“Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read.

One does not love breathing.”

- Harper Lee

In the Viking-esque feasting hall of the Wolfgang werewolf clan in their stronghold of Befest, I had just been issued a challenge. Dressed in a silvery velvet Celtic style gown with the stain of strawberries on my lips, I faced my challenger, Christel, a female werewolf who glowered at me with eyes as sharp as the claws I was sure she wanted to tear me to shreds with.

The hall was silent and I was surprised my hammering heart beat couldn’t be heard by all.

Christel, shy of six foot with a black mane, a buxom bust covered with a tooled leather halter top and muscular back legs, held my terrified gaze.

“Answer me!”

I knew I had to say something, to respond to her challenge in a manner befitting the honourable and strong surrounds of the home of my host and friend and yet all I managed to squeak out was,

“Excuse me?”

Christel snorted in derision. “See how she speaks? Like a rabbit squeals before the kill…”

“Christel,” Bastian said and I felt his presence behind me, “Bethany is a guest in my clan. Your challenge is invalid.”

“She wears a human mating gown,” Christel mocked him, “she sits at your right hand…she sleeps in your bed…my challenge is valid against your alpha mate.”

“She speaks the truth.” Armin whispered and my blood turned to ice. “For all appearances, Bethany does appear to be your mate.”

“And do you truly seek to be my alpha mate, Christel?” Bastian demanded in a low, dark tone. “Do you think I would welcome you into my bed should you slay my friend?”

“I think the Wolfgang clan is tired of your humanising ways,” Christel snarled, “and I would make a far stronger mate than she.”

“Until you stabbed me while I slept.” Bastian retorted. “Do not think I have not seen you and Dietrich conspiring, waiting for a chance to challenge me.”

“Enough talk!” Christel snapped. “I will kill her now, outside!”

“No!” Bastian slammed his hand down. “If you are to fight anyone, you will fight me.”

“And why would I do that?” Christel folded her arms.

“Because if you kill Bethany, I will kill you,” Bastian stepped in front of me, “and all who are associated with you, will be cast out.” Immediately I thought of Elke and my eyes hunted for her wide blue eyes. She looked frightened. Bastian eyed Christel. “Are you willing to risk it or will you back down?”

Christel lifted her chin. “Fine. I challenge you but know this, when I win, she,” her finger pointed at me once more, “will be the first to die.”

“Outside then.” Bastian jerked his head. Like students hearing the bell for the end of school, the werewolves clambered to get outside. I was nearly caught up in the throng until I felt a hand grab me.

“Stay close, Bethany.” Armin hissed, drawing me out of the push of bodies, taking me to the inner court via a different route. “If Bastian falls, I will get you to safety.”

“He can’t fall. He can’t.” I was shaking. “Armin, he can beat Christel, can’t he?”

“He can,” Armin nodded, “but if I know Christel, she will settle for nothing less than Bastian’s death.”

“You just said she couldn’t kill him.”

“She can’t.”

“Then I don’t…”

“Bethany,” Jurgen said gently by my shoulder as we gathered near the base of the keep around the curve of the inner court, “a challenge will end in one of two ways. Either one of the fighters will submit and the winner will allow them to live…or they fight to the death. If Christel will not submit…Bastian will need to kill her.”

“No…” I breathed. “No…that will destroy him!”

“It is the responsibility of the alpha to ensure his pack runs as one. As long as ones like Christel and Dietrich continue to stir up dissent, the Wolfgang clan suffers.” Armin explained.

I watched as Bastian removed his vest and laid it aside, turning to face Christel across the floor of the inner court. Elke was speaking urgency with her but Christel snapped at her and she recoiled and backed down. Christel turned to Bastian, her muscular arms flexing as she walked towards him.

“I am asking you, Christel,” Bastian said so clearly we all heard, “to submit.”

“No.”

I saw his shoulders sag ever so slightly then he became rigid.

“Then this is on your head.”

They walked the perimeter of an invisible circle, their eyes locked onto each other. All the werewolves were out of the keep, lining the inner court, watching their alpha face off against a challenger. I saw a line of fur appear down Bastian’s back to meet his tail which was twitching and his fingernails were thicker and longer than before.

I about to ask Armin what was happening when Christel suddenly lunged, striking hard and fast, Bastian sidestepping but as his hands came down to grab her, she was already out of his reach, leaping into the air, coming down with a neck breaking blow. Bastian only just missed it, kicking out, striking her in the chest. Christel leapt back, several scratches on her belly.

It suddenly occurred to me that I was about to watch two people fight to the death.

I couldn’t handle animal mauling videos on wildlife channels!

I couldn’t watch this!

“Jurgen…I can’t stay here.” I whimpered.

“You will stay,” Armin said darkly, “you are the reason Bastian is in this mess. He fights for you. If you desert him now, you will undermine his authority.”

Trembling I watched the fight continue with Armin softly snarling words of direction or encouragement. The werewolves began to grunt and howl, wordless shouts towards the duel until the whole valley began to ring with the sound.

The fight had begun with dangerous ferocity and yet as it went only, it only increased in primal, animalistic rage. Christel snarled at him, not a human snarl but a dangerous beastly growl and Bastian answered it, his jaw quivering, his teeth showing. It was as though they were descending through their instincts, reaching a pit of untamed violence.

Christel slashed and Bastian recoiled, striking her across the head. She half collapsed but he drew back, grasping his neck.

“What’s he doing!” Armin snapped.

“She hit him.” I whispered.

“He should strike while she is down,” Armin grunted, “he’s out of practice.”

“What are you talking about? He’s hitting her!”

“He is using the palms of his hands and his knuckles…not his claws.” Jurgen nodded.

“He’s lost his killer edge.” Armin muttered.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“If Bastian cannot protect his position as alpha, the entire clan weakens. He’s got to fight back.”

Christel recovered and went after Bastian. They slashed at each other, kicking out with long, powerful back legs and leapt into the air, even their tails whipping about, blinding each other. Christel was bleeding in several places but she would not relent.

“He’s going to have to kill her.” Armin shook his head.

I saw Elke cry out and almost dash in. Christel waved her back forcefully and the young werewolf retreated, her face wet with tears, torn between her sister and her crush.

“I can’t watch this…” I sobbed. “I can’t watch him do this to himself, let alone everyone else…”

There came a shout as Christel’s knee failed to hold her as she tried to dodge one of Bastian’s attacks. He hit her hard, knocking her down and she cried out, clutching her knee.

“Yes!” Armin cried as the werewolves howled in victory. “Do it, Bastian, finish this.”

Bastian stood over Christel, his body soaked in sweat and streaked with blood, his fingers tightly wound in fists.

“I give you this one, last chance, Christel,” he said quietly, his voice strained to breaking point, “yield to my authority.”

She spat to the side, blood trickling from her mouth.

“Never.”

Bastian let out a shuddering breath. There was a darkness about him, like he was drawing it in, to fuel a killing blow that went against everything he wanted to believe in. Elke whimpered like a young puppy would cry for its mother and I could see the sound penetrated his cloud of base instinct and he closed his eyes, shutting it out.

“Very well…” He raised his arm up, his fingers outstretched, his claws long and sharp. “So be it.”

I was already running across the inner court like a fool, screaming at him to stop.

