"Um, well..." In the face of Justin's annoyance, the guard clearly wished that he hadn't bothered his alpha in the first place, and he shot a glance toward his partner in hopes of being bailed out. The latter was an older man, probably twice my brother's age, but he seemed no more willing to stand up to Justin's wrath than the first shifter had been.
"Well...?" Justin prompted, and I shivered again at the coldness emanating from my brother's lips. Didn't he realize that you saved that kind of set-down for when it was really needed? No point in wasting alpha compulsion when a loyal guard simply wanted to ask a question.
No, apparently my brother didn't realize that. Over the years, I'd come to the conclusion that there were two ways to keep a werewolf pack in line—loyalty or fear. Justin had clearly chosen the latter route because he growled now, the deep rumble ripping through the night air. Before him, both guards lowered their eyes to the ground and turned their necks to the side in a show of instant submission, and the tension in my brother's form eased at last. Nothing like a little kowtowing to float a bully's boat.
With my brother's wolf no longer poised to spring for his own guards' throats, the younger shifter was finally able to speak. "I just wondered if we should give the prisoner any food or water," he said quickly, showing that the shifter possessed the ounce of compassion that my brother lacked.
Looking back over my shoulder at the dangling drifter, I could tell that the boy hadn't enjoyed access to either form of sustenance in quite some time. But Justin didn't seem to think refusing his prisoner the basic elements of survival was inhumane. "Why waste food on a cur that will be in the ground tomorrow?" he asked rhetorically, raising his voice to ensure the words carried to the boy he'd just left behind. Then, pointing silently at the guards' posts, my brother walked away, leaving his underlings to exchange glances then to turn their heads away from the clearing so they weren't forced to witness the kid's pain.
Well, that was alright. I'd have the boy back down on his feet soon enough, and then he could eat and drink until his belly rebelled.
Once I found a way to get my brother's prisoner to trust me, that was.
***
Time doesn't flow in quite the same manner for a wolf as it does for a man, so I was neither bored nor impatient as I lay beneath a bush, snout on paws, and watched my blood brother's encampment settle into slumber. Finally, as the moon reached its zenith, the older guard allowed the younger to go to his bed. Then I watched as the patrolling wolves similarly halved their numbers, leaving only two lupines stalking the boundaries of their property to ward off uninvited guests.
As these final two patrollers padded past my hiding place time after time, I couldn't help feeling a bit smug that they hadn't discovered where my scent trail crossed over their boundary line in the first place. But, really, it was my brother's own fault for choosing to settle here amid the trees. Two-legged, I'd had no problem climbing a nearby trunk, then I'd shifted to animal form long enough to leap from one long limb outside the boundary onto another long limb just inside my brother's domain. Only an alpha would have been able to shift back midair the way I had, ensuring that I possessed primate paws ready to grasp the second tree and prevent myself from falling upon reentry. But wasn't All-Pack chock full of alphas? Shouldn't my brother have come just as prepared for an aerial attack as he was for one coming along the ground?
Luckily for Justin, I didn't plan to attack. But I did plan to yank big brother's chain...or, rather, to unhook the chain that was currently causing his prisoner so much discomfort.
At last, even the older guard began to drowse at his post, which is when I crept forward on four paws and nudged the drifter's bare foot with my damp nose. (And what had been the point of taking away the kid's shoes? I wondered. Just another power play on my brother's part, or did he really think that lack of footwear would prevent an escape by a shifter who could turn wolf in an instant?)
"You..."
I'd known I was taking a gamble by bringing the kid out of his half-slumber before putting the second portion of my plan into action. After all, there was a good chance that the drifter would smell my aroma of pine needles and leaf mold and would mistake me for my brother, raising a ruckus before I was ready for the middle-aged guard to awake.
On the other hand, I could really use the drifter's assistance if both of us were going to walk out of here right under the patrolling werewolves' noses.
"You're...his brother," the drifter finished his sentence, keeping his voice to the barest breath of sound. Yep, this kid possessed far more smarts than Justin had given him credit for. In fact, the youngster was probably considerably more intelligent than my brother—not that I was saying much by that comparison. Justin's intelligence had always been approximately on the level of a chunk of granite, hard as a rock and equally dense.
