Wolf Hollow (Wolf Hollow Shifters, Book 1)

by Nikki Jefford

  Jager nodded, turning back the way they’d come. Sasha continued the remainder of her walk in somber reflection. Silence greeted her when she reached Tabor’s cabin. Pushing past the wave of unease, she nudged the door open and stepped inside the small, square space. There was a sleeping pallet and blanket folded neatly against one wall, a wood table, two cupboards, and a bookshelf, but no Tabor. A pit formed in her stomach, widening with each passing second they were apart. Something wasn’t right.

  She tried to chase her growing panic away by coming up with alternatives. He probably went to the den to tell the others that everything was okay. He’d want Heidi to know she and her kids were safe.

  Sasha frowned.

  But the den mates hadn’t mentioned seeing Tabor—they’d asked where he was.

  Chewing on her lip, she looked around the cabin. She’d never been inside until now and it pierced at her like dozens of sharp thorns tangled around her heart to be able to smell Tabor but not see him. She circled slowly around the table. The surface was empty except for a single piece of parchment with writing and a rock on top to weigh it down.

  Sasha took one last look around before stepping toward the door, intending to check the den. Perhaps Tabor’s wolf took a direct approach through the woods, missing the shifters from the den as they ran down the main trail. She was about to leave when a nagging sense of doubt brought her to a dead stop. Slowly, she turned, walked back to the table, and lifted the rock, squeezing it in her hand before setting it aside and snatching up the piece of paper. She stared down at the lines written across and down the paper, her forehead creasing.

  Everyone knew Sasha couldn’t read, and shifters didn’t write notes to each other. Still, she folded it in half and carried it with her just in case.

  As with the glade, shifters crowded around Sasha the moment she stepped foot in the den. Tiny faces appeared in the openings of huts and from treehouses above. Heidi stepped out of her hut and hurried over.

  “What happened? Is anyone hurt?”

  Sasha assured the den mothers that the danger had passed and it was okay for the children to come out, keeping a brave face as her heart sank seeing that Tabor wasn’t in the den.

  All around them female shifters and their children emerged from their dwellings to join the crowd in the clearing. The families who lived in treehouses took longer to climb down rope ladders. Impatient to join the fray, some of the children leaped down once they were five feet from the ground and rolled to a stand before running to join the gathering.

  Even Kallie limped out of a small hut. Melissa rushed over and slid under Kallie’s arm to help her hop over to join everyone. It was good to see Kallie on her feet for the first time since the injury.

  The faces that surrounded them reflected a mixture of relief and curiosity. The only animosity to be seen appeared in the eyes of Francine, who stormed over, newborn swaddled in a sling that hung around her neck. At least she held her tongue long enough for Sasha to tell den members what had happened up to the point of the vulhena being burned on pyres in the valley.

  Kallie ground her teeth. “May their black ashes blow far from Wolf Hollow.”

  Melissa rubbed Kallie’s upper arm in a soothing gesture.

  Some of the male den mates who had run to the glade re-emerged and joined their mates’ sides as though standing guard against invisible threats.

  “Unfortunately, that’s not the end of it.” Sasha sighed, feeling exhausted. She made eye contact with as many den members as she could. “Once Garrick returns he wants to call a council meeting to decide Tabor’s fate for stopping the vulhena by using his natural-born powers. I say we open the meeting to everyone. It’s time the entire pack had a say.”

  Kallie nodded vigorously.

  Garrick’s temporary absence gave Sasha a head start speaking to pack members. Despite her fatigue, it was an opportunity she wasn’t going to let slip away.

  Heidi planted her hands on her hips. “What does it matter how he stopped them? It would have been far worse if he had a way to save us but didn’t.”

  All the female shifters, save for Francine, nodded their agreement.

  “Our children are safe. That’s all that matters,” Dana said.

  The men stirred in place, staying remarkably mute on the matter. Sasha supposed they didn’t want to oppose the elders, but they certainly didn’t wish to oppose their mates.

  The screams of Francine’s baby pierced the air. Sasha winced and her eardrums rang.

