Cyan took the lead up the rocky slopes in his wolf form, finding the easiest paths with his agile animal legs while April followed carrying their pack of supplies. Blackthorn brought up the rear, keeping up the pace doggedly despite his lack of sleep.
April's sweet scent never left Cyan's nostrils all morning as they climbed the mountain. Every time he returned to her side he was glad to be close to her again, and he could never go far without missing the comfort her presence gave him. He would never forget the memory of her beauty as he held her in his arms the previous night, or the depths of her soul she had bared to him, just as he had bared everything to her. He felt a bond between them stronger than any connection he had ever had to another person, as though her life was his and his was hers. If they ran into danger, he knew he would step into its path without thinking if it meant protecting her.
His feelings made the world crisp and keen and solid in a way it never had been before. He was more alert and attuned to the sounds and scents around him than he had been in a long time. Every step he took flowed gracefully from one place to the next, leading the way onwards up the snowy slopes that girdled the edge of the mountain.
But, despite everything, one doubt still remained. April cared for him, he knew that now as clearly as he knew his own feelings for her. What they'd shared together had been an evening between true lovers, with no pretence or dishonesty. He was not the only thing she loved, however.
While Cyan had nothing and no one to divide his affections, April's sense of duty to her pack was the one thing that could contend with her feelings towards him. She had proven that by choosing to stay and risk her life rather than leaving with him.
After all of this was over, for good or bad, would her loyalty to her pack still win out over their love? Cyan hoped that somehow she could find a way to have both things she wanted, but the harsh realities of life as a werewolf were rarely fair. If April becoming the new leader of her pack meant putting her relationship with an exiled outsider behind her, would he be able to accept that?
Cyan grunted as he snuffled his way through the snow. That was a problem for another day, and his wolf had never been a deep thinker. Right now April needed his strength and cunning, and that was what he would give her.
They travelled all day, stopping only briefly to eat and for Blackthorn to guide them in the right direction as they circled the edge of the mountain, making their way to the higher slopes that lay far from the Highland Pack's territory. By the early evening they had reached a wide open expanse on the far side of the peak, where the rocky ridges held a basin of thick fog that spilled down the slopes below in rolling tendrils. This was where the ferals made their territory.
Before long Cyan was picking up the stale scents of wolves nearby. April and Blackthorn only knew of the two other ferals that remained since Hazel had killed the third one, Ferla, but from the scents he suspected there might be more. Some werewolves were known to live for many years, and Ingrid had implied that the pack's feral problem had been going on for a very long time.
Cyan's hackles rose as they moved deeper into the misty expanse, his unease growing. The fog painted the dimming sunlight a murky brown, turning the snowy slopes the colour of burnt paper. His keen eyes were useless for more than a few yards in every direction. The dark shapes of trees and rocks loomed out at them from the distance, but at ground level it was impossible to tell who or what might be lurking nearby. At the very least, Cyan thought, the fog would cause just as many problems for Hazel's patrols as it would for them. The ferals he wasn't so sure about. They would know this territory well, and with the element of surprise on their side it would be difficult to chase them off before someone got hurt.
He moved in closer to April, putting his body between hers and the murky spots in their surroundings. At any moment he expected to see glowing eyes and sharp fangs emerge from a tangle of thorns, or leap from an overhanging ridge. They came across the signs of very few animals besides the ferals. It was no wonder the beasts strayed into the Highland Pack's territory so often. The hunting here seemed poor by comparison, though the ridges did protect it from the worst of the wind, making for a sheltered nesting spot.
Cyan only realised how heavy the silence had become when April whispered behind him.
"Are we close?"
"I think so," Blackthorn panted. "It's hard to tell. The fog wasn't this thick before."
April touched the back of Cyan's head with her fingertips, and a ripple of pleasure ran down his spine.
"Have you run across Hazel's scent yet?" she asked.
He shook his head with a snort.