"Wolfie Young, at your service," I replied, shivering as my fur faded away and exposed my human skin to the bitter night air. "Are you strong enough to shift?"
"Yeah," the kid responded. "But it doesn't do any good. I tried already—the collar keeps me dangling and I just about hanged myself the last time I went wolf."
The boy's words spurred me to look more closely, and I picked out what I'd missed from a distance. My brother had figured that manacles weren't sufficient restraint to keep his prisoner in line and had added a metal collar around the kid's throat. A second chain extended from collar to branch above, and my blood—already simmering at the teenager's mistreatment—came to a boil.
Not that I was surprised by the sight of the hard, metal collar. I'd already figured that the drifter was well and truly trapped or he would've found a way to sneak past the guard and the patrollers without my help. So I simply shrugged and squashed anger at my brother. This kid needed a level-headed rescuer to keep us both on track, so I resolved to take up my beef with Justin at a later date. "Not a problem," I said simply. "What's your name?"
"I'm Wade," the boy answered. "I'd shake your hand, but, well..." He shrugged as best he could with both arms pulled taut above his head, and I had to give the kid credit for insouciance in the face of harsh odds.
"Okay, Wade, I'm going to get you out of here," I replied, pulling out the bundle of clothes that I'd stolen from my sleeping brother's tent earlier that evening. Due to Justin's excessive sense of insecurity, you would have thought the alpha would have donned fur to keep his senses alert at night while attending All-Pack. But, no. Snagging a set of jeans and a t-shirt from beside my brother's slumbering form had been like stealing candy from a baby.
Now I commenced rubbing the clothing across the manacles that pinched Wade's wrists, transferring the aroma from metal to fabric in preparation for my upcoming charade. And as I rubbed, I talked...partly to give Wade information he'd need during the rescue to come, but mostly just to set the kid's mind at ease. Because I could tell that the presence of my wolf soothed Wade's lupine half, my own confidence in his upcoming escape making the teenager that much more relaxed.
Plus, as Wade's heart rate slowed, the anger I'd been clamping down on all night drifted out of my mind as well. Unlike my brother, I gained pleasure from seeing the shifters around me happy rather than terrified, so I was glad to let my wolf's rage dissipate in the interest of making Wade that little bit more relaxed in my presence.
"When I come back in a minute, I want you to struggle a little, but not too much," I finished my instructions. "And keep the noise level down. Okay?"
"Yes, sir," the younger shifter agreed, and I grinned, thinking how much my brother would have loved to hear the honorific that naturally flowed from the boy's lips when presented with a true alpha werewolf.
I, on the other hand, preferred to nip that kind of subservient behavior in the bud. "Not 'sir'," I admonished him gently. "Just Wolfie. Now try to flex your feet while I'm gone so you'll be able to walk. I'll see you in a minute."
Then, with one last look back at my brother's quarry, I slipped two-footed into the darkness.
Chapter 4
"Chief Young!" The middle-aged guard jerked awake, terror overwhelming his signature aroma of meadow grass and buttercups. I resisted the urge to cock my head to one side, trying to remember the man from a childhood spent wandering as a wolf pup amid my father's pack. The trouble was that I'd been fully engaged in my lupine brain during that portion of my past, so images of human faces from the time had since melted into a fuzzy mass of varying emotions. Picking out any shifter except my immediate family from those dreamlike memories was an exercise in futility.
And, really, any past relationship I'd had with this guard was currently irrelevant. Because for the next five minutes, I wasn't Wolfie Young. I was his older brother Justin, wannabe chief of the original Young tribe. A chief who wouldn't have been pleased to find his guard napping while on duty.
Luckily, the shifter before me was cowering too low to realize that I hadn't yet spoken, a boon since I was unsure whether my voice would pass muster. In the dark, I was pretty confident that I looked like my brother. And I'd made darned sure I smelled like my brother. But could I fill my words with the same uncaring lilt that Justin so effortlessly achieved? I doubted it, so I simply snapped my fingers then pointed at my heels, and was glad when the guard followed in my footsteps like the loyal dog my brother had trained him to be.
