The North

Chapter 9

I cringed and let out an irritated growl but she silenced me with a simple lift of her lip. “What were you doing? You’re covered in muck.”

“You’ve never cared about that before,” I muttered, forcing myself to remain still until she was satisfied.

She gave me another scathing look, then nodded to my empty plate in silent order for me to eat. All I could do was stare at the food. When was the last time I’d eaten something I’d caught myself? How could they be happy to eat this soft, cooked meat that was the wrong kind of warm, and free of any blood.

I ate it anyway, listening quietly as everyone chattered happily away. The pack asked about Father, about our home, and listened intently as Oighrig expertly wove our tale for them, probably not for the first time. Smiles lit up my family’s faces, their hands moving animatedly and eagerly in a way they hadn’t since before. I did my best to nod when the odd question came my way, but I was scared my words would ruin the mood. The past hadn’t been forgotten though. It lingered in silences where Mother would stare off into the distance with a slowly fading smile. I’d lost my brother, but she’d lost her male. Her first-born. But unlike me, she managed to drag herself back and laugh again.

Was nobody else struggling to hear anything at all when so many voices caused a buzz akin to thousands of midges clustering in the air? It was too loud as well. With too many scents and too many wolves squeezing past. In fur my hackles would bristle to warn others off but nobody noticed a tight lipped snarl in such chaos. Nobody else seemed to be longing for the open space of forest or glen instead of this.

 Everyone tried to make it to the hall for the evening meal if they didn’t have other duties to tend to. I gathered, as was tradition in my own pack, sharing a meal was a time to bond, to spend time with pack and family. . .and yet I felt entirely alone.

Fionnlagh laughed boisterously at whatever the male beside him said, shaking so hard he bumped into my shoulder. Water spilled from the mug in my hand and I growled, giving him a glare. He eyed my soaked lap in apology, then rolled his eyes at my bared teeth.

“You’ve been in a foul mood for two days now,” he grumbled before turning his back on me.

I stiffened, but swallowed the next growl that wanted to rumble out at his act of insubordination. Only the fact he’d spoken true saved him from being put in his place for all to see.

Could anyone blame me for being testy? If they had been forced to remain stuck like this, they too would be snapping their jaws.

I needed a run. In fur. Out in the open.

Every night it grew harder to sleep as a building restlessness made my skin crawl. In the past, I liked my space to sleep, but I did miss the nights in the stormy heart of winter when the whole pack would pile together in a tangle of legs and tails. Beyond that, I despised being cooped up in these damned walls as much as I despised my own fear being part of reason I was trapped here.

“I’m going to go to bed,” I announced, rising from the table.

Mother’s dark eyes appraised me slowly, and those she’d been conversing with paused to watch our interaction. “You never go to bed early. Why don’t you go for a walk, or a run rather. I think you need to. . .clear your hear.”

I tried to laugh and agree but my heart clenched at the very idea. “Maybe tomorrow, it’s cold outside.”

“Cold!” Mother scoffed and shook her head at me. “Very well, go to bed, but you’re going to be grumpy tomorrow if you oversleep.”

Oighrig tutted and clasped her hand. “Maybe she is coming down with something, Laoghaire. Rest will do her more well than a run if that’s the case.”