by Rae Monet
Her vision blurred and she dropped her head to breathe deeply and attempt to reclaim her balance. She was fatigued beyond measure. Her father had placed a constant watch around the hidden forest to alert the village in the event of intrusion. Her people would not be caught unawares as they had been thirty years ago with Edward's soldiers. If need be, they would be prepared to fight.
She had been traveling to each post to relieve the other warriors, resting little and eating infrequently. Although she had grown thin and pale, it did not matter to her. She had a responsibility to the more inexperienced Wolf Warriors whom she had been required to train so quickly. She would not fail them.
Feeling better, she signaled to Caine to creep around the other side of the encampment in the event she needed to attack. He hunched down and began slowly pawing his way around the camp of rowdy trackers. It was at times like this that she wished Roan was still with her. She had always been stronger when they were together. Besides her external strength, she had experienced an inner peace, a steadiness when he was with her. His simple touch, which he had used on her so often, would give her such pleasure it was immeasurable. And now she had nothing. No serenity, no peace, no contentment. It was just her, and her alone. A lonely place.
Crouching on her hands and knees, she crept up on the camp. What she saw made her surge to her feet and draw her sword in outrage. She gritted her teeth to suppress the wild urge to plunge in and fight.
Wolf Warriors were spread out everywhere, some dead, some tied to trees and slowly dying, some thrown in cages with the wolves that were next to be slaughtered. In the midst of the carnage, the female Wolf Warrior, nicknamed Sable because of her long beautiful brown hair, was tossed between the trackers as they taunted her. Her face was stoical, her body obviously weakened from a cut bleeding down her side. She was in full warrior paint, but her armor had been removed, leaving only her leather halter.
Men's hands were all over her body, pinching, probing, touching, but she did not cry out. She fought the best she could without weapons and slowed by her wound. Finally, when she struck a large attractive tracker with a spinning back fist, he reciprocated. His fist caught her on her chin, sending her tumbling into unconsciousness before she even struck the ground.
The tracker stood over Sable. He had a dagger in his hand, and Serena tensed. Strangely enough she didn't sense he planned to kill her. Even more confusing was the weighty protectiveness Serena sensed in him toward Sable.
He bent and drew her into his arms. Her head lolled back over his arm, her hair blanketing down, falling long and straight toward the ground. From her hiding place, Serena bit her lip. Once an attraction was formed with a female Wolf Warrior, it was strong and passionate. The female warriors were hard for men outside the Realm to resist, emitting an energy and passion that drew most men, more times than not, forging a connection for life.
This man was attracted to Sable deeply, Serena noted, watching the expression on his face. He turned with the dagger in his hand. Brandishing it at the other trackers, he spoke in a harsh foreign language. The others yelled in complaint. When the dagger sailed through the air, missing one of his companion trackers by mere inches, they ceased their bickering and quieted.
If she had to guess, Serena would say that he claimed Sable to protect her. It was probably the reason he struck her into unconsciousness, especially seeing the way he carried her now, as if he held something precious to him. Had Sable continued to fight, she more than likely would have died right there, along with the other warriors.
Serena sighed with relief when he grabbed some sort of bag with his gear, slung it over his large shoulder and stalked off into the woods, with Sable cradled like a babe in his arms. At least one warrior would be safe today, she thought.
Shifting her gaze, she assessed the remaining Wolf Warriors. The ones who still lived were in great peril. She eased back into the cover of the darkened woods.
She needed a plan.
* * * *
Diana and Roan ran their lathered horses to the ground as they entered into the forested area outside of the waterfall. Roan slowed, walked his horse ahead, and Diana saw when his head lifted. His body jolted, as if his senses went on full alert. She saw the energy flow into his body.
"Serena is here,” he said. “Close."
Diana nodded. His pale appearance had brightened, his slumping shoulders straightened. He radiated an acute calmness. It was as if the nearness of Serena infused him with strength.
"You are feeling stronger, are you not, because you are close to her?"
"Yes!” The word gushed out in a rapturous tone, as if he could smell her scent, hear her voice. His nostrils flared, and Diana smiled. He was definitely a man in love.
"Find her, Roan."
"Gladly, that is my intent.” He pulled his horse to the right, focused on the woods ahead.
He knew where Serena was.
* * * *
Serena counted six alive. She slipped around one of the trees that held a warrior tied to it. It was situated farther back from the other trees and she thought she could release him without being noticed. She sawed her knife through the rope binding him to the tree and heard him groan as the blood flowed back into his wrists. She placed her hand over his mouth. With her mind, she ordered him to be still.
He obeyed.
She peered cautiously around the tree to discover if the group of trappers had spotted her. They had not. They were busy entertaining each other with their conquests of the day, pinning the wolf skins against each other as if they were prized kills to boast about. They were clapping each other on the back and cheering as each man held up their skins for comparison and congratulations. At the same time they were lifting the leather pouches from around their waists to their mouths, swallowing huge gulps. Some swayed in drunkenness, others wore crystals of the downed warriors.
