Broken Moon: Part 5

by King, Claudia

  A strange sensation came over April as she began to see what Harriet had been talking about. Her pack's fear of the unknown was being eased by the authority she held over them. She saw hope in many of their expressions, as confused and guarded as it was. For the first time in her life, she recognised the power she had to guide her people. She let it sit for a moment, allowing them to think, to question and ponder.

  "Why did you attack Hazel?" one of them eventually piped up.

  April pushed aside the shameful feelings that returned to her as she thought back to that night, and turned to address the speaker calmly.

  "I'd expect any of you to have done the same in my position. He tried to touch me like I was his mate."

  This time she allowed the outraged ripple to spread through the group. She saw the glint of cold fury in Blackthorn's eyes. She was glad she hadn't told him or Cyan the whole truth up front. Hazel might not have escaped the caves in one piece if they'd known what he'd tried to force on her.

  "As your elder," she eventually continued, "my duty will always be to my pack, but I won't ever make individuals suffer in silence for the good of the group. No more forced matings, no more punishments just for wanting something different than the rest of us. Those are the problems your elders should be here to help you with, not to judge you for."

  She was winning them over. The air of hostility she'd sensed when she arrived had given way to confusion, then doubt, and now finally compliance. Many of the older werewolves, those from Harriet's time, were nodding in agreement, as though her words were something they'd been waiting to hear for years.

  But even as she swayed them, her heart was heavy. Her responsibility was now to make sure that she bore the weight of her pack's problems, but in doing so she was giving up the freedom to wrestle with her own. She tried to allow the good she was doing to warm her, but a space inside her still felt hollow. Under her leadership, nobody would have to sacrifice what they wanted for the good of the group. Nobody but her. She felt as though she had aged many years in just a few days.

  April allowed the others to question her, and she responded honestly. Soon many of them were in open agreement, some even voicing their distaste for Hazel's leadership and the events of the past week. Some remained confused and sullen, but the collective will of the group kept them silent. There would be many hearts and minds left to change in the coming days, but at least part of the pack now acknowledged April's authority as Ingrid's successor.

  She allowed Blackthorn to step in after informing the others that he was to be an elder alongside her. When he gave his speech she was glad to hear that he did not agree completely with everything she had said. He voiced his own concerns about challenging the deep-seated traditions of their pack, allowing many of the more uncertain attendees to empathise with him. Rather than challenging April's position, however, he ended by conceding that the pack had done far too much damage to itself by clinging to rules that offered no room for leeway. His address was stern and reasoned, and it seemed to sway several of the remaining sceptics.

  April was aware that the pack would likely have been won over by Blackthorn's authority even if she hadn't been there. They were accustomed and comfortable with him taking charge, but she wanted more than blind obedience. His support helped to cement her position, but her words had to be the foundation on which their new leadership was built.

  Finally, the topic of Hazel and the other half of the pack resurfaced.

  "He made some pretty strong arguments too, you know," Garland said. "If he's done what you say he's done, well, I trust you and Blackthorn over him, but not everyone's going to see it that way. He's got a lot of the hotheads out there on his side."

  "We have to hope enough of them listen to us," April replied.

  "And if they don't?"

  "We'll try to reach a compromise."

  Nervous looks greeted her from her crowd of newfound followers.

  "Don't think Hazel's looking for compromise where you're concerned, girl," Garland said.

  "Then I'll let him do what he wants with me. Even if he sends me into exile, he's got no reason to do the same to Blackthorn. You'll still have one of us here to keep him in check."

  Blackthorn glowered at her. He looked like he'd rather follow her into exile himself than share leadership with Hazel. "Or we make him back down. Hazel's no hero, he won't stand up to a show of force."

  "We'll fight for you, April!" one of the younger males called.

  She turned back to the group, an incredulous look on her face. She remembered the desperate intensity she'd seen in Hazel the night she'd run away, and she didn't want to know what that side of him might be capable of when backed into a corner. "Against our own pack? We can't let it come to that."