  Somehow Francine managed to screech louder than her infant. “This is mutiny,” she hollered, eyes blazing with rage. “How dare you go behind the council’s back?”

  Flynn’s mate, Chloe, snorted. “That’s rich coming from you when your mate went sneaking around behind your back.”

  “That matter already got discussed and approved by the council,” Francine snapped. “I stand by my mate and what he did for the good of the hollow.”

  “And I stand by mine,” Sasha said, voice rising above Francine’s.

  “He’s not your mate!” Francine yelled. “You were promised to Wolfrik and now that he’s back you have a duty to him and the pack.”

  Every muscle in Sasha’s body ached. Every nerve pulsed with anger. Her temples throbbed.

  Silence settled over the den. Even Francine’s babe had stopped crying, as though her mother had done enough hollering for the two of them combined.

  Sasha’s fingers curled, one set of fingers crinkling the forgotten parchment in her hand, the other biting into her palms, straining to turn into claws.

  Before she could lash out, Heidi broke the silence. “How dare you say such a thing? Tabor and Sasha agreed to claim each other. That’s their decision, not yours or anyone else’s. And need I remind you that the den is a democracy? With the exception of Trish, you’re our newest member, Francine. One might even say our lowest-ranking den member.”

  Francine’s face screwed up into a nasty scowl, but before she could retort, Heidi thrust a hand out to silence her. “Sasha’s right. It’s time we had a say in pack matters. At the very least, we should nominate members of the den to represent the interests of our families.”

  “I second that,” Melissa said, nodding along with the rest of the den mates.

  Francine alone turned a blistering shade of red.

  “Palmer cares about the den,” she said incredulously.

  “Palmer cares more about his own interests,” Chloe said.

  Although Chloe spoke the words, Francine glowered at Sasha. “Is this what you want?” she demanded. “To turn the pack against our three remaining elders?”

  Sasha’s back straightened. “What I want is tolerance.”

  “What would your parents think if they could see you now? Mating with a half-breed and turning on your elders and fellow council members. I’m sure they’d be real proud,” Francine said, nostrils flaring.

  Before Sasha could snap back, Francine turned on her heel stating, “Trish needs me. She’s been unwell, and the earlier scare certainly didn’t help.”

  As Sasha gnashed her teeth in frustration, Heidi placed delicate fingers on her shoulder, softly saying, “Peter and I stand by you.” And though Heidi’s mate had yet to return from the glade, Sasha believed her.

  Sasha took in a breath and released it. “Thank you.”

  “As do Flynn and I,” Chloe chimed in.

  “And me,” Kallie spoke up, her voice pushing through the crowd when her body could not.

  “Me, as well,” Melissa said.

  One by one, the pack members of the den voiced their support.

  Heidi placed her hand on Sasha’s shoulder and steered her toward her hut. “Why don’t you sit down a moment and have some tea?”

  Sasha was grateful to get away from the crowd. The elders were good at making speeches, never her, but just now she felt like
she’d done her best convincing fellow pack mates to extend their interests outside the den to the hollow as a whole.

  “What a load of dog shit,” Heidi grumbled once they were out of earshot of the others. “Garrick’s not right in the head. He would have never made council if the other elders were still around. I sure hope Raider doesn’t turn out like him.”

  “I’m not worried about Raider,” Sasha said, ducking down to enter Heidi’s hut behind her.

  The quiet and coolness of the space was a welcome respite until little Amy launched herself at Heidi, who caught and steadied her as she fired off questions.

  Heidi patted her head and answered her questions patiently.

  “Where’s Tabor?” Amy demanded, staring outside.

  Heidi glanced at Sasha and the weight of the paper felt like a boulder crushing her fingers. There must have been a pained expression on Sasha’s face because Heidi’s lips parted in silent dismay. She gave a stern look that was enough to shush Amy on the spot.

  “Go pick some fresh chamomile by the garden,” Heidi said gently.

  “Come on, Eric,” Amy said as she walked to the door.

