by J. E. Taylor
I swiped at the mist in my eyes and continued down the path leading through the woods directly into the center of Dakota. I steadied the bow in my hand, lining an arrow in place, keeping vigilant for any breaking branch, leaf rustle, or wicked growl.
TALK OF MY PARENTS had me jumpy as I traversed the winding wooded path into Dakota. The cloudy sky obscured the morning sun, reminding me of the night I lost my family to the wolves.
I picked up my pace. While I knew I was running a little behind, I wasn’t sure just how late I would be, and getting out of these woods as fast as I could was a priority at the moment.
The last time I was late, I got paired with the worst archer on the Guard, and the day had been an exercise in dodging his arrows instead of werewolves. Not that any of our daily hunts had been fruitful in flushing out the pack. They were well hidden, and it was frustrating.
Hunting at night was not allowed, even though that seemed to be the time the pack was most active. Just the thought of being out with darkness surrounding me made me shiver.
I tried to focus on the impending hunt, but memories of my family’s dying screams kept interrupting my train of thought.
I shook the bloody visions from my head as I stepped out of the woods and onto the gravel road that led into the center of town. With the tree canopy behind me, I stowed the arrow back in my quiver. I kept scanning the area, but I didn’t have the same urgency to be vigilant as I did under the tree cover.
The sense of ever-present danger the woods instilled in me kept me alive all these years, but once I was in the town center, that edge faded. Nothing messed with my mind as much as the woods.
“Boo!”
I yelped and spun in the direction of the voice, reaching for one of my arrows.
Travis McGee burst out laughing from his vantage point next to the town hall. He stepped from the shadows, and his blond hair swirled in the breeze. His dark eyes crinkled with amusement, and his smile dimpled his cheeks.
“Damn it, Travis!” I held the arrow against my bow and glared at him. “I should shoot you for giving me a heart attack!”
Travis strolled up next to me with that ridiculous grin still plastered on his face. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said in a deep timbre.
I supposed I could see why some of the local girls swooned when he went by, but he just annoyed me like only a best friend could.
Instead of agreeing, I smacked his arm with the shaft of the arrow. “You’re such a jerk,” I muttered as we rounded the bend into the open courtyard where the rest of the Guard stood.
“You’re late,” a harsh voice rang out over the quiet assembly.
I glanced to my left, right into the annoyed eyes of Remy Steele. His face was lined with ancient wrinkles and his lips formed an unhappy sneer. He was perhaps the meanest guardsman I had ever met. Most of the Guard was afraid of him, but not me. I just thought he was an ass who liked to exude authority.
He sauntered over and glared down at me with sharp green eyes. “This is the third time this week,” he growled.
I could have uttered a litany of excuses and groveled for his forgiveness like I had seen countless others do, but we both knew I was the best shot in the lot, so he’d just have to deal with my tardiness. I gave him an offhanded shrug and continued past him.
“One of these days I’m going to take you over my knee,” he hissed.
I spun on him. Threats, whether empty or not, riled me up. “You want to take care in what you say, Remy.”
His eyes narrowed, and then he looked away.
I took that as a sign of retreat on his part and returned my attention to the rest of the horde. I was the lone woman among men, but they knew my past. They knew the talent in my steady hands. They knew I had their backs. And they knew my need for vengeance ran deep in my veins.
They had my back out there, too. Even Remy, who was as close to the definition of my nemesis as anyone in this town. He and Gram had a falling out years before I came along and he has held it against me ever since I entered the Guard.
It was Gram’s insistence that allowed me to train with the Guard. She saw my raw talent with a bow and arrow after she and I had gone hunting for food. Remy had always treated me as if I stepped in the middle of the boy’s club.
However, in moments of danger, Remy had always chosen to protect other members of the Guard instead of letting any one of us fall prey to wolves. I lost count of the number of times he saved me from an attacking wolf. He could say the same for me, as well.
“Red, since you and Travis were late, you two will pair up with me today on the hunt,” Remy announced.
The relief of the other guardsmen hung on the air. No one liked pairing with Remy. Not only was he less than desirable company, he was a slave driver. Travis groaned under his breath while Remy paired up the rest of the hunters in parties of three.
“I don’t have to tell you what’s at stake here,” Remy said, his sharp gaze landing on me before it moved on. “We need to flush these bastards out, because the longer they remain alive and in our territory, the more of our people die. If you run into a single wolf, kill it. If you run across the pack...” He took a deep breath, meeting each and every eye. “Take as many of them out as you can.”
It was what he didn’t say that sent a shiver up my spine. Three men, even three armed men, were no match against a full pack. Taking them on was suicide.
Every one of us accepted the responsibility to keep the town safe. The possibility of death was part of being a Dakota Guard. We all nodded our understanding.
After everyone dispersed in their assigned direction, Remy turned to me. “Ready to get your ass whooped?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he stomped off into the woods.
Travis and I followed, and dread wrapped a tight fist around my heart.
Chapter 3
After half the day had passed, I reached into the pack Gram put together for me and stole a bite of one of her oatmeal cookies while I followed Remy. Travis had my back, and I handed him half of the cookie as we rounded a bend, shoveling the rest in my mouth before Remy could turn and catch me eating on the job. Remy didn’t like us doing anything that would occupy our hands, even if it only took a second.
