The sun, a molten beast in the zenith, roasted the desert floor until it shimmered like broken mirage glass. From the cracked lips of the land, a whisper, a tickle in the air, and a dust devil pirouetted into existence, a miniature cyclone conjured by the devil’s own breath. It cavorted across the parched earth, whipping sand into a frenzy. Heat shimmered the world into shimmering puddles.
[https://cdn.gencraft.com/prod/user/fd591b11-2d61-4ab5-bdf9-3b66887911eb/dc9ea7a8-52f5-4bb9-bc3e-827b90273b81/image/image1_0.jpg?Expires=1705155508&Signature=L-qVs3MYtR30M9gWJwPLPcqAyNAaic9C--~uPZOeJ3ATL-RazMpjDLCbzpAACRx-aIHL8yXzLEEbdL8KG~Sg9yShVLO383IABEPm2dECjWNyEsftTwW6TS-WszNKNzvk6PVnFoP6dw5KEeueD3B1kz62r-55emIBoab191k8Obiv7up7ZJSq-iJngjx3vgcedf0UI8EUE32~4fwqeAL753Tvuxv5v41ayRwdsUgSJuHla37fSg4IhoMT8tgrg9pNlWJEu-5hzG~6D7NbphARZE4bFGHJSIwkp6N2Y3oTr1D0Fge3F-kWeLnC4xVgmW2T~ysdKk0fBA50jWABOlrW1w__&Key-Pair-Id=K3RDDB1TZ8BHT8]
The dust devil kicked up to fight a cacti as Nia watched. The little tornado sashayed across the cracked clay, then lunged, a hungry maw of wind and grit. She saw the cholla needles defend itself as the dust devil engulfed the cactus in a swirling vortex. But the cholla stood firm, its roots deep in the parched earth. Then, with a hiss and a sigh, the dust devil dissolved, leaving the cholla untouched, save for a fine layer of desert rouge.
Nia’s face ached from holding back the tide of emotions threatening to break through. Her youthful eyes, usually sparkled with mischief, were now clouded with a storm of emotions - betrayal, anger, and a flicker of something else, something Antonio couldn’t quite grasp. He took a hesitant step towards her, his own gaze heavy with the weight of his actions.
His words, meant to soothe, only stoked the fire in her eyes. She met his gaze, her chin trembling slightly. “Uncle,” she started, her voice a strained whisper, “you can’t keep saying you did it for us! Look at me!”
Her outburst startled him. Antonio’s expression, once resolute, wavered in the face of her raw pain. His hands coming up in a placating gesture. “Nia, please,” he murmured, his voice laced with an unfamiliar vulnerability.
But Nia pressed on, her voice gaining strength with each syllable. She wouldn’t budge. Her fists clenched and unclenched, her jaw set in a stubborn line. “No, Uncle,” she spat, her voice laced with hurt. “Do you see the fear in my eyes, Uncle? The guilt? It's yours now, Uncle. Every tear I shed for my mother, every unanswered question, it’s on you!”
A tear escaped, tracing a silver line down her cheek. Antonio reached out, a flicker of remorse crossing his face, but Nia flinched away from his touch. “Don’t!” she cried, the word sharp as a blade. “Your hands are stained, Uncle. Don’t try to wipe it away with empty words.”
His hand froze in mid-air, then fell back to his side.
“You don’t get to just walk away from this. I want to believe you, Uncle,” she said. Each word is a painful concession. “But the blood, the fear in the eyes of the survivors… it screams a different story.”
An air of heavy silence descended upon them, broken only by the distant cry of a hawk circling high above. Candace, standing beside Antonio, shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting between Nia and Antonio. The king of werewolves’ shoulders slumped. In this, he was Nia’s uncle, not her king. He took a deep breath, the words rasping in his throat. “I did what I had to do,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “To protect you, to protect the pack. Your mother...” he trailed off, the words snagging in his throat.
The anger finally ebbed, leaving behind a hollow ache in Nia’s chest. She looked at Antonio, not with rage, but with a profound disappointment that cut deeper than any accusation. “Why, Uncle?” she asked, her voice a broken sigh. “Why couldn’t you just let her go?”
