Page 42 of Untamed

"All the way to the northwest, GriMaw," I show her the vast swath of light brown stretching from the Pacific ocean to the Artic. Other smaller areas are colored green, purple, and red, all faded just enough to make out mountains and rivers, lakes, and forests. "We are lucky to be allied with both the GriMaw and KilClaw."

To the west, the name FeraxMaw takes up a significant area of green. The Mauja hugs the Adsun Lake. There's a small section of red with the same name. Below that is the BlueSnout.

"FeraxMaw," I force the harshness out of my voice. "They are enemies,Qitsuk. The Mauja keep to themselves, out on the Adsun Bay. The Adsun pack is gone, absorbed into the Mauja, for the most part." I show her the small section of red.

One lone tear rolls out of those golden eyes, and something in me shrivels. My wolf lets out a rumble, a little unsure of how to comfort his wild little mate, who still snaps and snarls at him.

"Don't cry, my Bliss," I pull her away from the map and send Rhet a worried look. He's looking at her, contemplation written clearly on his face.

She glances at the map again before turning away with me. She looks shaken, but she seems fine other than that one tear and her glassy eyes.

"Bring our FeraxMaw friends here," I tell Rhet quietly. "Put them in the slaughtering shed. I don't want to be far from her today."

Thjis walks back into the house, shaking his head. "Helga needed to be milked. Poor girl was mooing her fucking head off. Not sure how Sarj managed to milk the other two but missed her." He heads towards Lyri's massive bedroom suite in the back of the house. "Show your mate the t.v.," he calls out before disappearing.

I turn to show my cat the 55-inch t.v. If she likes it, I'll get one for the cottage.

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13 - Red, Purple, and Coffee

Willa

Mactiir unlocks himself from the chain, ensuring that the loose end is looped around my waist before he tilts my chin up and kisses me softly. My she-wolf purrs a little but turns her back quick enough when she realizes that a male is touching her.

"I'll be outside, Qitsuk. Stay here, watch some t.v. or let Elder Bea do your hair or something," he tosses the purple-haired female a warning look.

I cautiously examine her. She and three of her friends arrived shortly after breakfast. I remember them, vaguely, from the dead tree. I can't remember much, even though it was just yesterday. I think all my she-wolf and I could think of was where we were and who was surrounding us. Then, just like now, Mactiir was leaving us alone with them.

They are allelders.Elder; old... and I'm not sure what other words to use. Wrinkled, maybe? Decrepit?

Their watery eyes look at me like turkey vultures circling their next meal. No fear, not of me, not like that female who tried to touch my Mactiir. I mean Mactiir. Just Mactiir, Willa. Big, dumb Ogre-Mactiir with his stupid walnut-eyes.

Right now, they are studiously avoiding looking at me. Just like good scavengers. Waiting for weakness, for an opportunity to feast on the dying and vulnerable.

The one circling closest to me has purple hair. Not dark purple, more a soft lavender, as if the white is reflecting something... well, purple. But there's nothing purple in this room. I glance at her warily, then turn back to reading the names scrawled across the picture.

Themap. I'm finally seeing a real map. I don't understand it. At first, I saw the colors, faded yellows, oranges, browns, purples and reds, some green. Vast areas of blue. Oceans, I realize, thePacific, theArctic, and other watery things. Bays and inlets and rivers and lakes, according to the names.

I've never been so confused. I hate it here. I want to go home to my cabin in the woods. I want to see Mama and my field of dandelions and my trees and my forest.

There are other packs. There isn't just one Pack. And... I have no idea what to do about it. Why did Mama always talk aboutthePack, just one pack, if there are so many different wolf territories? To the south and east, there are dozens upon dozens. Too many to even take in.

"It's old, this dusty thing," the female continues. "About... oh, fifty years old. Before the tumult of recent times, that's for sure."

"Not as old as any of us!" one of the other females chortles from the couch.

"This is RustClaw," Purple-hair ignores the other female. "We have extended our territory lately," she muses. "Other packs have come and gone in the meantime. Goodness, look at this. Inuit has pushed the patrols north." She pauses, then her finger traces a few names, "did he tell you about this pack?" she asks.

I just stare at the name under her finger. The Adlartok . No, he didn't mention that name, I don't think.

"This was our alphason's birthpack. The Adlartok , Inuit calls them. A war was fought between the Adlartok , the IcePaw, the WovRib, and the FeraxMaw. The Adlartok , arguably the strongest of the four packs, were slaughtered." She pauses, "I've always wondered how that came to be."

So, Mactiir has lost his pack? I wonder how he ended up here. In the... I mean,thisPack.

My gaze is drawn to the window as Mactiir strides across the yard with Blue-Star at his side. They both look tense and predatory. Mactiir's easy lope of contentment from our walk here this morning is gone. My easy companion has been replaced with the strutting grace of an apex predator.Apex; pinnacle, max, tops.

I shiver. If Mactiir ever approached me with that barely-leashed violence, I would run, chains or not.

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