Both Alphas were present in their den. Frost was getting ready to rest for the afternoon as he sat at the edge of his stone bed, which was layered with beige feral pelt and holly leaves. It was tucked in a recess in the wall, much like his partner’s bed. Meanwhile, Terra was hunched over a table in the opposite corner. Her eyes were set on pieces of paper, most likely notes that Terra tended to jot down. Agitation pulsed in her face, while her tail twitched every other heartbeat.
A few steps behind her was a boulder propped up against the wall. It was smooth around the base, then grew craggy as it protruded into several spikes of granite. Gail never understood it, but Terra claimed it to be lucky, at least to her.
Terra raised her snout, sniffing the air, before rounding on her seat to face Gail. Her expression became unreadable as a flurry of emotions conflicted. “Don’t tell me you left the cave again! Why are you bleeding?”
“From Zane being Zane,” Gail muttered as she hobbled into the den proper. Frost gave her a disapproving look.
“You should not be trifling with those in a higher position than you,” he said. “Have we not made that clear enough for you?”
Gail opened her mouth to protest, but then bit down on her lip. The stern look of Frost made Gail think better of talking back in both Alphas’ faces. Instead she dipped her head and, trying her hardest to stifle her indignance, muttered, “Yes . . . I’m sorry.”
When she padded closer, Terra spun her around to inspect her back. A disgruntled look crossed Terra’s face. “How many times do you plan on visiting the Zetas in a single day?”
“I don’t plan on returning to the Zetas for this,” Gail muttered, wincing an eye when Terra felt one of the many tears in her back. “I’ll just sleep this off.”
“You idiot,” Terra hissed. “And risk getting all these infected?” She yanked Gail by the hair, evoking a yelp. “Are you listening to yourself?
“Just let her be, dear,” Frost said as he was getting comfortable lying on his bed. “If she wants to get an infection, she’ll get an infection. She is going to have to learn the consequence of that the hard way.” He then turned his back to them both.
Gail already knew what she was risking. An infection was no joke—Gail had heard the tortured screams from the Zetas’ den when one of the Gammas suffered an infection and could only treat it when it was too late. Of course Terra would badger her to have it treated, but what else was Gail expecting when she entered the Alphas’ den? Even when she was their daughter, they never saw her as one. They never made an attempt to treat her like their daughter.
Terra growled. A burning sensation threatened to burst into flames at the back of Gail, but Terra muttered, “Fine,” before shoving Gail aside. “Go huddle in your spot and sleep yourself to death, you insufferable mutt.”
As irritated as Gail was, she was going to do just that. She did not much care for her health at this point. An infection across her back and possible torture constructed by Potts and Juniper was nothing compared to the hollow rip across her heart. She huddled in a depression in the ground, no pelt or leaves to cushion her, as her cheek rested on her hands. Terra’s lucky rock stood inches from her head. Facing the gray wall, her eyelids shut, and it didn’t take long until agonized slumber took her over.
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Gail found herself in a forest. Towering pines surround her, as gloomy and menacing as the stormy sky. Thunder cracked in the sky as sleet pelted against Gail, who was shielding her eyes from the shower of frozen crystals. She could just make out the beasts around her as they crept closer. They were feral wolves. If Gail didn’t know any better, they all may as well have been the same as the feral she had hunted earlier in the day.
A staggering pain scraped against Gail’s back. She whirled around after a couple of stumbling steps. More ferals padded menacingly, snarling. All of them foamed at the mouth. Hunger. Gail knew what they wanted, and she felt the same. But only Gail was trembling in surmounting fear. No matter which feral she looked, they each showed nothing but ferocity. Her claws felt like it was sinking into her fingers; a pit had gaped inside her stomach where her heart would sink into. With a howl, the wolves charged as a pack to pounce at her, and—
Gail’s eyes shot open. Her legs jerked and her toes stubbed against the stone wall. Sitting up she gasped for air as her eyes quivered. Her head spun around, surveying the area. She was back in the Alphas’ den.
She let out a sigh. Just a stupid dream. She felt like the feral sent that dream into her sleeping head as an act of revenge. Regardless, the images of the dream flashed in her vision, sending shivers up her spine. She scratched her back when it came sticking back.
Then her fingers felt something rough.
Had it scabbed over that quickly? She looked over her shoulder to see that it had been patched up with the same poultice applied on her earlier wounds.
She looked around the room again. Definitely in the Alphas’ den and not the Zetas’, with her in her sleeping hollow and the lack of excessive bonework and effigy. Had Potts and Juniper scented her wounds from across the cave? But they would have needed permission from the Alphas to enter the den, even if the situation were dire. Considering that Frost and Terra had left the den, however, the twins may have done just that. Despite Gail refusing to visit them, she was thankful nonetheless.
Assuming it was past dusk, she got up and padded into the main tunnel. The scent of a freshly restocked prey pile made her drool with a growling stomach—at least, the fading scent of what was once there. Only a few steps away were the Deltas taking their share of the already shrunken pile of small prey. The Alphas were already finished with their healthy take as they groomed each other, while the Gammas were still wolfing down on their take in a bloodied corner where they usually ate. Zane was nowhere to be seen. He probably, and hopefully, already skulked over to his den during Gail’s slumber.
