1.
The temperature had dropped the past few days, leading the sun away and a thin layer of snow to cover the ground. The trees were bare and the few patches of soil that peeked out from the snow were hard. Every so often, a squirrel would scurry past, trying to claw through the dirt in a desperate attempt to find food.
Wolf's steps were silent as she walked back towards her camp. Her arms were tired and heavy from the pile of firewood she carried. Her eyes burned and she could feel her fingers beginning to numb; any longer out there and she knew she would collapse and never get back up again. Anyone would think she would be accustomed to the cold by now; she had lived there for seven years and counting. And yet she still spent most of her time longing for the warm desert days.
She stopped short at the sound of footsteps coming from behind her. Convincing herself it was someone who had come to help, she turned around. Someone slammed into her, knocking her to the ground and scattering the firewood. When she looked over to see who it was, she did not recognize the face. His eyes were wide and his breathing was heavy. He frantically placed a finger over his lips, a gesture too desperate to be malicious.
"Please help me. Please, you have to. You can't tell anyone that I've crossed this way. I didn't mean to cross the boundary line—please, I didn't mean to." He was trying to keep his voice to a low whisper, yet it rose as he became more and more alarmed. "Please." His eyes pleaded with her, tears pooling.
"Where are you from?" she asked. She did not believe this was a diversion—many had attempted to conquer the Ashamari village in the past by creating distractions, but this was different. He feared for his life. And if that was not enough to prove he was honest, then it was his scent. This was human. They dared not to venture into Ashamari in an attempt of conquer.
"Hallio—I'm from the Hallio Village."
"You are long away from there. How did you get here?"
"I was traveling along the shoreline with my son. He saw something in the woods as we neared the border and ran in. I went in after him but couldn't see him anywhere. I didn't mean to come in this far. Please, just tell me how to get home. Please don't kill me."
"Travel in a straight line down to the shoreline. Once you get there, head east. You will come to the border of Ashamari and Hallio within the hour. Go quickly—my people are hunting."
He kneeled to the ground, allowing the snow to soak his pants. "My name is Xavier Tenneth and I am forever in your debt."
"Get up—there is no time for a discussion of debt. If you're caught, I will not consider your blood to be on my hands."
"I would not expect you to."
He ran off, stumbling through the trees until he was out of sight. Wolf gathered the fallen wood into her arms and took heavy steps towards the camp.
By the time she had reached camp, snow had begun to fall. Flakes covered her clothes and matted her hair. People were hurrying about the camp, whispering about something that Wolf's ears were not able to catch. She dropped the firewood into a larger pile in a tent and followed her people as they gathered into a circle.
"My people of the Ashamari Village," a voice shouted, "I present to you a trespasser!" She recognized the voice as Jessie. As she pushed herself through the crowd, she met the eyes of Xavier Tenneth. He met her gaze and gave an apologetic smile. "This man thought it was okay to come into our home, our boundaries! Today, we will show him the mistake he made."
There were cheers and sounds of encouragement from the crowd. Wolf pleaded with the gods to let something—anything—happen. Send down an earthquake and allow the earth to swallow Jessie. Change the snow to a blizzard and allow this man his escape. Despite her pleads, nothing happened. Absolutely nothing.
"Tell me your name, trespasser," Jessie demanded.
"Xavier Tenneth." His voice was quiet as he considered his impending death.
"Louder!"
"Xavier Tenneth," he said, this time with more strength. Wolf recognized it as the last ounce of strength he had left within him. This man was not a fighter. This man was a human born into a village that was supposed to fight for him.
"I will give you two choices, Xavier Tenneth. You can either die by my hands, or choose to fight against someone in my pack. Make your decision quickly."
Everyone already knew that Jessie saw everything as a game, yet the way that he was toying with Xavier struck Wolf with even more disgust and hatred for the man she was supposed to be loyal to. She strained her ears to listen as Xavier made his choice. "I will fight," he managed to choke out.
Jessie erupted with laughter. He turned to face the crowd of people, circling around to see everyone. "Who wishes to fight this madman?" Three men began to walk forward, pushing each other out of the way, declaring their intentions. "To be fair, there can only be one," Jessie announced. Fair. The word held little meaning when Jessie was the one using it.