My voice must have made it through to his mind and his eyes flickered to me, all intelligence gone and all that was left was animalistic violence. I threw myself in front of Bastian, standing between him and Christel.

“Bastian, stop! This is my fault! Don’t kill her because of me!”

His eyes blinked, registering my face.

And then I felt the relentless, merciless grasp of claws around my throat and from behind, I heard a dark chuckle.

“Christel,” Bastian blurted, “don’t…”

“We’re about to see just how much you love humans.” She growled softly and I whimpered, my skin pinched and hurting. I was sure there was blood trickling down my neck. “What will you do now, alpha? What will you give for her life?”

Bastian’s eyes were on me and I confess, I was hoping he’d say, everything.

“She saved your life…and you repay her compassion with this?”

“Compassion is for the weak…for prey…the strong survive by knowing when to strike...just as you did to my father.”

I gulped as her hand pushed up against my chin. I could feel my feet rising off the ground. I could only just touch it with my toes. My lungs couldn’t get any air into them but I was too frightened to move, to fight her. One slip and she’d slit my throat.

“That compassion which you speak of with such disdain is the reason your sister has not been cast out.” Bastian said, his jaw tight. “If you kill Bethany…”

“You’ll do what? Cast her out?” Christel mocked. “That would be as good as killing her. A real alpha would cull the weak from the pack…but you lack the killer instinct…you may kill me but you won’t take out your rage on Elke.”

Bastian’s eyes showed doubt. Stars were appearing before my eyes.

“What do you want of me, Christel?” He asked flatly.

“I want to be free of you.”

“You cannot. You did not best me and killing Bethany will only ensure your death for know this, I will kill you.” Bastian swallowed. “I will grant you this one boon. Go. Leave the Wolfgang clan. Your ties are broken. Join another clan.”

“You send me out into the wilds to die? That is cowardly!”

“I will not stop you or anyone else who wishes to leave with you.” Bastian offered. “Take whatever provisions you need and go.”

Christel’s breath was close to my ear. “I have your word?”

“Hear me!” Bastian cried. “Christel is no longer of the Wolfgang clan. She is free to go and all those who wish to join her. But know this, if you do not, then you are choosing to stay…and as such you are to submit to my rule as alpha for I am undefeated.” He looked at Christel. “Is that enough?”

“Yes.” Christel said simply and just like that, she released me. I collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping for air.

“Jurgen…”

“Yes, my lord.” Jurgen’s hands grasped my arms and helped me up, half carrying me out of the inner court. I couldn’t see what was happening. I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of blood pounding in my head or the rasp of the air in my lungs. Jurgen provided some water then left to look after Bastian. I changed out of the beautiful dress and into my pjs, laying the gown on the trunk reverently.

It took quite some time for my heart to stop racing but I was clearly on edge as, when the door opened, I was on my feet instantly, clutching a blanket to my chest.

Bastian entered the room, his eyes immediately locked onto me.

“Bethany…”

“I’m so sorry…” I blurted but he was across the room, his hands cupping my face, looking into my eyes faster than I could blink.

“Are you alright? Are you wounded?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I mean, no.”

“No?”

“I mean…I messed up!” I burst into tears. “I messed up so bad!” I bawled into his chest as his arms went around me. “I couldn’t watch you do it! I couldn’t watch you kill her! I couldn’t watch what it would do to you! I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

I felt his ‘hush’ rather than heard it over my sobbing.

“Bethany,” he rumbled softly, “I am not angry with you.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” he sighed, “you showed tremendous compassion…you stopped me from having to kill one of my own and gave me the chance to be merciful. Elke did not lose her sister to death. Even though they will no longer be in the same clan, Christel knows that Elke is safe here.”

“Wait,” I sniffed, “Elke’s not going with Christel?”

“Christel wouldn’t let her.” Bastian stepped back. “Out in the wilds, on the journey to another clan, Elke would be an easy target, unable to be protected. And no other clan would look after a lame werewolf like we do here.” He rubbed away my tear then grimaced. “I’m…filthy…” He went to the tub of water and found a cloth, wiping my face clean. I saw his hand as he did so. It was stained with sweat, dirt and blood. “I…I need to bathe…”

“I can ask Jurgen for some more hot water…”

“No.” Bastian used the cloth to wipe himself clean as best he could then he stood in the tub and used a smaller bucket to dump water over his head, rinsing his body off. The line of fur down his back had retreated as had the dangerous claws. I wondered if he knew just how evocative his glistening wet form was. But if he was using it to get a reaction out of me, he wasn’t looking to see if it was working.

I handed him a blanket to towel himself dry after which he stood by the fire to warm back up.

“You have some scratches…” I cringed at the red marks on his skin, the worst of them scraped into his neck.

“They’ll heal fast enough.” He shrugged them off. “Christel didn’t get many good blows in. Her claws only broke my skin and didn’t damage me internally. Werewolves heal quickly when its superficial wounds.” He shifted his shoulder and winced. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though…ow…”

“Sorry…”

“Princess, this was not your doing.” Bastian chucked my chin. “If anything, I should be thanking you.”

I snorted. “Why?”

“You brought about a catalyst to increasing dissent within the clan. After Christel’s banishment, for lack of another word, and those who are leaving with her, things should settle down.”

“Oh…okay.” I watched him flop onto the bed, groaning into the mattress. “Are many leaving with her?”

He shrugged then rolled onto his side. “Just two, Dietrich and Margit.”

“That’s all? It looked like she had more supporters than that. Dietrich too.”

“All talk and no bite.” Bastian propped himself up on his elbow. He looked at me, clinging to my pillow. “Bethany?”

“Is it true, what Christel said?” I asked. “About your killing her father?”

Bastian raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

I gazed at him and he stared back, waiting patiently for me to come to my own conclusion.

“It doesn’t ring true,” I decided, sitting on the edge of the bed, “with who you are.”

He smiled, his amber eyes, soft and intelligent and a far cry from the violence of before.

“Christel was the eldest daughter of the leader of the White Teeth clan,” he explained, “they lived primarily in areas that are covered with snow most of the year. They used to raid human villages or caravans travelling through snow but were nowhere near as bloody as the Howling Peak clan or the Red Mark clan. Their territory was harsh and those that survived were strong. Though they were not as numerous as other clans, saying we had grown fat with luxury, the White Teeth clan were not to be crossed. But they had a few bad seasons, experienced warriors getting cornered and killed or raids going badly…food sources became scarce…and then Elke…”

“Her foot?”

He nodded. “She got it trapped in a snare during a full moon and she was so young she didn’t have control over her form to change into a human. She was attempting to chew her foot off out of desperation before Christel found her. It never healed properly.” Bastian cleared his throat. “I didn’t know any of this until the conclave not long after. Christel’s father, Ingolf, pulled me aside and asked me to challenge him.”

“You’re going to have to explain this to me.”

Bastian rolled onto his back, shifting until he was comfortable. His voice was calming and in the safety of his bedchamber, we seemed far removed of the violence of a mere hour earlier.

“Ingolf knew Elke was vulnerable. Even with a strong pack, she was a liability. Ingolf himself was getting on in years and, as it turned out, had a disease in his lungs that was trying to take his life. He begged me to challenge him so that he could yield to me in the way of the werewolves. Ingolf knew, because of my determination to protect the weak and lame in the safety of Befest, that Elke would be safe here.”

