Page 69 of Oath of Revenge

He settled down to wait, watching the guard disappear as he continued his patrol. Cold seeped into his bones, but at least the wind stayed consistent.

Scarlet was to the north. He could feel her presence like a beacon, calling to him. He hated leaving her side, but it was necessary.

He had to figure out what he’d missed, what Brody had done in the past few days.

The next guard lumbered past, making Wulfric wince. Jamison. The old, grizzled natural-born Growler always watched the turned and pointed out their mistakes. He’d grumbled about the newcomers for as long as Wulfric had been part of the tribe.

Ten long years. Wulfric watched him continue on the patrol, his lips pursing. He wouldn’t find support there.

A conversation from last year echoed through his mind.

“I don’t care if you are the alpha, it’s wrong, and you know it,” Jamison said.

Wulfric crossed his arms and leaned back in the oversized chair in the longhouse. “That’s where you’re mistaken. What’s wrong is denying the new Growlers equal rights. What’s wrong is insisting on the old ways that see the natural-born as full citizens but the newly turned as beneath you.”

Eyes watched them around the room, the rest of the Growlers growing quiet as the conversation grew louder.

Jamison waved his arms wide, claws shifting as his emotions heightened. “There’s nothing wrong with the old ways. They’ve worked for hundreds of years.”

Wulfric growled, “And they were changed when the turned saved the Growlers from extinction.”

Wulfric glanced around the room, acutely aware that the past few months had seen an increase in the division between the two types of Growlers. The turned now sat almost entirely on the right of the longhouse and the natural born on the left.

“The turned are ready to branch out and form their own tribe,” Jamison said. Several of those on the right nodded, but Wulfric slammed a fist to the wooden table. It shook as the dull thud rang out, the only sound in the room.

“I hear your concern, Jamison, but the turned have nowhere to go.”

“Not yet, but the Feral Forest can only support so many of us, alpha. Someday you’ll realize that. I just hope purifying the tribe doesn’t destroy us all.”

Jamison shifted into his wolf and ran out the door. There had been three others who were supposed to bring grievances to him tonight, but no one else stepped forward.

Small groups of Growlers whispered to each other around the tables, no doubt discussing what had just happened.

But Wulfric had had no choice that day. Jamison had proposed going back to the old ways, back to when the newly turned had been just barely better than slaves.

If the grumbling over the past few months were any sign, Jamison was more likely to side with Brody. Brody would’ve had him convinced that sending the turned into Busparia would allow the natural-born to go back to the old ways when they ruled the forest.

Fuck, he was tired of hearing the older generation grumble about purifying the turned Growlers out of the forest…

Time was passing, the night growing colder as the snow began to fall. He needed to get back to Scarlet, but not before he got the information he needed.

When Jamison was well out of ear-shot, Wulfric slipped between the trees and passed the path the guards had taken.

He had to sneak into camp and speak with the Elders. Or at least Elva. She was the one Elder who’d always had his back.

The other two had often sided with the natural-born when disputes escalated to the Elders, but Elva had been more impartial and fair.

He stalked on silent feet, the edge of the camp coming into view. He wove around the grid pattern of tents, sticking to the shadows along the tree lined edge. The only solid building was the cedar longhouse where they had almost all meals, dances, and community discussions.

He paused on the edge of the forest, listening to the soft sounds of people gathered around the various campfires. The camp would be bedding down for the night, but sounds in the alpha tent had him gritting his teeth.

He watched as a female Growler stumbled out of the alpha tent and shook her head, her mane of hair wilder than most wore it, her long, leather dress ripped at the shoulder.

Another female Growler said something as she walked past, and the first female growled and launched at the second. They tumbled into battle, teeth bared and both shifting to wolf form, clothes shredding.

Three males hooted and cheered them on, but the alpha tent flap opened. Brody strode out with a bowl and tossed the contents on the two females as two other males walked up, flanked by four others.

The women shrieked and jumped apart, both now wet with what appeared to be vegetable soup. Brody’s voice didn’t carry but his tone was harsh. After being chastised, the two females slunk away and Brody turned to the alpha tent.

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