Gail looked on at the pile wistfully. Suddenly she regretted not taking from the pile earlier. Her stomach lurched to have even a single bite as she watched the brawny Gammas chat with bloodied grins and the heads of finches poking out the sides of them. Reckles wasn’t among the four present Gammas, and neither was another Gamma named Bea, which seemed to always be the case.
Gruff caught her staring hungrily at the mound of prey. She jerked her head away, looking at the Alphas instead (which wasn’t a better sight either, seeing them so content). She was about to resign to the Alphas den when Gruff called her name.
She looked back. A plump rabbit lay at her feet, its lifeless stare begging for it to be eaten. Gail was frozen for a second, processing what this meant for her. When her stomach grumbled the answer, she smiled ear-to-ear at Gruff, who waved his welcome. She resisted laughing at seeing feathers sticking to his maw.
Gail sat down and brought the rabbit’s hind closer to her maw. The scent tickled her nostrils, and she was left with just that when a snarl stopped her mid-chomp. A Gamma tossed the bone of his prey at Gruff.
“What’s gotten into your skull?” the Gamma demanded. “The Zetas haven’t even seen the pile and you’re giving a fat rabbit to that unranked dog?”
“Oh, suck on a bone, Malte,” retorted Gruff. “The girl’s been through a lot already today. Can’t she at least have a nice supper?”
Malte wrinkled his brow with a snort. Gail could only imagine how outraged he looked beneath his mask, but even the skull he donned could do the work of showing his fury. Much like the other Gammas’ skull, it was decorated with scratches and blots of crimson. A few of the mandible’s teeth were broken off—at least one of the canines—but that somehow furthered his ferocity.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“No amount of misfortune should warrant something good happening to her,” Malte said, his voice stern and rough. “And you say that when the Alphas could hear you as clear as the moon. You sure your mask ain’t tightening around that thick head of yours?” He shot a glare when Gail was just about to take a bite. “You get a taste of that and you’re gonna be getting a taste of your own blood soon enough.”
Gail growled, but her ears submissively flattened against her head. Just from one glance at the Alphas, it could end in disaster if she were to spite Malte. She dipped her head despite her stomach growling in protest. She was about to return the rabbit from the pile when Terra spoke up. “Eat,” she said.
Malte shot Terra a baffled look, as did Gail. He opened his mouth to question her but thought better of it as his ears flattened. Frost disapproved of his partner’s decision too.
“You’re being too easy on her, dear,” Frost said. “If you keep at it, she’ll be too complacent.”
“I’m aware,” Terra replied. “It’s only a week until her Cubbing. May as well pamper her to make sure she makes it that far.” Her eyes narrowed. “But after that, no more considerations.” She got up and padded away to her den. Frost did the same, but not before shooting Gail and Gruff a cold glare.
Malte spat some fat on the floor. He muttered something under his breath before padding away; his hackles remained spiked from aggravation. The three nearby Gammas looked heatedly, while some of the other Deltas had a leery look to them after witnessing one of their own violating pack standards.
Gail sat close to Gruff. “You didn’t have to do that. Now you’re gonna be under scrutiny by the Alphas.” She looked down at the plump rabbit on her hand, still hesitant to eat it.
“I saw the way you were looking at the pile,” Gruff said. “You’re starving; even drooling a little now that I look at you closer. I thought Terra let you eat a feral wolf when you were lollygagging outside?”
Gail only hung her head in response, her ears flattening. She wished that were the case. Gruff sighed, probably guessing what had actually happened.
“Regardless, no one should starve. I do find it . . . concerning that we haven’t been getting a bountiful hunt as we usually do.” He gave a sidelong glance at the three Gammas—Shaw, Grifford, and Vin—who were content on eating a finch each. “I suppose we can only hope for a better hunt for the Gammas next time. I do wish us Deltas could be taken to more hunts.” He nudged Gail with a shoulder when she still hadn’t taken a bite. “Come on, drown that guilt off with some rabbit. You wouldn’t want to regret not eating it, yeah?”
Gail’s stomach rumbled agreement, and she began leaning on agreeing herself. Gruff knew the exact words to persuade her. With a soft “Thank you,” she bit down the rabbit’s neck. Her mouth watered with satisfaction.
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Gail couldn’t bring herself to down the whole rabbit for herself. She had waited for Potts and Juniper to take their share of prey, but it felt like they would never emerge from their den. She decided to instead head for Sierra’s den. Hugging the remaining half of the rabbit, she jogged down the tunnel, hoping to not run into Zane.
She followed the curving tunnel, leading her deeper into the mountain. It didn’t seem too different from the main tunnel. The same sparkling flames were embedded in the walls, lighting the area with its lambent glow, but they did nothing to provide substantial warmth. It felt just as cold as the snowy outside.
The first den she passed by was the Thetas. The intermediate path to their chamber was long and dark, but Gail could catch a whiff of their scents. It smelled rotten. Gail frowned, knowing the Gammas and above would never bother to remedy that.
