Chapter 29-Meetings

There was a long, heavy silence.

"I'm sorry," Canisp said quietly.

Kiro shook his head, barely a twitch to either side. "It's my fault," he said hoarsely, closing his eyes. "I should have saved him."

Jenga looked up. "They would have killed him any—"

"I know," he snapped. He paused, sighed, and looked down at her, silently apologizing. "I know," he said more gently. "I know it would have been worse. I just… He was my brother."

Jenga tucked her head under his, nuzzling him softly. "I know," she whispered. "He was a hero."

Canisp looked down, unable to help but feel intrusive, and found Orion glancing up at her. They let the tender moment stretch into several before the Eagle cleared his throat.

"If you don't mind my asking," he said as delicately as he could, "How... how did you two meet?"

"There were a lot of Wolves at Cair Paravel before the coronation," Canisp pointed out.

The two Wolves glanced at each other. "We were there," Jenga said, "But we met in the cells." Her tone suggested there was quite a lot more to the story.

"Oh." Orion looked as if he wanted to shrivel away to nothing, and Kiro managed a quick smile in his direction.

"It's not like that," he said. "I was just trying to have a few minutes to myself…"


"Hey! Kiro!"

Kiro jumped at the call. A big, burly Wolf was loping towards him across the fresh snow; he had heavy shoulders and a deep barrel chest, thick off-white fur and mismatched eyes—one brown, one green. He had just enough time to think oh, not now! before the other Wolf, as usual, met him with a rush, slamming hard into his left shoulder. Kiro, who hadn't had time to brace himself, was lifted off his front paws by the check, and the lighter Wolf laughed.

"What was that?" he grinned. "What, crack a few ribs during training? I haven't seen a block that weak since we were three months old!" Boreal shoved him again, in a manner only the Vereor could call playful. "Big raid tomorrow night," he said enthusiastically. "My sire might let me come. You going?" His tone turned conspirational. "Word's going around about you," he said, grin widening. "You went out with Lieutenant Janus earlier and came back sans runner. That's big, Kiro! So, is it true? Have you got rank yet? Have I got to start calling you Corporal, Corporal?" He dropped into a slightly intimidating play-bow, jumping forward to cuff Kiro forcefully across the muzzle and then leaping away with the same tongue-lolling grin.

Kiro struggled to keep his hackles down. He couldn't afford to start arguing with Boreal. Their age-group took it for granted that Kiro would be Captain someday—a reputation he'd worked years for, ever since his eyes opened—and that Boreal would be his first lieutenant. By Vereor standards, having a second-in-command was the same as having a friend.

It wasn't Boreal's fault if Kiro suddenly didn't think that was true.

"So? I knew it! That's not fair, Kiro!" he said enviously. "Corporal before you're a month past your fourth birthday, and here I'm five and a half and not a word about a promotion!" He paused expectantly, clearly waiting for a response; normally, this is where Kiro would grin, posture a bit and then remind him of the rank he'd be sure to get once Kiro was higher-up. When it didn't come, Boreal's ears flicked back angrily. "Hey, what's your problem?" He shoved Kiro once more, causing him to stagger, and there was nothing playful about it this time.

They'd stopped walking; Boreal's irate bulk was blocking the way, not that Kiro had really known where he'd been going anyway. He'd just wanted a minute alone to mourn his—

Traitor!

—his brother, and he did not need this right now. The one thing Boreal had that set him apart from the other cannon fodder was his sheer size; he stood several inches taller than Kiro at the shoulder, and in his more charitable moments Kiro would swear he weighed twice as much in pure muscle. The last thing he wanted in his current mindset was a pride-fueled wrestling match with Boreal.

"N-nothing," he stammered, stepping back; retreating from a challenge for the first time since he'd been a runner. Boreal followed menacingly. "I just wanted to be alone, I have… I was going to…"

He wracked his brain, frantically trying to come up with a suitable reason for why he didn't want to celebrate his promotion with his trusted second-in-command.

By some miracle, one presented itself. A heavy trapdoor, hidden in a snowdrift, was shouldered open in a cloud of white by—as fate would have it—Boreal's sire. A huge, muscular wolf with unusually light fur and bright green eyes, he shook a few stray snowflakes out of his pelt and gave a long, satisfied stretch.

Boreal snapped to attention instantly. "Lieutenant Hemlock, sir!"

Hemlock looked around, recognized Boreal and flicked proud ears forward. "At ease, son," he said easily, padding over. "Kiro, congratulations on your promotion."

"I'm… I'm sure Boreal won't be far behind, sir," Kiro replied. The words sounded scripted and unfeeling, but Hemlock accepted them easily.

"No indeed," he said. "Boreal, much as I'm sure you were looking forward to your friend letting you in on some… officer benefits early, you'd best get a hunt and a rest in. You're coming on the raid tomorrow. Do well and there may be rank in it for you."

