Broken Moon: Part 3

by King, Claudia

  BROKEN MOON, PART 3

  Claudia King

  Published by Claudia King at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2014 Claudia King

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Proceeds from sales directly help this author to continue doing what she loves, and to share it with you the reader!

  * * * * *

  Broken Moon, Part 3

  * * * * *

  Over the month that passed after Harper's death Cyan felt like an observer staring in through a window at the Highland Pack. Perhaps he was the only one who could see it was affecting them, as everyone else seemed to be isolated in their own personal world of mourning for their lost companion.

  He began to realise that these people didn't hold the same selfish detachment to others that many werewolves possessed; the Highland Pack were a family, and the loss of just a single member was a blow to the collective whole. There were no households or dynasties amongst these people, everyone was a brother or sister, a son or a daughter, a mother or a father. Most of the elder werewolves had helped to raise Harper when he was young, those who had grown up with him viewed him as a sibling, and the two or three youngsters among them had admired and respected him as someone to look up to.

  Rather than getting to know these people and integrate himself with their society, Cyan was constantly reminded of his place as an outsider every time a wistful memory was shared or an old story told about Harper around the camp fire.

  All of them dealt with it in their own way. A party had gone out to retrieve Harper's body as soon as the blizzard died down, and a small ceremony was held at a lonely ridge overlooking the forest below where the pack buried their dead. There were no grave markers, only a loose ring of stones to cordon off the edge of the area, a line that Cyan was careful not to cross as he watched the funeral from a respectful distance.

  He hadn't seen April there. Despite his promise to himself to see her safe and secure before he moved on, he barely caught a glimpse of the girl outside her cabin for weeks on end. As hard as he tried to dismiss the memory of the night they'd spent together, to treat it with the kind of practical detachment he knew he should, he still woke in his bed remembering the warmth of her skin against his lips, the desperate grip of her fingers around his neck and the piercing need in her expression as she'd gazed into his eyes. Perhaps it had just been too long since he'd been that intimate with a female, but something about her had gotten under his skin, nagging like an itch and bringing a tightness to his chest on the few occasions he caught a glimpse of her red hair through a window or heard her soft voice speaking from across the camp.

  Her absence worried him, but Ingrid reassured him that she was dealing with her loss in her own way, and Blackthorn's angry gaze was quick to fall on him whenever he caught himself staring in the direction of her doorway.

  It was clear the other male still didn't trust him. In any other pack Blackthorn would likely have been the clear choice of alpha, but the strange social structure of the Highland Pack kept him as more of an enforcer and protector; respected by the others, but still subordinate to the guidance of the three elders, Ingrid, Harriet, and Gene.

  Harriet, he came to learn, was the scowling old woman he'd seen arguing with Ingrid on the day he and April returned to camp after Harper's death. Gene was a quiet older male with streaks of grey in his waist-length black hair. He rarely appeared in the camp, content to wander the mountain slopes by himself and hide away in his secluded cabin on the edge of the small community. Of the three pack elders, he was the one that worried Cyan the most. Ingrid and Harriet were at least passionate and concerned with the wellbeing of their group, but Gene seemed detached and vacant, barely even engaging with the two women and leaving most of the decisions in their hands.

  Ingrid and Harriet fought almost constantly. Any idea the younger woman proposed was immediately questioned and rebuked by the elder, and decisions amongst the pack seemed to be governed by which one of them tired of bickering first rather than by any real consensus. Fortunately Harriet's age kept her from being as active a member of the pack as Ingrid, and much like Gene she spent most of her time in her own cabin away from the everyday goings on of her people.

  One thing was clear to Cyan after a few days of living amongst the Highland Pack; their leadership was a mess. Several times each day he was forced to grit his teeth and fight the urge to take control and give orders when the decision making ground to a halt because of a heated argument or a difference of opinion. Perhaps a group of elders had led this pack well in the past, but it wasn't a system that was working for them any longer.

  He worried about April having to live in a community like this. They weren't bad people, but everything they did was so steeped in the ideas of tradition and community that nobody was willing to speak up and question that anything might be wrong. After seeing even wolves as independent as Blackthorn submit to the expectations of their pack without a moment's hesitation, he had no doubt that April's misgivings about her future were well founded. Everyone was expected to fall into place here, and April's place was as a mate and a mother, regardless of whether Harper was still alive or not.

  Cyan's own place was less clear. Nobody seemed sure what to make of him, and the reactions of the Highland Pack varied from guarded curiosity to outright distaste. Everyone was too caught up in the wake of Harper's death to pay him any real attention, and even Ingrid, who had at first seemed so curious to learn from him, had taken more than two weeks to finally invite him into her cabin to talk.

  "Am I still welcome to stay here?" he had said as he sat down on the woven chair across from hers in front of the fireplace.

  "As long as you want," Ingrid replied, tying her greying hair back as she looked at him with weary eyes. "It's been a hard time for all of us, but I don't want you to think we've forgotten about you. A lot of the others don't like that I let you stay, but I believe April when she says you saved her life out there."