One of the men wrestled the other two down and knocked each out, displaying his strength to Jessie. That was all that was important for some. To display their strength and worth to Jessie meant getting treated slightly better than the rest of the pack. Wolf recognized the man as Kaliel, strong and vicious. He would give Xavier a death that was anything but painful and excruciating.
Seeing no other choice, Wolf shifted. Her bones snapped and her body morphed into that of a wolf. She lunged forward and pinned Kaliel to the ground and sinking her teeth into his shoulder. He cried out in pain and she got off of him, walking in front of Jessie.
Jessie, amused, threw his head back and laughed. "I suppose we have our warrior for the evening. You may choose to fight in either form."
Seeing the fear in Xavier's eyes, she shifted back. Goosebumps rose on her flesh and she tried not to shiver in the bitter weather. Her naked body did nothing to keep her warm, yet the sight of someone he recognized, someone who had helped him, seemed to calm Xavier, even if it was just in a small amount.
She circled around him and lowered her voice so only she could hear. "I am called Wolf," she told him. "You are a brave man to choose to fight. You will be remembered by me, and I promise you will be remembered by others as well. I am sorry you were caught."
"It was my own fault," he told her. "Please do not feel at fault or anything. It is I who owed you, not the other way around."
"Now you owe me nothing."
"Why have you chosen to fight me?" She could see the question was bothering him, the curiosity becoming too much.
She lunged forward and hit him in the face. He stumbled backwards, his fingers moving to his nose and finding blood. As she moved closer to him, the fear in his eyes dissipated and he smiled gratefully. She tackled him to the ground and moved her hands to circle around his neck.
"Thank you." His eyes showed more gratefulness than he would ever have been able to express. She nodded curtly and squeezed. The sound of his neck snapping triggered images and thoughts of his son, though she did her best to push it into the back of her mind.
The crowd let out roars of excitement. Wolf walked past Jessie, ignoring his congratulations. She did not stop walking until she found herself back in the forest. Her hands were balled into fists as she stared at the ground. Grinding her teeth, she made the decision that she knew would probably get her killed. And still, she was unable to find it in her to care about her own death.
She had been wandering the forest for two hours. By now, she was sure she was lost. She should have just followed the coastline. But, no—that would have been too risky. Too much caution would have had to been used. Although her pack was probably celebrating over the death of a trespasser and hoping for another, there was still a chance she was unwilling to take.
After another hour, the temperature began to rise. She shifted into her human form as she began to pant. At first, the heat burned. Her numb body did not have the time to adjust slowly and did not appreciate being thrown into it. She broke out into a run as she saw the end of the tree-line. All she could see past the trees was sand, but that was all she needed to see to know she had crossed the boundary line.
Once she had broken past the trees, she embraced the sun. It felt warmer here than it ever had in Ashamari. Hotter, brighter, more welcoming. It made her feel like nothing could harm her; like the rays wrapped themselves around her in a protective embrace.
She could make out the shapes of huts in the distance and walked towards them, knowing she was also headed in the direction of the lake. As she approached the huts, she caught sight of people watching her, whispering to each other. One ran in the opposite direction, not stopping until they reached a tent.
She stopped where she was; if she had gone any closer, she feared the people would see her as a threat. A man came out of the tent that the messenger had run into. His steps were slow and confident as he came to her. A woman joined him on the way, a human. She walked unsteady—Wolf guessed a physical ailment.
Squaring her shoulders, she tried to look the man in the eyes, though they continued to slip down to sand beneath her bare feet. When he was within a step of her, he stopped and waited for her to look back up. All the strength and courage she had melted into fear and regret—perhaps if she had tried, she could have saved him.
"I am here to talk to the family of Xavier Tenneth," she announced. Her voice waivered and she balled her hands into fists, trying not to shake.
"We are all his family here," the man replied. He stared her down and she shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Where do you come from and how do you know him?"