As we approached, Wade met my eyes across the clearing, and I almost lost my stern facade when the kid winked before starting to thrash about. Despite his supposed struggle, though, the teenager was careful to manage his motions so his chains barely clanked together, the resulting noise not nearly loud enough to attract the patrolling wolves' attention or to wake up slumbering shifters nearby. Good job, kid, I thought, once again impressed by Wade's ability to rise to the occasion while hungry, thirsty, and low on sleep.
I couldn't focus on Wade now, though, because the moment of truth had finally come—time for me to open my mouth and put my charade to the test. Luckily, I was able to time my words to correspond with Wade's movements so my tone was slightly muffled by the sound of the boy's struggles. "Take him down," I demanded, making an effort not to meet the guard's eyes as he sent a surprised glance toward my face. "Now," I added, filling my voice with an alpha command and a hearty dose of impatience all at once. That final word, at least, had sounded like my brother.
"Yes, sir," Justin's lackey answered, fumbling with a key as he unhooked Wade's first manacle. Then, while the guard's attention focused away from his prisoner's face, Wade met my eyes over the older man's head, raising one eyebrow in question. The boy and I both knew that, had Justin really ordered his guard to release Wade from those chains, the young drifter would have taken this opportunity to lash out at his captors. But I saw no reason to let the drifter punch the middle-aged guard in the eye—after all, he hadn't been the one who decided to leave this kid hanging out in the cold for hours—so I shook my head in a quick negation.
Many young shifters would have ignored my subtle command, needing to salve their own wounded egos after being chained for so long. But Wade was different. Instead of lashing out, he slumped down as if unable to hold his own weight, subtly twisting the guard around in the process so I was out of the older man's line of sight.
The motion allowed me to relax my vigilance for a moment, and I raised my nose in a quick search for nearby scents. Around us, the night was still and nearly silent, only a nearly inaudible murmur from the other side of the campground proving that not quite every shifter was sound asleep. Closer by, I could smell Justin's patrolling werewolves, currently crossing paths at the opposite corner of the encampment. If I didn't want to be asked why I was leading my brother's prisoner out of his temporary territory in the middle of the night, then now was the time to make our escape.
"The collar?" the guard asked at last, and I motioned for him to remove that final restraint with a curt nod. Then, walking over to grip the shoulder of Wade's shirt in a rough ball within my fist, I snapped my fingers at Justin's lackey and pointed toward the cluster of tents, sending the guard scurrying to his bed like a dog ordered into its kennel.
As soon as the older man had turned away, Wade and I strode quickly in the opposite direction, breaking into a run once the guard was out of sight. Our escape plan had gone off without a hitch, but as things currently stood, Justin had the right to walk into my own territory and take back his property by force. Which meant we didn't have a second to spare.
***
"Wake up, sleepyhead." I nudged my milk brother, who was slumped half upright across the doorway of our shared tent. In human form, Chase had likely been gnawing his fingernails to the quick for hours while I'd been enjoying the night air and waiting for my blood brother's encampment to fall asleep. Another twinge of guilt shot through me. I'd make that worry up to my friend...but not right now. We had more important matters to take care of right at this moment.
"Wolfie, finally," Chase muttered, dragging a hand across his eyes and pushing a tangled mass of hair out of his face at the same time. "I was...oh." His glance fell upon the drifter, who appeared less sure of himself now that he was walking into yet another enemy encampment.
At the sign of my milk brother's narrowing eyes, Wade's shoulders hunched down as if waiting for a blow, proof that the teenager hadn't come out of his ordeal entirely unscathed. Once again, I would have liked to take the time to ease the boy's angst. But instead, I chose a bit of levity to soothe souls while keeping us all on track.
"Look, Mom," I teased Chase, gesturing toward the younger shifter with a flourish. "He followed me home. Can I keep him?"
