Luna of Rogues

Part 70 - Mind Games

We made our way down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Rhys and I kept a close eye on Fion, although it proved unnecessary. Thanks to our speedy healing, she was steady on her feet. On the way through the main hall, we stopped to find Maggie and ask her to take care of the baby, much to her delight.

"I have questions, you know," I told her as the three of us left the castle. "Like, who have you been practising on?"

"Mostly Kyle," Fion said. "He's had a lot of time on his hands since he was paralysed, and he got bored with scraping hides and making string, I guess. Rhodric taught me how to do it, and then it was just a process of trial and error. Kyle was very patient."

Rhodric. Of course. A lot of things were now starting to make sense to me.

Fion's shift into a pale wolf took longer than usual, but that was to be expected after so long in human form. My own wolf was fighting the urge to start a rowdy play fight. She had missed her pack-sister as much as I had. The three of us had run together for nearly a decade. Our wolves may as well have been littermates. But I had to settle for scraping with Rhys, because Fion wasn't fully recovered yet and the urge to protect her came before anything else.

We ran at a slow pace, often stopping so Fion could hone in on the mind-link. There were daily scuffles in the land around Lle o Dristwch, but gunfire was rarer. It could mean hunters, if I was feeling especially paranoid. After half an hour straight of running, we skidded to a halt in an airy clearing. The smell of blood hung heavy in the air.

"Rhys, go around wide. Don't show yourself unless you have to," I ordered through the link. His ability to turn off his scent easily made him the best undercover scout I had. Unless, of course, there were humans involved, in which case he had no particular advantage and was far too oversized to be sneaky. Almost as an afterthought, I added, "Fion, take the other direction. Let me get a look at the situation before you melt any minds."

They slunk off on their respective routes. I quickly lost track of scentless Rhys, but Fion's familiar smell was a reassurance at my left side. I padded steadily towards the smell of blood. In another small clearing ahead, I could make out an unmoving werewolf body. One of the patrol, maybe. Behind him, a few humans spoke in low voices. And while I didn't know much about guns, I did know that the ones they were holding were some serious shit. Maybe even fully automatic.

I didn't stay hidden in the shadows. My midnight-black wolf materialised from the darkness on silent feet. The hunters — because I didn't see who else they would be — turned and raised their weapons. I ignored them, instead choosing to take a look at the fallen rogue. Now that I could see further into the tree line, I realised he was one of several bodies ... and that he was young. Younger even than me. But whoever it was, I didn't know him.

A note had been nailed crudely to the ribs of the next corpse. Even from such a distance, I could read the scrawled words, written in an ink of an ... unusual colour. We want Cassidy Forster. Wait, who? I hadn't thought much about Cassie in days. But with a slightly clearer mind, it was obvious. Of course they did. She was the daughter of one of their own, after all. Well, they wouldn't be getting her.

One plucky hunter decided to pull the trigger. The bullet bit the dust close to my forepaws as Fion slipped into the minds of everyone present and held them in place. Only when all of them were frozen did I deign to look up and join the mental battle. She was holding the way open, so all I had to do was project my thoughts as if it were a werewolf mind-link.

"I have a message for you, too. Cassidy Forster is alive and unharmed ... mostly." My wolf was grinning wickedly. "But she will remain my hostage. Try any more bullshit like this, and we'll send her home in pieces. And you can tell Malcolm that we're coming for him."