“And he couldn’t challenge you?”

“The ruse of an elderly wolf of a weakened clan challenging a young, healthy alpha would have been seen through by the conclave. It made more sense for me to challenge him, absorbing the White Teeth into the Wolfgang clan.”

“Sparing Ingolf’s pride in the process?”

“Yes,” Bastian nodded then chuckled, rubbing his side at the memory, “the old warrior did not go quietly! He gave me a couple of good bruises before yielding, all the members of White Teeth becoming part of the Wolfgang clan pack. Of course, all Christel knew of it was that I had challenged her father and caused her clan to be no more.”

“You didn’t kill him, though.”

“I didn’t need to.” Bastian sighed. “Ingolf died on the journey back to Befest. He simply didn’t wake one morning. Christel always blamed me even though it is the way of the werewolf. She thought I was a poor alpha who could not kill in the heat of the moment and had slain her father while he slept. She grew up, an orphan and responsible for her lame sister, in Befest and always kept herself apart.”

I crossed my legs and leaned towards Bastian.

“You should tell Elke this story. She ought to know the truth.”

“Perhaps I could…if she didn’t go to pieces around me.”

I grinned. “You know she’s crushing on you?”

Bastian made a raspberry sound. “She gives off adolescent mating pheromones every time I’m around. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“You can smell that?” I was horrified.

Bastian nodded. “It’s one of those ‘exuding confidence’ without extensive experience perks of a werewolf. We can smell a willing mate.”

“That’s kind of creepy.” I admitted then sucked on my tongue. “Elke…she’ll probably never be chosen as a mate, will she?”

Bastian shook his head. “Not unless I can change the perception of strength and weakness. In my perfect world, an alpha male’s mate could be lame yet possess strength of compassion and mercy, value no longer just attributed to the ability for physical violence but of skill, kindness…artistry…”

“You’re a bit of a renaissance wolf.” I giggled.

“I don’t know what that is but I like the sound of it.” Bastian chuckled then sobered up. “Christel and her two followers will cross Alte Fehde and join another clan who crave blood as much as they do.” He yawned and stretched. “Sorry, Bethany…I’m pretty well done for the day.”

I dragged some blankets over him then bundled several into a long barrier and laid it between us. I couldn’t ask him to sleep on the floor and I didn’t fancy it myself but the bed was big enough that, even with the bolster cushion I’d fashioned, there was space enough for both of us.

I lay down and looked out the gap between the tapestry and the window. I could see some stars at the very top of my line of sight.

“Bastian?”

“Mmm?”

“Your father…did you kill him?”

“No.” He yawned widely.

“How did he die?”

“My father began to believe he was undefeatable against lowly human prey and attacked a convoy…but it was a clever decoy for the armed soldiers who lay in wait downwind. Had my father been more cautious, he would have sent scouts out, found the soldiers and called for a retreat. We wear no armour and are vulnerable to swords and our claws cannot carve through steel. My father’s body was pierced with many arrows when I answered the howl of distress. He was long dead, and with the pack’s strongest fighters either dead or wounded, there was no one left to challenge me when I took over as alpha. I was nineteen.”

“Oh…then why aren’t you more angry at humans? They’ve taken just as much from you as they have from other werewolves.”

“I’m not angry because my father died the same way all creatures of violence die…by reaping what they sowed. I cannot blame the humans for defending themselves.” Bastian yawned again, his voice slowing as he was drawn into a deep sleep. “Sleep now, Bethany. We still…have to…find…Jo’s…clue.”

After another fruitless search of Befest the next morning, I asked Bastian to take me back to where the door was.

“Maybe I missed something around there.” I hoped.

“Is it a case of, if you never find it, you can’t leave,” Bastian asked, back to his jovial, flirtatious self after a good night’s sleep, his scratch wounds healing nicely, “because if that’s the way it is, I might just hide it.”

“Bastian!” I put my hands on my hips. “Do you have it?”

“I do not.”

“Ugh!” I grunted. “I’m not in the mood for games, Bastian. I’ve been here three nights and haven’t found the haiku! I have to get back to my world sooner or later.”

“I’m teasing. I’m sorry.” We searched the area around the door with me noticing for the first time that it had a rocky, earth styled structure carved into its façade that sort of resembled the keep in front of the giant den in the side of the mountain. “It looks like Befest.” I pointed.

“Yes, it does.” Bastian nodded. “I’ve wondered the strangeness of that myself.”

We hunted together with me becoming more and more distraught.

“There are a million places it could be!” I lamented. “And Aunt Jo is running out of time!”

“Don’t forget, time runs more slowly in your world. You have only lost a day or so.”

“Even so, I don’t have endless time. This isn’t a holiday. It’s a haiku hunt.” I looked at Bastian. His head was turned away from me and his ears were upright. “Bastian? Are you listening? Bastian!”

He held up his hand sharply to silence me. I gulped my words down and waited with him.

Suddenly he took off, running out of the tunnel and turned upwards towards the exit into Alte Fehde. I sprinted after him, finding him at the mouth of the den. His eyes were closed but his ears were erect and he turned his face ever so slowly.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“Distress…the howl of a werewolf in distress.” His eyes opened in a blaze of golden amber and he turned and howled into the den, his voice carried through the tunnels, all the way to Befest. “I have called for reinforcements but I have to leave now.”

“I’m coming too!”

“Bethany…”

“Come on,” I folded my arms, “show me just how strong and fast you are.”

Bastian allowed his wolf body to take him over and I mounted his back with much more confidence than I had before. He took off at an alarming pace and it was all I could do to hang on and not fall off. And if I thought he was fast before, his stride increased until he was almost flying over Alte Fehde, heading towards the old bastion.

When it was in sight, Bastian slowed and I slid off his back. We approached cautiously, Bastian remaining as a giant wolf, sniffing as he went. Then his ears pricked up and he began to lope, transforming as he ran, pushing himself upright into his werewolf form.

“What can you smell?” I demanded as I ran to keep up.

He didn’t reply but only lengthened his stride. The wind struck me in the face and it wasn’t long until I caught the smell he’d picked up long before. Iron and fat, setting my teeth on edge. It wasn’t the smell of a butcher. That was too clinical. This smelt like a slaughterhouse.

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“Blood.” I gasped, climbing the ridge as quickly as I could, Bastian darting ahead of me, leaping over areas I had to clamber across.

By the time I reached Bastian, he was squatting by a fire, still slightly smoking.

“What is it?” I asked breathlessly.

“Fools,” he whispered, “they lit a fire…within sight of the human settlement.”

“This…this isn’t where Christel, Dietrich and Margit stayed…is it?”

Bastian stood and pointed to some scrapes in the loose hay on the ground. “A werewolf slept there. The old bastion is a logical stop on the way towards the Bloody Mark clan territory.” He turned around, sniffing. “They must have scattered…”

“You think humans attacked?” I whispered, looking around fearfully.

“There,” he gestured to where the dirt was creeping across the hard packed earth of the old bastion, “a shoe print. Werewolves do not wear shoes.”

I stared at the curved mark then counted myself as foolish, looking for a designer sole print rather than the flat bottomed shoes the humans of this world would wear.

“Are they here now?” I asked.