  "Not my place to disagree," Garland said, "but if what you've said about him is true, we might not be much safer with Hazel as our leader than as our enemy. He's never said it out loud, but I think all of us know what he has in mind for Ingrid when he catches her. Is that going to happen to more people if we ever challenge him?"

  Blackthorn gripped her shoulder firmly. "None of us want it, but think of the alternative. I've heard the sorts of things that happen in packs with leaders like him."

  April's heart sank as she was forced to think back to the story Cyan had told her. A pack torn apart by a volatile leader. People forced to run away in fear. Confrontations. Deaths. How much faith did she have in Hazel's ability to lead? Not enough, she realised.

  Her brow creased with pain as she looked at the faces of those around her. She didn't know whether she'd be able to live with herself if even a single one of them lost their life because of what she decided upon next. She was trapped between two decisions that might both hold terrible consequences for her pack. Perhaps it had been naive of her to think that there would be a way out of this where no one got hurt. All she knew was that she would feel like she'd failed if it came to fighting.

  April did the only thing she could. She took the hopes she'd had, and crushed them. The numb hollow inside her grew a little wider.

  "Then you're right," she said. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. "If Hazel won't give up his position, we'll have to fight him."

  It saddened her to see how readily the others agreed with her decision. Harriet had been right. She'd convinced them she was strong enough to be their leader, and now they would do anything she said. Even if it meant sending them to their own deaths.

  * * * * *

  The bloodied arrow slipped out of place, leaving a crimson mark on the shaft of Hazel's bow as he cursed and struggled to knock it back into position with shaky hands.

  "Just do it," Cyan muttered, his thoughts distant and heavy with pain.

  Hazel drew back the bowstring once more, then paused. "Why should I make it quick for you?" He let the bowstring relax, but kept the arrow aimed as he edged forward. Instead of shooting him, he drove his boot into Cyan's side.

  The tight agony in his chest blazed back to life, forcing out a groan through his teeth as the sudden rush of pain brought him back to reality. He gripped Hazel's ankle, trying to push him away, but he was too weak to fight back.

  "You three were looking for Ingrid up on the mountain, weren't you?" Hazel said, digging his boot in a little harder. "Did you find her? Did she name one of them her successor?"

  Cyan tried to curse at him, but the sound became a racking cough as his body convulsed. Hazel eased off the pressure slightly.

  "If I can make you—" he wheezed, "—waste time—trying to get it out of me—"

  The boot dug in again. Cyan cried out, his vision swimming.

  "I can wait. It'll only take me a couple of hours to get back, even without the bridge."

  "You seemed pretty desperate befo—"

  Hazel silenced him with another dig of the boot. "Tell me whether Ingrid named a successor."

  A dull thudding noise came from the direction of the crevasse, as though something very heavy had just landed in the snow. I
t was followed a few moments later by a second thud. Cyan squinted past Hazel, but before he could try to make out what was happening the other man kicked him sharply in the side, doubling him over in pain. Hazel was focused so intensely on him that he seemed not to have noticed the sounds, his fingers quivering on the string of his bow, knuckles white on the grip.

  "Why do you care so much about her?" he hissed. "You think this matters? You think she'll thank you for dying out here?"

  The taste of hot copper filled Cyan's mouth as he coughed up a spattering of blood into the snow. He didn't bother responding. It was too painful to speak. Hazel wouldn't get a single word out of him.

  The hard toe of the boot struck his side again and again until Cyan was on the verge of blacking out. Finally, Hazel seemed to realise that he wasn't going to speak.

  "Alright," he panted, "you can die for her. You'll make nice bait for the ferals when I come back to hunt them down."

