The night turned inky and the wind died, leaving an intense, echoing stillness. Barely discernable as a strip of deeper blackness between the dark trees, a straight road shone faintly, the hard surface reflecting the scarce starlight. The drone of a distant car had been getting steadily louder, and now a set of headlights topped a slight rise, blazing fire into the still night and highlighting a figure trotting slowly along the edge of the asphalt. The car roared swiftly closer and ruffled his fur as it zipped past.
A heavy screech of tyres biting the hard surface made Riley's drooping ears wince, but he kept his nose close to the ground and limped doggedly on, barely noticing the subsequent heavy slam of a door, or footsteps approaching, until a soft drawl said, "Hello old fellah. You're out late. Looks like you're going somewhere, are you lost? Let me just take a look at your collar."
The woman almost managed to get a hand on his ruff. He was so tired, his dodge was slow and awkward, and he winced as he landed hard on his cut paw when he swerved around her and trotted on, slightly faster. He could hear her panting as she tried to catch up, and increased his pace a bit more, tuning her out as he sunk back into his tired old lope. He had a job to do.
The car screeched and roared past him again, slewing to a halt across his path as the woman jumped out for a second time. Riley huffed in frustration, and winced his way over the spikey stones at the road edge, lumbering across the ditch into the orchard of knotted old trees while soft, cajoling words followed him, calling him back. He felt awkward, slightly ashamed, ignoring the human, but he had to. And some of them were so
insistent
.
The tired old hound swayed in the darkness under the fruit trees, wanting to fold and sleep. He was so hungry. A burning ache seared his joints, and his foot throbbed. He had been too tired to pay proper attention for a long time now, so the edge of his pad had been cut when it had landed on a sharp stone. He had licked it clean but was leaving a patchy trail behind him, a faint line of blood dots disappearing into the distance back down the road. Riley's brain was fuddled with pain and exhaustion and hunger, but he knew what he was doing.
Following the trail.
Guilt was partially what pulled him along. Riley wasn't a fighter, he never had been much of one and now he was too old, too stiff. Those wolves had been so big. So many. And while the old beagle had circled the horde of them savaging at the Alpha, trying to see an opening, he had stumbled over the scent trail. The same strange car scent as before, that the Alpha had told him to follow, from home. The urgency of the command had still echoed in his head:
follow it
. The old beagle had hesitated, watching the fight that he couldn't hope to win. And had turned to track along the scent. Hoping this was right. He was still tracking. Hoping.
His tired brain couldn't remember properly now, through the weariness, but he thought he recalled, not long ago, hearing that strong voice in his head again. Telling him to look at the white shiny board on the metal post by the roadside, coaxing him to focus fuzzy eyes on the black squiggles crossing the surface. The voice had hurt his head so much, the pain making him a little dizzy. Had he heard it?
Across the ditch, a car door clunked, and the engine purred away into the darkness. The woman had gone. The old beagle, trembling, limped painfully back across the ditch and resumed his tired lope along the faint, rubbery, chilling scent.
An hour later, Riley barely heard the next car, head drooping between his shoulders in weariness as he limped doggedly on. Then he blinked, heart aching on a sudden thud as he dodged the door opening just ahead of his nose, whining at the pain in his paw.
He stopped and blinked again, nostrils twitching at the scent of the person sliding out of the car: the boy who lived next door. He smelt funny, even more strongly wolf than earlier, but it was Adam alright.
Then the hound's haunches hit the asphalt, hind legs collapsing as the scent of the driver striding around the rear of the car washed over him. The Alpha was so much
stronger
. And
furious
. Riley's limbs were melting under him in fear, and he trembled, head dropping instinctively to rest on his throbbing forepaws as he peered up at the looming figure approaching, the tip of his tail supplicating. He had meant to do right. But the Alpha was so
angry
.
The hand caressing over his head reassured him, then he gulped half a yelp as he was scooped abruptly into strong arms just before the wolf leapt over the roadside ditch holding him, and strode off across the stubbly field.
Riley's fur was standing on end, being carried by this volcano of explosive feeling. But he was soothed by the hand still expertly fondling his ears: the Alpha was not angry with
him
.
Slowly through the fog of exhaustion in his brain Riley recognised - the Alpha was
proud
of him. While Adam pumped in water, the powerful wolf gently, swiftly washed his paw in a little trough at the side of the orchard, then licked it healed himself-
properly
healed. Together with licking over his other clean pads, so that they buzzed and tingled fire, but stopped aching. Then Adam and the blazing Alpha shared out a delicious supper of warm pork chops from a paper bag, all three of them standing around gnawing together. Riley's tail was waving exuberantly as he devoured his share of the delicious feast.
Sharing meat with an Alpha.
