I blink furiously. He of all people should know why I did what I had to do: it was just one less rogue to kill on the battlefield. He also knew about my 'anger issues,' and he had so graciously explained last night about my fighting strategy.
I shrug my shoulders, "To let them know that we're at war."
10 | Chaos
❝Don't do anything stupid until I get back.❞
I clench and unclench my jaw slowly as I walk purposefully through the snow, my feet sinking into the white flecks as I wade towards our destination. We were only five minutes away from the pack after a two-hour trek, and my limbs felt like they were submerged underwater: exhaustion meant that I could no longer feel them.
If anyone tells you that werewolves don't get tired, they're wrong. We might have greater stamina than humans and other lifeforms, but we are not machines. We get tired, as any wolf would on a long, laborious hunt.
We hadn't shifted into our wolf forms either. The thin clothes that we wore that stayed on during our shift was too thin to keep the cold out when we would supposedly arrive at our destination. We would not be able to carry the load of weapons strapped in our belts, either.
Tousling my thick, brunette strands of hair over my shoulder, I glance to my right to see sturdy warrior werewolves flanking me, leading the parade. There were about fifteen of us, but what distressed me the most was that they were all male. All towered above my petit frame – apart from the round, heavily-loaded male lumbering at the back – and their faces were lined with battle scars and stubble which some had had the sense to grow out into beards.
The other problem is that Azra and Josh are not with me. They had both returned to their pack to escort them to safety, leaving me to the ruthless Damien who ordered me to escort the Scarlet Bone Pack. I can understand why he wants me to lead this escort: The Scarlet Bone pack was the centre of trade and communication between werewolves and the human world, but it was also the closest to rogue territory. For all we knew, the pack could be lying in ruins when we arrive.
I whip my head to my left, giving a miniature nod of my head before my cheeks can become too crimson to look anywhere but straight ahead. God, I was the most socially awkward person ever. Not that it mattered anymore. This was about winning a war we were almost certain to lose (although Damien didn't want to admit it, it was evident that it was near impossible to beat such an unstoppable power such as the rogues, especially when they had waited and built up their army over numerous tedious years).
A jet of hot water vapour pours into the air from my mouth, creating a miniature phosphorescent cloud before my bland orbs. The world around me reflected the same, icy pigment as my breath in the still night air, an incorruptible and unblemished blanket of snow laid perfectly on the fauna surrounding us. It was hard to think how easily the beauty would be destroyed by our laboured footsteps, but then that's what us werewolves do: we destroy things.
We killed each other instead of uniting. We turned beautiful landscapes into battlefields. But more importantly, we tormented each other. It was rare to find true friendship in this world, and even when you thought you had found your one true mate, even they can turn their backs on you.
I let out a strenuous breath as I arduously make my way over a small hill, obscuring the view beyond. As soon as I reach the peak, I have to blink rapidly to ensure myself that I'm not hallucinating. Before me is one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. Sometimes I'm glad that I haven't died just because I am able to experience irreplaceable spectacles such as this one.
Tinged with the eternal pink of dawn, a small cluster of brown, wooden huts stand bravely in the middle of the valley below us. Clusters of werewolves move around happily in the dazzling torchlight, only revealing part of the story like a veil of mist. I see the glint of an auburn tinted face speaking to a group of other pack members, the early-risers sauntering around in a dyed orange daze.
It was beautiful to see such harmony. Tears even threatened to fill my eyes as I spot three children in the limited light chasing one another, huge grins plastered onto each of their faces.
And here I was to shatter the tranquillity. They didn't know that we were at war, but they would soon. The Scarlet Bone Pack had lived a peaceful life with connections to the human world, particularly trading weapons made of sturdy metal from the human world. Now that peaceful lifestyle will be gone forever.
My feet move swiftly down the slope, gliding over the snow soaked ground like an infernal cloud. For once, I feel weightless as I allow a smile to creep onto my face.
All too soon we reach the bottom of the slope, the forest breaking into bare terrain. All that stoop before us was the flat ground of the valley stretching for a mile across, and God only know how far the river stretched until it reached the sea.
Taking a deep breath through my nose slowly before stepping out into the unforgiving and bleak landscape, exposing myself to the pack before us. That was the good thing about the location of this pack: you could always see your enemies coming.
After five minutes of dragging my feet through the heavy snow, we finally reach the pack where another large werewolf greets us. I don't know why all warriors are so large, but it must have something to do with how much they train.
The guard werewolf gives me a cold, hard stare as his eyes burrow into my own. I can hear his brain click and whirr as he tries to figure out whether I am friend or foes. Finally, his lips move, forming words. "What do you want?"
