Page 6 of Pack Witch
Leroy’s answer was a breathless laugh. “Might not be a bad thing. I wanna be swole when I get to Western.”
Bo coughed. “Swole? You talkin’ about your dick again?”
“No, mymuscles, asshole. I wanna be strong by the time we reach Western. My mate’ll see me coming, look at all my new muscles and fall down at my feet, like… like…”
Bo snorted. “Like one of them fainting goats we saw outside the Northern Parish pack, probably, scared half to death at the smell of ya.”
“Carry my pack, too? What a good idea, Leroy.” I dropped it to the ground, ignoring his bleat of distress. “Bo, help him balance the load.”
The two bickered while I prayed for patience and picked up the pace. The wind at our backs whipped around my neck, carrying Leroy’s next words to me. “...if I keep asking, eventually wewillbe there, right? Plus, it’s fun to see Sergeant’s neck go all red?—”
I spun on my heel and faced down the gangly teenager, who looked ridiculous with his long hair tied up in a topknot, and three enormous, loaded backpacks stacked one on top of the other. “Leroy, if I kill you here and throw your corpse down into that valley, the flowers will grow over you, and no one will ever find your bones.”
He swallowed nervously, his Adam’s apple sliding down his narrow throat. “Please don’t kill me, Alpha. I was just jokin’.”
“He’s sorry, Sergeant Alpha, sir.” Bo slid in front of him, blocking his friend from my stern gaze, in an oddly sweet, protective gesture.
A futile one. Not that I would ever hurt them—they were my pack. Stupid, young, and foolish pack, but they’d volunteered to be my mules for this trip. I’d been short with them, harder than I should’ve been. But constant pain tended to fray even the best tempers. And mine was paper thin.
I sighed, promising myself I’d do better. “Set up camp here. I’m going to climb up there.” I pointed to a wide wall of rock bordering one side of the river that wound through the green valley and vanished in the distance. “Try not to get into any trouble. Make a campfire, set up the tents, get dinner going. Ida should be back soon.”
“Yes, Alpha!” They scrambled to obey, falling over their own outsized feet. Leroy literally tripped and fell, the packs making him do a sort of somersault before he landed on his back on top of them, groaning.
Before they could see me fighting not to laugh, I turned away and spent the next hour climbing up to the bluff. I wasn’t sure why I’d felt compelled to waste energy climbing, but my wolf was pacing inside, whining about something. Trying to focus my attention on a lone deer just out of sight, or a covey of birds flushed too deep into the brush.
When I reached the top, the bluff was far enough from the campsite that I couldn’t hear Bo and Leroy, but near enough to keep an eye on them. Maybe I could spot what my wolf was whining for.
For some reason, I kept turning to the northeast, to an area no more than a quarter mile away from the pups. Was something there? Smoke, maybe? A small wisp of it climbed into the sky before tracing an almost horizontal line on the horizon. A wildfire? Maybe. There was a space in the pines that seemed wide enough for a house, but when I tried to focus my eyes on it, the trees almost seemed to crowd in, blocking my view. I squinted, ignoring the urge to look away.
My wolf yipped. That was it.
Look away.My blood raced. Could it be a look-away spell, an enormous one, covering at least a few hundred square feet? That was impossible, unless there was an entire coven of witches here. I’d heard of one witch who’d lived on these lands for decades, a crone who stayed hidden. Perhaps that was who Ida was asking for help, though she knew no magic had been able to heal the degrading spells I wore.
A hawk wheeled over the blurred area, then dove, vanishing completely about a hundred feet above the empty space.
Whoever this crone was, she had power. I itched to go down and inspect the vast spell, but a wave of lethargy overtook me. Instead, I lay down and closed my eyes, wondering if the old witch would grant Ida’s request, and trying to temper the hope that maybe her magic would work when nothing else had. At least long enough for me to return to Occidens.
Somehow, for the first time in years, I fell asleep quickly, dreaming of the woods surrounding my old home.
I was burning alive. There was nothing but pain from the soles of my bare feet to my hairline. Pain, and scars from my sister’s magic and the runes she’d placed on me, to save me. I inhaled deeply, catching the faintest hint of her scent as she ran back to where she’d hidden my niece, Lily. I hadn’t been able to feel her hand on me as she whispered goodbye, had hardly been able to feel the cloth of the small bag of supplies she’d handed me. Even my fingers were covered with her runes.
My wolf side had been frantic for days while she worked the spells that might be the only thing that saved me. I was a Moonblessed Warrior, the last of my group, and the magic inside me shone like an invisible moon to anyone who could sense such things.
Like the remaining members of my pack blessed with magic, and the Russians.
Camellia and Lily were planning their escape tonight, too. They had the help of some of the other women, and my niece’s own unbelievably strong powers of concealment, to see her safely to the coven in Florida I’d heard of. I had to believe that, anyway.
The only way I could stay alive was by fleeing as well, like a coward, or by joining forces with evil. I would die before fighting my own brethren at the side of the Russian bastards, though. Honor was all I had left now. No family, no pack, and no position.
No magic.
My wolf lay silent and still in my chest as I darted between two trees, then crossed an open space to reach the shadows of another. He wasn’t dead, even if it felt like it, but he’d protested the scarring so violently, Camellia had been forced to lay a very heavy sleep spell on him. He would wake in one moon, she’d assured me, hopefully after the tattoos healed.
Voices crying out behind me had my feet moving again, ignoring the sharp pain, though everything other than my skin felt blunted, dull. My vision, my hearing, even my sense of smell was as asleep as my wolf side.
I would have to cope. I was almost close enough to the outer edge of the pack to find the river and swim downstream for a few miles. Maybe go over the falls, if I had to. The river led south and east, and would take me closer to Mountain, the one pack I’d heard might give me sanctuary.
I sucked in a steadying breath as I moved toward the protective shade of a grove of birch trees. I had to go slowly, to not attract attention, but when I reached the birches, I realized I had failed.