His tirades about what could happen in that split second weren’t without merit, but we had been going flat out since this morning and hadn’t encountered a thing. Hunger could cause just as much trouble with wavering attention as our hands being occupied for a moment, so I chanced his wrath in favor of shutting off the grumbling in my stomach.
I never remembered Remy being amicable. Not even that first day that Gram dragged me into town and made me give the Guard a demonstration. He didn’t even show the slightest interest, but the rest of the trainees were in awe that I could slice an apple in half, especially since it was thrown in the air. I did it a half dozen times to prove it wasn’t a fluke.
“I CAN’T HAVE A CHILD in the Guard,” Remy said to my grandmother.
Gram looked around at the cluster of boys that were my age, and she waved her hand at them. “You already have children in the Guard. You mean you can’t have a girl in your Guard,” she argued with her hands on her hips.
“May,” he started, but Gram wouldn’t have any of it.
“She can run faster than any of them. And she’s a better shot than even you ever were!”
Remy’s face reddened brighter than any of the apples in Gram’s basket. He grabbed one and pitched it with all his might towards the woods.
I didn’t think. I just reacted and when two neat, halved slices fell to the ground and my arrow embedded in the tree that would have blocked the apple’s progress, both my Gram and Remy stared at the apple and then turned towards me.
I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders at their matching slack jaws.
Remy’s lips pressed together, and he glanced back at the decimated apple before studying the ground.
“Well?” Gram asked.
“Fine, but she isn’t getting an
y special treatment. If she can’t keep up with the boys, she’s out.”
Gram nodded and left me in Remy’s care.
REMY SLOWED NEAR THE northern cliffs that lead to the ravine and leveled that same hostile look from all those years ago at both Travis and I.
“Did you bring any of your grandmother’s treats?” he asked in a gruff, out-of-breath tone.
I reached into my bag and pulled another cookie out, debating on whether I would just eat it in front of him or not. But I knew better than to aggravate him even more than my simple presence did. Instead, I offered it to him.
He gave me a smile of appreciation, which was rare, and slightly frightening to view. His grin looked more like a toothy grimace than anything resembling genuine happiness, and it never quite reached his eyes. The only time I ever saw glee in his eyes was when he was killing a werewolf.
“What about me?” Travis asked.
I pulled the last cookie out and split it in half, handing him the smaller half this time.
Remy chuckled. He thought he was special getting a whole cookie. He didn’t know I shared one already with Travis. Neither of us corrected his silent gloating, either.
“I don’t think there’s anything in this direction,” I said as I scanned the wooded area behind us. This would be the perfect place to launch an assault. We had nowhere to run, and jumping from the cliff was just as much of an automatic death sentence as facing a pack.
We had been stopped long enough to make the hairs on my neck prickle. I didn’t want to just stand around waiting for the beasts to corner us, but Remy didn’t seem to be in any rush. Pushing him would only make him linger longer.
“One of you needs to climb that tree and do a scan before we head back, and since Red was kind enough to give me a whole cookie, I think it’s Travis’s turn to do something useful.”
I raised an eyebrow. It was the first time I wasn’t given the grunt task. I’d have to remember that in the future. Remy had a soft spot for Gram’s cookies, and if I saved a whole one for him instead of just offering up half, I might get the lighter duty.
Travis didn’t grumble or say anything snide like I would have been tempted to do. He just gave a nod and jumped in the air, catching the nearest limb with the inside of his elbow. His feet dangled above the ground, and he hoisted himself onto the branch.
It creaked under his weight. I bit my lip and scanned the woods for any movement. A snap brought my gaze back to Travis. His outstretched hand missed the next tree limb, and he dropped the ten feet to the ground, landing on his outstretched arm. A sharp crack was immediately followed by his yelp of pain.
Both Remy and I bolted to where Travis lay on the ground holding his arm to his chest. His lips were pressed together, but his red and scrunched face broadcasted his pain more than a scream would have. His forearm was bent at an unnatural angle, and a red stain spread on his sleeve.
“Damn it, boy,” Remy growled and raked a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before his gaze turned to mine. “Make yourself useful and grab a couple of arrows.”
I glanced at the half dozen arrows strewn on the ground and gathered them up as Remy squatted next to Travis. My heart drummed in my chest. The beasts could smell blood for miles. If they got Travis’s scent either in human or wolf form, we would have a hell of a fight on our hands.
The tear of fabric pulled my gaze back to them, and the view of Travis’s bone sticking out of his forearm made me regret eating Gram’s cookie. I turned away and busied myself with picking up the fallen arrows. Normally, I wasn’t a squeamish person, but because it was Travis, empathy crashed through me like a wild storm, making my stomach clench.
Travis’s guttural whine made me spin towards him again. Remy had already done whatever it took to get the bone back inside Travis’s arm, but my friend’s face had gone ashen as a result.
“Get over here with those arrows,” Remy barked.
I stepped to his side, handing the arrows to him.