Bastian shook his head. “No. There’s no scent of them now…but the smell of blood is stronger than before.” He left the area we were in, following what I guessed was a trail. I shivered, the wind that had carried the howl of a werewolf and the smell of blood was even stronger atop the ridge. Not even the walls of the old bastion could keep it away entirely. I wasn’t dressed warm enough and shifted to get out of its bite.

That’s when I saw the drops of blood on the ground. I inched closer to them, their initial bright red hue darkened to a congealed crimson.

“Someone got away…they went this way.” I whispered. “They were trying to get away.” I could see scrapes on the ground I needed no tracker to interpret and even more blood. “You kept running…” I ducked my head below a fallen beam and came up the other side to see that the werewolf had failed to outrun their pursuer in time for a second, devastating blow. A splash of blood, streaked across the stone, splattering the leaves of bushes, greeted my eyes.

I began to panic, my breathing sharpening and becoming shallow and fast.

“Oh…oh…no…no, no, no…”

I spun around, hand over my mouth and then saw a sight that might always haunt me.

I screamed and screamed, Bastian finding me quickly yet it wasn’t fast enough for the sight of the body of a werewolf, skinned, its bloody corpse dumped in the bushes not to be burned into my mind.

“Don’t look!” He grabbed me, spinning me around so that I couldn’t escape his broad chest. “Dear Bethany…don’t look…don’t…don’t…”

“Please…tell me it wasn’t them! Tell me!”

I could feel his body trembling or maybe it was my own anguish.

“It was…”

I nearly doubled over, my screams returning to me.

“No! No! No!”

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows, we entered Befest.

Bastian walked ahead of the party. Armin followed, sharing the load of carrying one of two makeshift stretchers, each bearing the body of a fallen werewolf. They were covered in what clothing could be spared, my own jacket draped over one of them yet despite our best efforts, it was impossible to conceal the horror and brutality of their deaths.

Those in the inner court looked up, the chatter of children falling silent and mothers hurried to draw them away, seeing the haunted expressions on the faces of the militia who had answered their alpha’s call.

It had been a dangerous, long walk across Alte Fehde but no one questioned or protested its necessity. They carried the bodies of two of their brethren.

It was worth the risk.

Bastian turned to Armin and gestured for him to set the stretchers down. He caught sight of Elke’s big eyes staring at him from within the crowd. He went to her, the crowds parting as he knelt before her, gazing up into her face. He spoke quietly. Elke’s young eyes brimmed immediately and she wept into her hands. Bastian put his hand on her shoulder and pressed his forehead to hers, whispering softly before drawing back and allowing some of the others to gather and comfort Elke.

Christel’s body had not been found.

It was likely that she had been the one to let out a howl of distress.

“She might still be alive.” I whispered to Armin.

“From the swiftness of the attack…it is doubtful. They must have been caught unawares.” Armin shook his head. “Fools…lighting a fire…”

I imagined them, cold and alone, huddled around a campfire just to keep from freezing.

And then I recalled the bloody remains of Dietrich’s body in wolf form and my stomach wrenched itself.

In the feasting hall, no one ate.

The bodies of Margit and Dietrich had been buried deep in the soft earth of the valley and two piles of stones had been erected on top of their graves. I supposed the stones had a two-fold purpose. One, to mark the sites and two, to dissuade any creatures digging up their bodies.

Flagons of mead were passed around. Jurgen handed me a cup with a very small amount in the bottom and nodded pointedly at me. I clutched at it and looked to Bastian who was staring at the table, his eyes dark and all merriment, gone.

When Jurgen filled his mug he stood up and the werewolves raised their heads.

“May their souls run free.”

We stood and lifted out cups. I braced myself and swallowed the mead in my cup. It was strongly flavoured and I had to force it down.

“And may those who defiled their bodies, know our teeth.”

I froze, my eyes glancing at Bastian. He stared down the table at one of the young werewolves who belonged to the militia. The young werewolf stared back, his cup raised, waiting, challenging Bastian to drink to his toast.

“No.” Bastian said, lowering his arm and putting his cup down deliberately.

“Are you telling me your soul does not cry out for justice?” He cried angrily. “How can you just sit there and let the humans skin us as they please! You are the alpha!”

Bastian’s fist hit the table so hard I heard it crack.

The young werewolf sat down silently. Bastian looked around at his clan then turned to leave, his eyes meeting mine ever so briefly…

…and sucked all the air out of them.

I looked away in haste, taking my cup of water and swallowing it, driving back the rise of heat.

Soft, subdued talk began to filter through the feasting hall. I could hear the werewolves angrily discussing the humans. I noticed none dared to question Bastian after his reaction but it was clear they were all in shock and mourning.

“…do such a thing?”

“Humans…would have known.”

“…ironic…Christel hated humans…to die by their hand…like that…”

“Humans…they knew…and did what they did anyway.”

“I hate them all…”

“What say you, Bethany?” I lifted my head to see Armin’s eyes gazing into my own. “You saw what they did? What have you to say about the humans?”

My jaw trembled. “Not all humans are so violent and despicable,” I could hear rumblings of dissent and disgust, “but,” I looked down the table to see Elke staring at me, “I have never been more ashamed to be human than I am right now.”

Armin nodded to me and lifted his cup. I wasn’t sure if I was pleased or angry at his question, putting me on the spot in front of all the werewolves so I turned back to my water, my stomach still silent despite the hours since I last ate.

I couldn’t eat.

“My lady,” Jurgen’s voice spoke gently in my ear, “my lord asks you to join him.”

“Okay.” I slid out from around the table and left the feasting hall. I knew the way to Bastian’s chambers now, where I supposed he was and took the stairs, trying to stop my heart from fluttering. There was something about the way Jurgen had spoken that had triggered an expectation…or a dread. It was as if his words carried weight…like a warning.

I knocked on the door and pushed it open, peering around to see Bastian standing in front of the fire, eyes locked on the flames.

The atmosphere in the room was dangerous…like being on a rollercoaster dangerous. There was the heady anticipation of a thrill beyond all measure but the terror of the wait, the screams of others and the knowledge that I was far too close to losing myself in the moment.

I didn’t say his name.

I couldn’t.

I didn’t dare.

I knew, from the look in his eyes, that I was about to go through the fire.

The door had closed behind me. I crept across the floor, keeping as much distance as I could from Bastian, ending up by the window. There was a bite of cool air, cutting through the heavy warmth from the fireplace and the air of seduction coming from the emotionally charged werewolf staring at the flames.

I’d known the moment I’d seen his gaze in the feasting hall.

I’d recognised my own expression, the loss…the pain…the desperation to forget and the soul crushing need to turn back time.

I swallowed, hugging my arms around myself.

Bastian lifted his head and turned, his body a silhouette against the bright sunset rainbow of the fire, his eyes, flicking with their own internal blaze. Just with a look, my heart began to burn and I cursed the way he was able to generate such a reaction in me.

“Bethany,” he said, bronzed in the soft light around his edges, shirtless and every bit of a Greek demi-god depicted in all the soppiest Hollywood movies, “come to bed.”

I licked my lips and swallowed again but my throat closed over and I had to force it down.

“I’m not tired.” I excused and knew that neither of us were fooled.

Bastian’s eyes locked mine into his gaze. I couldn’t tear away as he moved towards me.

