Luna of Rogues

Part 54 - Home Truths

The car journey home had been far from quiet. Rhodric had driven, with Fion riding shotgun. Rhys, Ollie and I were crammed into the back seat. It was a relief to have someone with a licence behind the wheel for once, even if my father wasn't one for respecting speed limits. Ollie had fallen asleep after ten minutes of poetry and snored quietly for the rest of the journey.

Arriving back in the camp was far calmer. Lle o Dristwch was exactly as we had left it — weather-beaten and crumbling. The repairs to the walls had been halted with so many of the workers away, but I was glad to see some attempts at weather proofing had been made.

No one looked surprised to see Rhodric. He was greeted as if he'd never left, as impossible as that seemed.

He had stuck around for a few hellos, although he had stayed back and let me do most of the talking. He was unusually subservient and even more unusually quiet. It seemed that despite his return, I would still be leading. At least, that was the impression I was getting. I knew damn well that if it came down to it, the rogues would listen to him, not me.

I took careful note when he excused himself after an hour or so. And then I followed him, leaving Rhys, Fion and Leo to cheat each other at cards. Something had been up with Rhodric for a long time, I was beginning to realise. I was going to find out what he was hiding once and for all.

He kept a fast pace but didn't bother shifting into his wolf. I stayed far behind and out of the prevailing wind so he wouldn't know I was there, but close enough to detect the scent trail left behind. Until, all of a sudden, the trail disappeared entirely.

How the hell did he do that, anyway? There were many ways to mask a scent, but none of them were one hundred percent effective. He had to mask his scent with something. Like hell was I going to walk all the way back to camp without some answers.

I thought carefully about the direction he had been going and what was in this area. There were a few lakes, deer paths ... and a certain rundown shepherd's hut. It seemed worth a look, at the very least. He had been walking in a straight line, not meandering along game trails. He wasn't hunting. He was going somewhere.

By the time I reached Old Jeff's hut, Rhodric was leaving. Jeff stood in the doorway, watching him as he walked in my direction. I barely had time to duck behind the wall of the house before me. Painstakingly, I slowed my breathing. I was pressed up against the rough stone, my heart hammering away in my chest.

When Rhodric was about to turn the corner — when the soft footsteps were getting dangerously loud — I pushed myself away from the wall. And then I slammed him into it in my place. Rhodric didn't even try to resist me. I'd been half expecting to get punched reflexively, so that was a relief.

But the way he was looking at me ... well. There wasn't much surprise on his face. He looked like he wanted to laugh. Scowling, I flicked out my knife, and I pressed it against his ribs. Once again, he didn't lift a finger to stop me.

"Is that really necessary, Skye?" Rhodric asked dryly.

"Yes," I snapped. "Just for once, I want some answers."

"Oh, I doubt that," he said. He moved his weight forwards so that the blade cut into the fabric of his jacket. "You wouldn't be here unless you had the answers."

Of course he knew that I knew. I decided to go all-in and glanced pointedly at the hut. A lot of things had been bothering me. The way Jeff looked so familiar. That he had a set of wolf armour with the Llewellyn family crest on it. How he had called Rhys and Brandon 'blood of mine'. All of these little things added up to only one explanation, however unlikely it was.