  "How is she?"

  "Grieving, like all of us." Ingrid fixed him with a long, curious stare, and for a moment Cyan caught a glimpse of a true leader's cunning in her eyes. "She won't talk about that night she spent out in the blizzard with you. Can you tell me what happened?"

  Cyan didn't miss a beat. He'd expected this conversation to come far sooner. "If she doesn't want to tell you perhaps we should leave it at that. She lost Harper, I fought off the ferals, then we got to the cabin and talked."

  "You comforted her?"

  "Yes."

  "What did she say to you?" Ingrid asked, leaning slightly closer.

  Cyan paused, folding his arms. "That's her place to say, not mine."

  "I worry about her," Ingrid said. "She's as much a member of my family as everyone else here, but I was the one who carried her, who gave birth to her. She's always been special to me."

  Cyan raised his eyebrows, but didn't say a word.

  "And I worry about the future of our pack, Cyan," she continued. "You've seen how few youngsters we have, and I've seen the way you look at Harriet and me when we're having a disagreement. Our pack's going through hard times. We need mothers, leaders, and one day I want April to be both of those things to our family."

  "And is that worth forcing her to find another mate after losing Harper?" Cyan said, his fingers tightening against the sleeves of his jacket.

  Harriet gave him a cold look, but he coul
d see the hurt in her eyes. "She's always been a wayward one. Harper helped her to get over that, but now he's gone..." She took a deep breath. "She needs someone to keep her grounded. I know she's young, I know she might not think it's what she wants right now, but I have to think about what's best for all of us, not just her. You understand that, don't you Cyan? You know that a leader has to think about what's best for the group first, not just the individuals."

  "But a leader who stops caring about the individuals isn't any kind of leader at all," he growled. "I know that, too."

  "Then tell me what happened that night, tell me what she said to you. I've tried to talk to her, but all she wants is to be alone right now. I can't do what's right for her if she won't tell me how she feels."

  Cyan shook his head, looking into the crackling flames in the hearth. "I won't decide what's best for her."

  "Why not? You're a leader, I knew it the moment you stepped into our camp."

  "I was." He looked back at her. "I'm not any more, and that's for the best. I grateful to you for letting me stay here, but I won't get dragged into your pack's politics. I'm just an outsider passing through, and I think it's best I stay that way."

  Ingrid sighed, clasping her bony fingers together, and nodded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel like you had to take sides, I'm just worried. People are already looking to me to set things right since we lost Harper, and I don't know if I can do what's best for everyone."

  "Maybe you should let April be for a while," he said. "Give her the space she needs to grieve, and focus on the rest of your pack in the meantime. When I arrived didn't you say you wanted my help with your feral problem?" The last he added quickly, hoping to steer the older woman away from the subject of April. His skin still prickled with discomfort every time they spoke of her, the passionate memories of their night together resurfacing and dredging up feelings he would have preferred to have kept buried. More than that, he worried that Ingrid would somehow guess what had happened, and what it might mean for April if their brief encounter came to light.

  Ingrid blinked when he mentioned the ferals, straightening up in her chair once more as she pulled back. "Blackthorn and some of the others want to go out and hunt them down."

  "I know, he's made me go over what happened with Harper half a dozen times already."

  "You agree with him, don't you?"

  Cyan shrugged. "I think it would solve your problem, but I think if you wanted Blackthorn to hunt them down you'd have had him do it already."

  "It's too dangerous," Ingrid said, her cheeks colouring. "What if we lost someone else out there?"

  "It's no more risky than waiting for another Harper to happen, and a full hunting party with Blackthorn in charge wouldn't be at much risk against a handful of half-starved ferals."

  "It's still dangerous."

  "More dangerous than leaving them out there?" He fixed her with a severe look. "Come on Ingrid, you didn't let me stay because you thought I could help you hunt those creatures down. Why don't you want to kill them?"

  She stiffened, meeting his gaze unflinchingly as she drew herself up in her chair. "Because they were part of our pack once. Every single one of them was part of our family, and they don't deserve to be hunted like wild animals. There's still something human left inside them, I know there is."

  "I saw the way they looked at April when they had her cornered. Ferals don't care who they were or where they came from, they're wild animals. Even if part of them still remembers who they are, you won't ever be able to bring it back."

  "I won't give up on them."

  Cyan sighed, frustration nagging at him for a moment before he forced it down. "I don't know how you think I can help you, but I can't teach ferals to be human again, no one can. You're the closest thing to a leader this pack has, and you're going to have to make a decision about how to deal with them sooner or later. If you leave this hanging things are only going to get worse."

  "I know," she said softly, and Cyan's frustration ebbed as she looked away from him with such regret in her eyes that he couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy towards the woman. How would he have felt if it was him having to decide whether people he'd once cared about lived or died?

