* * *
Col and Aylwyn shifted back into human form, after having completed three hours of patrolling the woods in wolf form.
They had all been taking turns patrolling in teams of two, in case Col’s two abductors returned, or if there were any other clues that turned up that would help identify them or their purpose.
So far they had turned up with naught.
Once, Col had enjoyed these runs. Craved them even, for the peace that he felt when he let his wolf out to roam. These days, he felt strange and itchy and restless, no matter what form he was. For some reason, vague visions of the woman who’d spotted through the window kept flashing through his mind.
Even in human form, they had exceptional hearing, which right now he wished weren’t so, as his ears perked to the sound of his name being bandied about. He walked through the doorway into the living room, Aylwyn beside him. Each step bringing him closer, enabling him to pick out voices. The other threeBredhrenwere talking about him in the kitchen. Nay, not talking. Complaining.
Specifically Merek and Barric. Barric he expected, as Barric had nary a good thing to say about anyone, least of all the Second of theWar-Pack. Merek was deserving of a bit more notice. While he was also somewhat dour of disposition, his circumstances were in no small measure worse than the others, in that his twin was missing. Their numbers asWaryeorswere already low, and to have potentially lost aBrodherwho was related by blood as well as in bloodshed, was a heavier burden than any one person ought to bear.
They were both complaining about him to theVixar.
“Oh, duuude.” Aylwyn elbowed him. “They’re throwing you under the bus.”
Col wrinkled his brow at this perplexing idiom, and Aylwyn waved it off. “I will explain it later.”
“Or you could simply speak clearly,” Col said, and quickly strode towards the kitchen, leaving a surprised Aylwyn far behind. On the way he heard Barric’s deep voice booming about how Col had been getting increasingly irritable and irrational. Merek chimed in the worderratic, which was several times worse when it came toWaryeors.
His lips pressed together firmly in resolve. He would not lose his self-discipline. He would not over-react. He would listen to Miller’s advice, specifically about allowing theVixarto decide.
He would end his own existence, if theVixardetermined that he was a danger to theBredhren.
But as soon as he entered the kitchen, the three looked up at him, as if the conversation he had overheard had not in truth taken place. To his surprise, Simon was seated with them, although he had not heard Simon’s voice or opinion on the matter of Col’s competence.
Of course, the human had other things on his mind. While Merek had potentially lost his twin, Simon had not only lost his parents at the age of five, but also the entire community that had held a millennium’s worth of lore surrounding the sleepingWaryeors.
Simon’s survival at such a young age meant that he carried the burden of inheriting a sacred role - but without the vital knowledge needed to tell him how to fulfill that role.
None of their paths were easy, and some would say Simon’s was less so because he lacked theWaryeortraining and abilities that Col was fated to possess, even as those senses were once again starting to behave haphazardly.
As Col walked across the room, a wave of restlessness swept over him, confusing him. There were none but hisBredhrenand Simon with him. He felt a prickling irritation under his skin, and a strange surge of emotion that he couldn’t name.
He cleared his throat, struggling to keep his voice steady, even though, for reasons he didn’t understand, he wanted to growl and snap. He did not question them about what he’d overheard; if they had concerns, then it was hisVixar’s place to address them. “What progress have you, Simon, with the new information from Doctor Destroyer?”
Simon gave a wan smile. “Nothing as of yet on that front.”
“He made mention of the weekly tourneys and his wish that you resume.”
Simon brushed back the lock that had fallen on his forehead, only to have it flop back down.
“Miller said something about that. Maybe it’s time I start doing that again on the regular. There’s something else that we need to talk about, though. I’ve actually been trying to figure out how to bring this up—” he cleared his throat. “Is Aylwyn around here somewhere?”
“Yo.” The blondWaryeorwith the facility for the strange speech of this era strolled into the kitchen, helping himself to a chilled beverage from the winter box they called a refrigerator.
Simon cleared his throat, looking oddly nervous. “So while you and Miller were over at Chuck’s, we met someone. She’s perfect for this.”
Now they were all staring at him, baffled.
“Perfect for what?” Merek prodded. Col clenched his teeth. He sensed that Simon was about to tell them something really important – something that would change everything.
“She’s going to help you learn how to fit in better. How to blend in and act normal.” Simon’s tone turned exasperated. “Because you’re not. Acting normal, that is. The way you behave is throwing a big, glaring spotlight on yourselves, which is the opposite of what we need.”
Col could barely think straight, for some reason. A strange heat burned through him, and his senses were unpleasantly sharpened. The sound of Barric tapping his fingers on the countertop pounded against his eardrums. He could sense the very air currents flowing around him.
“So what are you suggesting?” Barric said irritably.