Rather than answering right away, Chase's nostrils flared, and I could tell the astute shifter was piecing together the events of the evening by smell and guesswork. Justin's gun-metal aroma lingered on my blood brother's stolen clothing, and Wade's new scent of charred apple pie mingled with the residual odor from the chains and handcuffs. Chase wouldn't know all of the details of our nighttime escapades, but his nose would tell him enough to prevent the chewing out I so roundly deserved.
"Okay," my milk brother said at last, and I grinned at the long-suffering sigh that went along with his simple acceptance of the situation. "What do you need me to do?"
"Wake up Uncle Oscar, would you?" I answered. "I'm not sure how long it will take for Justin to realize that his guest has flown the coop. But when he does, we all need to be clear that Wade is mine."
The final word came out of my mouth with a bite that would have done my blood brother credit, and I instantly regretted the hint of anger that had once again caused my new pack mate to cringe away. Chase, though, understood that I was simply upset at Justin's behavior, and my friend dropped a comforting hand onto my shoulder before slipping his feet into untied tennis shoes and leaving the two of us alone in the small dome tent.
Wade and I sat in silence for a moment while my brain rushed through all of the potential ways to evade my blood brother's inevitable wrath. Really, there was only one solution, but I hated to tie this drifter down at such a young age, not when he might not fully understand that he was about to partake of an oath stronger than a human marriage vow. Because the reality was, when swearing allegiance to an alpha in the old way, there was no option for divorce.
"Um, I can just go if you want," Wade ventured at last, his eyes scanning the small space as if seeking an escape hatch. "I really appreciate the help, but I don't want to cause you any more trouble...."
"Is leaving what you really want to do?" I asked him, pinning the younger shifter down with a penetrating stare. I didn't like using my alpha strength on someone smaller and weaker than I was, but it was essential to make sure I wasn't forcing this teenager to swear to me against his will.
For a moment, the boy seemed undecided. Then, beneath his skin, his wolf rose to its feet and tentatively wagged its tail in my direction, dropping its front paws down as if to play. Naw, the kid didn't really want to go back into outpack territory, wandering without a family until the packless ache in his gut made him do something
stupid once again.
But Wade's human side still felt like he owed me for releasing him from Justin's chains, and the kid didn't want to cause any more hassle than he already had. So he shifted uncomfortably beneath my gaze before finally shaking his head slowly but firmly. Nope, the boy didn't want to keep drifting, which was all I really needed to know.
Wade, on the other hand, needed to know a whole lot more before he could make an informed decision.
"Okay, here's what you're getting into," I said, and proceeded to lay out the facts as the rest of my pack gathered outside Chase's and my tent. Because, of course, my milk brother wouldn't have stopped at waking Oscar. My friend would have talked to his mother first, and Tia would have ordered him to round up the rest of our little band while he was at it. Tradition required all members of a werewolf tribe to be present at a swearing in, and my present and future pack members all deserved the full ceremony rather than the truncated version I'd been planning. Trust Tia to have thought through all of the repercussions of what seemed like a simple matter to my lupine brain.
"We're not a normal pack," I finished my explanation, jerking my chin toward the open doorway and letting the young drifter smell for himself the hodgepodge of shifters who called me alpha. Our clan was a smaller, tighter pack than we'd been when leaving the Young property seven years earlier. In the interim, many of our number had found mates in other packs and had moved away with my blessing to make new homes for themselves elsewhere. Those shifters had been held in my father's tribe by the older alpha's refusal to relinquish any perceived power, but I saw no reason to stand between any werewolf and his or her happiness.
My cousin Berndt, on the other hand, had recently taken a purely human wife, which added to our strength in my opinion but would count as a detriment by the standards of most werewolves. Then there was the halfie Fen, a twelve-year-old tomboy who had opted to stay with us when her parents moved back in with her mother's human relatives. Even rubbing the sleepy dust out of her eyes, Fen looked ready to take on the world, and now she shot me a glance, ready and waiting for a command to take the older and larger stranger beside me down.
In Deep Shift: A Wolf Rampant spinoff serial (Bloodling Serial Book 2) Page 3