  He rose to his feet and gave Ingrid a faint smile. "I won't get involved, but you've got good people in your pack. Listen to Blackthorn, and listen to April, if she'll let you."

  "If she'll let me," Ingrid said wearily, and gave Cyan a thankful nod as he made to leave. "We'll talk again later, once things start getting back to normal. I won't make any decisions till then."

  Cyan took a deep breath as he stepped out of Ingrid's cabin, tucking up his collar against the chilly breeze and the dust of snowflakes that had continued to fall even after the worst of the blizzard died down. The camp was quiet this morning, practically deserted and covered in a thick carpet of snow that left the communal meeting area feeling bleak and barren. April's window was shuttered once again.

  "Did Blackthorn decide whether you did it yet?" A smooth, softly pitched voice said from behind him. He turned around to find one of the pack hunters sitting on a tree stump across from Ingrid's door, a bow slung over his shoulder as he looked up from the quiver of arrows he was fletching.

  "Whether I pushed Harper off that bridge, you mean?" He responded with a cold note in his voice. He was starting to get tired of the digging comments from certain members of the group, though he didn't recall ever having spoken to this man before.

  "I think if you did he'd have run you out of camp by now, or maybe he's just plotting something worse." The fletcher smiled, brushing back his wavy black hair from a handsome face and a neatly trimmed goatee. He didn't look much older than April or Blackthorn, but Cyan couldn't remember ever having seen him occupying the same benches as the younger members of Highland Pack at mealtimes before.

  "Either way, I don't think you did it," the fletcher said, "but a lot of people don't know how to feel about having an outsider with us."

  "I'm not trying to win them over."

  "Then maybe you should start. They're still afraid of you. I've seen the mess you leave when you go out hunting in the woods, and so have the others. It looks like something a wild animal would do."

  Cyan frowned at that. His hunts were the one place he felt comfortable letting his inner wolf run wild, and he didn't like the idea of exposing that part of himself to the other people here.

  "You should learn to use one of these." The fletcher unslung the bow from his shoulder and tossed it to Cyan. It was hand-carved, the wood smooth and well worn beneath Cyan's fingers as he caught the weapon and hefted it experimentally.

  "It's cleaner and easier than using your teeth once you get used to it, and it would help the others start to feel like you're part of the pack."

  "Thanks for the advice," Cyan said, slinging the bow over his shoulder, but he had no intention of giving up his regular hunting habits. Perhaps he'd hunt for himself further out on the mountain slopes, where the Highland Pack wouldn't find his bloody leavings, but he couldn't give it up completely. Sooner or later his wolf would grow restless again, and his cool temperament would start to slip.

  "You can use the targets by the wood pile to practice, just don't shoot anyone by accident," the other man said, and turned back to his fletching.

  "I've never heard of werewolves hunting with bows before. Don't you ever get the urge to go out on a proper hunt?"

  The fletcher grunted. "Ingrid prefers we don't, and our bows aren't just for hunting. If Harper had taken one with him the night he died maybe he wouldn't have had to go running out across that bridge, eh?"

  Cyan looked at the bow again, running his fingers up and down the waxed string and testing its tension. He gave the fletcher one last curious look before thanking him again and heading back to his cabin. His gaze strayed in the direction of April's window as he passed, a sliver of movement catching his eye.

  Had the shutters twitched, or had it just been his imagination?
r />   * * * * *

  The last month had felt like one of the longest in April's life, and yet when she looked back on it she could barely distinguish one day from another. Everything blurred together into cold days and mornings spent tucked under her covers, shivering for hours after her fire died before finally forcing herself to venture out to get more wood. She always felt better after those short trips into the outside world. They reminded her that there was still a world to go out to and people that still cared for her, but at the same time she couldn't stand to put on a brave face and endure the sympathy of those she spoke with. Most of her meals she ate alone, and during those few times she did join the others around the central fire she kept her eyes fixed on her plate and her conversations short.

  She missed her friend. She even missed the times he'd shared her bed, and his absence was an aching hole in her life that she doubted would ever heal.

  She cried, she dug into the comfort of her bedsheets, and she slept as often as she could for the relief a few blissful hours of unconsciousness brought.

  There were times when she felt the panic rising up insider her again, the same frantic desperation she'd felt on the night of his death. But she managed to contain it, and night after night, week after week, it became gradually more manageable for April until the thought of dwelling on Harper's death and her own future no longer terrified her quite so much.

  She'd been tempted to take Cyan's advice at first. When Ingrid soothed her to sleep those first few nights she'd almost poured her heart out to the older woman, pleaded with her not to make her find another mate, but every time, just as she felt the words quickening on the tip of her tongue, emotion overwhelmed her and more tears came.

  The time to tell her had passed, and she was left with a dull resignation to her fate, one which she would have no choice but to deal with sooner or later. It was her duty, after all, and how could she refuse it now of all times, after her pack had cared for her and done their best to help her through these trying weeks?