The First Wolves

11. ADAL

The small, but well selected rescue team clustered around the map listening to Conri and Fidella’s plan. The anticipation vibrated off Otto’s body as he tried to suppress his desperation to storm into Vestini, grab his boy, and sweep back out, damning the consequences on the way. As far as Otto was concerned, the mass destruction his eagerness would cause seemed like a fair justice to serve the people who had bought his son. Holda ran the back of her hand over his arm, calming his instincts that she could feel rampaging through their bond. Holda wouldn’t be joining, still too underfed and weak from her enslavement. Thankfully, Winnifred had planned a day to keep her occupied. They were going to prepare the beds for her pup’s return. Holda wanted to try to cook a soup similar to the one she would make from the home they were taken from, when her children were in their infancy. Before she started on her preparations, she wanted to listen in on the plan, and keep Otto calm.

“Jerrick, will go into the town first using the last of Ewan’s scent suppressor. He will find the butchers and hopefully be able to see Adal. If not, he will buy a little meat and have a conversation with the owner. On his way out of the city he will provoke the guards so they give chase, and then lead them to us. We will tie them up at the trees, and use their uniforms to pose as guards, and then rescue Adal.” Conri looked around the studious faces, waiting to hear their opinions, but no opposition was voiced.

They were all intent on doing their part as well as they could. Jerrick had been a gladiator with Conri and Otto, but he hadn’t bulked up with muscle. Instead, he was more slender, in turn meaning he was quicker. The benefit of this speed and build was that it was easier for him to pose as a human, and he could always out run them if the plans went wrong.

Otto, Conri and Jerrick were waiting at the edge of the camp giving their farewell kisses and reassurances to their mates and friends. Rufus had gone on ahead to make sure the path was clear, since he had nobody to say goodbye to. Leadership had been left with Fidella, Ewan and Iselda. Although Fidella understood the need for her to stay behind, she was disquieted by her separation from Conri. Knowing this, Conri held her tightly to assuage her fears and kissed her deeply to remind her of his love. No words were needed between them, because in times like this, their communication transcended speech.

Jerrick knelt down, so his head was level with Jenny’s heavily pregnant stomach.

“Now, my little pup, father’s going to help bring back Otto’s not so little boy. I need you to stay in mummy’s tummy until I come back,” He kissed the peak of her belly, before standing up and softly kissing his mate’s mouth.

“I don’t think it works like that, pups come in their own time,” Jenny teased when their lips parted, hiding the fear she felt.

“You know why I have to do this, my love?” Jerrick asked her, worried that she would see his decision to help as a betrayal to their bond.

“I know my love, I just won’t understand if you don’t come back.” She replied, hugging him closely.

Jerrick turned, and made his way through the woods to Vestini. He hoped he wouldn’t miss the birth of his first pup, but he wouldn’t have refused to help Otto. They were a pack, and a pack helped each other.

Otto placed his lips near Holda’s ear, making a thousand promises that he would bring their children home, starting with their son. He gave her his miniature sculptures, and pointed out the new one that represented him.

“You keep these safe and the moon Goddess will listen to your prayers,” he told her with such confidence, that it was hard not to believe his words.

Placing a final, lingering kiss on her forehead, he ran into the woods with Conri by his side.

Mercifully, the walk through the forest to Vestini was dry and easy to navigate. Jerrick changed into the clothes they had taken from the House of Heaton and then sprayed the scent suppressor, so that no loyal wolves would identify him. Purposefully, adjusting his mannerisms to conform to human behaviour, he sloped his shoulders a little, but kept his head high and neutralised the expression on his face. His steps were swift, but not hurried, and he gave an occasional nod when other humans acknowledged him. He continued to move in this fashion until he came to the market square. Fidella had made them all memorise the strange markings, she even made them write it out in their reading lessons. She informed him that it spelt ‘VESTINI BUTCHERS’, and for the first five minutes of his perusal around the stalls he tried to match the symbols in his head to the etchings on the shop signs. Finally, he turned a corner and recognised the etching on a wooden plaque. A perfect match. Subduing the smile that tugged in the corner of his mouth, he strolled into the store hoping to find a young wolf.

Noticing the changing texture beneath his feet, he looked down to see the copious amount of sawdust that was darker in the places where the meat cuts had been prepared. Various meats were hanging from the ceiling by huge hooks, on the display covered with linen cloth was the offal, and the animal’s heads were on the back-shelf, waiting for the butcher’s knife. Despite the impressive array of meat, Jerrick couldn’t see any younger person, only the human butcher impatiently standing with his hands on his hips. His posture framed his bloodied apron and the collection of butcher’s knives that were neatly hanging off his leather overall.

“Are you after something in particular, citizen?” the butcher asked.

“I’ll just take some of the kidney, thank-you” Jerrick replied, hoping the transaction would relax the butcher a little. “You must start early to present such an impressive selection of meat, your choice must be the most elusive in all Vestini,” Jerrick flattered him, relieved to see pride in the human’s face.