  Sasha hadn’t noticed him crouched against the far wall of the hut. He got to his feet gingerly, trailing after his big sister, but not before pausing in the open doorway.

  “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s safe,” Heidi said.

  “Take my hand,” Amy said, already grasping her brother’s fingers.

  Tears prickled behind Sasha’s eyes as a sense of foreboding came over her.

  “What is it?” Heidi asked.

  “Can you read?” Sasha asked.

  Heidi’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yes.”

  “I found this in Tabor’s cabin.” Her grip tightened on the paper, not sure if she was ready to know what it said.

  Heidi glanced down, waiting patiently for Sasha to hand it over.

  Forehead creased, Heidi unfolded the paper and stared down, strands of raven hair falling over her cheeks.

  Sasha held her breath.

  Heidi shook her head. “This can’t be right.”

  “What does it say?” Sasha’s words were barely audible. She’d had difficulty getting them out with her throat tightening.

  Heidi kept staring at the paper then began reading aloud in slow disbelief. “Sasha, as much as I care for you, I don’t fit in here. I never have and never will. I have gone in search of my father. Do not try to find me. It will only make things harder on both of us. The pack needs you, as does Wolfrik. And I need to be with my own kind, wizards who will understand my powers better than anyone in Wolf Hollow ever will. Goodbye. Tabor.”

  Sasha’s hand flew to her chest as her heart fractured into millions of pieces, splintering and shredding everything inside her into tiny fragments. It was Wolfrik all over again, but infinitely worse. This time her heart would not recover. She’d never love again.

  If Heidi hadn’t been standing in front of her, Sasha might have crumpled to the ground and broken into sobs, but she wasn’t about to break apart in front of another shifter. She switched focus to the raging fire burning up the pit of her stomach.

  How dare Tabor leave her in such a cowardly fashion—with a note she couldn’t even read? Was it not enough to abandon her after the pain she’d experienced with Wolfrik? He had to take it one step further and humiliate her with a letter she was forced to have someone else read.

  With a snarl, Sasha tore the note from Heidi’s fingers and ripped it to flecks that fell to the ground like pieces of broken, brittle leaves.

  Heidi’s eyes expanded and her mouth fell open. “He wouldn’t leave you,” she said in disbelief.

  But he already had.

  Choking on a sob, Sasha rushed for the door.

  “He should have let the vulhena kill me.”

  chapter twenty-two

  Tabor’s stomach growled as they traversed the outskirts of the suburbs, but Garrick and Zackery ignored him. The brutes had taken turns gorging themselves on a weakened deer who hadn’t made it to safety with the rest of her herd when they came across the animals nibbling on clovers at the bottom of the hills at dawn.

  The clear sky and nearly full moon had allowed them to trek over the hills and into the wasteland through the night. Tabor’s muscles ached in places he’d never felt before and without the shade of trees, the blinding sun felt like it would melt off his face.

  At least he wasn’t the only one experiencing the discomforts of being exposed to the elements. Sweat poured down Zackery’s forehead. Every couple of seconds the mongrel had to swipe his meaty fists over his eyes and blink with the rapid speed of a hummingbird’s wings in flight.

  The blood and saliva had dried up inside Tabor’s mouth, leaving behind a mouth full of fuzzy cotton. He constantly had to fight the urge to gag. If he started, he might suffocate himself before he had a chance to get away. Tabor was damn near ready to trade in his own tongue for a single drop of water.

  Garrick set a brutal pace, charging across the dusty land with a crazed determination that bordered on madness. It wasn’t as though stopping would provide relief, nor could Tabor complain . . . out loud. He kept expecting his body to reach the point of collapse, but somehow he continued trudging forward, hunched over in a feeble attempt to hide from the sun.

  The sky rippled above decaying rooftops as heat rebounded off gray shingles. Old human dwellings had always filled Tabor with foreboding, but right then the shade beneath those disintegrating roofs was the most inviting sight he’d seen in hours.

