Chapter 21

W ulfric slipped through the woods and crouched next to a tree to watch the guard slink slowly through the forest. Wulfric stayed down wind and sniffed. He didn't recognize this guard.

He settled down to wait, watching the guard disappear as he continued his patrol. Cold seeped into his bones, but at least the wind stayed consistent.

Scarlet was to the north. He could feel her presence like a beacon, calling to him. He hated leaving her side, but it was necessary.

He had to figure out what he'd missed, what Brody had done in the past few days.

The next guard lumbered past, making Wulfric wince. Jamison. The old, grizzled natural-born Growler always watched the turned and pointed out their mistakes. He'd grumbled about the newcomers for as long as Wulfric had been part of the tribe.

Ten long years. Wulfric watched him continue on the patrol, his lips pursing. He wouldn't find support there.

A conversation from last year echoed through his mind.

"I don't care if you are the alpha, it's wrong, and you know it," Jamison said.

Wulfric crossed his arms and leaned back in the oversized chair in the longhouse. "That's where you're mistaken. What's wrong is denying the new Growlers equal rights. What's wrong is insisting on the old ways that see the natural-born as full citizens but the newly turned as beneath you."

Eyes watched them around the room, the rest of the Growlers growing quiet as the conversation grew louder.

Jamison waved his arms wide, claws shifting as his emotions heightened. "There's nothing wrong with the old ways. They've worked for hundreds of years."

Wulfric growled, "And they were changed when the turned saved the Growlers from extinction."

Wulfric glanced around the room, acutely aware that the past few months had seen an increase in the division between the two types of Growlers. The turned now sat almost entirely on the right of the longhouse and the natural born on the left.

"The turned are ready to branch out and form their own tribe," Jamison said. Several of those on the right nodded, but Wulfric slammed a fist to the wooden table. It shook as the dull thud rang out, the only sound in the room.

"I hear your concern, Jamison, but the turned have nowhere to go."

"Not yet, but the Feral Forest can only support so many of us, alpha. Someday you'll realize that. I just hope purifying the tribe doesn't destroy us all."

Jamison shifted into his wolf and ran out the door. There had been three others who were supposed to bring grievances to him tonight, but no one else stepped forward.

Small groups of Growlers whispered to each other around the tables, no doubt discussing what had just happened.

But Wulfric had had no choice that day. Jamison had proposed going back to the old ways, back to when the newly turned had been just barely better than slaves.

If the grumbling over the past few months were any sign, Jamison was more likely to side with Brody. Brody would've had him convinced that sending the turned into Busparia would allow the natural-born to go back to the old ways when they ruled the forest.

Fuck, he was tired of hearing the older generation grumble about purifying the turned Growlers out of the forest…

Time was passing, the night growing colder as the snow began to fall. He needed to get back to Scarlet, but not before he got the information he needed.

When Jamison was well out of ear-shot, Wulfric slipped between the trees and passed the path the guards had taken.

He had to sneak into camp and speak with the Elders. Or at least Elva. She was the one Elder who'd always had his back.

The other two had often sided with the natural-born when disputes escalated to the Elders, but Elva had been more impartial and fair.

He stalked on silent feet, the edge of the camp coming into view. He wove around the grid pattern of tents, sticking to the shadows along the tree lined edge. The only solid building was the cedar longhouse where they had almost all meals, dances, and community discussions.

He paused on the edge of the forest, listening to the soft sounds of people gathered around the various campfires. The camp would be bedding down for the night, but sounds in the alpha tent had him gritting his teeth.

He watched as a female Growler stumbled out of the alpha tent and shook her head, her mane of hair wilder than most wore it, her long, leather dress ripped at the shoulder.

Another female Growler said something as she walked past, and the first female growled and launched at the second. They tumbled into battle, teeth bared and both shifting to wolf form, clothes shredding.

Three males hooted and cheered them on, but the alpha tent flap opened. Brody strode out with a bowl and tossed the contents on the two females as two other males walked up, flanked by four others.