Boreal lit up. "Yes, sir!" he exclaimed. Then, for one of the first times that Kiro had seen, he actually appeared to think. "…Officer benefits?"

Hemlock barked with laughter. "Oh, dear," he grinned at Kiro. "You didn't invite him, did you? Boreal, lad, where did you think he was headed without you?"

Boreal frowned and glanced between Kiro, the trapdoor and back again, a sly grin spreading along his muzzle. "Oh," he said with an air of sudden understanding. He gave a sudden laugh, cuffing Kiro playfully. "You could have just said so!"

"Um," Kiro stuttered, unsure of what had just happened. "I… didn't want you to feel left out?"

"Kiro." Boreal was practically drooling with admiring envy. "You'd better tell me everything."

With no real option, now, Kiro made a sloppy attempt at a cocky grin (hopefully that was appropriate for the situation) and slipped down into the dark. The trapdoor swung shut behind him.


The silence was eerie.

It was warmer in here than outside in the snow, but not by much; the heat came mainly from the staggered torches, which provided enough light that he didn't trip on the stairs and kill himself. The flames flickered and threw their changing light along the shadows of the wood grain in the long double line of thick doors. The doors looked solid and menacing, set with barred windows that had started to rust in places. Some of the doors had been gnawed along the edges of the windows; the tooth marks were stained with something dark, as if whatever had been trying to escape had been desperate enough that they continued even as their mouth bled.

What was this place?

Out of morbid curiosity, Kiro stepped closer to the nearest window and peered inside. Four pairs of wide eyes, green in the dark corners, stared back at him. The shivering, terrified creatures made no noise; they just cowered against the far wall and trembled. One pair of eyes closed, and its owner turned to hide her face. As Kiro's vision adjusted, he saw the barely-healed bite marks along her shoulders and flanks, and the old brand burned into her side. Her—they were she-wolves, all of them, and he finally realized where he was. He'd heard of the officer's harem, of course, they all had, all the deputies joked about what they would do when they finally got rank…

But this… this was…

Evil.

He backed away quickly, wanting to apologize—for the cruel injuries, for frightening them, maybe just for intruding—but at the same time afraid to break the oppressive silence. And maybe, if he was honest with himself, ashamed.

Even the torches down here burned without sound. The only thing Kiro could hear was the muted click of his own nails as he crept tentatively along the stone hall.

Gradually, he became aware of whimpering.

Kiro followed the weak little sound almost to the other end of the hall. He found the source in one of the last few sets of doors; a desperate whine of pain and fear, a panting as whoever it was tried to stifle the sound. He placed a paw on the door, and was relieved when a quick blue flash of magic curled around the lock. Only a Vereor wolf or one of the Queen's own servants could unlock these cells; apparently his promotion had been made official.

Very, very carefully, he nudged open the door. He was immediately hit with the scent of blood.

A pair of she-wolves was huddled in the far corner. At first he thought that they were both completely covered in blood; as he crossed the threshold and an interior torch magically flared up, however, he realized the pair had the same shade of vibrant red fur. It was something of a relief, until he really took them in.

One, curled in a tight ball, was twitching and whimpering uncontrollably through her teeth, almost hyperventilating, her tightly-clenched muzzle the only thing that kept her from screaming while the other hovered over her, helplessly licking at her fur. When the torch flared and she saw Kiro, the latter cringed away in stark terror and he got a proper look at her cellmate.

She was beautiful—they both were—or might have been if she wasn't quite so wretched. There were deep, fresh bites along her forelegs and shoulders, and a few on her sides and even her belly—evidence of a desperate struggle. Her muzzle had been brutally ripped, staining the floor as well as her young face. Her ears were shredded, covered in blood, and the smell that permeated the room told of different wounds, deeper and more painful, that there was no curing.

Instinctively, Kiro tried to move to the poor creature's side. He was barred by a wall of snarling fury.

"You stay away from her!" The she-wolf's voice shook, but she stood her ground. "You stay away from her or I'll kill you!"

"Jen," the battered she-wolf croaked weakly. "Don't…"

Kiro's ears flicked back out of pure habit, tail lifting. He wasn't doing anything out of his rights, even if he had intended to hurt the she-wolf—but there was something that gave him pause. The Wolf in front of him was clearly frightened, visibly not a fighter—her defensive position alone left her vulnerable to at least four kinds of fatal attack. And yet… she didn't move. And finally, Kiro recognized the look in her eyes. It was the same strange power, the same mix of gentleness and fire that had led his brother… he waited for that other part of him to chime in with traitor but it never came… his brother to live and die, not for his Queen, but for his people.

Bloodlust, he realized in a sudden rush of realization that felt wonderfully, wonderfully right, would drive a Wolf without thought or mercy against his enemies. Courage would plant them in front of their friends—and it would keep them there.

His tail lowered.

"She's hurt," he offered. "I can help."