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He briefly closed his eyes, the weight of her question seemingly palpable. When he opened them again, they held a flicker of the old Antonio, the one who used to tell her stories by the fire and tuck her in at night. He reached out, hesitantly, and touched her cheek. His fingers trembled, but his voice held a resolute determination. “Nia,” he said, his voice low and thick with emotion, “the world outside... it’s not what you remember. It’s colder, harsher, filled with dangers we can’t even imagine. Your mother... she couldn’t have survived it.”
His words resonated with a painful truth. Nia closed her eyes, the image of her mother’s smiling face superimposed on the desolate wasteland they now call home. A sob escaped her lips, choked off by the harsh reality of his explanation. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she opened them, moving her gaze to meet his, searching for any flicker of deceit. Then, slowly, a flicker of understanding flickered in Nia’s eyes, the anger simmering down to a low, dangerous heat.
A hand rested gently on her shoulder. Nia flinched again, but then relaxed as she recognized Candace’s soft touch. The older woman pulled Nia into a hug, her warm embrace a comforting presence in the storm of her emotions. Nia felt his thick arms wrap his warmth around both her and Candace, Nia’s small frame a balm to his soul. He whispered. “You mean everything to me.”
He pulled back, his eyes meeting hers again. In them, she saw not just the leader of the pack, but a man burdened by a terrible choice, a man who, despite his flaws, loved her fiercely. And in that moment, Nia knew she had to trust him, even if it meant walking a tightrope over the past.
Candace touched Nia's elbow as she murmured in her ear, “He is the only one that can destroy one of us, but your uncle has love and patience that frustrates the rest of us. He reacted this way only now because of losing me to a senseless death."
Nia nodded, understanding what she said.
As the trio parted from the embrace, Supatra came to Nia. She looked first at Antonio, then at Nia. He asked your mother to do something very important."
"What?" Nia's voice hinted at bewilderment.
"Like he did with Lángrén." Candace gently spoke as another dust devil twisted into a vortex. “She could always return to the pack when she was ready. Once her task was done."
"SHe only had one request." Supatra looked at Nia. “You to be taken care of."
Nia's desperation to know pushed at her heart-filled bridge. "She's out there? All this time? She’s out... there?!” She swept and pointed her hand. “Out there?”
Antonio walked into Nia’s personal space. Bare toe to bare toe. He locked his gaze with her eyes. She growled, “Where is she?”
As if the universe had heard and expertly timed it, Jason arrived. He knelt and rose, twice tapping his fist to his heart. "I live to serve."
"Nia. My warrior niece. You asked what was next." He turned to Nia and noted the tear staining her chin. "Enough culling has been done. The ferals cannot spread a full werewolf's genes. Thankfully," he caught Supatra's gaze and nodded. "There is a kill-switch. Their bite has been enough to knock some sense into the humans."
Antonio clasped his hand on Nia's own. "We are not wild dogs." He caught Jason's head nod. "We are family."
Monika stepped up into the vista. Her sandals dusted by hot sand flacks. Her yellow and gold outfit seemed to make her a goddess from deep dunes. Jason stepped in from behind her to stand alongside Supatra. A smile threatened to break his cheeks. As do the smiles on Candace, Supatra, Marisol, and Lángrén. Nia’s face is impassive.
Antonio cupped her cheeks with his palms, “Beloved sister of mine... Monika. You have been missed. Terribly so."
[https://storage.googleapis.com/rocky-production/story_images/big_16d2845f14def3b64590a3f00b874ccc.jpg](Image credit: [Marisol] Midjourney AI prompt generated]
Monika looked deep into all their eyes, most especially Nia's. Without a word, Monika spun to Antonio and Candace, she lifted her shirt. Her black bra held her modestly, but what drew the eyes of everyone was the seared map laying on her skin. A tattoo of a wolf impaled by a flaming sword covers her from the side of her breast to her rib cage. On the other side, a tattoo of a wolf impaled by a flaming sword covers her from the side of her breast to her rib cage. On the other side, the wolf's eyes pointed to a branded map on the side of her breast, tracing down to her thigh.