Fated To Two: She Belongs To The Alphas

Fire & Brimstone

Chapter 8; Fire and Brimstone

Amara sat still across from both Alphas and the Seer, Lyra. It was a beautiful contrast from the last time she had been summoned to tell them about her life before crossing the boundary.

Before, they were all shouting and barely let her talk, now they sat intently listening as she narrated her life, at least the weeks leading up to Grisha’s arrival… and death.

It felt somewhat comforting knowing they listened without any unnecessary input.

They hadn’t even gotten to that point last time, but she knew that was what would have happened.

“It was after his death that everything went wrong,” Amara whispered, twisting the edge of Lucian’s borrowed tunic.

×××

*FLASHBACK*

Sunlight assaulted Amara’s eyes as she stumbled on her way out of Grisha’s… Formerly Grisha’s cot.

The village bustled still. Hammer strikes from her father’s forge, children’s laughter near the well – but it felt muffled, distant.

Grief was a stone in her chest. No one knew him like she did. So no one grieved him like she did.

It was terrible and heartbreaking to think about it. But it was true.

"Amara?" Ashe caught her at the infirmary door, her usual spark dimmed. "You look awful. Go home. Brenna and I can handle today."

"I need to do something." Amara pulled away, grabbing her gathering basket. "Berries. For… for tonics."

“Come on Amara, you have to stay. Mom was planning something for you. You’ve done so well so far after all.”

“I’ll try to make it before then.”

Ashe gave her a suspicious glance before letting her go.

The river path usually soothed her. Today, however, the leaves sounded annoying. The birds even more so. This was the second loss that hit her this hard. It didn’t feel fair. It was sickening.

She plunged into the sun bleached meadow, the sweet scent of wild strawberries thick in the air.

Kneeling, she clawed at the fruit, staining her fingers red. She barely even tried to keep from squashing them.

Even after she was done picking berries. She wasn’t satisfied. She wanted more time to herself, to clear her head.

Morning turned to Noon before she knew it, and when it was evident that she wouldn’t be feeling any better. She readied herself and headed back to the pack.

The first tendril of smoke reached her halfway home. Borin burning another loaf, she thought dully.

Then another scent layered underneath. It was Acrid, it smelt wrong. Burning pine,wool. Her steps faltered.

It was then her wolf stirred.

By the time she crossed the last hill, the village was a ghost of itself.

Black smoke settled above Moonshine, swallowing the sun. An unnatural roar, like a thousand torches igniting at once, rolled down the valley.

Her basket dropped, berries scattering like blood drops on the path.

"No." The word was a whisper. Then the scream tore from her lungs. "NO!"

She ran.

Branches lashed her face, roots snagged her feet. But nothing stopped her from running towards the village.

The heat hit her first, a physical wall at the village edge.

It was smoldering. Like the village itself had been used as kindling for the flame.

Then sounds came next – not the cheerful chaos of pack life, but the shrieks of wolves in agony, the crackle of consuming flame, the sickening pop of burning timber.

Her home.

Her father’s forge.

The infirmary.

All orange walls of fire and swirling ash. All burning to the ground.

"Dad!

Ashe!"

She screamed as she choked in the smoke.

She stumbled into the square as she saw figures move in the inferno – dark, distorted shapes burning alongside collapsing buildings.

"AMARA!"

The raw scream cut through her concentration. Matriarch Elara, her stepmother, stood silhouetted against the blazing meeting hall, her grey braid coming undone.

"RUN! DON’T LOOK BACK! GO!"

Just as the beast turned. Too tall. Too towering. Too evil to be a wolf.

Its jaws opened, revealing rows of fangs Amara couldn’t see. It sniffed the smoke-choked air.

It found her.

Amara froze. The creature’s eyes locked onto hers as it dropped to all fours and began its unrelenting chase.

×××

*FLASHBACK ENDS*

Retelling the story, Amara didn’t even realize when she started crying. The tears fell from her eyes in two pure streams.

It was a humbling experience, realising everyone but her had died in that fire. But she couldn't help but think.

If I survived, maybe others did too?

But the chances were slim. The Moonshine Pack was gone. She hadn't told them what had happened before Grisha died, not yet.

That would be too painful, thinking about her dad, mom, sister… those she had known for years.

“And that's when you got to the border,” Derrick said. A thoughtful expression on his face.

“Yes,” Amara muttered, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“It's obvious the fire wasn't natural. A pack that had a healer couldn't be a weak one.Whatever attacked them, and you too, had to be exceptionally strong.” Lucian added.

“Hmmm, I guess this is all we know. There's not much we can do to prepare the packs. We just have to be ready if anything happens.” Lyra said, lost in thought.

“Whatever comes, we'll be ready.”

“It is a lot to think about”

Lucian and Derrick said at once.

They exchanged disapproving glances but chose against any fighting because of Amara.

“Alright boys. I'll be taking her home now.”

“Amara, ready?” Lyra asked, reaching to support her. Amara accepted even though she wasn't physically weakened or anything.

By the time both women were gone Derrick and Lucian had some space to talk. Their packs were in danger after all.

Lucian was the first to speak; “What do you think about the whole situation?”

“Too many oddities and too little precedent. We just have to wait and watch. A fragile girl like her shouldn't be left unwatched at any time.”

Lucian didn't respond immediately. Staring instead at the now cold brew before them which they hadn't touched during Amara’s story.

Then he asked; “Why did you let her stay with me? You're not one to back down without a fight.”

Derrick replied flatly, but his voice was laced with venom “I know she'll choose the better man anyway. There was no point in struggling. Besides, if she didn’t choose me, she wasn’t worth fighting for.”

“Is that a bet?”

“Yes. It is.”

Outside, Amara was escorted to her room and left to be. Amara would sleep, and would experience her most harrowing night since crossing the border.