“Bethany,” his voice deepening to a soul stroking texture, “come to bed…with me.”

There was no way of pretending anymore that I didn’t understand. Even the most oblivious fool would have known what he was asking for.

I shook my head. “I…I can’t…”

He continued to come towards me until he was so close, his body heat mixed with mine and breathing in felt like doing so on a scorching summer’s day, my lungs filling with fire.

“Bethany,” he breathed, leaning down, his chin lightly grazing my cheek as I heard him inhale the scent of my hair, “I know…you want this too…”

Damn the werewolf and his ability to smell pheromones!

It was like going red while public speaking.

Or shaking when in a fight.

There was no hiding from the physiological reaction of the body.

It betrayed you at every turn.

Even when it was what you wanted…what you desperately wanted…

“I…can’t.” I turned my head and closed my eyes. We were at crisis point. Either he stayed and turned into his father…or he became his uncle and ran. I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t…I was a coward.

Suddenly there was a blast of cold hair and I felt a rush next to me.

The shock forced my eyes open and I turned, seeing the tapestry at the window torn down and the room, empty of everyone except myself.

My body began to shake uncontrollably and I sank to the floor.

By the time Jurgen knocked on the door the next morning, I was stiff from sleeping curled up in front of the fire.

“My lady?”

“Who is it?” I asked fearfully.

“Jurgen, my lady.”

“Oh…” I shivered and unbarred the door, opening it to see his face gazing at me sadly.

“Are you…”

“I’m alright.” I nodded, immediately knowing what he wanted to ask.

Jurgen’s expression was one of painful regret. “I…come with a message from my lord. I am to take you home immediately.”

I had expected nothing less. “I’ll just get my things together.” It didn’t take long. Jurgen took my bag for me and walked me down the stairs and out of the keep. I looked around furtively, hunting for any sign of Bastian but there was nothing. In fact, it was eerily quiet. I commented as much.

“My lord Bastian departed for the conclave last night.”

“I didn’t think he attended the conclaves.” I said quietly as we took the path out of Befest, heading up into the tunnels.

“I think, perhaps, last night, he needed…distraction.”

I swallowed.

“Even without Bastian here, it’s still too quiet.”

“Armin went with Bastian…who returned not two hours ago and rallied the militia. They returned to the conclave.”

I frowned. “Why would Armin take the militia to…wait…don’t the conclave vote on attacking humans?”

“That is their primary purpose, yes.”

“No,” I argued, “Bastian wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t vote for that!”

“After last night…after what you saw in his eyes…can you truly say he does not yearn for vengeance?”

I knew it. I had known it when I saw him looking at me with naked desire…covering a well of sorrow, guilt and despair. He was being driven down a path of violent emotion and had reached out to me for…comfort. When that failed him, he’d gone to the conclave, the blood in his veins demanding an end to the skin peeling frustration in his heart.

“Armin said that the vote was unanimous.”

I felt sick. “Did Armin say who…”

“The human settlement you can see from the old bastion.”

“The ones who…”

“Most likely.”

I was torn between wanting someone to pay for what they had done to the three vulnerable werewolves and the knowledge that the violence of the conclave would far outdo the harm the humans had done.

We walked in silence to the alcove where the door was embedded. I stared at it, my heart as heavy as lead.

“This is all my fault.”

“No, my lady.”

“It would never have come to this if I hadn’t been here.” I argued.

Jurgen sighed and sat on a box. “My lady, Bastion has been fooled in his thinking. He believed if he could simply avoid the humans of this world and help create a culture for werewolves that would leave a lasting legacy of more than just violence, it would be enough. But the absence of conflict is not an establishment of peace. It is just…a void…waiting to be filled with something. His noble spirit has been broken and reforged into something tarnished with anger. If he goes through with this attack, he will either follow the path of his father…or be destroyed by his own guilt.”

“Can’t you stop him?” I knelt before Jurgen and looked into his kindly, elderly face. “He respects you. He trusts you.”

“I cannot help him ease the agony of his heart.” Jurgen lamented.

“I suppose you blame me for not…easing him last night?” I asked fearfully.

“No, my lady. You were right to refrain, no matter what you feel. You are kind and good and compassionate,” I swallowed and looked away, feeling utterly unworthy of his praise, “and I have deceived you.”

“Deceived me?”

Jurgen reached into his shirt and drew out an envelope. I gasped, standing up and practically snatched it out of his hands. Trembling I opened it and drew out Aunt Jo’s writing on a note.

“It’s the haiku! It’s the clue she left!” I shrieked. “Oh! Oh…you had it…the whole time!”

“She entrusted me with the haiku to give to you when you came,” Jurgen hung his head, “but I saw the storm building…I knew the time of breaking was upon us. I knew you would be the one to save us, not just werewolves but humans too.”

“I can’t do that!” I cried. “Jurgen, I’m just me! I’m just a pathetic, lowly, stupid little messy human who manages to make things worse, not better!”

“I do not believe that, not for one moment.” Jurgen stood. “Bethany St James, I need your help.”

“To do what?”

“To save the humans.”

I stared into his limpid eyes, his skin pale and aged.

“After what they did?” I rasped. “You want to save them?”

“Descendants of my beloved Saraid may be in that settlement…and I know because of what she taught me, that not all humans deserve the ire of werewolves.” Jurgen took my hands. “Come with me. As a human you have the chance to convince them!”

“I’m a stranger to them! They’d be more likely to listen to you if you changed to look more human.”

Jurgen’s shoulders slumped. “I…can no longer suppress my wolf form fully.”

I studied him. “You…you’re stuck?”

“We are born as human babes, develop our wolf tendencies in our adolescence and learn to change at will…until we grow old…and the wolf begins to take over fully.” Jurgen smiled sadly. “One day soon I will be an incontinent old wolf sleeping in a corner somewhere in Befest. It is our nature.”

“Jurgen…”

“I have been a coward, hiding from the brutality of my brethren for too long.” Jurgen stepped towards me. “For once, I wish to be brave. Will you help me?”

I licked my lips and looked at the door. I was a mere three steps from home.

I had the haiku.

I had the next piece of Aunt Jo’s puzzle and the possible solution to her coma.

And yet, if I didn’t go, ‘House of Figs’ might never have its grillardin back and I might never get to tell Bastian what had really happened last night.

I put my bag down near the door and tucked the haiku securely into a pocket on its side. I stood up straight and looked at Jurgen.

“When will they attack?”

“Tonight while Her Majesty is at her fullest.”

“Then we’d better start running.”

We clambered down the rockiest part of the decline from the den separately. When on solid ground, Jurgen insisted on carrying me at least part of the way. His transformation was nowhere near as fluidic as Bastian’s or younger werewolves but he was still large enough to carry me. His pace was slower too but it was a great deal faster than my running pace, even if I hadn’t collapsed.

Even still, with moments to rest and for me to run along side to give him a reprieve from my constant weight, as we approached the settlement, it was late afternoon.

“When you said ‘settlement’ this is not what I envisioned…”

It wasn’t a nomadic camping ground, or a timber fenced village…it was a stone walled city.

True, it was not tremendously large but it was a great deal bigger than I guessed it to be.