Some distance after their den was Sierra’s. Quibs’s den was farther up ahead. Strangely enough, he rarely went down here. The Alphas allowed him to sleep in his station by the cave’s rear entrance.
Sierra’s den entrance was marked by a wooden sign hammered into the wall. On it, it read:
Welcome to the Iotas’ Den! Home to:
♡ Sierra
The sign stretched down more below Sierra’s name, presumably for names of future Iotas. Gail felt sorry for her, being the only name on the sign.
My name can be below hers next week. I can make it happen.
She knocked on the wooden sign and called, “Sierra? It’s me. Can I come in?”
A surprised squeak could be heard from inside. “Ack, Gail! Hold on, I’ll just tidy up my workplace!”
Could she still be working on her private project? As much as Gail’s curiosity gnawed at her, she only took a single step before she thought better of invading Sierra’s privacy. She waited until Sierra shuffled to greet her. “Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. I didn’t expect my little project to take so long.”
Gail couldn’t help chuckling with her. She offered the rabbit to her. “Here, I’ve already had my share.”
“Daww, did you come all the way down here to feed me?” She accepted the rabbit with a grin. “I greatly appreciate you, Gail. Come on in. I’ve tidied up for the most part.”
Gail followed Sierra into her den. By far it was the most beautiful and welcoming of all the dens. While it may not be as spacious as the Alphas’ (granted that Sierra used most of the space here for storage for her books, tools, and projects as well as a table), Gail felt more at home here than she did in the Alphas’ den. Although, her heart ached to return to their Sanctuary. It felt so long ago now. . . .
Sierra went over to one of the shelves, grabbed a piece of flint, and plopped the rabbit on a metal platform raised over a charcoal pile. Gail tilted her head as Sierra sparked a fire to life, cooking the bloodied rabbit.
“I don’t get why you insist on cooking your food,” she said. “Is it really that better?”
“Better in all ways!” Sierra dusted her hands as she got up. As she padded over to a shelf to grab one of the books, she said, “Other Ferians have been doing it for ages apparently, and it has its benefits!” She handed the book to Gail.
As Gail began flipping through the delicate, creased pages, Sierra went on, “So in addition to the food objectively tasting better, there are multiple ways you could cook your food! You can let it sit in boiling water, put some minerals and leaves to make it taste even better, batter it in milk, and even use arcane gems to cook them! Oh, and in some places, Ferians learned to grow their own food. Isn’t that crazy?”
Gail couldn’t be bothered to actually read the text in the book. A number of the pages were faded or completely ripped, and the readable sections seemed to drag on. About a dozen or so pages were about how important some metals were. She was skimming for any images and illustrations, but there was barely any that hadn’t decayed with the book. Still, she could hardly believe any of what Sierra said was real. “Are you sure this isn’t one of those fairy tales? Like the story of the wolf fighting its way through a giant fox’s guts while pilfering treasure and rescuing others that were also devoured, because we both know that’s impossible.”
“I know, that story was pretty . . . outlandish when we read it together, but I promise this one is factual! Gruff said so when he got it from a trader.”
“Still seems pretty fishy to me. And I think I passed by a section that mentioned fishing in cold climates. I would love to get a taste of fish!”
Sierra laughed. “Well, keep reading, maybe you’ll find out how to catch one for us. Oh! I think it’s time to flip the rabbit.” She padded back to her cooking station, while Gail flipped through the pages still
The fishing section was pages ago. Gail may be able to find it again easily, but her mind was lost at this point. There was so much information in this single book that no one had ever taught her. Were these just things she’ll eventually learn when she’s able to freely leave the cave? But surely they would be bringing home fish to eat?
Gail stopped at a passage when it was complemented with an image. Finally. Unlike the other images she had seen, this one was of a creature. The ink of the page had mostly faded, but Gail could make out the passage above the image. It read:
Ventay: The Goddess of Ferals and the Hunt
Often confused as having an association with the moons, although faintly, Ventay is considered as one of the most superior Higher Beings. She is depicted as a predator, often a wolf; others view her as a lion, while some depict her as a felid.
Taking up half of the page was an illustration of Ventay. It had mostly faded, with the rear half of the feral beast barely visible. Her head was bowed, with menacing blackened eyes glaring at Gail. There looked to be markings streaking its body, and what appeared to be tendrils reaching from behind her.
“Oh my god. . . .” Gail mumbled as her eyes darted back to the heading. This was Ventay—the name that Potts and Juniper would say that will protect them. It wasn’t any wolf or the effigy in their room. It was a goddess.
Gail turned the page, but to her disappointment, it was unreadable, and the upcoming pages had been torn. Except for one page.
It was an image of a skull. The same as the ones the pack wore.
Turning to the upcoming pages, Gail’s face fell when they too have been torn. She had landed on a section about another Higher Being, this one about an omniphoenix being the goddess of rebirth.
“Did you find anything interesting?” Sierra asked. She held a wooden plate with the steaming cooked rabbit.
“Sorta.” Gail flipped back several pages. With one long stare at the illustration of Ventay, Gail closed the book. She looked at Sierra with a newfound gleam in her eyes. “Do you have any more books like this?”