by Asher North
"What are we going to do?" Rhys asked.
"I don't know," Damon said honestly. "But I'm not worried. Something or someone above, whether it's the First Shifter or something else entirely, has taken care of us thus far. I can only trust that that will continue."
"I suppose that makes two of us," Rhys said. Damon rocked the baby in his arms and felt more alive than he ever had in the presence of this new life. The purpose that he’d felt slipping away from him earlier had returned, fueled by a fire within. He longed to build a new Moonvalley with Rhys, one that would provide for their son in a way that the current one never could. He hoped that his son would never live to see war and bloodshed and violence, however unlikely that may have been, and would not stop fighting until that world arrived. His son deserved it.
The baby began to snivel and whine and Damon assumed that meant it needed Rhys, needed the comfort and nurture that only an Omega instinctually knew how to give, so he put the baby back in Rhys’s arms and stood staring at the two of them for a long while to convince himself that they were both real. The moment seemed to have been part of a dream, as if it were too good to be true. Damon would have gladly stood admiring his mate and child forever if time and space had allowed him to, but a rumbling of glass and stone stirred him out of his reverence.
"What’s that sound?" Kaster asked.
"I'm not sure," Damon said, though it was certainly not good. A low and steady rumbling filled the room, like a massive collection of men all running in one direction in unison. Though the sound was far off, it seemed to grow louder with time, until it was as palpable as the beating of Damon’s heart. A horn blast rang through the entirety of the den, OOOOOOoooo-OOOOOO, which shook the walls harder than the noise from outside. Damon clamped his hands over his ears.
"What's going on?” Rhys asked, and no sooner had he finished asking the question than a wolf stormed into the room. It was Magnus, a sight that both calmed and frightened Damon.
"You need to leave," Magnus said, offering no other explanation.
"We can't leave, look at Rhys!" Damon said. "He can't walk, much less run from whatever is going on. And what is going on?"
"It’s The Black Claws. They've found you," Magnus said and Damon felt as if the air had been pulled from the room in an instant.
"How? That's not possible. How could they have followed us?"
"I couldn't say but it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that they are almost here and they are coming for you. You've only got this one chance to leave, so you must take it now. I won't say it again," Magnus said.
"Why are you helping us?" Rhys asked. "Your leader didn't seem to think we were worthy."
"Leaders aren't always correct," Magnus said. Without another word, he began collecting things from around the room, clothing, food, anything that he thought might be of use, and jammed them into a bag that he found somewhere along the way. Damon felt paralyzed.
"Are you coming with us?" Rhys asked.
"No, my place is here with my wolves," Magnus said. Damon opened his mouth to object and was silenced when the entire den shook, and for a brief moment Damon thought that the roof might have come down. Dust rained from the ceiling and the torches on the walls flickered.
"What was that?!" Damon shouted. Somewhere off in the distance, a wolf began to howl. Already there were deaths.
"I have no idea but I know it won't be the last," Magnus said. "Now enough talk. We need to move." Needing no further encouragement, Damon dashed into action, grabbing everything that he could fit in his hands and slinging it into the bag that Magnus had found.
"Where are we going to go?" Kaster asked, his voice trembling. He had seen enough trauma lately, as they all had, but he had never quite recovered from the encounter with the Reavers. As awful as that had been, Damon couldn't help feeling like this was sure to be worse.
"To the sea," Magnus said brusquely.
"The sea? It's frigid, we’ll die for sure out the open water with little to no supplies and a newborn baby," Damon said. "I've seen the water, I've seen where it meets the horizon. There’s nothing for us there."
"There’s nothing for you here either," Magnus said. "When this is done, when the Black Claws have felled the last of the major packs, everything remaining will be fire and ash. The sea is the only thing that will keep you separate from them, at least for a time."
"And where will we sail to?"
"The Forsaken Isles," Magnus said and Damon wasn’t sure that he’d heard correctly.
"The Forsaken Isles? Have you lost your mind? You would truly send us to meet our death at the fangs of the Packless?" The idea was beyond absurd, more absurd than the idea of staying and fighting was.
"You have nowhere else to go. The Black Claws have proven that they will follow you to any lengths and that they will destroy anything that gets in their way," Magnus said.
"We can't leave without the others," Rhys said. "Kaster, go to your father, find Knox, and bring them both to me. I won't set sail without them."
"You will if you must," Kaster said. His face hardened with determination and Damon didn't doubt that he would find Eleo and Knox; whether or not he would find them in time was another matter. Rhys held Kaster's gaze for a moment and when Rhys's brow furrowed, Kaster nodded and dashed off into the den in search of their friends.
"I won't leave without them. I won't," Rhys said to Damon as Damon went to him and took one of his hands in his own. He gave it a squeeze, the kind of squeeze that said everything his words couldn't, silently acknowledging that he might never see their friends again. Damon couldn't worry about that now, not with the pressing threat of the Black Claws and the safety of his son to worry about.
Something caught fire within him, something that possessed him to be the Alpha he had always wanted to be but had never risen to. It might have been adrenaline, he couldn't be sure, but regardless it gave him the strength he needed to scoop Rhys into his arms and carry him out of the Healers’ ward. Magnus was right behind him carrying the bag full of goods that they stockpiled.