Serena spat toward their feet in disgust at the amusement they chose for themselves. She thanked the Gods the besotted trapper had left with Sable.
Now she had to save the rest.
She gently towed the near unconscious warrior back into the trees, far enough away to protect him if the trappers approached. She laid him in a small outcropping of rock that formed a miniature cave.
One down, five to go.
She ran her hand down his body, checking his wounds. Luckily none were fatal. The trappers had been so busy celebrating they must have forgotten about the warriors they left to bleed to death against the trees. She bound his wounds, softly pushing his hair back from his face. Shelton, her favorite trainee, only ten and six. She had not wanted to send him into battle but he had insisted, and Serena could not deny him. It was his calling, and she did not have the right to keep him from it. He reached up his hand and clasped her arm.
"We have failed you,” he groaned when Serena tightened a binding on his arm.
"A Solarian Wolf Warrior does not admit defeat until he is dead. Have I not taught you this? And you are not going to die.” Her words were certain, firm, and as his teacher, left no room for his self-pity. “Do you understand?” she asked, wiping the blood out of his eyes from a cut on his forehead.
"I understand,” he said, his voice weak.
"Rest. I have hidden you well. You are safe."
Unexpectedly, Serena's senses alerted her. A presence she had not experienced in several months flooded her senses. Roan. She knew he was near, so close. Her head came up like a wolf that smells its mate. She looked around slowly, concentrating on sensing where he was.
* * * *
Roan and Diana appraised the damaged forests as they searched for Serena. Something had happened here, Roan reflected, something dire. He knew many years ago the King had sanctioned wolf hunters to slaughter the wolves. Travelers from other countries had joined the hunt, the promise of wealth drawing them to Scotland where wolves had fled to escape certain death.
He slowed his horse when he sensed Serena was nearby. Diana pulled up with him and they tethered
their horses to a burned stump of a tree. He tilted his head, concentrating on his next step, on the stride that would bring him closer to Serena. He whirled around, confused by his senses and suddenly knew why. Serena in all of her glory, covered in war paint, quietly stepped out from behind a large burnt tree, her sword drawn.
"Serena,” Roan cried out her name, joy filling him.
* * * *
Serena spun at her name. Seeing Roan, she lowered her sword and dropped down on one knee, feeling as if the sight of Roan lifted a great pressure from her shoulders. Then he was with her, on his knees in front of her, his hands passing over her wet face, and she was folded into his arms. She resisted at first, then the familiar longing infused through her body. And the tears she had not known were falling poured in earnest now. His lips touched hers, kissing her, whispering indistinct words. She thought his face was moist as well, but she was unsure. She was only sure she was in his arms, touching him, feeling him, and all was right.
His hands framed her face and his eyes locked with hers. “We will not part again.” His vow was nothing less than a pledge, a promise she was unable to defy. She nodded, her head bobbing up and down, her voice caught in her throat because she knew if she tried to talk she would only choke on her words.
"Are you injured?"
He was running his strong hands over her bruised body. Serena moaned in surrender. How, she thought, she ever considered living without this man was beyond her comprehension. Speechless, she shook her head.
Roan finally glanced around. “What goes on here?” He gently brought her to her feet, helping her sheath her sword. She cleared her throat as her eyes feasted on him, running from his most welcome handsome face down the length of his lean body.
She endeavored to explain, but only two words were needed and they told all. “Wolf killers.” She saw the resignation in his eyes and knew he had already sensed it. Glancing toward Diana, she held out her arm in their traditional greeting.
Diana clasped hers, then her other arm expanded to pull Serena into her embrace. “We will help, do not fear, together we will make this right."
Transfused with her lover's strength, Serena nodded. She swiftly explained her situation and plan. Roan growled at her description of the recent happenings.
"I grow weary of this killing and battling. If I wanted to continue in that life I would still be fighting for the King.” He drew his sword at his declaration.
Serena drew hers to match him.
"We will stop this once and for all,” he said.
Roan's determined appearance would have stopped even the most cunning of prey, she thought, watching him with pride. This was the man who earned the title of the Wolf, not the gentle warrior who had softly wooed her. This man, the one before her, was the true Wolf Warrior and he was ready to defend his pack.
"Together,” she confirmed.
Roan turned toward Serena. Together.
She saw in his eyes, when this was done, he would convince her—they would not part again. They were meant to be together forever. Till death.
She shook her head. Not now. They would have this out later.
He nodded. With Diana trailing, they moved toward their destiny, their purpose in life, to defend the wolves.
* * * *
Roan stepped boldly into the clearing. The trackers, weakened from their celebrations, stared at him in amazement. He was in full battle paint now, his arms bare and lined in red. His angry face would have scared the fiercest of enemies. His sword was drawn and ready. To each side of him were Sasha and Caine. Their bearing was no different than his, their teeth revealed in hatred, long pointed fangs ready to inflict damage. Behind them were several more wolves, the protectors of the various warriors being held or dead at the camp. Roan raised his hand and more wolves appeared, surrounding the camp, along with Serena on one side and Diana on the other. Roan could not have been more proud of these two strong women.