Shortly afterward, the old hound sat happily on the passenger seat, tired brain clouded with fuzz, and flopped against the upholstery as the pair of two-leggeds spoke to each outside the open car door. Mac crouched down abruptly, lifting the beagle's head to look into his eyes, but Riley winced and looked away. It
hurt
. He was too
tired
. Then he whined apologetically as the Alpha surged back to his feet and said, "Are you sure?" in a brittle voice to Adam while he carefully closed the door.
The boy pressed a palm to his own head, crushing flat the grimy once-white cap that was now tied to his scalp with a dark ribbon. The boy's voice was harsh, vehement as he vowed, "Yes."
The wolf grunted and handed him the car keys and his phone, turning slightly to flicker a burning glance back down the road in the direction from which they had come. "The travel sickness will be horrible once the drug wears off - try and get as far as you can before you have to abandon the car, but don't get arrested."
Adam grunted, and strode impatiently around to the driver's side. The Warlord half-growled, and Adam jerked to a halt and looked back across the roof of the car, gaze caught and held by the burning brightness of the Alpha's. Mac seared a deep, searching, almost yearning look into the werewolf's eyes for a long moment, before he nodded, growling again, "Keep in touch." There was a flash of white fur, and in seconds the graceful wolf vanished in among the trees.
Riley was staring at the spot where the Alpha had disappeared, heart aching. Then he felt familiar fingers stroking between his ears, and stopped whining. "Good boy," Adam whispered hesitantly while the driver's door clunked shut behind him. "It's just you and me on this hunt now - Mac has to lead the more direct attack. But one way or another, we'll find Gem."
***
That had been far too close
, Mac thought as he limped into the Marshmont dining hall the following afternoon.
The vast chamber took up almost the entire third floor of the cliff fortress, flanked to the west by a series of large kitchens, and to the east by a smaller, private dining room. A long, wide corridor running along the windowless north side connected all the rooms to the central stairway, and the doors in the north wall of the corridor opened only onto a series of store-rooms and butchering rooms.
The long bank of tall windows opposite the dining room doors flooded the space with warm afternoon light. A vast, detailed map of the broad valley and surrounding mountains covered almost the entire length of the long wall opposite the windows, behind the equally long, heavy wooden tables. The sparse melee of besieged Marsh wolves were chattering in relief as they swarmed in toward the succulent food, relating in hushed, excited murmurs the staggering series of events which had enabled them to repel the night attack, an attack that had commenced only minutes after the Mackeld had parachuted in.
Mac was trembling with fatigue after his second night of battle without rest, covered in sweat and healing wounds, both those from this new fight, and those which had not yet fully healed from the battle down at O'Connell. He collapsed onto one of the benches, scowling at his excruciating piquant, and ignoring the empty winged seat at the head of the top table to which Karim Marsh was beckoning him. Jon Marsh's seat. The Marsh wolf heeded the warning look he received and settled with a grimace on a bench to the right of the empty seat, next to Mac's brother-in-law Will Bancroft.
Mac's brain was seething, his heart keening. He hadn't managed to fight through to Jian-Xi Tzo
. He still didn't know where she was
. Warlord Tzo had arrived with a mass of new forces at dawn to augment the attack here at Marshmont, leading an all-out assault to take the fortress.
What the hell was the Tzo himself doing
here
?
The Tzo pack had flown in with their remaining air transport. Mac shuddered at the thought of the position the Aster would have been in if his mate hadn't invented her travel drug. They would have had no chance of keeping up with their enemies.
His Gemma.
Wincing, Mac's eyes lit with fury and he reached for the overpoweringly enticing meats piled in the dishes before him with a hand trembling with fatigue and anger. As soon as he had refuelled he would sortie out and beat her whereabouts out of the fucking Tzo himself, if necessary.
Mac tore off a mouthful with no table manners whatsoever, chewed ferociously, and was already biting off a second piece when he noticed the figure of Hakan hovering hesitantly in the far doorway of the dining hall, beyond the packed tables of hungrily wolfing Marsh. The White second was shivering lightly as the scents caressed his nostrils, his battle-battered packmates peering past him longingly, foreheads creased with their own piquant headaches.
Ah.
Damn
, thought Mac.
The Alpha shook his pounding head, dragging his mind out of his brooding fury, irritated with himself for not realising, remembering. He rose quickly back to his feet, swaying slightly as his stomach
howled
for more, clenching his claws into the wooden tabletop.
"Karim Marsh," he called across the long tables, voice thundering above the noise, and the gorging warriors in the hall all suddenly froze, falling silent, heads turning to the formidable Warlord.
"May my Whites share your kill?" asked Mac formally.
A sense of relief washed through the hall, and Karim spun to face the wolves packed just outside the Western doorway. The heartfelt howl of his fria welcoming the guests was echoed by a wave of slightly shamefaced laughter throughout the vast chamber, and the Marsh wolves quickly rose to shuffle seats and benches sideways to make room for their new allies, calling them in, beckoning them to the free places.