“I serve the governor’s house, my slave is dropping his order off now. When he returns in the next hour, we will start on the lamb we have in the back. Not many butchers round here can boast of having lamb on offer,” The butcher bragged, so thrilled with his own adulations he didn’t notice the optimism in Jerrick’s face.

Wrapping the kidney in linen that was lined with salt, he passed the neatly packaged parcel to Jerrick, and thanked him for his custom. Pleased to be returning with some positive news, Jerrick put his mind to the part of the plan he had looked forward to the most: getting the guards to chase him into the woods. Antagonising humans was something Jerrick considered his speciality. He sighed as he unwrapped the neatly packaged meat. It was a shame to waste. To ensure he had a little head start, he walked through the gates before turning around and launching the chunks of kidney at the guards. A perfect aim.

Fighting, killing, and training were only some of the difficult orders that Otto had to follow during his years as a gladiator. While he was sitting on the trunk of a felled tree, Otto had come to the conclusion that waiting for news about his son was the hardest order he’d ever had to adhere to. Defying his best attempts to stop, his mind continued to construct imaginations of all the worst possible situations his son could be in. His mood was contagious as everyone was silenced by the torturous tension he was projecting. Therefore, the creative insults that they could hear being launched in the distance was the humorous relief they all needed, as Jerrick convinced the soldiers to continue chasing him.

“If this is the only stamina you have, no wonder your wives were happy to see me this morning,” Jerrick laughed at his own slights against the guards as he continued to lead them further into the forest, where he knew his friends would be waiting.

As practised, the remaining members of the rescue group waited for the guards to pass by, before applying enough pressure to their nose and mouth for them to lose consciousness. Stripping off their uniforms, they tied them to the tree that Conri had already left his wolf carving on. They all agreed it was his best work yet, before returning to the city.

Given that the city was rich in resources and desirable to the wealthier humans, it wasn’t uncommon to see centurions patrolling the streets. Fortunately, this was perfect for the small party of wolves that were seemingly committed to their duties around the market place. Each member of the rescue group was attempting to sound out the background noise of trade, and listen for an approaching cart. They didn’t have to wait too long. Wooden wheels clunked over the cobbles, momentarily pausing the wolves, who collectively turned to see who was atop of the cart. They hoped it was Adal. Realising how conspicuous they looked staring at the same cart, Conri gave an urgent command to break their focus. They all turned and pretended it was of no interest to them, all but one, Otto, the father, who was desperate to see his son. The cart slowly came through the archway where the brown-haired rider expertly guided the horse next to the butcher’s shop, before jumping off and tethering the reins to the post. Tenderly, he placed his own forehead on his horse’s forehead, as if sharing an understanding of a hard day’s work.

Otto gripped the wall to prevent the stumble that came from the shock of seeing his first-born in front of him. He looked so different. His face was less soft, his jaw was squared, he had a few whiskers but they seemed shaved down, like humans preferred. His hair was parted at the front and plaited at the back, and Otto could see this was a reflection of their culture. All members of his birthplace had plaited their hair. It made Otto proud to see that his son had retained this tradition. When they had cut his own plait off at the House of Heaton, Otto had felt like his homeland had been sheared away. The most noticeable change in him was his shoulders, which were exceptionally broad and layered with muscles. Despite all these alterations, Otto could still see the child he knew in the way he soothed his horse, the waves of hair that framed his face, and his brown eyes that were the same shade as the soil from the farm they once called home.

Adal went to the back of the cart then hoisted the body of a small dead calf up into the air before placing it across his shoulders. Otto could see how the beast’s bones were digging into his son’s flesh, but Adal displayed no sound or sign of discomfort. It was a weight and pain he had become accustomed to over time. The blood began to soak into his tunic. The bright crimson contrasted with the darker, dried, brown stains from earlier in the day. He walked into the butcher’s shop, and the shouting could be heard in the street by everyone, not just the wolves.

“Stupid. Worthless. Hopeless.”

The ritualistic berating of the butcher to his slave was not an uncommon greeting, but all the wolves had to try and hush the angry growls that were vibrating from their rib cage.

“Get our son! He will not endure one more ugly word from that human’s mouth,” Amos bellowed in Otto’s head.

“Are you ready?” Conri linked to Otto, who subtly nodded in response. Worried that if he were to try to form words he would lose control of Amos.

Confidently, walking to the cart, Conri inspected a rack of ribs that were wrapped in linen, before picking them up and storming into the butcher’s shop. Ignoring Adal, he slammed the ribs on the wooden counter and stared at the shop owner, until he saw him physically diminished beneath his gaze.

“Your slave has over-charged me for these ribs,” Conri’s complaint sounded murderous, and, as expected, the butcher scowled at Adal.

“This is supposed to feed my brothers-in-arms and I. There is barely enough meat on it to satisfy our dog! I demand my money back.” Conri insisted, thrilled to see that the mention of money had hooked the butcher’s argumentative spirit.