The houses were made of stone, the roofs of wood and thatch and the ground was hard packed mud and clay. I could see a church steeple in the background and several large buildings. The walls were deeply impressive, twelve feet high with bulwarks along the top so that sentries could march back and forth between the lit torches. The walls were wide enough to have windows and I suspected there were residences or soldiers quarters inside the walls. The windows were narrow enough to keep all but the most accurate archer’s arrows from getting through. There were five towers as well, two either side of the large iron bar gate and three more spaced around the rest of the city.

To add to the fortifications around the city’s outer perimeter, were the large trunks of tree, one end buried within the earth at the base of the wall and the other, cut into a point.

“Like a crown of thorns…” I breathed. “Jurgen, this city looked impenetrable.”

“They have become complacent in the absence of werewolf attacks.” Jurgen said, walking by my side. “This human city, that you call it, is within the Wolfgang territory and it is strictly forbidden for a clan to raid another clan’s territory. It might incite the humans to rise up against werewolves, unaware that their brethren have ignited flames of retribution.”

“What happened when the other clan attacked this place when Saraid was killed?” I asked softly.

“I…never spoke of it.”

I shook my head as I looked at the city that was beginning to loom overhead. “I really don’t think the werewolves will be able to get into this place.”

“For a decade the humans here have believed that their fortifications are what keep the werewolves away…but they are grievously mistaken.”

“I don’t think they’re going to appreciate being told they’re wrong.” I took a deep breath. “Here we go…”

“I will stay back until and unless you need me.” Jurgen whispered. “I do not wish for my presence to undermine the truth of your words.”

“Fair call.” I walked out into the open, along the beaten, deeply rutted road towards the front gates. “Um…hello! Is anyone at the gates?”

“Go no further!” Cried a voice from atop the wall.

I froze. “Um…I’m human! I need to talk to you!”

I jumped out of my skin as an arrow hit the ground next to me. Immediately Jurgen was by my side.

“We saw you coming from afar on the back of the beast,” another arrow hit the ground and it seemed the archer was improving with his aim, “we have no quarrel with werewolves but we will defend our city.”

“I’m not a werewolf…and I’ve come to warn you about an attack.”

“We don’t listen to werewolves in human bodies…or werewolf lovers.”

“I am not…” I paused to calm myself. “Listen, it’s important that you hear what I’m saying. Tonight is a full moon and the conclave of werewolf clan alphas have voted to attack you. You have to prepare yourselves!”

“She speaks the truth.” Jurgen called.

“And why would a werewolf warn us? Your lies are feeble and your motives, transparent! You wish us to remove the barricade of our gate and let you walk right in!”

I turned to Jurgen. “This is a waste of time. They’re fortified!”

“Then we will have to prove to them that their defences are inadequate.” Jurgen leaned. “Do you see that pile of hay on the ground within the gate?”

“Huh?” I squinted and spied the heap of dull yellow. “Well…yeah but how does that…”

He grabbed me and without any explanation or even permission, because I would have refused, threw me over the wall. I kid you not, one second my feet were on the ground, the next I was flying through the air and a split second later I landed in the hay, breathless and stunned, my heartbeat only just starting to hammer though the danger was over.

At least, I thought it was.

“He threw her over the wall!”

“Get her!”

I made a stupid squeaking sound, scrambling to get up and out of the hay when Jurgen landed on the ground near me. The soldiers, in uniforms of red and grey, leapt back from the presence of the werewolf. He gazed at them gently then turned to me.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m so going to find a way to make you pay for that.” I muttered, getting to my feet.

“Kill the werewolf!”

“No!” I screamed, leaping in front of him. “Please! Don’t!”

The soldiers hesitated, unsure as to whether to kill a human woman.

“See how useless your defences are?” Jurgen said in the silence of their doubt. “I am an old werewolf and I traversed them easily.”

A man, possibly the captain, came to the forefront. He was heavy set with a dark beard and hair that was losing the battle with the greys in it.

“Prove your word is worth something.”

“He’s not attacking…surely that’s something!” I argued.

Jurgen patted my shoulder. He knelt in front of the humans and held out his arms, wrists together, palms up.

“Restrain me if you will,” he offered, “but know that if you take a chance to trust me, I will fight to protect you.”

“Why?” The captain asked and took out his sword. “And know that if your answer is not to my liking, I will run you through.”

Jurgen stared at the captain with sorrowful eyes. “I once saved a young woman when my pack attacked a caravan. Her name was Saraid. She had long, black hair and blue eyes…”

“Yes…I know her name.” The captain replied. “She married our lord at the time, after having miraculously survived a werewolf attack…fifty years ago now.”

“She was brave…and kind…” Jurgen swallowed, only ever having spoken of Saraid to me in all the years he’d loved and lost her.

The captain held up his hand. “Speak no more of this.” He ordered and Jurgen nodded. The captain glanced side to side, feeling the eyes of his soldiers on him, waiting for a command. “We are to be attacked, you say?”

“Tonight.” I nodded. “We couldn’t just leave you to die, no matter the bad blood between humans and werewolves.”

The captain cleared his throat. “Bind his feet but leave his hands free.”

“Jurgen…” I whispered but he smiled at me.

“I will suffer any restraint if it helps them to trust me.”

With his ankles in shackles, unable to do much more than shuffle, Jurgen stood tall but humble.

“What would you have us do?”

“Do you have somewhere safe to gather those who need to be protected? A building where there is no,” he brushed the thatch of a house nearby, “straw to burn?”

“The church has a tiled roof and solid walls.”

“Then do so. We must hasten if we are to be ready in time.”

Jurgen and the captain conferred together and the city scrambled to be ready. No warning horn or bell was sounded for fear of alerting the werewolves, prompting a premature attack. The adults, men and women who were able bodied, gathered in the city square which was more of a circle. The children and the elderly were ushered into the church.

I helped an old man limp in, passing him to a young woman at the door who said she would make sure he had a place to sit.

“How are they?” Jurgen asked.

“Frightened,” I admitted, “it’s to be expected.”

“Indeed. Tell them to bar the door with those pews once everyone who needs to be, is inside.”

“I will.” I looked at the smoking braziers being carried out. “What’s with the fire? Your people aren’t scared of fire.”

“My people do not wear shoes.” Jurgen gestured to his feet.

“Oh…that’s clever.” I looked into the church. “Do you want anyone inside to protect the church if the werewolves break through?”

“I will stand guard of the church myself,” he gestured to his feet, “I hope, by then, I will be unshackled.”

“So do I.”

“Bethany,” he leaned down, “will you accept my council…and stay within the church?”

Most of me screamed yes to be so protected.

“I said I’d help,” I spoke over the tremor in my voice, “that doesn’t just mean in the only half scary bit. It’s the whole scary too.”

“You cannot wield a sword.”

“No, but maybe I can talk some sense into Bastian.”

Jurgen swallowed. “I hope…he will listen.”

“Excuse me?” The young woman behind me, who’d been helping gather the children, spoke from the doorway. She hesitated to come any closer, trembling in fear of Jurgen. “I believe we have everyone inside now.”

I looked up at the sky. “It’s probably time to bar the doors then. What do you think, Jurgen? Jurgen?”

The werewolf was staring at the young woman like he’d seen a ghost.

“Saraid?” The shaking of her head was almost lost in her terror. Jurgen blinked, snapping himself out of his trance, turning his head aside. “Forgive me. You just looked…familiar. Yes, bar the church. I swear I will keep you safe.”