The women shrieked and jumped apart, both now wet with what appeared to be vegetable soup. Brody's voice didn't carry but his tone was harsh. After being chastised, the two females slunk away and Brody turned to the alpha tent.

The two males with the four escorts called to him, and Brody's spine stiffened. Wulfric's eyes narrowed as he took in the clothing from his safe hiding spot near the edge of the forest. What were the emissaries of the Nightstalkers and Duskeepers doing in camp?

Wulfric pursed his lips and scanned his surroundings once more as Brody led them into the longhouse. He stepped out of the underbrush to the back side of the longhouse, following the shadows of it toward the three large tents. It was now more important than ever to talk to Elva the Elder.

He stopped at the back of the last tent, closest to the forest and sniffed, waiting to see if anyone saw or smelled him. The night seemed louder somehow. Faint sounds of laughter around various fire pits echoed through the camp, most of it on the opposite side of camp.

It was always quieter near the Elders, and Wulfric wondered how Brody's presence had changed that. A change of leadership always made people push the boundaries, which would explain the two other tribe's sending someone to check out the state of the Ironpaws. Rumors of Wulfric's absence must have already made it to the other tribes.

After a few seconds, Wulfric lifted the back flap of Elva's tent and stepped silently inside, stooping in a crouch. He blinked, his eyes adjusting quickly to the fire in the middle of the tent, smoke curling up and out through the smoke hole.

The bed of hides and stretched canvas on the opposite side was made, clothing folded neatly at the foot of it. To the right was a small work station with Elva's beads, needles, and fabric. To the left was her cooking area, only a handful of bowls and cups stacked on a shelf.

Her dress, made of a thick hide material, was the deep brown color of tree bark and adorned with intricate patterns that reflected the culture of the Growlers. As she sat cross-legged, the slits in her dress revealed the pants underneath, providing warmth and protection from the frigid temperatures of their surroundings. The crackling fire in the nearby pit cast dancing shadows on her peaceful face, giving her an ethereal glow. Despite the harsh conditions outside, Elva seemed at ease and connected with nature as she communed with the elements around her.

Her wrinkled skin hung at the jaw, and her gray hair was kept in several braids down her back. The Elder's rope on the crown of her head and the heavier beadwork bodice was the only thing distinguishing her from any other woman in camp.

She'd lost weight in the past few months. Before he'd been injured, several in camp worried that she would pass soon. But he knew she was stronger than she appeared. She took a deep breath and opened her golden eyes, peering at him with brows arched.

"Alpha, welcome home." She nodded, the skin of her chin swinging slightly.

"Elder," Wulfric nodded, then bent knees, palms, and head to the ground in respect before sitting back up on his haunches.

She waved a hand to the fire, and it flared green with magic.

"Join me, won't you?" It wasn't a question, but an order.

He sank to mirror her seated pose across from the fire pit. Her eyes had closed again, but he watched her carefully above the flames.

"You don't seem surprised to see me," he said quietly.

Her lips curled up on the ends, but she didn't open her eyes. "I'm not. We knew you weren't dead."

"We?"

"The other Elders and I. We've discussed it at length and sought the advice of our ancestors and the gods."

Wulfric waited but when she didn't continue, he asked, "And did they answer?"

She simply nodded. "They did. I'm glad you've returned now, as the other tribal leaders will be arriving sometime tomorrow to discuss what happened. Care to tell me your version?"

More questions flew through his mind, but he had to focus on the information he needed. He'd been gone too long from Scarlet already. He should've brought her with him. He took a deep breath. There was no more time to lose.

"Elder, Brody attacked me in an illegal alpha challenge along with several of his friends. It was an ambush, and I'm blessed by the gods to have survived. I take it Brody thinks I'm dead?"

Elva nodded, eyes still closed with palms resting on her knees. "Yes, I suspected when they came back from patrol without you what had happened."

"And you didn't use a spell to insist they tell the truth?" No one ever knew what the Elders would do in a situation. The truth spell was possible, but it had been equally likely that they'd just wait and see what shakes out.

