The Queen and the Dagger

The Queen and the Dagger - Chapter 1

Indigo saw the wolf first.

She wasn't an alpha, but her paws were as wide as Indigo's head, her grey-flecked snout long as Indigo's arm. The wolf's belly stretched smooth and taut. Evidence of her recent meal.

Indigo flicked her long, tapered ears. Beside her, three fellow initiates crept forward in the foliage until they saw Indigo raise a cautionary paw. This was their first sighting, but they knew there must be others nearby. A female wolf did not hunt alone. Especially during the annual Run.

Indigo tried not to focus on the wolf's belly, or the conspicuous ochre staining the muzzle. The predator lay in plain sight, cleaning one paw with a languid tongue. Indigo hadn't known the slain initiate. Now she never would.

The wolf would be slower because of her meal, but only just. And her pack mates—six, if the reports were to be trusted—would be more eager now that one of them had feasted.

But where were they?

A chirrup made her hackles rise. A warning from a fellow initiate: they should skirt the wolf on the left hillock and hug the opposite side. This brought her attention to the stretch of tall grass on the far right. Everything looked clear, yet Indigo hesitated.

She could see no one, not even the seasoned Alvareth warriors who she knew were watching from a hidden vantage point. Watching and waiting, like the initiates, to see who would survive the Run, and who would fall to the wolves and go to Aktu.

Every year they gathered like this, when frosty winter gales thawed into mild breezes that no longer bit the flesh and singed the eyes. This was when young Alvareth rabbits proved themselves and came of age. A princess of Alvareth had never failed the Run, and Indigo wasn't about to be the first. Especially when she had more at stake than anyone else.

Every nerve in her itched to leap up and race down that hill, to feel the grass scrape her as she sprinted past the wolf. She saw herself flying through the far stretch of stunted growth and into the safety of the initiates' gate, a warren designed as the Run's end point. All who passed that gate became true Alvareth clan members and earned their tattoos. All who didn't became food for the wolves.

Every spring, the wolves of Blackmoon circled through this corner of their territory, and they knew the ritual as well as the rabbits. Every spring, three days after the rise of the new moon, the rabbits ran the gully known as Cragged Pass. And the wolves would be waiting. It was a time-honored tradition, a way of celebrating the cycle of life and death, a dance between hunters and fighters. Surviving the Run would mark her as adult, which meant receiving her tattoos and becoming Alvareth's queen.

The sun crept higher, making Indigo's paws itch with a fresh layer of sweat. If one of them broke cover, they'd all have to follow. Being last, and alone, would mean certain death. Indigo's nerves prickled with unease. Something felt wrong.

She saw a blur to her left. In a flash of amber and tan, an initiate burst from the grasses and streaked towards the right, away from the grooming wolf. The others followed suit, their pent-up anticipation propelling them like silent arrows over the scrub and down the slope.

Indigo scrabbled over the boulder she'd been crouching behind, and after a split hesitation, veered in the opposite direction. Though they'd been taught that their strength lay in staying together, some instinct warned her away from the others.

The wolf looked up from her cleaning and stood. Indigo's blood pounded, the wind rushing through her fur. It felt good to run. From the corner of her eye, she saw dark smudges appear on the horizon, and she knew.