I straighten myself, taking all emotion away from my face. Being second in command, I had to look tough. Look weak, and I would easily be overthrown. Of course I didn't want to be in such a respectable position, but it was better than being beaten to death.
"We're here to talk to your Alpha," I mimic the words Damien told me to say when I arrived. I'm glad that I even remembered them in the first place.
The man quizzically glances at each of the soldiers behind me in turn. His deep blue eyes obliterate the air between the warriors and guard, terminating most of the doubt. Yet it's clear that he doesn't recognise any of the werewolves before him, and I had since removed my commander attire for the prolonged journey.
"What about them?" He questions, jerking his head in an unfashionable manner to the men behind me.
"Alpha King Damien sent us," I sigh. I knew that this wasn't going to go to plan, but hopefully I could get out of this situation without a fight by using my crap words. "Trust me, you'll understand when we tell you our situation, but we cannot wait. We must see your Alpha now."
The guard rolls his eyes, placing his spear behind his back. I hadn't noticed the weapon until the movement, but it was nothing important unless he decided to send it straight through mine of any of my companions' hearts. "Fine. Follow me, and if you dare touch anything, you will be terminated."
"Lovely," One of the warrior werewolves from behind me murmurs, but I pretend that I didn't hear him. He was probably one of the two immature sixteen year olds sent with us to gain greater experience.
The bulging man before us saunters through the dark light, his shoulders swinging rhythmically with each step. For a meter away, it's easy to tell that he effortlessly clears six feet, with wide shoulders, and a body made for combat. It was no wonder why he was the protector of this pack. I hope for their sake that they have more warriors like him.
I almost walk into the man's rock-hard back as he stops and speaks through a thin layer of fabric obscuring the inside of the brown tent from the outside world. It was one of the few tents in the mix of huts and cabins, but it was by far the largest and the most luxurious with recently replenished deer-hide.
"Alpha Alexandra, there are some werewolves sent by the new Alpha King to see you," The man speaks just audibly through the material.
My ears cringe at the distinct and thunderous noise of fabric moving on fabric, and then pick up the light but tough voice of a female through the tent. "Let them in."
The man slowly lifts up the thin textile of the shelter,
and I duck under cautiously, wondering what was awaiting me on the other side. The other werewolves attempt to follow me, but I hold up my arm. "Keep an eye out while I talk to the Alpha," I instruct them. "I won't be long."
I hear the cloth settle behind me as I finally enter the room. It was nowhere near how I had expected it to be. On the ground was a thick, luxurious carpet like the one in the castle, however this one was much more worn underfoot. Wooden furniture was laid neatly in the large space, with a bed in the right hand corner, and a chest of drawers, table, and chair in the other. It was clear that this was a permanent home, unlike the temporary living-quarters I had been used to with the rogues.
But the most startling, yet beautiful thing in the room is the Alpha herself. I immediately take in her deep, perfectly tanned skin, but then my eyes fall on her hair. It was ruffled and messy, sticking out at irregular angles, yet the style seemed to frame the woman's face perfectly. Tied into her tresses was a single feather hanging onto her shoulder, guarded by the mass of hair falling just past her collarbone. Her eyes were large and brown, and not nearly as sharp or striking as my own. Her lips were pale and seemed to melt into her skin, giving her yet another edge of mystical beauty.
Despite her stunning features, the woman only appeared to be in her early twenties, perhaps late teens. It was strange to think that she was in control of the most important pack under the protection of Arla being of such a young age. Moreover, the fact that she's female is refreshing. We live in a sexist society, and for a woman to be at the top proves that females are just as strong as men.
Her face, on the other hand, told a different story. There was no sign of emotion: her eyes were set like unbreakable diamonds. Just from that one glance at her, it blatantly obvious that she was not one to be messed with.
"I presume that you are here to tell us that we're at war with the rogues and that we must leave with you immediately to go to Arla," the woman states as she stands firmly with her hands loosely hanging by her sides, her right hand resting carelessly on the weapon in her belt.
I am astonished by her words, but try to hide my shock from my face. "Yes," I reply in the same tone of voice she had used herself.
The woman nods, and looks at me with the same blank expression as if she had never seen a female wolf like myself before. Judging by the look in her eyes, I can tell that she's wondering whether I'm a threat or not. If she knew the version of me that existed just over a week ago, then my blood would already be sprayed on the canvas surrounding us.
I stretch out my arm as a sign of respect. This was one woman I did not want mess with. "I'm Aurora."
The woman nods, grabbing my wrist in a werewolf handshake. "My name is Alexandra, but call me Alex."
After a few seconds, her grip relaxes, and I allow myself to take a shaky breath as I slowly withdraw my arm. "Alex, we need to leave. Now. We don't know when the rogues will attack, and you of all people should know how ruthless they can be."
