Chapter 12 Feray
Feray
Three potty breaks and several excuses later, I've run out of ways to delay our departure. My heart races with anticipation and dread as I swap out the clothes I love for something more expendable at Easton's insistence.
"Remember that when you shift for defense, sometimes even I forget to protect my clothing," Diaval says gently.
"Your wolf knows what to do. Trust her instincts. If a fight happens, let her take control and do what needs to be done," Torben adds, his voice firm but encouraging. "Few wolves can say they've fought a Kodiak and a basilisk and lived." He winks at me and laughs.
"Training with my mates doesn't count. Neither of you went full force with me. There's no way a little wolf can survive against you," I respond, reaching up to cup his cheek.
"I don't know about Tor, but I didn't hold back. It would be a huge disservice to have held back during training. The only thing I didn't do was use my stone gaze or venom." Khal's voice is calm and unwavering.
Hearing him say he didn't hold back makes me gasp. "You mean..."
"You held your own against a basilisk. A wolf shouldn't be an issue for you, Precious.
" Khal's smile is genuine and full of pride.
"I believe in you. I love you." He crushes his lips to mine suddenly, almost stealing my breath.
My heart thunders in my chest, and I feel my wolf bristle under the surface.
Pulling away hesitantly, I smile up at him, then look at the others. "I will meet them on four paws, on my terms." The confident words taste odd leaving my lips, but they carry a weight of determination.
It's time to channel my inner Fi.
I ask myself one question.
What would Fiadh do?
That's easy.
She wouldn't leave a single fucker standing.
As we step further into the ice cavern, the temperature drops steadily, biting at my nose.
I shake my fur out, feeling its thickness grow—a primal response to the cold that feels almost foreign, yet oddly comforting.
Wiggling my toe beans in the light dusting of snow blown into the cavern, I brace myself to lead my family deeper into wolf territory.
The soft snow underfoot soon gives way to rough, jagged ice, carved out by claws over centuries. The cavern walls glisten with crystalline beauty, casting fractured light that dances like ghosts. It reminds me of an icy tomb.
I pause at a fork in the path, my instincts sharp.
The left tunnel is filled with the scent of magic, reminiscent of Rev's unique aura.
I pause for several heartbeats, then change my mind and head right, ignoring the side tunnel altogether.
The howling winds echo through the right path.
The guys murmur behind me, discussing what we might face, the high likelihood of a battle I'll have to fight alone.
"Feray, establish dominance early," Diaval and Torben insist.
"Show no fear," Khal adds, his eyes briefly flashing with serpentine slits.
"Above all else, show no mercy," Easton growls, his voice filled with the weight of ancient memories. He has shared with me the brutal truths of wolves fighting over the eons—a tapestry of blood and survival woven through time.
The exit looms ahead, a portal against the endless expanse of white. A gnawing sensation in my gut tells me this is a trap.
"I need to exit alone," I say firmly, hoping my ancient mates will stop the others from following.
They nod, understanding the gravity of the situation.
I unleash my wolf drawing in a deep breath of arctic air.
Dunnum, the smaller of the two wolven strongholds, waits for me beyond.
I steel myself for the inevitable confrontation with the pack's betas, and possibly the alpha himself.
Easton's voice echoes in my mind: Remember to howl, alerting the pack to your arrival. Howl your family name and greeting.
I glance back briefly, catching the worried eyes of my mates.
I love all of you. I'll be okay.
Taking a deep breath, I step out into the biting arctic wind, the snow crunching beneath my paws.
This is my father's homeland, and its harsh beauty is both familiar and alien to me.
Tilting my head back, I let out a howl, pouring my heart and soul into the song of my bloodline and my mates.
The sound carries through the valley, a mournful, powerful cry.
Soon, other voices join in—two in greeting, four in challenge.
The latter voices send a chill down my spine as I feel them closing in.
Blending into the snow, I move forward cautiously.
The four wolves approach, their fur a mix of light gray, black, and brown, contrasting with my pure white coat.
As they get closer, they hesitate, taking in my larger, more imposing form.
But one male lunges at me, his jaws snapping in what feels like slow motion.
Leaping out of the way is almost effortless, a testament to the rigorous training from my mates.
My wolf starts to fight for control, and I remember Torben's advice.
I let go.
The moment my wolf takes over, it's like I'm in the back seat, watching the world through her eyes.
She is a fierce, cunning warrior, going straight for the kill.
With a quick, decisive movement, she clamps down on the male's neck.
One powerful jerk, and his neck snaps, blood spraying across the snow.
The sight is brutal, but my wolf is relentless.
With the speed at which I dispatch the first wolf, the other three hesitate.
A growl rumbles deep within me as I prepare for the next attack.
The second largest wolf lunges, its fangs sinking into my shoulder with a searing pain.
I rear up, claws and fangs snapping and tearing at anything I can grasp.
Eventually, it releases its grip. I can feel warmth radiating from where Easton's feather sits, dulling the pain.
Determined, I turn to attack again. My jaws snap shut around the wolf's muzzle, the taste of iron filling my mouth as I clamp down harder.
