19. Runa
Runa
An hour is plenty of time to put together a basket from the kitchen and slip in and out of our already confusing castle unnoticed.
I might be a terrible tracker, but I’m great at covering my tracks.
One has to be when sneaking out at night against one’s parents’ wishes.
I’ve had plenty of practice sneaking past the guards.
The daylight makes moving in stealth more difficult, so I don a guard uniform complete with warm mittens and a fur coat, along with a fur hat, and walk calmly toward the abandoned watchtower high above the ridgeline.
In the thick of the wars, and before the volcanic eruption that changed the landscape of the south side of the castle, humans used our watchtower to launch attacks on enemy territory. The watchtower also served as the first line of defense against anyone trying to scale the now-dead volcano.
I remember when it erupted, and we evacuated to human territory until the lava flow ceased.
That was the only time I was ever inside their city walls.
They live so differently from us. Electronics.
Cars. So much noise that it makes me wonder how they haven’t gone crazy from being constantly bombarded by it.
Besides the watchtower being abandoned, another great thing about it is that it’s built to withstand all natural disasters, elemental or otherwise.
During storms, the guards draw up the bridge connecting the watchtower to the castle, so I’ll be left alone.
When the storm hits, the water will wash off the tracks.
There’s no way anyone will find me out here. It’s perfect.
I stick an old key the size of my forearm into the lock and twist it with both hands to unlock the tower’s massive door.
The iron-reinforced monstrosity barely moves as I push with all my might just so I can squeeze past it.
I close and lock the door, not worried about the scent the coat left on it when I squeezed through.
It’s not mine. It belongs to a male guard, and his scent remains.
I pull off my winter hat and look up. Spiderwebs adorn the staircase that leads sixty-four floors up into the clouds. A gate on every eighth floor is marked by one of the eight phases of the moon.
A daunting climb even for a werewolf. I’d climb on four legs, but I have to carry my basket and a backpack, as well as my gun loaded with silver bullets.
Those books I shouldn’t have read as a teen? Yeah, those talked about alpha males invading nests when the omega wolf was most vulnerable and taking one omega in packs. The omegas rarely survived, and even if they did, they were ravaged and unable to bear offspring.
Needless to say, Maren and I learned how to shoot at an early age.
On my way up the tower, I stop eight times to pray at the gates. Once I finally make it all the way to the top, I’ll fix myself a nice cup of coffee over a warm fire. Right after I nest.
I soldier on up the stairs.
The door at the top is marked by the final phase of the moon, the waning crescent.
It’s the phase of rest and reflection. I pray before I enter the small, round space at the top of the tower.
This is the only space with lookout windows, and they’re also steel reinforced.
I check the windows and find them well insulated.
I check the chimney next. Looks good, but the half-empty wood storage bin means I’ll have to ration if the heat lasts longer than a single night.
Which it might be because Ash Fireborn will be out there howling at his fire moon. Every Stormcrest omega, including my sister, will go into heat once he starts calling. I’m sure of it.
I’m not looking forward to suffering through this, but it’s my lot as an omega. I’d better get on to nesting.