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Thankfully, the third day of mourning was uneventful for me. All of my time was spent in the garden, the kitchen, or the root cellar. I was constantly washing, cutting, and sorting fruits and vegetables for the grand banquet meals. After the way I had come home—with bloody palms and a ruined dress, Mom no longer made me attend any of the events. Instead, when she got home from the third night’s festivities, she caught me up on everything that was going on. Mom told me about the dance held in the dining hall. All the pack families brought offerings of support and comfort to the Redwolf family, and afterward, the men got together to participate in a fight ring.
Some part of me was curious about how these sorts of proceedings went because I was so rarely allowed to be part of them, but a much greater part of me was relieved that I could stay out of the line of sight of Troy and the Terrible T’s. On the third night, I’d gotten little sleep because the wolves were so loud as they fought each other for dominance. It was the last place I wanted to be; all those horny, angry shifter men amped up with testosterone made it far too dangerous for female wolves to attend, never mind a weak human.
If one of those men wanted to attack me, there would be nothing I could do to defend myself. So, instead of sleeping, I buried myself in the books I had first read when I was younger. These novels always featured beautiful damsels in distress and handsome princes who whisked them away to their kingdom. The princes always married the women to make them queens and showered them with jewels and gifts, and in the end, they always lived happily ever after.
Real life was nothing like these fairy tales, but I couldn’t help but get lost in the stories. I again found myself thinking of the green-eyed stranger. I hadn’t dreamt of him in a while, and I missed him. It was pathetic of me to miss a figment of my imagination, but at least those dreams had been comforting when the harsh realities of my life were too much.
The best thing for me to do now was focus on the tasks that had been assigned to me and on creating a plan to escape. If I didn’t get far away from Kings’ territory quickly, my life would soon become much worse. There was no future for the only human in a wolf pack that didn’t want me.
On the fourth day of mourning, I had a full schedule planned. The next day would hold the ceremony in which anyone who wished to challenge Troy could fight to the death for the right to the Alpha spot. There was even more food cutting and prepping for me to do—fortunately, Mom had treated my raw palms with bandages that kept my pain to a minimum.
I wasn’t familiar with the forest surrounding the Kings’ compound beyond the few miles I had explored with Mom when I was young. I knew it was easy for humans to catch hypothermia if we didn’t bundle up carefully—and that could happen even when the weather was warmer. Sneakily, so as not to call attention to myself, I gathered more jackets and long-sleeved shirts to wear while I traversed the forest.
I would need some way to navigate, but wolves didn’t need maps to travel. They could direct themselves with their senses alone. The closest I had to a map was a depiction of the area that I had received when I was a kid in school. The drawing was of an oblong shape with marks indicating the location of the river and other pack territories. It didn’t mention where human cities started. I understood generally that the humans lived north of the Kings, but I had no other details beyond that.
The schoolhouse taught all the children of the pack how to survive in the forest (how to build a fire, how to construct a shelter out of rocks, tree branches, and mud, and how to hunt) just in case a wolf was injured and unable to shift. I knew exactly how to take care of myself in the woods; the real trick would be figuring out how to survive while navigating the forest with wolf packs on all sides.
Wolves were generally mistrustful of humans in their area. They would likely try to chase me out if I didn’t stick to the trees or try and mask my scent. But I had heard talk around the Kings’ compound that human hikers occasionally ventured out into wolf territory with no issues, so I might be okay as long as I was careful and identified myself as visiting from “Las Vegas” or “Los Angeles” or another human city that I had heard about.
I had no idea what I would do once I reached the human cities.
I tied my hair back and put on an oversized hoodie and cotton pants. Outside, Mom was getting started on the harvest. When I noticed that her basket was already full of corn, I fetched another basket for me. When I returned, Mom gave me a grateful smile. I began at a new line of stalks and ripped the ears free in deft, quick twists.
“Hey, Mom, could you tell me more about how the challenge works?”
