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The group parted and a boy walked between them. His hair was platinum—Bliss realized he had been the white flash they had seen—and his eyes were strangely colorless, not quite silver or white, but clear. Marrok, the white wolf. He made his way to where Ahramin was lying next to Edon.
Lawson was kneeling by them, breathing heavily, but Marrok did not see him. He went straight to Ahramin and looked down at her with contempt. “Why, Ulric, you were right. It is Ahramin of the Hounds. Romulus’s favorite huntress.”
Bliss gripped Malcolm’s hand tightly, but no one said a word; they were all trained on Marrok.
Ahramin struggled against the invisible restraints that held her. “Marrok—please. I wore a collar then. I understand your anger, but you must listen to me,” she begged, coughing and gurgling.
“Why? So you can seduce me again? So you can lie and trick me into spying for the masters like you did in the underworld?” He placed his foot on her chest, but he didn’t appear to be bearing down on her; he was merely making sure she was still unable to move.
“I was only doing as I was told. It was not my fault, just as you had no choice when you slew your own kin when you escaped.”
In answer, he spit on the ground by her feet. Marrok turned to his wolves. “Ulric, Blaez, take this garbage away. Before she alerts the hounds to our presence.” Then he looked around, as if noticing the rest of them for the first time.
“Marrok, my friend,” Lawson said, a tense smile on his face.
“Ulf!” Marrok said. “What took you so long? And what are you doing with this traitor?”
To be continued in Wolf Pact, Part Four...
“It’s Lawson now,” he said as Marrok helped him to his feet.
“New world, new name,” the white wolf said. “Makes sense.” Marrok nodded as two large, burly boys picked up Ahramin and Edon and took them into the forest.
“Where are you taking them?” Lawson asked. “One of them is my brother.”
“Do not worry, no harm will come to him, but I cannot promise the same for the hound.” Marrok turned to Rafe and Malcolm. “There is food and drink in the camp. Go and find your friends. There are many from your den with us.”
Marrok was striking, Bliss thought, but his beauty was marred by an ugly raised scar that bisected his face.
“A gift from Romulus,” he said when he caught her eye.
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to stare,” Bliss said as Marrok turned his head to reveal the full scope of the burn that ravaged his face and neck.
“It’s a wound that will never heal, but it reminds me not to take things for granted. I wear the mark with pride.” He clasped his hands together. “Come,” he said. “There is much to discuss, but we must have a good meal first.” He looked at Bliss with narrowed eyes. “Your mate?” he asked Lawson.
“No—just a friend,” Lawson replied while Bliss looked away, trying not to blush.
“You were like one of the masters once,” Marrok said, studying her face. “Yet you are one of us now. You have a wolflike quality about you. Why is that?” He did not seem bothered by her, only curious.
“It’s a long story,” she said. She couldn’t help staring at his strange, colorless eyes. He was pale, almost like an albino.
“Perhaps you will share it with me someday,” Marrok said, and his tone of voice suggested he would like that very much.
Lawson smirked. “Stop flirting, you old dog. Get us something to eat.”
Marrok led them past the serpent mound toward a group of trees that seemed tall enough to block the sun. Bliss found it difficult to know where to look first—the wolves had managed to create some sort of architectural miracle that seemed almost like an optical illusion. She was reminded of some M. C. Escher drawings, with their staircases that loo
ped up and down, twisting and turning in ways that weren’t entirely real. The wolves seemed to have woven the leaves and branches into a community of nest-like shapes connected with rope ladders that looped up and down and around the trunks of even the tallest trees.
Her appreciation of the architectural beauty of it quickly turned to panic, though, as she realized that it would be impossible for her to reach even the lowest of the nest-like enclosures. She was about to ask Lawson what she should do, but discovered with a start that when she turned her head, the hive formation was gone.
She turned back to look at it and found it unchanged, and turned to Lawson again, only to see it all disappear.
Lawson noticed her confusion and smiled. “It’s an old wolves’ trick,” he said. “Using humans’ peripheral vision against them. This camp is only visible to humans if they look at it directly, and even then, they probably won’t believe what they see, especially if it disappears when they turn their heads. It’s a way of hiding in plain sight.”
“Clever.” She nodded.
He helped her climb the trees, teaching her where to place her feet, how to lift herself up with her hands. Marrok climbed ahead, leading them to a platform balanced precariously on the top of the boughs.
