Echoes of an Alpha

Twenty-Five: Evidence

Kusal ducked his head as he stepped into one of the village huts. He scanned it in a second. Empty.

"Kusal!"

Kusal stiffened. He hated his father's voice. He hated that he already knew what his father was calling him.

Dhruv stormed into the hut.

"Have some decency. Close the door," Kusal chided. He was surprised he didn't hear the door snap from its hinges. He crossed his arms. "What's new?"

Dhruv glared. "You're risking the lives of the people. Let the Conclave question the spy. He may be only the beginning of an ambush."

"Oh, an ambush. Is that all?" Kusal reached across a small table and snatched a small jar. He opened it and sniffed. Rosemary. Just what Honovi wanted him to find for her next healing potion. "I best be on my way."

"You must think me stupid for trying so many times. I know you don't want to listen. But there must be some part of you that cares. Some part of your mind that doubts an over-aggressive werewolf has the ability to handle this situation with the sensitivity it demands. We have no reassurance that the Alpha has even received your message. The people already suspect the Northern Clan of working behind the sporadic attacks. If word gets out we have a Northerner in our hands, this clan will shred him alive."

And where does this sudden protectiveness come from? Why does the Conclave practically despise this spy? Kusal paused after swinging the door open. No, the Conclave wanted this spy. There was no way they'd let him die in the hands of the people. Kusal shook his head. "Ever since I said no to joining the Conclave, you knew I would never follow you. You know..." He faced his father. "I've always wondered why you nominated me to lead the Arm."

"Because you care about order and security."

Kusal scoffed. "Because I do my job. And unlike before, I don't care who doesn't like my work." Kusal gripped the doorframe and swung it open. "As the Beta of the East Clan, I am the right arm of the Alpha. I know more than anyone how much this clan needs him."

"You're making a mistake," Dhruv growled.

"Good," Kusal chimed. "About time I follow in my father's footsteps." In one stride, he left the hut behind him. The fresh air returned him to his senses. What am I doing? He knew his father felt the bite in his tone. He felt satisfied, but a little unnerved. Sarcasm wasn't his style. He frowned. Arek's habits were rubbing off on him.

Now, to Honovi.

Ever since Arek left, Kusal had kept an eye on the Alpha's mother, who lingered around the camp. When Kusal had asked half-heartedly how she would keep herself busy while her son was away, she had answered, "While he is off doing what he must, I will prepare."

Kusal had felt taken aback by her solemn face. "For what?"

"War. Don't look so surprised. You know it's coming. You can feel it. We're narrowing down who the enemy is."

Now that Kusal thought of her words, he felt sick. After almost fifty years of fragile relations between the Clans, was an all-out war even possible? A sharp sting across his left cheek shocked him out of his thoughts. "Sian?"

His sister stood in front of him, her eyes like daggers. "You should be ashamed of yourself." She stepped forward as he stepped back. "I watched father give you everything before you even knew how to howl. Training, words, the promotion into the Arm, his experiences – only wanting your support in return. And you," her voice cracked. "Why?"