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“Victor kissed Margo.”
He hesitated for a second, his shoulders tensing, one eyebrow raised. He made an effort to relax back into his seat. “How do you feel about that?”
“Kind of sad for him. How would you feel?”
“Like breaking his skull.” He snorted. “And that’s why you’re better than most of us.”
“Do you mean that?” I asked. “When you say stuff like that… do you mean it, or are you trying to make me feel better?”
“Are you asking if I’m a bullshitter?” He smiled warmly, and a cosy sense of security wrapped around me. From the day we met, Nathan Evans had given me many reasons to feel safe and happy in his presence. He meant everything he said to me.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, suddenly shy.
He made an exaggerated attempt to ruffle my hair. “Let’s get going so we can be done before Perdita comes back from her Dad’s. She’s bringing home food, and there might not be anything left by the time she’s done eating.”
I followed him outside, feeling a lot better. It wasn’t like I constantly stressed about stuff, but when I did, I often found it hard to let go. Nathan helped with that.
We headed towards the woods. It had begun to feel connected to death in my head, but the pack had been spending much more time there, in both forms, as though we were trying to wipe the past clean and fill the spaces with new memories.
Victor and some of the others were playing football in the clearing behind our houses.
“Wait a minute,” I told Nathan. “I need to do something.”
He waited in silence while I ran up behind Victor. I kicked the back of his knee, and when he faltered, trying to catch his balance, I shoved him to the ground. He looked up at me in surprise, opening and closing his mouth, before finally nodding. He knew why.
I helped him to his feet, having satisfied a primitive part of my brain. “We’re going for a run.” I jogged towards Nathan, but before long, I heard Victor follow and knew he would join us.
Funny the things that brought us together.
Margo didn’t answermy texts the next morning, so I let her know I would give her space but to contact me when she was ready to talk. Victor dawdled outside my house until Perdita forced him to come inside. Her cousin, Joey, had arrived home for a visit after a couple of years living in Europe. I didn’t know him too well, but I felt like I had to hang around out of politeness. It was often awkward around him because he sort of knew the truth about the pack, but he had this thing where he refused to acknowledge it out loud, as if saying the words would upend his belief system completely.
Victor looked even more uncomfortable than I felt, sitting around the table with our cups of tea while the grown-ups talked. Until Perdita asked Joey for advice on the harbingers.
“Have you ever heard of harbingers?” She passed him a cookie. “Ring any bells?”
“Harbingers?” He adjusted his glasses, frowning. “Is it a well-known myth?”
“Only in certain circles.” Perdita glanced at me. “We heard some stories, but not much is clear. From what we’ve gathered, they’re enemies of wolves. There’s a place in the Carpathian Mountains where these harbingers are supposed to live.”
“Supposed to?”
“There is a compound there,” I said when Perdita looked to me again. “The nearby villages tell stories of harbingers. They use ornaments and decorations related to wolves for protection, possibly from the harbingers.”
“Ah, so in their stories, the wolves protected them from outsiders,” Joey said. “Tradition keeps stories going for far longer than they might have otherwise. If there was a lot of forestry in the area, the wolves could have kept the villages safe from outside forces. You mentioned a compound in the mountains. It’s likely the mountains were crossed in the past to raid the nearby villages. The people who live there now could be suffering from somebody else’s guilt. Perhaps their ancestors drove out the wolves at some point to make room for a settlement.” He shrugged. “Or they could be descended from raiders.”
“How could we find out more about the history there?” Perdita asked. “The lore, I mean, and how it relates to this compound.”
“Pinpointing when the wolves disappeared might be a good starting point. There must be a logical connecting story at the time that coincides with or enhances the myth. I know there were several large-scale wolf hunts in Europe in the past. Something as simple as that could have spawned the legend. Foreigners came in from afar to earn money by killing the wolves who gave the villages a semblance of protection. That had to birth some stories.”
“They brought death,” Perdita murmured.
“Why were the wolves hunted?” Victor asked, surprising me. He had been eying Joey with suspicion since his arrival, and he rarely spoke in front of any adults anymore.
Joey took a sip of his tea as he considered his answer. “Survival, on the surface, but it was likely more a matter of convenience. Travel, especially at night and in remote areas, could be dangerous, thanks to packs of wolves roaming around. The animals prospered and grew in greater numbers than humans could manage, I suppose.”
“They killed them because they thrived?” Victor sounded disgusted.
“Well, people were mostly poor, and they couldn’t risk losing their livestock. Humans slowly pushed the wolves into smaller territories, and food became scarce. Winters would have been especially bad. Wolves usually avoid humans, but when they’re starving, they have no choice but to find another food source.” He set down his tea. “There are still wolves in Europe. These harbingers might be wolf hunters, but they didn’t eradicate the species.”
