The Keeper of Wolves

Chapter 19

Their goal had been forever; they'd lasted three weeks, four days, and seventeen hours.

"Get up!" someone hissed in her ear. Kosazana struggled up through the sticky tar of sleep, reluctantly breaching the surface into consciousness as she blinked the sand from her eyes and blearily swiveled her head to look at her surroundings. All around her, people were similarly rising, slow at first, but then with a sudden urgency after the words being spoken around them trickled in.

"There's been another attack," her waker informed her, taking her shoulders in their hands and pulling her up. Rapidly blinking again, Kosazana cleared her vision enough to see Soren crouched in front of her, one knee in the soft grass as he pivoted to look around, like he expected bombs to start falling from the sky any second. "A bad one. It's large-scale, it came out of nowhere, a lot of people are dead, they need as much help as they can get-"

Already struggling to her feet, gripping Soren's shoulder as her head suddenly throbbed, Kosazana furrowed her brows, gritted her teeth, and waited for the pain to abate while Soren clambered to his feet next to her. Mercifully, the taller witch remained close, with a hand on her arm, supporting her weight while she found her balance again. "Where?" she asked, as her brain hurriedly cleared the dust and started up again.

"The States, and most of Europe and Asia," Soren told her, frantically casting about the clearing again. "We're scrambling, we really are. It's all we can do to establish lines of communication, everyone is so scattered-"

"Who do you keep looking for?" Kosazana interrupted, nearly pulled off her feet as Soren whipped around again, only to turn back to her nearly as quickly. Given one conspicuous absence, she had a feeling she could guess, but she was more interested in the explanation that would undoubtedly follow. One thing she'd learned about Soren was that, normally, he was careful and measured with his words, but when he was nervous, he started to incessantly babble.

"Solvecde," the witch breathed, his voice shivering slightly on the last syllable. Sure enough, he expounded, "he went to ferry a few of the fighters back to Isabelle in D.C. He also took a group to London, and another to Hong Kong. I just got back from a run to Hamberg, and before that, Prague."

"I see you took the scenic locations," Kosazana quipped as Soren steered her towards the house.

"Oh, don't worry, I've got Dublin next," he sighed. "That will be my last group. Solvecde's already transported his last few from here, he should be back any second. We were going to rendezvous here, and then go with you."

"Where am I going?" Kosazana grunted, pausing to open the sliding glass door in the kitchen for him and then duck through on his tail. By now, her head had faded to a minor irritation, nothing more than an occasionally-noticeable ache. Awake and online but dearly wishing for some water and a snack, Kosazana hastily poured herself a glass from the sink and grabbed a bag of dried mangos from the cabinet. "I can't leave the compound, nor can I defend it on my own. There are some here who can fight, but many who can't."

"You can leave," a new voice interjected, as two sets of footsteps echoed down the stairs. Linwe and Meliz came barreling around the corner into the kitchen, obviously having put themselves together quickly before running down. "We will stay."

"Mama," Kosazana protested, but all three of the other witches responded,

"No!"

"Kosa, baby, go," Meliz implored her. "You can go anywhere, do anything: this is our home. We have roots here. We will protect those who cannot fight, while those who can step forward into the world. You want to do good, daughter: continue to do good. Stand for those who cannot."