"I am Roan, Wolf Warrior of Solaria.” He swung his hand to point out all of the wolves. “These are my people, and under my protection.” He shifted his weight, casually resting the point of his sword on the ground. He was far from the calm champion he was making an effort to portray.
"You have invaded our home and killed my family.” He swung his sword back into his hands, as if ready to use it. The men began to grapple with their weapons, throwing down the skins they had used to adorn their bodies. He could see they smelled the threat of death and they were alert and sobering.
"You will leave this Realm, go back to your homes and your families, and never return. Or you will die by our hands on this day.” His voice boomed over the group, it echoed in the burned forest surrounding them in a protective shell.
He waited, watching and listening. The men talked amongst themselves in their foreign language. Several protested, but the one who was obviously the leader stepped forward and shouted in English.
"What do we gain if we leave? These skins were to supply our families with food and shelter for the winter."
* * * *
Serena mulled over the leader's words. Suddenly she realized what he was saying. She had thought these men were vile abominations, killing simply for sport. Yet the King's bounty for wolf skins had driven them to hunt to fill the mouths of their women and children at home. She was saddened by the results of the order by King Edward I to kill all the wolves. It dismayed her to think the creatures entwined so intimately in her life would never feel the peace the Solarians had worked so hard to create. Serena watched Roan and waited.
The harsh planes of Roan's face did not soften. “If you leave now you will gain your lives. You will be alive to see those families you work so hard to feed. You will live to feed them another day somewhere far away from here. You do not belong here. You will need to find your livelihood in another place. These wolves are protected and we will die fighting for them if need be, and believe me when I tell you,” he paused, then stepped forward, “I have killed better men than you in less time than it would take you to gather your belongings."
He inclined his head toward Serena, then Diana. At his signal, they drew their swords, the slashing noise deafening against the quiet that stole over the astonished men. The leader was clearly trying not to show his fear. He was not succeeding. His head rotated around him as he really looked at the threat surrounding them. What he saw was his own death and that of his men.
His spine slumped and he nodded his head. “Aye, we will depart."
"You will not return, and you will tell others there are no wolves in this area. If you do not, we will find you, I assure you. We will hunt you down the same way you hunted our friends. We will kill you and your families."
The leader stepped back, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"There is other quarry outside of this Realm,” Roan continued. “You need not kill these wolves or my people to feed your families."
Turning, the leader gave a harsh foreign command to his men. Without any more discussion, they started to gather the existing skins and gear. Serena glanced at Roan. His eyes did not leave the group as he waited and watched.
"Do you understand me, Norseman?” he asked when they had readied themselves to leave.
"Aye, we will not return nor our sons behind us. We will tell others that the skins we have were gathered at another location."
Although he appeared alert for danger, Roan gave him a satisfied look.
Serena commanded an opening in their circle to let them reluctantly pass. She felt a reluctant respect for these men for choosing to live and honor their families rather than die for their cause. As the last man passed, she grabbed his arm. She felt Roan tense, but ignored him. She had something she needed to say.
"If my Wolf Warrior Sable is hurt in any way I will come for you personally."
The man looked at her with dull eyes. “She was claimed by Eric. She will be protected and well cared for, he will not harm her. She will return with us as his slave. It is our way. I cannot give you lenie
ncy on this, but I will assure her safety."
She unclasped her hand from around his arm, acknowledging his small consideration that Sable would be safe. She knew in her heart that the man named Eric would care for Sable. The men trudged on in defeat, carrying their small load, a proud people defeated but still alive to fight another day in another place.
With the hunters gone, Serena hurried to release the other Wolf Warriors, calling for Richard with her senses as she attempted to assist the injured ones. Two Wolf Warriors had died in this struggle and she bowed over the dead body of a young male warrior. Her hands drew down his face as she shut his eyes for the final goodbye. Tears ran unrestrained from her eyes as she struggled with her grief. This warrior had been the son of a good friend and she now had to deal with the task of telling his family.
Her head fell back in anguish as her scream of pain rent the air. She was not alone. His Wolf Protector stood next to her, his head raised as he also howled his misery. Others joined him and the air grew heavy with wolf and human cries of sorrow.
For so many years, the wolves had protected them, giving their lives in their defense, and this day they had repaid that debt. The men had died for their wolves, just as Roan had so unceremoniously told the Norsemen.
Today they gave their lives in unison, wolf and warrior alike, and the pain was devastating. Serena dropped her head in defeat. Would there ever be an end to this hunt? She suspected not. She feared the English King's reign of terror would never die until every last one of her people was dead.
* * * *
Roan left Serena to her grief. He knew nothing he could say would ease the mourning in her heart. Standing silently behind her, he waited. He hoped somewhere in her consciousness she knew he was there for her, to support her when she needed it. He would always be there, he resolved. He would never leave her again.
At one point Richard arrived and worked frantically to save the warriors who remained in various stages of injuries. One did not survive and Richard's cry could be heard above all others.
