Chapter Six
1324 Words
Larson
“Argh!” I punched the ground repeatedly in frustration, not caring that the grass and sticks were hurting my knuckles. The rogue leader had struck earlier than I anticipated, and my father had been amongst the taken. I stood up, looking at the stars through the tree silhouettes above me.
Even the cool night air tasted bitter, with the knowledge that not only were my friends taken now - the original Turned who were taken 8 years ago - but also my father and members of the current Sable River pack.
This complicated things, and now I needed to get back to my pack, to lead in my father’s absence, like I should be doing. Who knew where my brother was now, either?
I knew I should have returned years ago. Helped my father with running the pack, and settled down a little myself. But I couldn’t let it go - that rogue had taken my friends, wrecked our peaceful pack life, and with what I had gone through in the last eight years, I deserved to find him and the wolves he kidn*pped - along with the horrible witches who were helping him.
Dammit!
He must’ve realised he had someone on his tail, and struck earlier, again, at the time of the full moon Turning. But why didn’t he take the turned themselves? I was sick of being second in this mind game, and I was sure he knew I was onto him. That must be why he was so hard to find or track - it was like the scent always faded out, no matter how efficient and practised you were as a tracker.
Earlier this evening, I had realised there was something amiss when I had a strained link from my father in my head.
‘Larso …’ The first time in years, and it made my heart leap, ready to see my beloved Dad again, then instantly sinking like a stone at the tone in his voice, and his sudden cut-off as if he was struck. Even though he linked me mentally, it was almost impossible to continue linking when you were physically distracted like that. I wondered how he was now - was he safe, or did he push his captors too far? If I knew my father, though, he would be always looking after his pack members - and the fact he had a good number of our people with him, looking to him for guidance and comfort, probably meant he would be standing up for them, while also biding his time until an opportunity came along.
I had lost the scent of the big group of wolves, the supporters of the Turners, as they came towards the pack boundary- I ran from where I left the bus to check on them in the shadows - and there was a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that something had gone wrong.
Not many people knew I had been actually taken with the first group, 8 years ago. The rogue leader must have realised as he recounted when the Turned were taken away, and wondered where to tie up that loose end after I escaped.
I had been in that years’ first Turning, and so was taken along with the others, herded into a big underground space which suddenly appeared, and force-fed a sleeping potion.
Being an Alpha-born, I had had more strength than most, even after turning for the first time. I had awoken from the sleeping draught they gave us early, and I had waited for my chance - then rolled off the back of the canvas-covered truck the rogues used to drive us to the next destination.
Finding myself exhausted, still groggy, and vulnerable as a survivor of the first big attack in years, with my pack on high alert under my father, I stayed low in the forest and lived off the land for a week or two as a wolf, while I regained my strength and started building my knowledge about what had happened to my pack members … and the rest is history. I stayed on that path even when it took me to the war-torn North lands, witches, rogues and more - and vowed to find out what had happened, rather than live in fear of it happening again. I always held out hope for rescuing my friends, even if that hope was dwindling a little after so many years without seeing one of them in person again.
I had sent word through link to my father to set his mind at ease, but cautioned him against sharing this with anyone else - although I felt sure he had told my mother. It’s almost impossible to keep something from your mate.
And now he, Alpha Bronce, my indestructible but soft-hearted father, had been amongst this next lot of the Taken. The anger in me stewed in my stomach, and rose like burning flames across my torso and up to my throat. I wanted to make them pay for all the wrong they did to innocent people; rogue leader or not. I was grieved to miss my father after all these years, angry that they were taken under my nose, and worried in case they came back, or, and I admitted to myself that this worried me more at the moment than the rest - that the beautiful and intriguing girl in the bus had been harmed or hurt in any way.
I involuntarily shifted into my wolf frantically at this final thought, and my red-brown paws started pounding across the forest floor to get back to my pack - and her.
As I ran over the pack boundary, I caught the faint scent of my fathers’ wolf. He must have done something drastic to leave a scent for me to find that wasn’t wiped out by the others.
I vowed to come back to this space in 5 short minutes and continue my mission - I just had to make sure the blue-eyed wolf girl was unharmed. I couldn’t explain how her aura drew me in, it was all-consuming and so potent to me. In fact, it made the prospect of returning to my pack a little easier and more exciting, which I didn’t like to admit to myself.
Standing behind a fallen log a little way from the packhouse, I saw her exit the bus, looking wildly around her. She listened to the driver, a wise warrior by the name of Peyton, who had been around when I was a kid-and a dear friend of my father’s.
Then, she did it again. She stopped and turned, with her somewhat-matted golden hair swinging behind her, and squinted directly at me, even though I was trying to stay silent. When she saw me, her beautiful big blue eyes widened, and she looked amazed and intrigued. My wolf turned, then looked back at her, trying to commit her beautiful face to memory, even looking scared and in the weird light of the packhouse floodlights.
She kept looking at me, then smiled and took a step forward and it took my breath away.
My heart pounded in my chest, and an ache began, the need to see her and hold her in my arms, never letting her go, stroking her soft blonde hair and looking into those blue eyes forever …
I suddenly remembered my mission and sprang into action before I stayed behind, leaving my mate, for I realised it was she, there to be cared for by my pack, and pulling apart my own soul in the process - while I tore off to find my father and the rogue pack that had taken him captive.
As I raced away, I felt the hole in my chest grow bigger just from moving away from her presence. Mates are meant to be together, always.
I prayed she understood …
- Writer