It was then that she gave up. A deep breath left her and her shoulders slumped over. The tall stature she had so painfully held shattered at his question and she looked at him with overwhelming sorrow. "I come from Ashamari." At this, the people watching them began to murmur fearfully. "I am the one who killed Xavier."
Five men rushed towards her—warriors, she assumed. They seized her without order and threw her to the ground. "Enough!" the woman shouted. The men ceased their actions just as one had pulled back his arm to strike her. "Help her up."
When Wolf was on her feet, the woman took her arm and guided her away. Wolf looked back to the man, though he remained silent and without protest. They walked to the middle of the village, passing those who were angered, afraid, saddened, and confused. She waited for the order to be given to kill her, yet nothing happened as she was guided into a large tent.
"Sit," the woman commanded, gesturing to a chair in the corner. She sat obediently, as if this was the woman she was loyal to. "Please, tell me your story." She reached for a blanket next to the chair and draped it around Wolf's shoulders.
"I do not have much to tell. I met him in the woods as he was going after his son. He claimed to have not known where he was going, or that he had already crossed the boundary. He was...afraid. The smell of fear on him was enough to make me dizzy. I pointed him in the right direction and left him to go on his way. When I returned back to my camp, I noticed that he had been caught."
"And how did you end up being the one to end his life?" The woman leaned closer at this and Wolf took a moment to study her. There were wrinkles around her eyes, gray hairs mixed in the sea of brown. Her face was lightly freckled. There was a sense of familiarity about her that she strained to hold onto, yet it faded as her mind dwelled on the question she had been asked.
"The leader of our pack—Jessie—had given him two options. To die by Jessie's hands, or to fight another. A man—Kaliel—had stepped forward to fight Xavier. He is not one to give a merciful death to anyone. I fought him to get to Xavier."
"So you chose to be the one to fight him? Why? Why would you not allow this Kaliel to make a show out of it? Is that not what your people do?"
"It is what Jessie and his followers do. There are those of us who do not agree with the ways of our pack, yet we do not have the strength to leave, not even in numbers. I chose to fight him to give a quick death. He did not deserve to die, but I knew that one way or another, he would. And for an innocent man to suffer by my lack of action is not something I would pride myself on."
"What would have happened if he had defeated you?"
She swallowed heavily at this. "If a trespasser were to defeat one of our own, Jessie would have both killed. Their arms would be ripped off, and then their throats slit, after Jessie deems they have suffered to point of numbness."
The woman's eyes closed and she made an expression of disgust and disbelief. "What did Xavier say to you when you helped him?"
"He told me he was indebted to me."
"Name your price. His debts become our own in his death. We will do right by you for protecting one of our own. Tell us what you wish for."
She stood, the blanket still draped around her shoulders. This time, she built up her confidence and refused for it to disappear. "Did his son ever return?" The woman nodded. "I wish to speak with him."
As they walked out of the tent, all eyes were on them. Wolf looked around, trying hard not to appear as nervous as she felt. "Is she going to be executed?" one man shouted. A few others murmured in agreement.
"Silence!" the woman shouted. A hush fell onto the people. "She will not be harmed. Bring forth Bran Tenneth."
"Why does she face no punishment? She's from Ashamari! Our people would be tortured just for crossing the border, and yet she kills one of us and faces no consequence?" someone from the crowd argued.
"Everything will be explained after I have seen Bran. Where is he?"
The crowd parted as a young boy walked forward. Bright, blue eyes shone from behind dark bangs. He approached them cautiously, never taking his eyes off of Wolf. His hands shook and yet he kept his head high, his stance ready to run or fight if the circumstances were to change at any given moment. She immediately admired him.
"You will go with her, Bran. She brings no harm to you, only sorrow."
Without question, the boy followed Wolf as she started to walk away. She led him down to the shoreline of the lake that cut into every boundary of every village. He followed every moment she made as she sat onto the soil. For a while, they said nothing. The sun was starting to set when Wolf finally opened her mouth to speak.
"My name is Wolf," she said. It was all she could think to say. How could she tell a boy so young his father was dead and she was the killer?
"That's a funny name. Why would your parents name you after an animal?"
"Does Bran not mean raven?"