"They'll have come up the other side of the mountain, the way I came before," Blackthorn said. "It's easier going that way. If we're lucky we can be gone before they even know we're here."
"If they haven't found Ingrid already," April said softly.
Blackthorn gave her a pained look. "I didn't mean what I said to her. If something happens—"
"I know you didn't, and I'm sure she knows too. You can tell her yourself when we find her."
"I'm not sure I want to." He grimaced. "I don't know if I can forgive her for what she did, but she doesn't deserve to die for it."
"If we can do this, then we need to change the way our pack works when it's over. I don't want rules that justify us killing one another."
Blackthorn seemed reluctant, but eventually he nodded in agreement. "Maybe you're right. You and Harriet will have to figure something out together."
"And you too." She put a hand on his arm. "I'll need your help if I'm going to be in charge. Our pack needs four elders."
Cyan growled audibly.
"Sorry." April lowered her voice to a whisper again. "Cyan's right, we should stay quiet."
The sickly yellow light filtering through the mist dimmed even further as the sun went down, and soon flakes of snow were twisting through the air all around them. The world turned into shadows and clumps of fog. Cyan slowed his pace. If he stumbled into a crevasse or the snarling jaws of another wolf he was unlikely to have much forewarning. Even Blackthorn must have been lost by this point. There was no way to distinguish one landmark from another in the murky twilight. If they ran into trouble now it would be too dangerous to even turn tail and flee in case they blundered straight down a precipice.
An unfamiliar scent crept into Cyan's muzzle, and he froze. April and Blackthorn stopped behind him, and after a hesitant moment both took their wolf forms as well. They knew danger was close.
As Cyan sniffed the scent became more familiar. He couldn't put a name to it, but it belonged to one of the Highland werewolves. The musky smell of a young male. As he crept forward a few paces he picked up more scents; three of them, fresh and distinct. So fresh that they couldn't have been more than minutes old. Maybe even seconds.
Without making a sound he motioned for April and Blackthorn to stop moving with a flick of his tail. He pricked up his ears and raised his head, listening intently. He couldn't see a thing through the fog, but his other senses were still keen. He just had to hope that Hazel's patrol hadn't been as perceptive.
Something crunched to the left. A footfall? Cyan swivelled his head and squinted into the fog. A scattering of snow rolled down the slope in front of them. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl, realising that it was too late to escape their predicament. Even if the patrol hadn't noticed them yet, they were so close by that it was only a matter of time. Whether it took seconds or minutes, they would find them. The only advantage Cyan had was the element of surprise.
Throwing his head back, he filled his lungs and let out a blood curdling howl, the chilling sound echoing off the mountainside and filling the air until it seemed to be coming from all directions at once.
Blackthorn growled at him, but Cyan motioned for him to remain still, keeping his ears pricked and his eyes open. The pattering sound of animal footsteps approached, and moments later a furred body streaked past just a few yards ahead. Cyan smelled the creature's fear and confusion. T
wo more werewolves followed, the third one blundering out of the mist straight towards them. Hoping that Blackthorn would follow his lead, Cyan darted forwards and swung a heavy forepaw at the female, cuffing her across the muzzle with a blow that sent her rolling to the ground with a yelp of surprise. They had to scatter their hunters and drive them off before they could regroup.
The pair of werewolves who had passed them by turned at the cry from the female, the sounds of their panting breath increasing in volume until they reappeared out of the mist, their teeth bared.
April hesitated, but Blackthorn bulled straight into the closest wolf, another dark-furred female, sending her tumbling to the ground. Her male companion was quicker to react. With a bark of anger he pounced on Blackthorn and closed his jaws around the back of his neck.
Cyan lunged and bit the male's tail hard, yanking him backwards until he released Blackthorn with a yelp. Sharp claws raked across Cyan's flank, but he ignored them and butted the male in the side, driving the wind from him and forcing him to the ground in a gasping heap.