The young woman nodded and went inside, shutting the doors.

I turned to Jurgen.

“You okay?”

He put his hand to his head and glanced at me.

“I knew her descendants would probably be here…I never expected one of them to resemble her so closely.” He was shaking. I put my hand on his arm.

“We’ll protect them. I promise.”

Jurgen returned to the captain and I spied a woman with a mane of red hair, struggling with a cart. I ran to her side and gripped the edge.

“Bethany.”

“Gwenhwyfar.” She spoke with a strong Gaelic accent, colouring her speech with a hearty and warm hue. “Gwen wi’ do.”

“Okay Gwen…on three. One, two…three!” We heaved together and drove the cart into a narrow opening. “What now?”

“Now we tip it o’er.” She winked and I laughed.

“Seriously?” She nodded. “Jurgen!”

He appeared and with a single heave, threw the cart onto its side, blocking the opening down the street.

“Thank you.” I watched him go then looked around the side of the cart, making sure it was as far wedged in as possible. “That should provide some cover I think.”

“Strange…ta see a werewolf an’ human workin’ together.” Gwen remarked, pushing her red hair from her face.

“You’d be surprised.” I said softly then looked up. Night had fallen and the moon was beginning its brilliant, full orbed ascent, daring the clouds that were attempting to chase it across the sky. “I don’t like the look of those clouds…”

“Rain is comin’.”

“Soon?”

“Before dawn.” Thunder rumbled. “Maybe afore mi’night.”

“Blast.” I thought of the cinder trap lying in wait in the braziers. “Suddenly I’m hoping they’ll attack sooner rather than later.”

“Should ya not be prayin’ that they dinna attack at all?” Gwen asked.

I sighed. “Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen. They’re coming. I know it.”

“I canna know why.” She pointed to a beam and I helped her pick it up, bracing it against the cart. “For ten years we ha’ not suffered a werewolf attack. We thought our defences were enou’…but I saw that werewolf leap over them as thou’ I were jumping o’er a stick.” Gwen shook her head. “So…if it is not because of our wall or the spikes or our armour…why now?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” She looked at me. I had to remind myself that my modern language would be lost on them. “I mean, you’re not serious in that claim, are you?”

“Why would I not be?”

“Uh, because you attacked and killed three werewolves in the old bastion.” I swallowed. “Quite frankly if I was a werewolf, I’d be hard pressed not to turn on you myself.” Gwen stared at me, her green eyes confused and unsure. “What?”

“We ha’ killed no werewolves.”

“I know you haven’t…” I shrugged. “I meant your hunters.”

“Our hunters ha’ not killed any either.”

“How could you possibly know that? This is a big place!”

“We are in the season of planntach.” It was my turn to look confused. “The season of plantin’. All who can ha’ been in the fields beyond the city walls.”

“Yeah, except the hunters.”

“You dinna understand.” Gwen insisted. “Everyone here understands the importance of planntach. Wi’out it, there is no harvest and we wi’ starve. Even if the hunters are no’ plantin’, they are protectin’ the workers from wild animals.”

I stared at Gwen, a horrible thought forming. “Gwen…where are your fields?”

“That way,” she pointed in the opposite direction of the old bastion, “it were always known that the werewolves had a fortress upon the ridge. We wanted to keep our plantin’ away from their eyes.” She swallowed and shook her head. “We would not raise the ire of the werewolves e’en in our fortress. We ha’ had ten years of peace.”

“No, you’ve had an absence of conflict,” I put my hand to my head, “and I know you don’t realise it, but you have a werewolf to thank for that…but he thinks you killed and skinned three of his people.”

Gwen’s face paled, her freckles standing out like dot-to-dots.

“We would ne’er do such a thin’. To skin a werewolf…”

I grabbed her arms. “Gwen, are you sure?”

“Search the city! We ha’ no pelts!”

I turned on the spot, aimless and wandering then suddenly filled with panic.

“Jurgen!” I ran through the city, hunting for him. “Jurgen!”

“Bethany?”

“Jurgen,” I grasped his arms, “they didn’t do it. These people did not kill Christel and the others.” Jurgen nodded and I stepped back. “Don’t you care? That should be enough to stop the attack!”

“Bethany, the taste for blood has been awakened…the conclave will not listen to us.”

“Bastian will. I’m sure of it. Once he knows these humans didn’t skin werewolves…”

“Forgive me,” the captain approached, “I heard your words and felt I should add something to this. Yesterday two bloody wolf pelts were found hanging from the front gate. They were immediately taken down and burned.”

“So it is possible hunters from this city killed them?”

“Then why leave them on the gate? I thought it strange but the harvest takes precedence and when you arrived on wolfback…” The captain looked between us. “What is happening here? What are we being made an example for?”

Jurgen looked at me, his eyes dark and sorrowful. “Not an example…a point of no return.” He looked up, the moon nearly at her zenith. “They will come soon.”

And then the whole city fell silent as a wolf howl echoed over Alte Fehde.

“Very soon.” Jurgen turned to the captain. “Sir, I beg of you, release my feet. You will have need of me before this is over. Allow me to protect you.” The captain only hesitated for a split second then unlocked the shackles. Jurgen turned to me. “Brace yourself.”

We retreated into quiet corners, the city silent and asleep to any who might be watching from the outside. Even the sentries on top of the bulwarks looked like they had fallen asleep. They were just scarecrows, dressed in soldier armour and slumped in slumber and would not fool the werewolves for long…but it might just be long enough.

I was by Jurgen’s side, hiding by the darkened side of the church. There were not many shadows to hide in as the moon shone brightly but the clouds had redoubled their efforts and their reach was spreading.

“Will the clouds stop the effect of the moon?” I whispered to Jurgen.

“Marginally…certainly not enough to claim an advantage.”

I swallowed and looked over at Gwen. She was in charge of one of the braziers and was braced behind it. She felt my gaze and looked up, her good natured face smiling despite the terror. I found I could smile back…

…when a black shape leapt into the sky, above the wall, landing in the town square. Dozens more followed, landing silently despite their weight and the force of their leap. Those who landed first broke into the houses closest to them, snarling even as more werewolves traversed the wall with ease.

The first werewolves emerged from the houses, snarling.

“They’re gone.”

“They cannot be. Search again!”

“I swear to you they are gone!”

The werewolves shifted into the town square. The captain looked at Jurgen who nodded. A single arrow fired into the air. Gwen lunged at her brazier, dumping the hot coal contents onto the ground along with dozens of others. The werewolves stumbled and tripped, trying to keep their feet from burning, driven to group together.

“Surround them!”

Humans, soldiers some but mostly just normal men and women brandishing weapons, came out of hiding, forming a heavy line of defence in front of the church. Jurgen put his hand on my shoulder and shook his head. I nodded and stayed where I was.

The captain moved forward, his heavy boots keeping his feet from being burned.

“You thought to catch us unawares, to slaughter us in our beds…but we are ready for you.”

A werewolf, taller even than Bastian with several scares on his body, tawny fur running down the length of his back, his powerful hind legs twitching for release, stood at the front of the pack. He had a soulless look in his eyes and marked into the skin over his heart, was a white slash.

“Gero,” Jurgen whispered into my ear, “alpha of the Howling Peaks, second only to Bastian’s father in violence.”