"Follow me," Magnus said, transferring the strap of the bag to his teeth and shifting into his wolf form. He bounded away and, carried only by his human legs that could only move so fast, Damon did his best to keep up but quickly found that the effort bordered on futile.
"Wait!” Damon called after Magnus but the den shook once more, nearly forcing Damon to his knees. The baby screamed, its tiny, shrill voice carrying over every other sound, and with a growl of rage, Damon pushed himself even further. His muscles ached from the effort but he forced the pain to the very back of his mind. Magnus appeared just ahead. He had stopped and stood staring at a massive pile of stones, ice, and snow. The entrance to the den had collapsed and it appeared as if there were no other way out.
"How do we get out?" Damon shouted, nearly choking on the dust and debris that hung like a curtain in the air.
"There's another way, but it’s difficult," Magnus said.
"Take us there," Damon said and with a small nod Magnus charged past him, back in the direction from which they had come. With a sigh, Damon turned and ran after him, Rhys grunting in pain with each of his pounding steps. Damon had no idea what was going on outside of the den, but it was clear that the Black Claws had intentionally trapped them. He and Rhys had escaped them once before and it seemed that the Black Claws had no intention of letting that happen again.
Are they going to try to suffocate us? Damon thought with horror. Or will they try to starve us? He wouldn't have put either option past his pack mates, or rather the wolves who once had been his pack mates. They were no longer his family, perhaps they never had been. When they stopped again, he realized that they had entered the throne room, where he had previously spoken with Oron and begged for shelter.
"Are you certain this is the right place?" Damon called to Magnus, who was sniffing around the throne itself.
"I'm certain. There is a series of tunnels that serve as an escape route f
or the leader, tunnels that were built long before any of us walked Moonvalley for this very reason. We've never had to use them before," Magnus said.
"How do we get to them?" Damon asked. He had no idea if these tunnels truly existed but it seemed as if they were their only hope.
"That's what I'm trying to determine. It seems as if Oron has not left, which makes me believe that he means to fight. He is old and stubborn, and a fool to think that he can make any difference," Magnus said. Though it was true that Oron was old and stubborn, Damon did not think he was anything close to a fool. In fact, he pitied the wolves that met Oron's wrath on the battlefield, if and when it came to that.
Once more, the den shook with the impact of something from outside, something large and dense. A splitting creak echoed throughout the throne room and as dust once more poured down on them, Damon ran forward, barely managing to dodge a colossal piece of ice that fell from the ceiling. It crashed into the floor, which buckled and gave way beneath the force, revealing the very tunnels that Magnus had been referring to.
Without pausing to consider their safety, Magnus ran forward and leapt down a series of cracks in the stone. Seeing that they could hold Magnus’s weight, Damon decided that it was safe for him to pass as well.
"Hold on tight," Damon said to Rhys. Rhys nodded.
"Be careful," Rhys said. Damon descended as cautiously as he could and felt grateful when the darkness of the tunnel enveloped them. The baby, however, did not seem to be happy about the darkness and the tight quarters. What started as a wine grew into a full-bodied cry and Damon's heart hammered in his chest as he ran forward.
"Please, Rhys, quiet him down," Damon hissed. Rhys attempted to shush the baby and when that didn't work he instead offered the baby a nipple. Though Damon could not see the interaction, he could hear the suckling, faintly audible in the dank darkness of the tunnel. A gust of wind howled through the tunnel in a vacuum, leading them forward and convincing Damon that they were heading in the right direction. After several minutes of wandering about blind in the tunnel, a pinprick of light appeared at the very end, no bigger than his infant son’s eye.
"We're almost there, I can smell the sea," Magnus whispered. Damon smelled it as well, a faint but nonetheless present scent of brine.
"Go, we don't have time to waste," Damon insisted and Magnus ran toward the light.
"What about the others?" Rhys asked, his voice panicked. "We can't leave them to their fate here, Damon. We need them as much as they need us."
"If we all die here waiting, then what will have been the point? I cherish them as much as you do but we don't have time. There's no other choice," Damon said. It pained him to be so direct and heartless but the time for compassion had long since passed.
Rhys fell silent, and Damon kept his eyes locked on the source of light that seemed to grow with each of his steps, until at last they burst out onto the sand, the light so intense that it nearly blinded him. His eyes watered and he stumbled as he tried to regain his vision. They had emerged from an outcropping of rock, carefully carved and folded back upon itself to hide the entrance. A passerby would never have noticed that it was there. Perhaps their isolation will be what saves them from the Black Claws after all, Damon thought.
His vision returned to focus just in time to see a massive stone collide with the side of the mountain that the White Tail den had been built into. Dozens of smaller stones cascaded down the mountainside toward them and Damon ran as fast as his legs would carry him to avoid the treacherous rain.