"No, I didn't. I wanted to wait for your return before the Elders revealed their hand to Brody. I am glad you survived, Wulfric. He claimed it was a fair fight, of course, but the deliberate decision to disobey the rules of an alpha challenge didn't sit well with several in the tribe."

Some of the tension in his spine eased. "Good, that's good. Yet he still claimed the alpha tent?"

"Yes," she said with a weary sigh. "When you didn't return the following day, there was nothing we could do. He's had nightly meetings in the longhouse and has whipped most of the tribe into a frenzy."

The tension was back, making him sit straighter, his hands fisting on his knees. "What's his plan? Is he going to invade Busparia with the turned?"

Elva's eyes opened, and Wulfric's brows rose at the twinkle in them. Her smile widened as she replied.

"So many questions. It's like the first day you were turned. Do you remember?"

He pursed his lips and nodded, tamping down his impatience. "Of course."

The memory came unbidden, and it took his breath away.

The pain in his chest as death had come closer. The feverish body, the pulsing in the wound in his side that had spelled his doom. The blistering sun beating down on him by the side of the road, the roar of the sea and the coughing of the others the only sounds.

He closed his eyes and awaited death. Then a shadow fell over him and the sea breeze sent a chill down his spine. Elva stood over him, her magical staff glowing with energy.

She leaned over him, a frown on her severe face as she said, "You're dying."

He chuckled, ending in a cough. He didn't bother wiping the blood from his chin. "No shit, woman."

She'd arched a brow and leaned on her staff. "Don't sass me, young man. Unless you want to die?"

His vision swam and he closed his eyes. "What other choice do I have but to pray to the gods and wait?"

It was her turn to chuckle. "Well, the gods sent me. I offer a second chance at life, if you're man enough to take it."

He blinked, bringing the woman back into focus. "You must be crazy."

She shrugged. "Wisdom comes in many forms, soldier. It's up to you to decide to take the chance or not. I will go check on your comrades while you think on the decision. You still have an hour before death claims you."

He'd thought, fighting through the pain to lift his head and watch her move from litter to litter. They'd all been injured in battle, but the medicine tents were constantly overrun. They had been sent back home to recover.

Or die along the road. Those who had already died had been pushed off the cliffs into the sea below. But the four of them had been left here next to the old ruins while the rest of the convoy had pushed on to Busparia.

Home. Images of his wife and daughter flashed through his mind along with the aching pain in his chest. Was he ready to join his wife?

His eyes fluttered, then the old woman was back.

"Well? What will it be, soldier? Do you want to live or die?"

The tip of her staff glowed green with pulsing magic, and he licked his lips. Sweat beaded his brow. He couldn't leave yet. There was… something… left to do. What was it?

"What's the catch?" His voice was rough with pain.

She'd stared at him, her lips pursed. He'd not seen most of her features with the sun behind her. But he'd felt the strength of her presence.

She wasn't just some crazy old beggar lady. Perhaps she was a goddess in disguise, here to tempt him?

"You'll gain incredible strength and ancient magic that will knit your body back together. Self-healing will be yours for as long as you live. And you will live for hundreds of years, as only magical weapons will kill you. Man cannot hurt you ever again."

He closed his eyes. "The catch, woman. I asked what is the catch?"

She chuckled again. "You're wise to ask. Not many do. But to answer the question, you'll lose all memories of this life."

He took a shaky breath, his entire body shivering in pain from his injuries. But it was the pain in his heart that made him nod. No more nightmares of the battlefield or his dead wife's unblinking eyes.

He blinked and the green smoke settled back into a normal fire. Elva's golden brown eyes watched him carefully from the other side of the fire.

He licked his lips, the memory of the thirst and pain a dull ache inside him. "I remember," he said softly.

She tilted her head, but her expression was the same calculating one he'd come to love.

"What do you remember, alpha?"

He took a deep breath and peered into the fire. "I remember being human. The memories from my life before are slowly coming back. From the way Brody talked when he ambushed me, his memories might be back too."

She arched a gray brow, her tiny braids falling over her shoulder. "I suspected as much. One of the other turned has admitted as such. The magic that binds us all is failing, alpha."

Her words made his stomach twist and his heart race.