Aviva
Ryan looks hilarious in the too-tight clothes borrowed from some rural villager half his height and weight. He glances at me with a scowl, rolling his eyes and cursing under his breath. “Don’t look at me, Aviva.”
“I can’t help it. Your whole ass is out,” I giggle, wiping tears from my eyes. Goddess, I wish I had his camera with me.
He reaches down to pull what had once been trousers down over his thighs while shooting me another glare. He had to cut them into shorts to fit. The shirt isn’t any less revealing, but at least he’s not naked… or worse, in his terrifying beast form. He’s too exhausted after being in his beast form to shift into his wolf, which would have been easier than this, but I’m enjoying myself thoroughly at his expense.
A few of the men from the village titter behind us while I walk a few paces behind my mate who’s turning a deep red in the face and sulking as we walk up the rural road, passing a few shops and cabins where people peek from their windows as we pass. The man leading our sorry looking group–the elderly man who showed no fear at all when he saw Ryan and thanked us for killing the rogues on the road–turns his head to look at me and then turns around completely, walking backward. “This is Mountain Crest,” Alpha Roan says, splaying his arms wide. “There’re not many of us, but we make it work.”
I glance around, but it’s hard to see past the clouds and drizzling rain. “How close are you to the nearest… large pack?”
“Oh, miles upon miles,” he says with a smile. “We prefer it that way. I doubt Mountain Crest is on any of the maps you’ve seen, Luna.” He winks, pointing into the mist rolling off the mountains. “Moonrise is only a hundred miles west. There used to be a river that ran between Moonrise and these mountains. Once, I’m sure, there was a prosperous trading network between those witches and the people of the Deadlands, but that river has been dry since the Great War.”
“That would make sense,” Ryan says, tugging his shirt down over his bulging abdominal muscles. “The temple ruins are a straight shot south through the valley below us.”
I wrack my brain for memories of hunting trips from my youth. “Yeah, a river makes total sense. There’re huge swathes of what I believe were once wetlands all through the tribal pack territories.”
Alpha Roan smiles and nods, replying, “The Deadlands weren’t so dead a few thousand years ago. But I don’t mind the quiet.”
“Who do you trade with?” Ryan asks.
“No one. We have everything we need right here.”
The road comes to an abrupt stop. Alpha Roan walks to the right, and we follow. I steal a glance at Ryan, noticing him going a bit rigid as he shifts his weight in his too-small clothes.
The Alpha notices his discomfort and smirks, “We don’t make ‘em that big in Mountain Crest, I’m afraid.”
“Apparently not,” I laugh, which awards me another sharp look from Ryan.
A few minutes later, we walk out into a large field of grass. A few sheep bleat at us, and Ryan stiffens when a group of semi-feral pigs snort past, curious but skittish enough to give our group a wide berth. I wince when the outline of what was once a barn comes into voice, burnt to an absolute crisp.
Ryan sighs under his breath, mumbling something about getting that fixed.
A two-story house comes into view. Shadows move along the porch before a young woman in homespun pants and a wool sweater comes down the stairs with her arms crossed.
“Nellie,” the Alpha says with a little bob of his head.
“What’s this?” she asks, turning her blue eyes toward me then to Ryan, narrowing them into cat-like slits.
Ryan grinds his teeth as he sizes the woman up, but then a man comes out on the porch, something in his arms.
“Maeve,” I rasp, gasping with relief as I start in her direction. She bounces in the man’s arms, her chubby fingers reaching for me with enthusiasm, but the man tightens his grip.
“Henry,” Alpha Roan says, shaking his head. “I let you know we were coming and had the family of the kids.”
“How do we know for sure?” Henry–tall, broad, with dark red hair, narrows his eyes just like the woman currently blocking my path to Maeve.
Nellie must be his sister by the looks of it.
“I’m Alpha King Ryan of the Deadlands,” Ryan says with marked annoyance, “And Maeve is my cousin.”
“And the boy?” Nellie asks, still unconvinced. “Who does he belong to?”
“He’s ours,” I say as firmly as possible, losing my patience. “Where is he?”
Henry cries out and drops Maeve. I lunge past Nellie, who whirls toward her brother in alarm. Maeve lands hard on her butt, scowls, and stands on unsteady feet before reaching for me. I scoop her up, close enough to see the bright red hand print on Henry’s forearm that he rubs and coddles.
“He won’t come inside the house,” Nellie says under her breath, eyeing her brother’s arm before watching me walk back to Ryan. I stand at his side while he reaches for Maeve, stroking his palm across her cheek. “He’s been out in the woods for two days now.”
“He only comes by the house to check on the baby,” Henry cuts in, tugging his shirt sleeve down over the enormous blister starting to form on his forearm.
Alpha Roan watches the entire exchange with an amused smile. He’s a strange man, but his presence is calming, especially since Nellie and Henry look like they want nothing to do with us.
“Well, that’s settled,” the Alpha says. “So, the little one is a witch, is she not?”