I couldn’t take my eyes from him. He was terrifying, bristling with the air of an attack dog being told to wait.

“You may be ready…but you are still prey…and you have only delayed the inevitable.” He snarled then cried over his shoulder. “Conclave!”

I held my breath. A small, yet snarling werewolf appeared on the leader’s left. He was marked with three red slashes. Then, on the right, Bastian stepped into view.

His hollow eyes, his shoulders stiffened into resolution…they tore at my soul. I wanted to start crying at my noble werewolf’s deformed transformation. Over his heart was a bloody handprint.

“As you can see, we outnumber you,” Gero chuckled darkly, “if you yield, we will only kill the males…”

I looked at Jurgen and he shook his head.

“Gero is not known for keeping that which he vows.”

“We’re not about to play dead for the likes of you.” The captain retorted. “Whatever you may think, we did not kill your kin, werewolf.”

Gero smirked. “Then how can you possibly know about it?”

I put my hand on Jurgen’s arm then stepped forward, out of the shadows, into the bright gaze of the meridian moon.

“I told him.”

Bastian let out a sharp breath of air, clamping his teeth down tightly.

Gero peered at me and then turned to Bastian.

“Your human dalliance?”

Bastian’s eyes were fixed on me as I pushed past the soldiers and stood by the captain. I was shaking so hard I thought I might fall apart. Surely every single joint in my body would lose cohesion and I would simply come undone.

“Bethany, what…”

“This is wrong, Bastian…and you know it.” I said, keeping one eye on Gero whose predatory gaze spoke volumes. I didn’t dare let myself think of what he had in mind for me, should I ever find myself in his grasp. “Whatever…happened or didn’t happen last night…this reaction is wrong. You’re angry, yes and you want vengeance but this…it goes against everything you believe in!”

“I am alpha!” He snapped at me. “No matter how they broke with me, I was still responsible! These humans…”

“Are not responsible!”

Bastian stared at me, the moonlight dulling as the clouds thickened above. More rolls of thunder echoed over us.

“Humans always side with other humans…” Gero muttered when the silence had gone on too long for his liking.

“Bethany,” Bastian swallowed, “you saw…what they did…how can you ask me not to retaliate?”

“So…this is it? For the rest of your story? Your legacy will be of, strike them when they strike us?” I cried. “What of your dream? Of a werewolf culture? Of peace?”

Gero laughed and it was a horrible sound to hear. “Peace…”

Bastian shook his head. “I tried, Bethany…it didn’t work.”

“No, you just avoided it.” I argued. “You fooled yourself into believing that in the absence of conflict, there was peace but all there was, was misunderstanding…and a breeding ground for terrible plans to unfold.”

“Enough,” Gero snapped, “I will kill her for you, Bastian. Just one…”

“These humans are not responsible!”

Bastian closed his eyes and shook his head. His heart was far from listening to me. He’d made his choice and he would accept the damnation that came with it. I couldn’t reach him.

“Listen to her, Bastian,” Jurgen joined my side and the reaction from the other werewolves was to snap and snarl at their perceived betrayer, “she speaks the truth.”

“More treachery by the Wolfgang clan…” The smaller werewolf alpha was disgusted.

“Jurgen,” Bastian’s words were ground out from between his teeth, “you disobeyed my order…heed it now. Get Bethany home.”

“She stands with me in defence of these humans…some of whom you might call kin.” Jurgen spoke urgently.

Bastian’s shame amplified his rage. “I am not human! I am not one of them!”

“I was there, Bastian,” Jurgen’s shoulders bowed but he held Bastian’s gaze, “the night your mother gave you up…she stroked your face…”

“Stop it!”

“She loved you.”

“I said stop!”

“But she couldn’t keep you.”

“Jurgen!”

“And your father, in the darkness, while she was saying goodbye…broke her neck…and went to leave you to die on Stein Anbieten. He didn’t care about your mother! He didn’t care about you!” Jurgen looked at his hands, shaking. “I had followed your father and I saw you lying there, crying in the cold night. I picked you up. You quietened in my arms as though you knew I would never hurt you…and I brought you home.”

Bastian clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. “Stop this! Jurgen…stop…”

“Only when your father saw what a handsome pup you were did he decide to take you as his son…but you have always been my boy.” Jurgen wept. “Bastian, please…don’t do this my son.”

Lightening flashed like a sword cutting through the sky and almost instantly, thunder rolled.

“Old dog…old lies…” Gero muttered. “Pathetic…”

“Jurgen is noble and kind and good.” I retorted.

Gero sniffed and smiled, his teeth showing. “You stink of fear.”

“And you’re a liar.” I shot, knowing I was well past the point of no return. “Humans did not kill Dietrich and Margit.”

“See how she defends the humans? See how she mocks our ability to see the signs?” Gero edged forward and I smelt singed fur as he inched into the cinders, his rage blinding him to the pain. “Or will you now conjure a reason for the human tracks at the scene?”

“Shoes are easy enough to fashion or steal,” I shivered, “and I know you can take enough human form to wear them.”

“Ha! Now she accuses me of brutalising my own kind!” Gero gave no warning. He simply lunged out but Bastian’s hand slammed onto his arm, gripping it tightly. Gero turned furious eyes onto him, snarling.

“I never told you…about the human tracks

…” Bastian’s voice was low and quiet. His eyes lifted slowly, fixing upon Gero’s with cold rage.

“I never told you…”

“Yes…you did.”

“No, I didn’t.” Bastian glowered and I saw the line of hair spread down his back, his claws extending, thickening and sharpening. “Tell me…that you did not do this…despicable thing…”

Gero’s eyes narrowed and he yanked his arm out of Bastian’s grip. Only because the younger werewolf let him go was he able to free himself.

“You ignored the conclave,” he said darkly, “so we gave you a reason you could not ignore.”

Bastian recoiled, horror coursing across his handsome features. “You…” He breathed, unable to finish his thought.

“You had every opportunity to be an alpha worthy of the conclave…but you’re a domesticated dog now.” The smaller werewolf sneered, confirming his collusion in the despicable affair.

Bastian closed his eyes, his fists tightening. “What did you do to Christel?” He demanded.

“Oh…she’ll make an excellent alpha of the Wolfgang clan.” Gero boasted then leapt back, tears appearing across his cheek, blood trickling down his face. He licked at it and glared at Bastian.

“You wanted blood? You’re going to get it.” Bastian snarled.

“What are you going to do? Challenge me?”

“Killing you alone won’t solve anything.” Bastian admitted then walked to where Jurgen, the captain and myself stood. “But I’ll never stand with you again. Armin!”

“Yes, alpha.”

“To me.”

Armin separated himself from the sea of werewolf darkness standing behind Gero and the other alpha to stand with Bastian…and immediately the two dozen werewolves who counted as militia broke away from the other two clans and formed a solid line, thee wolf deep, in front of the humans, behind the captain, Jurgen and myself. I could feel the captain shifting nervously at having werewolves so close and behind him.

Lightning flashed, thunder rolled and I felt the first few spots of rain. The cinders were already starting to grow cold and soon, they would be extinguished.

Gero’s eyes lowered and he began to snarl with a devilish grin.

Bastian held his gaze.

“Armin…let’s send these feral dogs running with their tails between their legs.”