  Cyan opened his eyes, determined to make Hazel look at him in the final moment. But as he lifted his head from the snow, another pair of eyes stared back at him out of the darkness. The shape of a wolf cowered at the top of the slope, watching the scene anxiously. A moment later two more appeared nearby, all three hanging back as they waited to see what would happen. These were no ferals. Somehow, Hazel's companions had found their way across the crevasse.

  Cyan glanced up at his executioner. Hazel's attention was still fixed firmly on the task at hand. He hadn't noticed the others.

  "Wait—!" Cyan croaked, holding up his hand in submission. "I'll—I'll tell you."

  A grin of elation spread across Hazel's face. He let the bowstring go slack and bent down, hauling Cyan back up into a sitting position against the tree.

  "But only—" he continued, "if you promise me—you won't kill anyone else like Lisa and Ferla."

  "You know I'm going to put down the rest of those ferals. I was doing Ferla a favour." Hazel glared at him, but he was still smiling with the rush of victory. "And I only killed the human because you left me no choice. But alright. I promise I won't kill any others like her."

  "You're a good liar."

  Hazel shook him. "Tell me!"

  "You see it now?" Cyan raised his voice, looking over Hazel's shoulder at the wolves at the top of the slope. "He's no better than Ingrid!"

  Hazel spun around, his eyes widening in shock as his three followers looked down at him in confusion.

  "I knew Ingrid killed Harper just from the look on her face," Cyan called, gasping for air as he struggled to climb to his knees. "Look at him. Does he look innocent to you?!"

  Hazel looked at Cyan, then back to the others, his face twisted with panic and anger. The composure he'd relied on to spin all of his convincing lies was gone.

  The wolves shifted back into their human forms one by one. The shrill-voiced female stepped forward first. "You really did, didn't you?" she said, sounding as though she was on the verge of either crying or screaming.

  "Ingrid lied to you too, and April, and all of them!" Hazel yelled.

  "You said you never would! You said you were better than them! We trusted you!"

  "I'm your elder!" Hazel raised his bow suddenly, aiming it at the female. The other two froze in shock, looking at their leader as though they didn't recognise him.

  The female swallowed, her eyes glued to the tip of the bloody arrow in fear. "Look at what you're doing," she whispered. "You're no leader of ours."

  Hazel backed up, jerking the bow to point at each of them in turn. Cyan watched, fighting through the pain that threatened to steal away his consciousness, wondering whether he could summon up the strength to intervene.

  He didn't have to. Hazel's quivering hand faltered. The arrow dropped from its string, and the bow landed in the snow beside it a moment later. Hazel stared wide-eyed at his former followers, then turned and ran. The desperate pattering of his paws receded into the night, the quick wolf running faster than Cyan had ever seen him go.

  The three others approached him cautiously, the female bending down to snatch the bow out of his reach. They seemed just as lost as they had been after Ingrid left.

  "Leave me here to die if you want," Cyan forced out between shallow breaths. "Just tell the rest what you heard, and take them back to the camp. April and Blackthorn are there. Listen to what they have to say."

  The female's brow furrowed as she looked at him. "You're an exile."

  "So kill me. Don't kill me. Do whatever your rules say you have to."

  "Ingrid exiled you because she thought you killed Ferla..."

  "He just showed us who Hazel really is!" one of the others snapped. "We're not leaving him here."

  "We need a leader to decide," the third one said.

  The female turned on him. "What leader?! April? She's no better than Hazel!"

  "Then take me to Harriet, or Blackthorn," Cyan groaned. He'd lost a lot of blood. If his internal wound hadn't been life-threatening before, Hazel's boot in his side had certainly made it so.

  The three werewolves debated among themselves for a moment, but it soon became clear that they had no desire to kill him. Cyan reminded himself that these weren't bad people. They were just wolves who had been loyally following their alpha, as misguided as he might have been.

  He lost track of the conversation as he began to black out, the warmth of the blood running over his fingers mingling with the cold of the snow into a tingling numbness that crept over his body.