Alex paced around her tent, her delicate hands fluttering over the wooden backboard of her bed, and then resting on the arm of the sofa placed permanently in the middle of the exquisite room.
Alex bows her head, a shock of brunette tresses moving perpendicular to the floor. "Yes, we know of their nature. We've spent most of our lives fighting them." Her voice still sounds bored, as if she was sitting through Damien's coronation for the second time.
I grit my teeth. Was she not going to sense the blatant hint that we needed to leave? "We need to go, Alex. Now."
Alex shrugs her shoulders, as if she didn't care what happened to her pack. What kind of Alpha thinks like that? "Then you go. You as Second in Command should know that we will never abandon our pack grounds for something as petty as a rogue war."
My eyebrows scrunch together before I can delay my action. "So you're willing for everyone in your pack to die? Are you insane?"
"No," Alex says as she pouts her lips. "We have lived with them on our doorstep for decades. We can handle ourselves."
I bound over to her, and look her straight in the eye. Despite my medium height, I was still a few inches taller than her, allowing me to exert my dominance with more success. "I don't doubt that you can handle yourself. I'm sure you could kill me in less than a second if you decided to do so. But the rogues out there are nothing like you have experienced before. They will kill you. They will burn this place to the ground."
Alex raises an eyebrow, "and you know this because?"
I sigh, rolling my head backwards and spinning on my heel so that my back is facing her. I then lash my head around, anger boiling through my veins like fire had met gasoline. "I've seen what they can do. They don't care who you are, how old you are, or how important you are: they just kill," I raise my voice, my face becoming a fascinating artwork of rage. If I looked in the mirror at this moment in time, I wouldn't be able to recognise my own face. I inhale a few times, using a hand to scrape the hair out of my face before continuing. "They killed our king. When I came here years ago, they slaughtered my best friend because she crossed their territory. She was only eight. Please tell me that you don't want the same fate for your pack."
Alex doesn't seem to comprehend my words, as if her ears were plugged into a different frequency. "They won't suffer that fate," she states, but not before a flicker of worry falsifies her characteristics. She raises her head, tentatively sniffing the air. She suddenly recoils as if she has smelt poison. "Those bastards," she growls, finally dropping her serious face. "They're here. They must've waited for you to arrive."
I gulp. "What?"
The Alpha gazes at me as if I'm a toddler: her jaded eyes and slack face give me the sense that she thinks I'm stupid. As if I was drowning but hadn't noticed.
"They could've attacked at any moment before you arrived, but they waited." She walks patiently over to wardrobe, opening it up to reveal an array of clothes on the left, and a pile of weapons on the right. She carefully selects a sword from the rack, followed by a bow and a quiver of handmade arrows. "They must be after you. After all, rogues always need a hostage to negotiate."
"But why me? I'm nothing," I reply. It was true. Damien would never risk the fall of his kingdom for me. He would rather I die and everyone else live, which any sane person would do.
The truth thunders into my body like a wrecking ball. I had escaped one deadly situation to be thrust into yet another one.
"You're the second in command," She replies as she straps the sword to her belt, and smiling when she looks satisfied. "You're the second most important person in the city."
I shiver. "It's not like I want to be."
Alex's eyebrows remain raised. "Well, however you are the second in command, that does not matter. What does matter is that they want you, and we will not give you to them."
I don't know how to respond, so I usher a quick, "thank you," as a response. The corners of Alex's pale lips twitch up, but not enough to form a smile. The small gesture was more a sign of gratitude than friendliness.
The abrupt tearing of fabric causes us both to turn rapidly to face the door. The features that meet us are welcome, and I almost allow myself to sigh when I notice the Arla warriors standing at the entrance with the male from the Scarlet Bone pack who had escorted us.
"Aurora, the rogues are here," One desperately says, and as I glance at our small group, I see the fear infiltrating the huge werewolves' eyes. It was strange to see such strong men out of place due to a few rogues. "We need to get everyone and get out of here."
To my left, someone screams, and I sprint towards the canvas door and out of the tent. The sight before me is rejected by my eyes, the picture blurring with tears of sorrow and resentment.
No. No, this can't be happening, I tell myself, and pinch my arm to try and wake me up from the nightmare. We can't be too late.
Before me, the world is on fire. Tents burn as huge, ugly and mutated werewolves lumber around with flame torches, setting anything in their sight alight. Another girl sc
reams to my left, a piercing wail which is cut off so suddenly I don't have to guess what has happened to her. War rages around us, and I spot one of Arla's own warriors fight off a rogue as he nears out group.
THE ROGUE WOLF Page 12