"This way!" Magnus said, tearing down the length of the beach toward something far off in the distance the Damon could not yet make out. Without a moment’s hesitation, Damon followed. Stones fell all around him, and he bobbed and weaved as much as he could to avoid them, thinking only of what might happen if one connected. It terrified him, the idea of losing Rhys or his son, who was still so new to this world. He had to get them both to safety.
The beach was cold, far colder than he remembered it being when he'd been here before, but he paid it as little mind as possible. Though he had no idea what they were running toward, he knew that whatever it was would be their only way out of this.
"Hold on. Just hold on!" Damon said, more to himself than to Rhys or the baby. Rhys had been remarkably strong throughout all of this, and he held the gratitude he felt for that close to his heart as he continued to run.
"We're almost there!" Magnus called over his shoulder. Using the little strength that still flowed through his veins, Damon gave himself one last push forward. As he ran, in the corner of his eye he saw movement along the cliffs far up above. Instinctively, his eyes snapped to it, and his heart nearly stopped when he realized that three wolves were running along beside them, keeping pace with he and Magnus.
"Magnus!" he called. "We're not alone!" But Magnus didn’t stop. It was clear that who or whatever was following them was not of his concern, so Damon tried to make it as little of his as possible. Still, the fact that they were being chased did not sit well in his chest. As they continued to run, what they were running toward came into view. It was a boat, a tiny one, but a boat nonetheless. Judging from the size of it, Damon wasn’t confident he and the others would fit in but given the circumstances they would have to make it work. There wasn't any other option.
"Damon! Damon, look! It's Kaster and the others," Rhys said over the howling wind as he pointed to the ridge. They reached the boat, which bobbed along in the surf, and when Damon looked up he found that it was in fact true. Somehow, despite all the odds, Kaster had found Eleo and Knox both, and led them to this escape.
"How?" Damon asked as he carefully lowered Rhys and the baby into the boat. They were safe now, as safe as they could be. Damon didn’t understand how or why the boat had been placed here but there wasn’t any time to consider it. All that mattered was that the boat was there and that it would take them all out to sea—though to what, Damon wasn’t sure.
"Kaster reads more than anyone I know, and arcane things. And with Knox at his side, he was almost guaranteed to find any secrets that this den held," Rhys said, as he adjusted himself within the boat and clutched the baby close to his chest.
Still, Damon knew that the other wolves weren't safe just yet. The assault on the White Tail den continued, and the blasts of stone that struck its exterior seemed only to have increased. It was obvious to Damon now that the Black Claws didn't mean to starve or suffocate the wolves, they meant to bury them. There would be nothing left of the White Tail den when it was over. He climbed into the boat alongside Rhys and took the bag from Magnus, the bag that would be the only thing to see them through the long journey ahead.
Kaster and the others ran past where they sat in the boat and Damon followed their trajectory to its logical end, where the cliff that they ran along merged with the beach. It would be minutes, possibly more, before they reached the boat and the Black Claw wolves giving them chase weren’t far behind. Damon wasn't sure that they had that much time to spare. Magnus must've agreed because he had shifted into his human form and was now pulling the rope that held the anchor for the tiny boat from the water up toward the shore.
"Wait for them, Magnus,” Rhys commanded. Magnus fixed him with his intense stare but said nothing. Damon knew that that meant that he would wait as long as he could but there were no guarantees. The only lives that truly mattered were already in the boat.
"Damon, make him wait," Rhys pleaded and when Damon turned to him he saw pure panic in Rhys's eyes, the first time he'd ever seen it. He didn't blame Rhys for being scared, he was scared himself, but now was not the time for fear. If Rhys can't be strong now, I’ll have to be strong for him. This is my chance to redeem myself, Damon thought, steeling his nerves.
"I can't," Damon said. "If they don't make it, we must go. They are smart and capable, they will see this through no matter what."
"How can you say that? These are our friends, they've been with us through all of this, I won't leave them behind."
"We may not have a choice," Damon said, a fact that he had already accepted. He turned back to find Kaster and the other wolves position and let out a gasp when he noticed that the Black Claws had closed the distance between them. It was hard to see exactly how close they were since they were so far away and each of them was as black as the night sky, but they were close enough to worry Damon. To make matters worse, Knox was running with a limp.
"They're hurt," Rhys said, his voice hollow. Damon's heart seemed to shrink in his chest. It looked increasingly unlikely that the wolves would make it. Magnus had finished reeling in the anchor, which he tossed into the back of the boat, startling them both and making the baby begin to cry yet again. For a moment, Damon had almost forgotten about his child, but the crying reminded him of what mattered most. He had to get the baby to safety. He had to make sure that Rhys wasn't hurt, any more than he already had been. If he lost either one of them, he would be lost as well. He could not and would not let that happen.
"You must go," Magnus said and before he'd even finished his words Rhys began to climb toward the front of the boat, reaching for his friends.
"No, Magnus, you can't," he said but Damon wrapped his arms around Rhys and held him tight. He wouldn't have been able to leave the boat in any case but Damon wasn't willing to take the risk. Rhys was wild with desperation and Damon didn’t know what he might do.
"There's nothing you can do, Rhys," Damon said as he squeezed Rhys tight, and felt the warmth of their child between them.