Page 43 of Killian
“He would have been the heir,” said Moira quietly. “But Grandpa kicked him out. I don’t remember why. But he came back. How many rejects get to come back?”
Killian stared at her in shock. Her uncle had been kicked out? What? Just what? He felt like he couldn’t even form a proper response.
“I don’t remember why he got to come back either,” Moira continued. “But he found Azure and now he visits all the time and he and Grandpa talk and the pack is better. But… sixty years. That’s a long time to be alone. You have to be tough to survive that.”
Killian felt cold terror at the thought of being alone for that long.
“I don’t think I’m that tough,” said Moira. “No, let me rephrase. I know I’m not that tough. How am I supposed to be the heir if I’m not as good as he is?”
“Tough isn’t always good,” said Killian. “And no offense to your Grandpa, but what the fuck? Who kicks out their own kid?”
“He was unbalancing the pack. The pack comes first,” said Moira.
“And he wasn’t part of the pack? Fuck that. You make it work. You talk. You go to fucking therapy or something. You can’t treatkids like that.” The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“He was an adult! He made his choices!”
“He didn’t deserve that!”
“How would you know?” barked Moira angrily. “You don’t know anything about it!”
“Yes, I do! I know thatno onedeserves that! You don’t throw out your children like garbage.”
“Is it enough?”
The question, an echo of a memory that Killian couldn’t quite place, hung in his ears and Hudson’s worried face filled up his mind’s eye.
“I really like it here, but I don’t make a lot of money from my YouTube channel and Alekos hasn’t ever said how much I’d have to pay monthly.”
Killian stared at the blonde wolf and scratched his head. He opened his mouth and then shut it again. “Um… What?”
“My old pack was four thousand a month.”
“I’m sorry, I’m… Sometimes American English confuses me. Maybe I’ve misunderstood. Are you saying you had to pay four thousand a month to your pack?”
“Yes, for the bride fund and pack upkeep,” said Hudson. “How much do you pay?”
“I don’t pay anything,” said Killian. “It’s not like that here. We would never make you do that and we would never make you leave.” Killian wasn’t sure he should have said that last part, but Hudson needed to know that they would never hurt him like his birthpack.
Killian tried to focus on Moira and put the memory of Hudson aside, but it seemed impossible. The fear and pain in Hudson’s face at the idea of being rejected burned fiercely. He also didn’t understand how Moira could so callously ignore what had happened to her uncle.
“I don’t care what your pack does, we don’t treat people like that!” he snapped, and even he heard that there was too much growl in his voice.
“The pack has to come first,” snarled Moira. “You either getalong or you get the hell out.” She scrambled to her feet and snatched up her bag. The elves looked like they were finishing their work—the moss was once again green with barely a sign to show the burn marks—but they looked sad as if facing the handiwork of the warlocks had depressed them. They looked around as Moira stood.
She scooped up the ball of yarn and faced the group. “Come on, everyone! Let’s find these jerks before they burn something else.” She said it with cheerful enthusiasm and it was just the right tone to get the elves to move. She was a natural-born coach. No part of her mood showed through in her voice and Killian found that simply added fuel to his anger.
Episode 19
Recon
Moira
The silence from Killian was deafening. He hadn’t said a single word to her since their fight. She was supposed to lead, so she’d gone to the front, but Killian had stayed at the back of their group acting as rear guard the entire way to the end of the yarn. She had never felt less like a leader. The ball had unraveled with a last little flail at the place where the path dropped precipitously down into a valley.
And now, instead of coming with her to observe from the edge of the valley, Killian had chosen to stay with the elves and let Cynog go in his place. Looking out between the bushes, she could see a green valley beneath her. The winding Roman-style road dipped down to traverse a bridge over a fast-moving creek before rising to the front stairs of the temple clinging to the cliff face that was the world tree. Projecting out from the tree, the building looked organic, flowing from level to level, projecting out from the massive world tree like rings of mushrooms, with only the glimmer of glass to show that it hadn’t been grown in place. Although, given the other growths produced by the library like pillars, roads, and doors, Moira could easily believe that it had been. The world tree itself was so massive that it took up her entire field of view.
On the far side of the valley, the river bowed back toward the temple and a second bridge crossed that portion with a road that led away into the dense underbrush. From this vantage point, Moira could see an enormous root rising up from the loam in the distance like a dark rainbow—a shadow in the mist. And now that she had a higher vantage point Moira could also tell thatthe hill she had climbed was in all likelihood another root. The valley below was merely a sunken place between roots. The scale of what she was looking at was mind-boggling.