“Unfortunately, we don’t give refunds. How am I to know that the meat has been returned in the same way it was sold? I also can’t be held responsible for the idiocy of a slave.” The butcher concluded, “If it’s any start towards amends, I can assure you that my slave will be punished.” He smiled, as if his terms were desirable.

Adal had been watching the exchange, with a mixture of fear and interest. He knew that he hadn’t sold any meat to a soldier, the centurions would come to the shop for meat. He was also very aware that the meat had come from the cart, he had kept it to one side because it had very little meat on it, and wasn’t a fit sale for the rich. Although he had been a slave long enough to know it was a bad idea to interrupt a conversation between humans, even if it was to aid his master, there was something else keeping him silent. An inner order that he couldn’t fight told him not to disagree with the soldier.

“If you refuse to pay me the money back, then I demand to take your slave. He can be punished by the army until the sting of my loss is less sharp. It was his stupidity that cost me, after all.” Conri proposed, hoping that the butcher would fall for his ploy.

“He is getting expensive to feed, and his wolf is due to come through any time soon. He’s nearly old enough, and I have no interest in being mauled to death in my bed. I was thinking of selling him to the Smith. He could put the silver irons on him, and then going to market for a younger wolf.”

The butcher considered the offer. It was a month earlier than he had planned to switch slaves, but he didn’t want to have a problem with the soldiers, not when they were good customers. Little did the self-serving human know that Adal’s wolf had appeared months ago, but he had hidden that fact from the old man.

“OK, you can take him, good luck with training him.. He doesn’t listen to words or wrath.”

Strange. Adal had been sold with less argument than had been caused by the sale of skinny ribs. Fear struck him. He had to stay nearby, he couldn’t leave this town, but there was little he could do about a bargain struck by humans. Deciding the worst had already happened, Adal found his voice.

“But…but…I never…”

“Shut your mouth, you will be a slave to our legion now, and you will learn discipline.” The soldier commanded.

“He has been punished before for not holding his tongue,” the butcher said, before shuffling off to get the ownership papers.

Conri wished he could comfort the young man in these moments while they waited, but his fearful expression was making the story more convincing, and that was something he wasn’t prepared to risk. The butcher handed over the scroll, his expression held a small smile of relief, and Conri picked up Adal by the scruff of his tunic, maintaining a stern expression. Dragging him into the alleyway, three shops down from the butcher’s shop, the shock had worn off and Adal was kicking and punching Conri with all his might. Impressively, he managed to elbow the Alpha in his jaw. Despite Conri being interested in Adal’s strength, his display was beginning to attract some unwanted attention, so the Alpha pinned him to the wall in an effort to speak to him.

When Otto turned down the alley, he could see his son kneeing his alpha in his stomach, while he was pinned against the wall. Emotions juggled around inside him so quickly that it was hard for Otto to pull out the most prevalent one. Pride was undeniable. His son had been a slave for most of his teenage years, but they hadn’t broken him. He still fought bravely. What else could a father be, but incredibly, overwhelmingly proud? He walked over, and took Conri’s place, standing in front of his son, who hadn’t noticed the change amid his struggle to be free.

“It’s OK son. Look at me. I’m your papa, I’ve come for you,” Otto said, placing his forehead on Adal’s, as he had done when he was a child, as Adal had done to his horse.

Gradually, he felt his son calm down.

“Papa?” Adal confirmed in disbelief, as his eyes reviewed the familiar features.

“Yes son, I’m here. You can stop fighting now,” He consoled him, and blinked back the tears as Adal slummed against him as the tension in his body left him.

He then looked up, studying the faces that were crammed into the alleyway with them.

“Where’s Annalisse?” Adal asked, looking for his sister, hoping she was hiding behind one of the red cloaks.

“We haven’t found her yet, Adal. We don’t know where she is,” Otto sighed.

“I know where she is,” Adal stated, sounding perplexed that they didn’t know.

Before Adal could expand on his answer, the beating of sandals across the cobbles and the clattering of metal made the wolves’ hearts beat faster, and the alleyway feel smaller. The soldiers were filling the market place from all directions, like an ant nest that had been disturbed. Red cloaks were crawling out of every crevice. Otto pushed Adal behind him, his friends doing the same, determined to protect him.

“We could join them, and blend in. They can’t know everyone,” Rufus suggested.

Ironically, as soon as the plan was put forward, an obstacle was presented. In perfect synchronicity, soldiers hammered four nails into a poster. Upon the poster were the wolves’ likenesses. Their anonymity had been short-lived. Conri thought of Fidella, cursing how little time they had been given. Otto was frantically trying to piece together a plan that would get Adal back to Holda even if his life ended there. Jerrick was cursing himself for a fool who leaves his pregnant mate and doesn’t make their last words ‘I love you’? Rufus was wondering if he could be the distraction that would let his pack members and best friend’s son escape, but he still had to work out how he would achieve this feat. In spite of their regrets, defiance was their mantra. They would fight against the odds as they had always done, even in the arenas, they just had to wait for the inevitable soldier’s eyes to seek them out.