“She is,” Ryan says, but his eyes narrow as he meets my gaze. He gently takes Maeve from my arms and hikes her up on his shoulders. She fists his hair with a delighted squeal, kicking her legs.
He’s not going to say what kind of witch she is, however. I can see the uncertainty in his eyes–feel it through our bond. He doesn’t trust Nellie and Henry and has conflicting feelings about Alpha Roan.
“I’ll go find Logan,” I whisper, turning from the group, but Alpha Roan starts walking in my direction without invitation to join me.
I hear Ryan mention something about the barn as his voice fades, replaced by Alpha Roan’s boots squelching in the wet grass.
I risk a glance over my shoulder, and he gives me a short smile, motioning for me to wait. I slow my pace until the old, but spry, man catches up, then we continue into the mist.
“I need to apologize for Nellie and Henry,” he says, bending to pick up a long, sturdy stick. “They’re like that with everyone.”
“Like what?”
He shrugs, tapping the stick against trees as we cross from the field into the woods. “We don’t have many kids in Mountain Crest. It’s not necessarily a problem seeing as how removed we are. Having kids means having more mouths to feed, and winter is already hard on us as it is. Nellie and Henry grew up alone with their father, farming. When their dad passed, they basically removed themselves from the pack. Neither have been to pack meetings in months.”
“Does that bother you?”
“It bothers me that Henry’s preventing Nellie from venturing off to find her mate,” he says under his breath. “There’re a few other packs around–all small and contained in the mountains. We’ve had some issues with a nearby pack. It’s new and mostly men. Your mate killed a few of them on the road, actually, which I’m thankful for but will likely be dealing with the fallout. Henry is protective of Nellie and doesn’t want her traveling on the road.”
“So she’s just… alone?”
He nods. “I suppose.”
To be honest, the drama of Mountain Crest doesn’t involve me, therefore I don’t really care but… “Do you know about the Harvest Festival? In the Deadlands, the tribal lands?”
He closes his eyes against some memory. “Oh, Luna, it has been decades since I stepped foot on the plains of the Deadlands–”
“Why don’t you travel with your pack to the Harvest Festival this fall? It’s in a month. You’d have plenty of time and an opportunity to trade some wares for things you need over winter. Plus,” I say, smiling at him, “Nellie might find her mate, and so could Henry. He wouldn’t be so cross with a mate warming his bed.”
“And is your mate no longer cross?” he jokes.
“I’m the one with an attitude,” I laugh, liking this guy. But, I’m supposed to be looking for Logan. I pause in the shelter of a large tree and funnel my hands around my mouth, calling out his name. My voice echoes, bouncing from tree to tree, and then I wait.
The birds go silent. Even the mist settles back against the forest floor as if in anticipation of a fight. For a moment, I feel a prickle of unease and reach along my back for my bow. Alpha Roan watches me with interest as I take a single step out from under the tree.
A crashing sound rushes toward me, then a short, pained yelp. My fingers leave my bow with a sigh as the outline of a small wolf darts through the mist, unsteady on his feet.
I’ve never seen a wolf pup before. Everyone comes into their wolves by twenty-one, sometimes a few years before, but never as a child.
But Logan is the exception, and I should probably find out why–eventually. Right now, however, he throws himself into my arms, knocking the wind out of me.
“Never seen a pup before,” Alpha Roan laughs as I struggle with Logan’s weight in my arms. “Rather scruffy and cute, I think.”
“And heavy,” I say, my voice strained. “Do Nellie and Henry have some clothes he can wear?”
“I’m sure we can find something more comfortable for your mate as well,” the Alpha sighs, reaching out to roughly scratch Logan behind his fluffy ears.
* * *
Night falls again in the village of Mountain Crest. I stare at Logan and Maeve, both fast asleep in a bed in Alpha Roan’s house in the center of the village. His mate, Gloria, smiles softly at me as I quietly close the door and run a tired hand over my face.
Ryan’s voice drifts from downstairs. He’s talking to the Alpha about getting supplies here so the village can rebuild the barn Maeve destroyed.
It’s damn lucky she didn’t burn the farm house down or kill anyone, which reminds me how desperately we need to get her back to her parents.
“She’s a Firestone, isn’t she?” Gloria whispers.
I freeze, slowly looking at her. Her soft brown eyes narrow in a gentle expression, taking my silence as my answer.
“The legends always said they’d return. I never thought I’d meet one in my lifetime,” she sighs, smiling to herself. “She’s a sweet little thing.”
“She’s a danger to herself and others,” I reply, unable to help it. “Her mother should be here soon, any minute now.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need,” Gloria replies then goes silent for the space of several heartbeats. She reaches out and lovingly squeezes my forearm. “And you could use some food and rest.” She motions to my swollen, aching breasts–full of milk. “How old is your little one?”
“Too young for me to be gone like this so often,” I painfully admit.
She purses her mouth in a sympathetic smile and tilts her head toward the stairs. “I’ll put some tea on–”
The house trembles, a gust of energy flowing through the gaps in the wooden walls. I turn toward the window as the metallic taste of magic fills my mouth, then sigh. “Kenna’s here.”