogues and then call this situation in.
Perhaps she has information about the talismans, or the rogues themselves.
I move the woman in my arms again and start northeast at a pace.
I can’t shift, but that doesn’t stop me from moving faster than any creature ought to in the dark over uneven ground.
Even without the shift, my wolf can help me with strength in my shoulder and balance in my feet, and my eyesight benefits from a partial shift.
My wolf is on high alert whilst also being remarkably quiet about the female in my arms.
She’s drifting in and out of consciousness, but at least she’s breathing.
I try not to jostle her too much, but at the same time, I know we can’t hang around, and I can’t fight whilst holding an unconscious woman.
I think she’s going to open her eyes a few times, but when she finally does, I’m surprised at the bright blue I find there.
For a moment, she looks completely unfocused, and I’m not sure she sees me at all.
But then she physically tenses, and I know she’s come to her senses and doesn’t like what she sees.
“P-put me down,” she says firmly but quietly, as if it’s taking all her strength.
“You’re hurt, and I’m getting you somewhere safe,” I say, not even slowing down. “I’m not one of them, and we don’t want them catching up with us.”