Chapter 8 Brik

We smell the fire long before we see it.

The time is well after midnight, and we've been running through the forest for hours, following the trail left by a pack of Farlanders. The same ones we've been hunting for the past year. When the first whisper of smoke reaches us, Thorus stops, and he motions for me to do the same.

"What do you smell, Brik?"

The alpha is not asking because he wants my input on the situation. He is testing me. Thorus is ten years my senior and my pack leader, though now we are only a pack of two. He has taught me everything I know about ranging the wildlands of the Zone.

I pause and drink in the night air laced with smoke.

"Old wood," I answer carefully, remembering that seasoned wood smells different from wood that is still green. I can detect a hint of burning paint as well. This is no forest fire. "A house?"

"A barn."

Now how the hell does he know that?

Thorus doesn't tell me, because he wants me to work it out on my own. And I don't try to argue with him, because I know he's right.

Thorus is always right about everything.

"Come on," he says, starting to move again. "Keep your senses open, Brik. This could be a trap."

We continue onward through the dark woods. Now we are following two scents—the Farlanders and the smoke—and both are leading us to the same place.

It's another hour before we finally reach the fire, and by then the Farlanders are already gone, but we didn't miss them by much. I want to continue onward. I want to catch the bastards who killed our pack brother. But Thorus once again motions to stop. He wants to inspect the fire.

It is the right decision, of course.

It's right because it is Thorus's decision, and Thorus is always right about everything.

We are standing in a large clearing in the woods, with grass growing up to our knees, and glittering stars in the sky overhead, though half of them are blocked out by the clouds of smoke billowing off the smoldering pile of old boards. A few yellow tongues of flame are still dancing amid the charred boards, painting the trees around the clearing with a soft, golden light.

"How did I know it was a barn?" Thorus asks.

I look at the old, decrepit farmhouse standing on the other side of the clearing, untouched by the flames.

"Glass," I answer. "Barns don't have glass windows. You knew it was a barn because you didn't smell burning glass."

"Good guess, but glass doesn't burn, it melts, and it doesn't give off much of an odor when it does. The real answer is insulation. The ancestors used to stuff their walls with artificial fur to keep their houses warm in the winter. When that stuff catches fire, it smells strange, like burnt honey. If it had been a house that was burning, we would have noticed that smell."

"Oh," I say, feeling disappointed in myself. "I didn't know about the insulation."

"You had no reason to, but now you do."

I look back at the remains of the barn, still not fully satisfied. "Surely the ancestors had many different kinds of structures without insulation. How did you know this one was a barn?"

Thorus smiles slyly. "I've been through this area before. I remembered there used to be an old barn here."

Cheater.

"Well, there isn't a barn here anymore," I say, looking at the smoking heap. "But what the hell would the Farlanders burn down an empty barn for?"

"Perhaps it wasn't empty. Let's circle the area and check for scents. I'll go this way, you go that way. We'll meet on the other side and compare notes."

I nod and set out in the direction Thorus indicated for me, crouching slightly as I walk so that my nose will be better able to detect the odors wafting up from the grass below. I can still smell the scent of the Farlanders we've been following, but only half as many of them. That means they must have split up and circled the area just like me and Thorus are doing now.

Thorus and I are rangers of the Central Ruins tribe. Our job is to travel the wild lands of the Zone, scouting for any signs of danger. These days, most of the ranger packs are on the lookout for Outsiders from beyond the wall. Over the past several years, the Outsiders have been making more and more incursions into the Zone.

But Thorus and I have a slightly different job. We've been given special dispensation by the High Council of the Central Ruins to hunt and kill Farlanders, the twisted alphas who have forsaken the Source. They inhabit the outer reaches of the Zone, the distant places known as the Farlands.

I have killed many of them over the past year. I keep track of them by cutting notches on my left arm. I started at my shoulder. Now the notches reach almost to my elbow. When I run out of room on my left arm, I'll start putting notches on my right.

And I will run out of room.

But as I circle the cooked wreckage of the barn, my nose picks up another set of scents, fainter than the Farlanders' odor, but still quite distinct.

There were other alphas here tonight. Alphas like me, from the Central Ruins Tribe. Three of them.

And they had an omega with them.

Holy Source.

It makes me shudder to think what may have happened to that omega and her alphas. I do not recognize their individual scents, but they are of my tribe, so I feel a connection to them. If I had to guess, they were probably sheltering inside the barn when the Farlanders happened upon them and set the structure on fire. I can tell there was a fight, because there is blood in the grass. I can smell it.

The three alphas and their omega managed to escape the burning barn, but they got wounded in the process. They ran off into the forest. The Farlanders followed after them.

Instinctively, I follow the trail too.

"Hey!" Thorus shouts from behind. "Where do you think you're going?"

"There were other alphas here," I tell him. "From the Central Ruins Tribe. They had an omega with them. The Farlanders attacked them and chased them off into the woods."

"How do you know the Farlanders attacked them?"

"There's blood and—"

"You're making assumptions without knowing all the facts. Don't do that. Come here."

"But—"

"Come here."

Reluctantly, I turn and walk back toward the smoldering remains of the barn. I remind myself that Thorus is older and more experienced than I am. He must know what he's doing. Still, I can't help but think that he's making a mistake this time. We should be following the scent of our tribe members. There may still be time to save them from the Farlanders if we hurry.

But as I get closer to where Thorus is standing, I notice a queer expression on the older alpha's face. Then my eyes drop to his pelvis, and I notice something else.

The front of his loincloth is bulging like he's smuggling a spear down there.

"Uh… Thorus?"

He can see what I'm looking at, but he isn't the least bit embarrassed about it. He simply gestures behind him and issues a stern command.

"Go around to the other side of the barn," he says, "and tell me what you smell."

I still feel as though this is a waste of time, but I do as my pack leader commands, and I march around to the other side of the burnt pile, inhaling deeply as I go, trying to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to be searching for.

About a quarter of the way around the pile, I find it.

My cock instantly turns to stone, my knot expands, and I fill my loincloth with the biggest load of seed that has ever come out of me.

"Fuck," I growl.

"Do you know what that is?" Thorus asks.

I nod. It is not a scent I've ever encountered before, but I still recognize it immediately. My body's reaction leaves no doubt.

"There was a second omega out here tonight," Thorus says.

"And she was in heat." I reply.

I turn to face my pack leader, and he looks down at the thick, white globs of manseed that are dripping out of my loincloth.

"Sorry," he says. "I probably should have warned you."

I'm not angry. I'm not even embarrassed. All I can think about is the omega in heat. We have to find her before the Farlanders do. We have to protect her at all costs.

"I don't think the Farlanders set fire to this barn," Thorus says. "Based on how burned down it is, and the freshness of the Farlanders scent, I would say it was already burning when they got here."

"Do you think the other pack set it on fire?" I ask. "The one from the Central Ruins Tribe?"

"I don't know. Possibly. All we can be sure of is this: that pack and the omega in heat ran in two different directions. Half of the Farlanders followed the pack. The other half followed the lone omega. I don't think I need to tell you which path we're going to follow. Now change out of that loincloth, and be quick about it. There's an omega out there who needs our help."