"It's not the same thing."
"Well, if it makes any more sense, my parents are dead, and even if they were alive they would have not had a say over my name. I was named by my pack leader."
"Jessie?"
"You have heard of him?"
"Stories. Horrible stories of all he has done. Of all that your people have done."
"Many of those stories hold true. Except for one."
This caught the boy's attention. "Which one?"
"He is not as brave as people believe. He is a coward who hides behind those that blindly follow him. He survives off of the loyalty of others. Without it, he would be nothing."
"But he's an Ashamari. He's stronger than everyone."
"Strength does not come from how many forms you shift into, or your control over your shift. It comes from bravery. It comes from your own, entire being. A man who is strong physically is not a man who holds strength. And yet, a man who is weak physically can still be strong."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It might make sense to you one day."
"Do you think I could be strong?"
"I think everyone has the potential to be strong. Your father—" She stopped herself, the words caught in her throat. Bran looked at her.
"I heard what you said in Yama's tent."
A small smile crept across Wolf's lips. "You're an eavesdropper, are you?" Bran blushed, embarrassed. "Then you know that your father is strong."
"He died."
"And he died a strong man. He had the strength to choose to fight even when he knew he would die, even when he was afraid. I could only hope to harbor as much strength as your father did."
Bran looked to the water as it lapped onto the shore inches from their feet. "Do you truly believe he was strong?"
"I would never lie about a man's strength."
"You're a shifter, and you're calling a human strong. Anyone would see that as a lie."
"The only difference between a shifter and a human is their body. There is no difference when it comes to their minds, to their hearts. One human can be braver and stronger than a hundred shifters combined. I would have thought you to know that, living in Hallio Village. This is the only village where shifters and humans live at peace and mix."
"Yeah."
When he said nothing more, Wolf rose to her feet. "I only wished to tell you that your father died with strength. I promised him he would be remembered for his bravery, and now it is your turn to help me keep that promise. Tell your village what I have told you. Tell them that you are the son of a great warrior."
Bran stood up tall and smiled. "What about you?"
"What about me?" She tilted her head to the side, trying to make sense of his words.
"My father is a great warrior, but what are you?"
"I...I am nothing."
"Why would you say that?" Bran's voice rose. "After all you have told me—after going out of your way to help my father, and then to give him a painless death, you call yourself nothing?"
"It's something we are taught when we're young, Bran. Those of Ashamari are nothing. We are animals, and no more. We are beasts that deserve no recognition. I say I am nothing because that is what I am taught to be."
Bran threw himself onto Wolf, engulfing her in a tight embrace. "You're merciful," he whispered. "You're kind. You saved my father, even if you did so by killing him."
He let go of her and walked away, turning back only once to say, "You're strong."
The guilt was weighing her down an hour into the trek home. Despite having kept her promise to him, something was still nagging at her. She could have done something. She could have fought. All they would have had to do was run—but to where? Hallio would not have harbored her at risk of Jessie taking over. Waus was a village of strictly humans—they would have taken Xavier, but killed her. Even if they had gotten further than the bordering villages, the possibilities of how it would have ended still involved death.
So why did she still feel guilty?
She was torn from her thoughts at the sound of clapping. She spun around and saw a woman leaning against a tree. She was clad in fur and there was a shimmer in her eyes that made her untrustworthy.
"That was kind. What you did in Hallio, I mean." She pushed herself off from the tree to walk closer to Wolf. "What did you say you call yourself? Wolf?"
Wolf pulled the blanket around her tighter. She hadn't realized she was still wearing it until that moment. It was a mistake, she realized, to not have ditched it and changed into her other form. She would have been a lot warmer, and would have had the means to run from this woman.
"Why don't you just rename yourself?"
"Have you ever heard of Ashamari?"
"What I know of Ashamari is irrelevant. Answer my question."
"Even if I were to call myself something else, what difference does it make? My name to everyone else would still be Wolf. That is what I was named, and that's how it will be forever."
"What if I told you there was a way to rid the world of Jessie? Would you change your name then?"
"I would only make changes to my life if Jessie was not in the picture."