The two females were back on their feet, but Cyan and Blackthorn were far larger and stronger than either of them. They hesitated, backing off uncertainly. The sound of running paws reached Cyan's ears, and for a moment he thought the male had managed to recover and circle around behind him somehow, before a fourth Highland wolf leaped out of the fog and landed on his back. With a growl of frustration he collapsed to the ground under the creature's weight, struggling to throw it off as yet more growls and snarls emerged from all around them.
He hadn't been careful enough. He'd smelled three scents, but that hadn't been the whole hunting party. Now there were five, six, maybe more. He lost track of the shadowy bodies appearing from the gloom as he finally threw off the one on his back and clambered to his feet. Even with Blackthorn and April's help, three wolves couldn't fight off this many.
The hunting party penned them in, forming a tight circle as their injured companions picked themselves up and caught their breath. Some of them seemed angry, others confused, others reluctant. He didn't see Hazel among them, but he recognised some of the wolves who had taken Hazel's side during his heated debates with the rest of the pack. One in particular, the shrill-voiced female, was staring at him with murderous intent in her eyes.
He and Blackthorn backed away until they were on either side of April, shielding her from the hunters. Suddenly he felt April's human hand on the back of his neck restraining him, and her clear voice called out over the growls of the werewolves.
"We don't have to fight! We're all part of the same pack—"
She didn't get any further before the glowering female leaped forward and threw herself at her. Cyan and Blackthorn both responded instinctively, knocking the attacker to the ground, but not before she had managed to send April stumbling backwards through the snow towards the other werewolves.
In an instant the remaining hunters were on top of them, strong teeth grasping at the back of Cyan's neck and heavy paws pinning him to the ground as he struggled. Snow filled his mouth as his jaws gnashed furiously at the empty air. Three more of them had Blackthorn pinned, and another wolf stood over April with his teeth bared.
In the confusion of snarling, growling bodies, Cyan didn't realise what was happening until he heard the exclamations of surprise coming from the Highland wolves. A gaunt creature stepped over him, howling and shrieking like a wild beast as it snapped at the others. The paws pinning Cyan to the ground stumbled back. He heaved himself up, panting heavily as he tried to make sense of what was going on.
Even more wolves had joined the group. For a moment he thought the hunters had turned against each other, some of them reluctant to fight against April and Blackthorn. But the new arrivals were no Highland werewolves. He recognised the skinny creature that had stepped over him as one of the ferals he had fought off to protect April. A second one nipped at the hunters holding Blackthorn down, her jaws frothing as she yapped and yowled.
Cyan expected the rabid creatures to turn on them just as quickly as they had turned on the Highland Pack, but in that instant their only chance was to try and take advantage of the momentary confusion.
He charged forward with the nearest feral, swiping and snapping at the trio of hunters in front of him as they stumbled back in alarm. Blackthorn was on his feet and fighting alongside the yowling female that had come to his aid, and a third feral, much larger than the other two, had sent April's captor fleeing into the mist all by himself.
Another one of the hunters turned tail and ran after Cyan gave him a painful bite to the flank. Their group was falling apart fast. The others tried to gather together and pool their strength, but it was clear that they had no leader to rally behind. The scent of anger in the air gave way to fear. One moment Cyan was charging at the shrill-voiced female as she tried unsuccessfully to make a second lunge at April, the next he was watching her flee from him in a panic, her furry tail disappearing in a swirl of mist as the last of the hunters scattered in all directions.
Cyan's body stung from a few minor scratches and scrapes, but he had no time to worry about those. They had evened the odds, but there were still three ferals for them to deal with. He stood over April, his teeth bared at the largest of the creatures, coiling his muscles ready to pounce. But he felt April's hand on the back of his neck again, holding him back.
"Wait," she said, motioning for Blackthorn to stop as well. "Blackthorn, wait!"
He was facing down the female feral a short distance away, both of them snarling at one another, but at April's instruction Blackthorn backed off. The ferals watched them with wild, vacant eyes.
