Page 5 of Father of the Wolf

A tractor trailer with a heavy load decided to pass them after following them for several miles. The truck was almost past when it started to pull back into the right lane. Whether she over compensated or the truck clipped their car, she didn’t remember. But she did recall the steep bank and looming forest rising before her. The car rolled and crashed into the trees, flipping this way and that. She braked and fought with the wheel. Something in the back of the car exploded. She knew she must have screamed, but she couldn’t remember doing it.

In fact, she didn’t remember anything but pain after the explosion. Pain, as if she’d been broken into tiny pieces, which of course, she had. She found out later, much later, that the truck driver called for help, then heroically ripped open the driver’s door and dragged her out. After saving her, he went back and pulled her mother from the passenger side, but he couldn’t reach her father or her brothers before the car burst into an inferno. They died in the explosion. Her mother died right next to her, while she lay unconscious, unable to even say goodbye.

Hope shifted her weight, gritting her teeth when the sheet rubbed against her scraped knees. Wait… She could feel her knees?

The pieces slowly fell into place, and finally she remembered the attack outside the veterinary clinic. She was in the hospital, but not for the car accident, which had happened long ago.

Steve opened the door and peered into the room. “Are you awake?” he whispered.

“I’m awake. Come on in.” She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to feel normal.

“The police are here to talk to you.Do you feel up to it?”

* * *

Athair hurried toward the meeting lodge, which was actually more of a pavilion than a building. Its open area was sheltered between the steep rocky hillside and the rear of Acair’s cabin. Unlike the cabin, the pavilion had only a thatched roof that worked best on sunny days. Although they had been in the same area for centuries, they’d agreed to keep the structures as natural as possible. Not showing the number of actual dwellings that existed here was one of the ways they stayed hidden from humans and other dangers. If humans did come to this unlikely place, they would only see one small cabin unless they looked very closely. Acair’s rustic cabin, made of roughly cut logs, was the only one built above ground. The other members of the clan had ancient style homes cut into sheltered areas of the uneven valley. The underground rooms were small, dark, and den-like, suiting the clan’s needs in every way.

As Athair settled into a chair at the long table under the roof, he studied his two brothers stacking the last of the cut wood. His twin, Acair, looked like him, but was slightly darker in coloring. He was tall and muscular, with sable hair and strong features. Acair was the strength of the clan. As the eldest, he had led them through troubled times. He was only an hour older than Athair, but that gave him the less than appealing job of leadership. For the sake of the rest, he rarely let the strain of his decisions show, keeping his emotions contained. He shouldered the burden of responsibility and complained to none but Athair, and then only rarely.

Sgrios was another story. He flooded the area with his pain and anger. His raw emotions throbbed with painful intensity. Athair felt fortunate to catch Sgrios in their village, as his stays were always brief. Shortly, he would leave to join the wild wolf pack again. Remaining in human form, with all its memories and guilt, was too painful for him to endure for more than a few hours at a time. The last few years had been the hardest for him. Sgrios spent more and more time with the wolves and less time with the clan.

The three brothers led the clan as best they could. The younger ones were kept safe and fed and taught as much as possible. Unfortunately, their efforts weren’t enough to offer hope for the future.

Sgrios paced the room, obviously too closed-in, even in this two-sided pavilion, to relax in any way. “Lasair told me to wait. What for, Athair? I must leave. Soon.”

Unstated, but easily understood by both of them, was Sgrios’ belief that he was a danger to those around him. Barely able to control himself at the best of times, he stayed away to avoid painful memories and to protect those he still cared for. Athair ached for his brother, who had lost so much. Perhaps it would have been kinder if they had let him choose death a long time ago. Back then, he and Acair had thought Sgrios would eventually heal. But now, they knew no amount of time could repair a soul torn so violently in two.

Athair opened the discussion. “We need to consider resuming contact with humans, so that we, especially the young ones, may seek out mates.” Athair’s breath caught as he waited for Sgrios’ explosion. He was not disappointed.

With an angry growl, Sgrios raked Athair with a challenging stare. “Don’t be a fool! It would mean our destruction.” His dead mate, Cairistione, had been human.

“Fool, indeed!” Athair roared back but regained his composure with a sigh of resignation. “We already have our ruin in sight, my brother. It is not your doing.” Cairistione’s father had brought hunters and death to their clan. Sgrios had no trust left for humans or his own decisions.

“What exactly are we considering?” Acair asked, spreading a powerful calming energy that would affect even Sgrios. “As much as I know something must change, I fear contact with humans will be too drastic a choice for our people to easily accept.”

Ignoring Sgrios, who paced furiously back and forth, Athair shared the desperate idea that had been pushing around in his mind for weeks. “I believe we must send some of our young men into nearby villages to reopen communication with humans.”

Sgrios snarled a profanity in regard to the prospective towns and was ignored as Athair continued, “The young men can relearn human ways and bring the knowledge back to us. At the very least, it will ease the tension we face every day.”

“Our numbers are small, but I agree we must separate the younger ones before there is a death.” Acair ran a hand restlessly through his hair.

Acair’s words stilled Sgrios’ agitated motion. He turned. “Do they fight each other that viciously? I didn’t know it had come to that.”

In reality, the violence had been escalating dangerously for decades. Sgrios had not witnessed much of it firsthand. Because his temper was perilous at best, neither Acair nor Athair had wanted to bring it to his attention, if it could be avoided.

“We have had many problems,” Athair said. “They need to find their mates, or at least find means to relieve their passions. Allaidh now does more damage than good. Romach and Molach came to blood over her this very morning.” Athair paused. “Yet I don’t feel right sending them out alone. If they must go, they should go in pairs.”

“This feels wrong to me,” Sgrios said, “But I no longer trust my instincts.”

His shoulders slumped, as he resigned himself to the necessity, now that he saw how grave the situation had become.

“Perhaps we have hidden ourselves away too long and let too much time slip by in the name of protection.” Sgrios regained the calmer voice of reason he had used so long ago. He continued in the silent language, which was heard in a deep rumbling whisper. “Or perhaps we do not seek the right people. We must also seek the others if we are to survive this dark time.”

Both Athair and Acair stared in disbelief at hearing the thought without words. Long ago, Sgrios had shown the gift of prophecy, which was most often given in the silent language. Although most in the clan had some telepathic ability, it was rarely used while in human form.The silent tongue allowed the listener to feel the speaker’s emotions and sometimes, his thoughts. Sgrios avoided that intimacy whenever possible. The others were grateful for this kindness, but this thought had come without any inflection or emotion. Surely it was a true prophecy.

Acair turned to Sgrios. “Where do you suggest we go?”

“The Bear Clan.”

---