All I can think about is the sound and feel of bones breaking.
He thrashes wildly, but I strike out with my front paws, raking my claws against every inch I can reach.
His white-gray fur is soon matted with blood, his movements slowing.
Seizing my opportunity, I release his muzzle and go for the throat.
My wolf has a different plan. I thrash again, hearing the rips and pops, followed by the gushing of blood, metallic and thick on my tongue. The wolf's body goes limp, and I drop it at my feet.
Two down, two to go.
I remember how Torben taught me to take a dominant stance.
Raising my head, I stare down at the remaining wolves, pressing Diaval's intimidation upon them.
Within seconds, they tuck their tails and lower their heads, whining.
A deep growl escapes me, one I barely recognize as my own.
Quickly, they hit the snow, rolling over to bare their bellies in submission.
Shifting back to my human form, I'm amazed to find my clothes intact. "Lead me to the village," I command without hesitation, my voice steady and firm. Something has changed within me, having let my wolf take over. For once, I am not worried about what's to come.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Diaval stopping the others. "Don't... It will make her look weak," he says, and the words resonate in my mind.
The wind shifts, and suddenly Easton's feather, luminous like the midday sun, blows into my face.
You're healing yourself, Easton's voice echoes in my mind.
I draw in a sharp breath. During the fight, I felt the burn, a searing pain in my shoulder, and then it was gone.
I can self-heal? I toss the question back at Easton and Diaval.
It appears so. The wound near your neck is almost gone, Easton replies.
This new development needs to stay within the family.
The town of Dunnum slowly reveals itself from between the snow berms. Instinctively, I feel the urge to half-shift, so I kick off my boots, the cold snow comforting, as if welcoming me home.
My hind paws sink into the snow as I move bipedal through the last twenty feet before entering the town.
Reaching back, I offer Khal my boots, noting that he also holds my backpack.
No sooner do the wolves set their front paws on the exposed cobblestone than they shift.
The males, lithe and slightly shorter than I am, stand before me.
"We'll bring you to the alpha," they say, their voices unsure and filled with submission.
I nod, motioning for them to proceed. As we wind through the quaint mountain village, an uneasy feeling settles in my gut.
The homes, picturesque and serene, feel more like the walls of a trap than a welcoming embrace.
Hundreds of heartbeats surround us, yet they remain hidden within their houses.
It's not fear that keeps them inside, but curiosity.
It's been generations since they've seen outsiders, and likely none have ever encountered beings like my mates.
We are a spectacle, a living myth come to life.
The grand Alpha House stands tall and proud at the end of the road, a testament to the strength and unity of the pack.
Its structure is carved from mighty oaks and cedar trees, forming a crisscross pattern with plaster between the planks.
Large stones create a solid foundation for the mighty bilevel house.
The males climb the steps, opening the twin black doors wide, exposing the bright interior.
I remain half-shifted as I ascend the stairs, leading the way into the Alpha House.
Trust no one, Diaval says in my head.
I glance over my shoulder to lock eyes with him and give him a terse nod. Something inside me churns like a coiled predator, ready to strike if needed. Then I realize I'm not feeling my wolf—I'm feeling Khal's basilisk. It doesn't like me having to walk alone.
Slowing my pace, I wait until Khal is close enough. I turn and whisper, "I'm okay. I have to do this."
Khal nods as I watch his face morph into that cold, detached visage his twin always wears. It's his armor for when we're in public. I'm no better, remaining in my half-shifted state. From the many history lessons Diaval and Easton have given me, only a true Alpha or Luna can half-shift.
It's now that I realize this isn't armor—it's proof of who I am.
I am the true Luna of the Northern packs. My packs.
The man I can only assume is the alpha sits on his dais like a conqueror, exuding an aura of unwarranted confidence.
The chamber is dimly lit, shadows dancing across the stone walls, but his presence remains unimpressive.
"Welcome to my home and to Dunnum," he says, standing up with his arms wide open.
His stature is far from the towering, muscular figures I've seen in Diaval's memories.
He's neither heavily built nor as imposing as the alphas I've encountered before.
He's not very impressive. I shoot down the mental bond to Diaval.
Definitely not. Want me to have Easton roast him? Diaval's tone is laced with amusement.
No. I'd rather rip his throat out if need be. A feral grin spreads across my lips.
I shift my focus fully onto the so-called alpha before me. "Thank you for the warm welcome." My voice drips with sarcasm as I narrow my eyes at him. I hike a thumb over my shoulder, my tail thrashing with agitation. "I was attacked by four of your males."
The man's face pales.
"You're short two, by the way."
"Your mates killed them?" He glances past me to the large imposing males standing behind me.
"No, they didn't. Look at the memories of the two by the door.
" I motion to the two naked men still in the archway.
"Or do you not possess that alpha gift? It's a rather common one passed down a true alpha line.
" I taunt him, my voice edged with contempt.
I know full well he is no alpha by blood, but merely seized the opportunity my father's disappearance presented.
His facade of power is paper-thin.
And the realization fuels a deep, simmering anger within me.