Their unsettling expressions made Cyan shiver, his stomach turning as he realised what he was looking at. They weren't quite animals, not completely. It was as though they were wolves trapped in limbo, their humanity a distant dream just barely beyond the brink of recollection. In their eyes he could see them struggling in vain to remember it. A constant torment. For a moment he pitied them, and part of him thought he finally understood why Ingrid had been so intent on helping these wretched creatures.
He held his body ready, but none of the ferals made a move to attack. The female carried on snarling, but she kept her distance alongside the other two.
"I don't think they came to hurt us," April said. She rose to her feet, holding out her palms in a gesture of reassurance, and took a careful step forwards. Blackthorn growled, and the female barked at him.
"Shh," April soothed.
The largest of the ferals, the one Cyan didn't recognise, took a step towards April. His two companions bowed their heads in deference, and he tilted his head to look at her with a curious growl.
"I know you, don't I?" April said, reaching out to touch the grey-streaked fur on the side of the wolf's head.
The male's expression remained blank, but Cyan detected a hint of understanding in the wolf's behaviour. He didn't seem to completely recognise April, but he didn't see her as a threat either. Perhaps some lost thread of humanity still clung on at the back of his mind, or maybe he simply understood that she meant him no harm. Even wild animals were not always completely unreasonable.
Reluctantly, Cyan shifted back into his human form. If the ferals attacked April he didn't know if he would have time to stop them, but he had to trust that she knew what she was doing.
"Who is he?" he said.
"I don't know." April gazed into the male's eyes curiously, scratching the side of his neck as he snuffled in compliance. "I don't remember ever seeing him with the others, but he looks familiar."
"Well he seems to like you, whoever he is. Do you think they can understand what we're saying?"
"Maybe a few words, I'm not sure."
"Ask them about her."
April nodded and took the male's muzzle between her hands, tilting it so that she could look him in the eyes. "Ingrid."
The male's ears perked up, and he let out a soft bark.
"Ingrid," April repeated. "Where
is she?" She made a show of glancing around into the mist. "Can you take us to her? Ingrid?"
The male barked again and turned around, the two others falling in alongside him as he walked away into the mist.
"That sounded like he understood," Cyan said.
April nodded enthusiastically. "Come on, let's follow them!"
Blackthorn seemed uneasy, his eyes narrowed as he padded after them in his wolf form. Cyan hung back and lowered his voice, keeping his eyes on April as she went ahead.
"Do you know who that wolf is?"
Blackthorn growled. It wasn't much of a response, but it was all he seemed willing to give.
The mist thinned as they moved up to higher ground, the last yellow rays of sunset giving way to blue moonlight. Cyan took his wolf form again as they travelled, but he picked up no more scents save those of the ferals. Even though the patrol of hunters had been scattered, it would only be a matter of time before they regrouped under Hazel's leadership and retraced their steps back to where the scuffle had taken place. Cyan could only hope that the mist and snow would slow their pursuers down long enough to give them some breathing room.
He realised too late that they had lost their pack of supplies during the confrontation. April must have dropped it when she shifted, and by now it would be too dangerous to go back and look. If they were planning to spend many more nights out in the open they'd have to find fresh food and shelter all over again.
They had travelled for less than half an hour before they came to a maze of withered brambles growing out of the rocks on the edge of the misty basin. The ferals led the way single file up the steep slope until they emerged from the fog on a flat peak overlooking the mountain slopes below. It was a well-hidden spot, difficult to find and almost impossible to approach without being seen. No wild animal would have picked such a good refuge intentionally.
Outside the entrance to a small cave a figure sat alone on the rocks, her faded hair drifting in the wind in long tangles. Ingrid looked up as they approached, and even from a distance Cyan could see the drawn lines on her face visible in the moonlight. She looked far older than he remembered her.
Broken Moon: Part 5 Page 2