  Garrick kept clear of the homes, leading them along the outskirts with its desert-like terrain of dry, cracked earth and stringy weeds that formed haggard patches and petite wildflowers. A gentle breeze blew over them and Tabor’s body sighed with relief until the air went still. He could practically hear the drip and patter of Zackery’s sweat as it splattered over the sunbaked dirt. There was no more conversation between Garrick and Zackery—only stillness as vast as the open wasteland. Tabor wouldn’t have had the energy or saliva to spare for speaking even if he were able to.

  That day lasted longer than any Tabor had ever known. He was beginning to think the sun had gotten stuck at its pinnacle or turned territorial like a bitch who had kicked the moon out of the sky for good.

  As the day inched on, Tabor began hallucinating. First, he saw a wolf running in the distance. His heart had lurched with hope that Sasha had come after him, but his wish withered to dust when he realized she was advancing from the wrong direction. After that he began seeing shimmering lakes in the distance with blue waters that glistened and beckoned his feet forward with false assurance. He even saw his mother, waving to him from the east. Rather than run from him as the wolf had done, or evade him like the lakes, his mother ventured closer—close enough to stick her tongue out at Garrick. For the first time, Tabor wondered if he was going to die.

  Trees sprang into view in the near distance—another mirage angling for his mind. The island—made of foliage—became taller and denser with each step and managed to remain in place. Soon he could make out a large pond encased in the greenery unlike the lakes in the sand. Maybe Tabor’s body was giving up and slowly easing his consciousness into the great beyond, a lush landscape of water and shade. Would the wolf be waiting for him there? Would his mother? Perhaps they were one and the same.

  Zack panted beside him and gaped at the distant pond longingly.

  No. No. No. Zack and Garrick weren’t allowed in Tabor’s utopian afterlife.

  “We’re almost at the first campsite,” Garrick announced with pride, as though he’d discovered a new continent rather than stumbled upon a parcel of land that had likely been an urban park at one time.

  Garrick kept the same brisk pace Tabor and Zack now matched. Tabor was ready to pitch himself into the pond headfirst and suck in whatever water he could through the gag. He wanted to sub
merge his entire body.

  Step by step they neared until the first stretch of shade slid down their bodies and grass cushioned the soles of their blistered feet. Tabor could have hugged the trees if his arms were free and he weren’t so intent on the pond. Ten paces from the water’s edge, Garrick stopped and stared at the trunk of a tree.

  Zack made to move past him to the shoreline.

  “Wait,” Garrick said.

  Halting his plodding footsteps, Zack folded his arms and dropped them heavily across his chest. Tabor kept walking toward the pond.

  The two oafs could stare at tree trunks until they were blue in the face; he had his own priorities.

  But with only eight paces left to go, Zack snatched Tabor’s upper left arm and yanked him back.

  “What is it?” Zack demanded. He squeezed Tabor’s shoulder while glaring at Garrick.

  The elder continued inspecting the tree trunk and vines with clusters of three leaves, pointed at the tips, clinging to bark.

  Tabor’s mother re-emerged—this time inside his head, her singsong voice trilling, “Leaves of three. Let them be.”

  Garrick glanced over his shoulder at Zack and Tabor once before reaching out and yanking several leaves off the vine.

  “Dummy,” Tabor thought right before Garrick lunged at him and jabbed his fingers under the gag, stuffing the leaves inside Tabor’s mouth before he had a chance to react.

  “What are you doing?” Zack bellowed, his eyes rounding.

  “Hold him,” Garrick yelled, but Zack let go and stepped back with a wide-eyed expression of horror.

  Having his arm released didn’t matter; the bitter leaves were inside his mouth, plastered to his tongue. Tabor gagged and stumbled backward. His bound wrists flew up, fingers clawing at the gag which he pulled loose enough to yank down to his chin and spit out the noxious plant. They fell in a wet clump at his feet, covered in saliva and old blood. He attempted to spit out every last trace of the toxic leaves, but his mouth was drying back up and Garrick grabbed Tabor roughly by the chin in one hand, while jerking the gag back in place with the other.