"That's not true. You made a change today. You crossed the border, Wolf. You went behind Jessie's back and talked to the people of Hallio to compensate for the death of that man."
"Who are you? And how do you even know all of this? What do you want from me?"
The woman laughed. "You ask a lot of questions. My name is Santana, and I'm here to help you with Jessie. I can help you get rid of him."
"Why would you want to do that? What would you gain?"
"The loyalty of his current pack. With him gone, I would be the new leader."
"Are you honestly trying to say that all you want is the glory of defeating him?"
"Not just the glory, Wolf. The power and strength that comes with conquering new territory. I would closer to being recognized as a god if I were to take down the Ashamari pack."
"A god? You are joking, right?"
Santana remained quiet, giving Wolf her answer. Wolf sighed and a smile played across Santana's face. "What does Jessie fear most?"
"As far as anyone is concerned, he fears nothing."
"What about the pack of shifters that people call the 'Savages'?"
Wolf's eyes widened at this. "What are you implying?"
"They want revenge, and I have the means to get into contact with them. If they killed Jessie, you would be free of threat. Hell, I'm sure they would even allow you to join their pack, or leave to join another if you wished. They aren't as bad as Jessie made them out to be."
"What would I have to do in return?"
"Swear your loyalty to me. Swear that you would give your life to protect me—that I am your pack leader."
"That's all? You only wish for my loyalty?"
"The loyalty of one is worth more than someone would think. Although there is something else."
Wolf's heart began to race. Swearing her loyalty to Santana was bad enough—she barely knew her. And now there was something else, something that could pose even more of a threat than betraying Jessie. "What is it?" she asked uncertainly.
"I want you to take on a new name."
"That...that's all?"
"You cannot fully swear your loyalty to me until you let go of Jessie's grip on you. It is Jessie who christened you the name of that which you shift into. Break that bond, and you will have my word that I will get into contact with the savages and help you defeat Jessie."
"And what of my pack when you defeat Jessie? Will you kill them as well?"
"I do not find sense in taking innocent lives. All members will be given a choice—stand by Jessie or take control of their own lives. Whether that is to join us when we take over, or to travel elsewhere, is up to them. I give people choices, Wolf. Unlike Jessie, I would not force them into my control."
She considered her options, yet there was not much to think about. Her only choices were to stay under Jessie's dictatorship or take a chance on Santana. Frankly, the latter sounded more sound than the former. "What would I call myself?"
"What would you like to call yourself?"
"I have no knowledge of names. Xavier Tenneth was the first real name I have heard in years. I—I wouldn't know what to call myself."
Santana circled around her, folding her hands behind her back and making small humming noises as she studied her. "What about Connloadh?"
"That's too long," Wolf whined.
"Brittany?"
"Brittany," Wolf repeated. She liked the way it sounded on her tongue. Foreign, maybe, but not hard to pronounce. "What does it mean?"
"It means little fire. I think it suits you well," Santana said.
"Why do you think that?"
Santana smiled slyly. "If you do not figure it out by the time all of this is over, only then will I explain." She knew that questioning her further would get nothing done, so Wolf dropped the conversation. It was clear that Santana saw something in her that she had yet to discover.
"So it's decided, then?"
"Yes, Brittany. I will reach the savages and ask them for their aid. One way or another, Jessie will be gone soon and you will be free of his reign."
"Free of his reign, yet under yours," she pointed out.
"If you still do not wish to hold loyalty to me by the end of this, you are free. Like I said, Brittany, I am fair."
She began to walk away, leaving Wolf alone in the darkness of the forest. The moon just barely scraped by the tops of the trees, shining only enough light for her not to walk directly into a tree. And as she practically stumbled through the forest, she realized it—not Wolf; Brittany.
She knew that the decision to regret this would cross her mind many times. And yet, the more she thought about it, the less she cared. She was willing to throw anything and everything away to ensure that Jessie would be defeated.
The only thought that truly dawned on her was what Santana had said about the savages. If everything Brittany knew about them was a lie, there was no telling what other truths there were to discover. And even worse, this entire arrangement was set up on hypothetical situations.