  Time passed, how much he couldn't say, before a sharp jab of pain brought him back to reality. Someone was lifting him beneath the arms, dragging him on to a makeshift stretcher made of clothing tied between branches. He looked up at the stars through lidded eyes, watching as they were swallowed up by clouds, only to appear again out of the blackness a few moments later. The concerned voices of the others reached his ears as they set the stretcher down on something hard that wobbled disconcertingly beneath him. He tilted his head to the side, then wished he hadn't when he found himself staring down into the crevasse.

  They slid his stretcher painstakingly along the two heavy logs they had dropped across the gap in place of the broken half of the bridge. It was a slow, unsettling crossing, but the logs were strong and sturdy enough to bear their weight.

  Once they had reached the other side Cyan began to drift off again. The female seemed to have gone on ahead while the other two carried him down the path. Before long he heard the sounds of more voices around him, but it was hard to keep track of what was happening. Some of them whispered in fear. Others were angry. Someone shoved the side of the stretcher, almost causing the bearers to drop him. A scuffle broke out, but Cyan lapsed into unconsciousness before he could make any sense of it.

  When he opened his eyes again he was lying on the ground near the hunting cabin. The others discussed something in hushed tones a short distance away. A racking cough shook his body, filling his chest with fresh pain as more blood dripped from his lips into the snow. His worsening condition seemed to resolve the discussion. The last thing he recalled was being carried again, before a long, deep darkness enveloped him, dragging him down to a place beyond dreams.

  The sight of a familiar face greeted Cyan when he returned to the world of the living. The darkness was gone. He lay on the pallet bed Lisa had recovered in after she'd been hurt. He recognised April sitting at his bedside the moment he opened his eyes, but he had to blink several times to be sure he wasn't still asleep. She looked different.

  It was daytime. He was back at the camp, not dead. Did that mean he was safe? No. Where was Hazel now? Had April's plan worked?

  He tried to sit up and winced in pain as his chest tightened. A bandage was wrapped around his torso. His side still ached terribly, but at least it was no longer agony to breathe.

  April waited patiently for him to ease himself up into a sitting position, then gave him a smile. It was weary. The look of a woman who'd been on her feet for days. There were bags under her eyes, and her hair hung loose
in tangles. If she'd been within reach, he would have pulled her in to kiss her without thinking.

  "I never thought we'd be able to get Hazel to admit to what he'd done," she said, "but somehow you managed it. Thank you."

  Cyan closed his eyes, thinking back over everything that had happened. Gradually, the memories returned. "I was going out there to kill him."

  April nodded, her voice as distant as the look in her eyes. "I know. I realised that afterwards. It might have been the only way."

  "But you didn't want it to end like that."

  She dropped her gaze and smiled again, a little of the warmth returning to her expression. "No, and you found a way to give me my wish. I think a lot of people would have gotten hurt if it hadn't been for you."

  "What happened? I don't remember anything after blacking out that night."

  "I managed to convince our people back at the camp. They were ready to go to war for me and Blackthorn by the time the others arrived with you on that stretcher. For a while I thought they might, but Hazel's people seemed so lost and confused. I think in the end they just wanted someone to tell them what to do."

  "They accepted you as their leader?"

  April pursed her lips. "Maybe. I'm not sure yet. Right now they're afraid of going against the will of the pack, but I can tell a lot of them don't like it. There's been a few fights already."

  "But it's under control?"

  "Yes," April sighed. "As much as it can be anyway, given the situation. Our pack's going to take a lot of healing."

  "And what about Hazel?"

  "Nobody's seen him since he ran off. Blackthorn wanted to send patrols out after him, but I don't think that's a good idea right now. There's still too much to deal with back home."

  Cyan looked at her with a hint of pride. Perhaps it was just her worn appearance, but she reminded him far more of Ingrid and Harriet already. "That was a smart choice. You want to show them how you're different to Hazel. Let him go. You don't need vengeance."