He glared up at me. “Splint his arm.” He ripped the sleeves off his own shirt. “One arrow on the inside, one along the side and one on the outside, please,” he directed as I fiddled with the arrows.
When I had the right formation, Remy tied one of the sleeves around Travis’s wrist and the other just shy of his elbow, making a solid splint. Travis’s arm still oozed blood from the bone hole, but some of the color had returned to his face.
Remy helped him to a sitting position and Travis winced, holding his injured arm to his chest.
“I don’t think I can run with my arm like this.”
“We can’t leave you out here,” I said and immediately disliked the higher pitch of my voice. I knew that sound—it was my verge-of-panic tone.
“Travis needs a sling to stabilize his arm,” Remy said, eyeing me like I had a sling up my sleeve. “Give me your shirt.”
I blinked at him before the words sank in. While I was wearing a vest, just the thought of undressing in front of Travis and Remy left me cold. Travis wasn’t expecting the directive either. His jaw hung open from the order.
“Why my shirt?”
“Because mine doesn’t have sleeves anymore,” Remy snapped. “The sooner you hand it over, the sooner we can start back. It’s going to take us longer, which means you and I have to be sharp.”
I glanced at Travis and turned my back, dropping my bow and quiver on the ground. As much as I didn’t like obeying his command, I understood the rationale. My hands shook as I unbuttoned my vest. I put it between my knees and went to work on the shirt buttons. With a deep breath, I stripped the shirt and reached my arm behind me. A moment later, it was yanked from my hand. The vest wasn’t nearly as warm as the combination with the shirt, and I shivered as I finished buttoning the rough fabric over my torso.
By the time I turned around, Remy had Travis on his feet and my shirt formed into a manageable sling with the sleeves tied at the back of his neck.
“Thanks, Red,” Travis said.
His gaze remained on the ground, and I couldn’t tell if he was just embarrassed by his accident or whether me stripping my shirt pushed him beyond discomfort.
“Think you can do this?” I asked.
“That’s a stupid question,” Remy growled. “He has no choice. Make sure you watch our backs.” He took the lead, leaving me staring after them as they entered the forest.
I threaded an arrow into my bow and followed Remy and Travis into the canopy, gulping down the fear that threatened to close my throat.
In the deep thicket, sounds echoed in my ears. Sweat soaked my forehead despite the chill in the air, occasionally dripping in my eyes. Each time the sting nearly closed my eyes, but I just gritted my teeth and dealt with it until the sting passed because taking either of my hands off my bow and arrow was not an option. My back was slick as well, and my wool vest clung to me like a scratchy sack.
A branch cracked to my right and I spun, letting my arrow fly. It whistled through the air, catching nothing. Both Remy and Travis stared at me.
“What in tarnation?” Remy growled.
Travis didn’t say anything. He was bathed in sweat as much as I was, and circles had formed under his eyes.
“I heard something,” I mumbled and focused on where my arrow had disappeared. I knew how few silver arrows we had amongst the three of us, and my wasted shot embarrassed me more than stripping my shirt had.
Thankfully, neither of them commented further. Instead, they turned back towards town and continued our slow jog. Remy swept his bow in an arc in front of him as he went. I followed, turning so my back faced both of them and mimicked Remy’s sweep of the terrain.
Chapter 4
By the time we entered the town square, the sun touched the horizon and my muscles were stiff from the intense vigilance. However, my discomfort wasn’t even on the same plane as Travis’s. His pasty features were marred by random blotches of red, and the dark circles under his eyes aged him by ten years
or more.
“We need to get you to Doc Wilton,” I said as Travis veered in the direction of home. I grabbed his good arm and led him the opposite way. “I’ll stop at your folks house on my way home.”
“I’ll catch up to you after I get a head count,” Remy said.
With Travis in my care, I navigated him between the row of stores to the smaller homes where the shop owners and other professionals lived. Doc Wilton lived four houses down on the right, and I turned Travis in that direction, adjusting my pace to his.
“Thank you,” Travis whispered when we were far enough for Remy not to overhear.
I glanced at him and shrugged. “What was I going to do, leave your sorry butt out there on that bluff? I don’t think so.”
His smile wasn’t his usual bright grin. Instead, it seemed like forced bravery as he trudged towards the doctor’s house. His pale features set off my internal alarms, but I couldn’t force him to move any faster.
I had him lean against the wall next to the door while I knocked. The kindly gentleman opened the door, and his smile faded when his gaze landed on Travis. His grey eyes sharpened, and his hospitable mannerisms changed to all business, as he pushed open the screen door and waved us inside.
Doc Wilton’s black salt and pepper hair belied his true age. He was young in comparison to Remy and Gram, but despite his youth, he was the best doctor in the region.
I remember seeing him for the first time the morning after I arrived in town. Gram wanted me to be checked out even though she couldn’t find anything but stick scratches on me. Doc Wilton had just gotten out of medical school at some fancy faraway place, and had come back home to practice so his father could hang up his stethoscope.
I had been terrified and unable to stop shaking, and Gram was worried. She marched me across town to this very door. Doc Wilton’s office smelled like rubbing alcohol and lemons and to this day, any time I smell a lemon, I drift back to his kind smile and calm demeanor.