The Royal Wolves

Your Prince

* * * Florence’s POV * * *

A translucent figure begins to appear within the space in which Kate and I are communicating with Hal. It’s Chad, his eyes are clenched shut as though he is in pain. He bites out a curse and a whimper of panic escapes him.

A bead of sweat appears on his forehead as though he is exerting himself, yet he isn’t moving. I look to Hal, who places his fingers to his lips. ‘I’ll show you his mind, do not wake him. He may lash out,’ he warns me.

A vision appears in the darkness, the body of Chad laid on the ground, his muscles flexing as he tries to move, but finds himself restrained. In the vision, he is bound by wolfsbane ropes, the liquid sizzling against his skin. His arms thrash. Setting a relentless rhythm, that causes him to become breathless and break out in a sweat. The ropes saw in deeper and deeper until they draw blood. His rhythmic pounding against the straps slows until he had no other choice but to stop.

‘I think he’s been a prisoner before,’ I whisper to Kate.

‘For eight years,’ Hal sighs sadly. ‘The day we broke out was the day that we withdrew from the world.’

‘Ohhh Hal. I’m so sorry. I….’

‘Shhh, he’s coming round. We’ll speak to you in person shortly,’ he tells us and before either Kate or I can reply, he has withdrawn contact and pushes us back towards our own mind.

Inhaling a sharp gasp of air as our awareness snaps back to my own mind and body, I can’t help but marvel at the mental strength of Hal. I’ve known people reject mind contact, but never to force somebody back to their own consciousness with such force.

‘They’re old, they’ll have had time to develop their skills, explore things wolves with a standard life wouldn’t think to explore. Plus, they are blessed by the gods. I hope he wakes soon,’ Kate tells me.

‘He is. Look….. his breathing has changed,’ I observe.

‘So it has,’ Kate agrees. We’re sat perched on the edge of the cot and then decide to move closer to the wolfsbane bars, where we wait with baited breath.

It’s strange how long a minute takes to pass by when you’re counting. Seven minutes that feel like an eternity pass by before we hear the unmistakable gasp of someone waking after being out cold.

“Hal spoke to you?” Chad asks as he rolls over to look at me.

“He did.”

“He hasn’t spoken to another wolf in around fifteen years. He showed me some things. You’ve seen how I came to be and also of the information you have?”

“Yes. I think the pregnancy is the cause of my visions. What do you and Hal know about the King?” I ask. “I’m long overdue our chat and I’m a little nervous,” I admit.

Chad looks up to the sky and smiles as he opens his arms wide. “I love a good rain storm, don’t you?” He asks without looking at me.

“Not particularly,” I shrug.

“A storm is coming. The rain will dilute the wolfsbane on these bars. Freedom is within reach, young ones. Speak with your bear with confidence, with the knowledge that the gods have indeed given you the vision. He will return you here while he thinks things through. If it rains hard enough, we will be away before he comes back.

“Little Wolf, the King wishes to speak with you,” a voice shouts just as the sound of thunder rumbles through the sky.

Dark and heavy rain clouds fill the sky, casting darkness to the day. Indeed, a storm is coming. Large droplets of rain come pouring as the guard unlocks my cell and begins to lead me through the camp to where I will speak with the werebear king.

In the rain there is a serenity, a sense of peace that offers to resonate with the peaceful elements of the soul. Walking among those drops is my meditation, a way to fully become present in the moment, a way to feel free. Each raindrop is a doorway into nature's heart, an invitation of sorts, a request for your soul to rejoin creation.

With each footstep squelching in the mud, I tell myself that I can do this. With each pair of unfriendly eyes, I tell myself that this is the reason we came. A world full of hate is not a world that hound children should grow up in.

The werebears of the camp watch me being paraded through their home, some watch with an unfriendly gaze, I believe if looks could kill, I would be at least twenty feet under.

‘Just breathe. He wants to hear what we have to say,’ Kate reassures me.

I’m led to an enormous tent, with guards posted around it at six foot intervals. They’re armed and ready to defend their king.

“Sir, I have brought the wolf as requested,” my guard announces as we stand at the doorway to another part of the tent.

“Bring her in,” king Edward requests.

My feet shuffle as I follow the guard to a chair in the middle of the room. I sit down and look ahead at the twelve men before me. Each sat watching me with a curious look.

“I have explained to the council that you claim to have a message from Balador.”

“I did claim that. I still do,” I speak firmly and with confidence.

“You also claimed that I would never know peace, that I would never have a home and that my bloodline will disappear from the earth,” he smirks as he speaks, trying to convey how ridiculous my claims are.

“I can see that is how you interpreted it. But I wasn’t referring to your bloodline. The vision I received was referring to all werebears. All werebears would never know peace, never have a home and eventually there would be a world without werebears,” I correct him. Hoping now, he will take my vision seriously.

“And you say Balador gave you this vision?” An old man asks me, not unkindly.

“Amongst the others. There was Balador, Selene. Azuth and Zeus. They’re tired of the warring between species. It is time for the defined child to lead the world in peace,” I tell them.

“And you think your child is the destined child?” King Edward scoffs.

“I’ve heard it all now. Looking for a way to cash in off her child,” a younger man laughs.

“This vision does not involve my child,” I tell them, but they don’t even look at me.

“It involves your prince. The bastard child of your king.”

Now I have their attention.