Page 22 of The Tracker's Revenge
I rolled my shoulders, uncomfortable with my own logic. By the same token, my mother wasn’t worth my time either. Some part of me was still angry at her, but almost losing her had eased the bulk of my resentment.
After a quiet moment talking to Ulfen, Travis stepped to the center of the cave and addressed everyone. “It seems we’re all here. Shall we begin?”
Without waiting for anyone to answer, he walked to the back of the cave, his long steps confident. He gave Jake and me a nod as he walked past, a brief acknowledgment that, judging by the ensuing sneer, was more than he thought we deserved.
Back at you, asshole,I thought, shooting daggers at the back of his head. He surely made the job of hating him a lot easier.
Everyone followed. Only Jake and I lingered behind, confused. There was nothing at the back of the cave but a wall of jagged rocks and a couple of torches.
Without preamble, Travis Hillworth stepped up to the wall and placed a large hand on its rough surface. One by one, Ulfen Erickson, Walter Knight, Craig Blackridge, and Eric Cross followed suit, all of them laying their palms to the same spot Travis had touched, then stepping aside to let the next person through.
When they were done, the wall dissolved right before our eyes, revealing a narrow passage, also illuminated by torches. The scent of locked, ancient things blew out, carried on a chilled wind that whistled lightly as it made its way out.
Holy crap!
I was about to step into Wolfskeep.
Chapter 8
My heart beat loudlyas everyone just stood there, without moving. I scanned everyone’s faces. They all were peering inside the cave as if waiting for something. Steps echoed down the passage. I sidled closer to Jake. Tension hummed all around him.
A shadow materialized far into the corridor, slowly growing bigger as it approached. I squinted at it, holding my breath. Who was it? Another Pack Rule member who had gotten here first? No, Eric had told me there were only the five of them, no one else. So who was this?
The shape resolved into a figure of average height, wearing a white tunic embroidered in colorful thread. It had a heavy hood lined with fur that obscured its features. A pair of fur boots completed the outfit, which was reminiscent of native attire. The person’s hands were stuffed into long, wide sleeves, also lined with fur. They stopped at the mouth of the tunnel and bowed slightly.
“Welcome,” a clear, feminine voice said.
Tattooed hands lowered the hood, revealing a woman with prominent cheekbones, narrow eyes, and luscious dark hair parted in the middle with two braids falling at either side of her face. A tattoo composed of three straight lines went from the bottom of her lower lip down to her chin. Another one formed a “V” in the middle of her forehead, ending between her eyebrows. She was beautiful and, indeed, appeared to be of native American descent.
“Please, make your vows and enter,” she said in lightly accented English. She stepped aside and stretched a hand toward the depths of the passage.
Each man approached the threshold, held up their right hand, and said, “At this sacred juncture, I vow to a moratorium with all the alpha members of this and any other Pack Rule. I vow to uphold our values and make every decision for the protection of our kind.”
I took a step back, making sure I was the last in line, trying to commit to memory all the words in case they were asked of me. Jake tried to be a gentleman and invited me to go before him, but I shook my head and shoved him forward. He shook his head and carefully moved up to the threshold.
Walter was already on the other side and stepped forward to say, “I vouch for him, Keeper Yura. His name is Jacob Knight. He’s my grandson and the future alpha of the Knight pack. He was also a witness to the events we are here to discuss.”