“Oh, tomorrow?” She took a drink from her water bottle and gathered her thoughts. “The challenge is open to any wolf willing to die for the chance to be Alpha of the pack. If Troy wins, or if no one challenges him, he’s the new Alpha by default because it’s his birthright.”
I nodded. That part I understood well enough.
“Of course, there will be a huge feast either way to welcome the new Alpha,” Mom explained, “but the talk around the pack is that no one will challenge Troy.”
I frowned. The thought of Troy taking up the mantle without a struggle made my stomach feel tight. “Do you think anyone will come forward to challenge him?”
She stopped picking corn and turned to me. “No, honey, I don’t believe so.”
“But what about outside packs? There’s the Camas that border Colville forest, or the Wargs…” I trailed off, noticing Mom’s stiff expression.
“The Camas are far too quiet and peaceful to want to move up the ranks, Bryn. And as for the Wargs, you already know that they are vicious, no better than feral wolves. It would be best for them if they stayed on their own territory because a challenge from them could mean all-out war.”
I suppressed a shiver. Mom’s words, combined with such a somber warning…it sounded like an omen. Ferals were wolves without a real pack, sticking together in small groups. Creatures of opportunity, they were wild and territorial over the few scant miles of land they could claim between the pack territories. It was a harsh criticism for Mom to levy against the Wargs.
I tried to remember what I knew of the wild Wargs pack and its Alpha, Night Shepherd. He was known as the crazed Alpha, a man who had some sick vendetta against the Kings’ pack because the Kings were on top. Every few months, Night’s hunters staged attacks against Kings’ wolves when they left the compound. It sounded terrifying, but the Wargs couldn’t be all that powerful because the Kings always won in those skirmishes.
I had heard so much about the Wargs and their history because the rivalry between the packs was so well known. The Wargs and the Kings had been in a struggle for dominance ever since the packs formed hundreds of years ago.
In the schoolhouse, the history of the Kings, the Wargs, and the Camas packs was well documented. There was information recorded about every Alpha and their years of rule. I had even seen a picture of Night Shepherd—the faded, black-and-white photo had to be out of date now, but it showed a boy a little younger than I was. Night had challenged the previous Alpha of the Wargs when he was just a teenager and had made the pack his own.
In the photo, his dark black hair gleamed in the light and fell gently over his forehead. The soft, boyish hairstyle was contrasted by the sharp glare he directed at someone unseen, his face a hard, humorless mask. Broad-shouldered and lanky, with sunken cheeks and a sharp-toothed grimace, he looked like he’d had to fight for every scrap of food he’d ever eaten.
The shirt he wore in the picture looked a lot like the hand-me-downs I wore to garden or work. It was dotted with small, moth-bitten holes. The traces of a tattoo peeked out from under the worn collar. I knew that he was my enemy, but I couldn’t stop myself from relating to the poor boy in the image. I didn’t know what it was like for a teenager to fight for his spot as Alpha, but I did know what it meant to struggle. Even in the richest pack in the Kaniksu National Forest, Mom and I were not treated equally. The Redwolfs could afford so many luxuries, but out of spite, they left us with scraps and leftovers.
I wondered what Night looked like now. Would he have grown into a lanky adult full of sharp angles, his ribs jutting out in emaciated directions? No, that image didn’t quite suit the savage, feral man who had instilled such fear in the younger me. Would he be built like a boulder? With muscles so large, he could hardly flex? I smiled to myself. No, that was just silly. I sifted through a slew of potential images in my mind, but nothing felt right. I supposed I’d never know.
“Honey,” Mom’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned and found her standing with her fingers knotted in front of her, in an uncharacteristically awkward stance. “I know you’re frightened. With the way Troy has treated you, you have every right to be concerned about what your future is going to look like. But, I…I want you to know that with a bit more time, I think you’ll be able to find a place for yourself here. When I found you alone beneath that tree, I just knew that fate had big plans for you. I wish I could help you see that for yourself too. If we keep trying, you’ll find belonging.”
“Do you really think that, Mom?”
“I know it, honey. I believe it in every cell of my body.”
