~Lucie’s POV~
I was surrounded by people I hardly knew for a person they didn’t even like. She died too young. She was only seven. Yet she had experienced more in her short life than most people here had in their mediocre long ones. She lived in an establishment that should have been torn down years ago, after the dictator that created the horrid place died. But there she stayed, even after he died, along with almost fifty other children that had lost their parents. Some had been there their entire lives.
“It’s okay, Luna,” I looked down and saw a little boy no more than five years old gripping my legs. His eyes held so much emotion that I nearly cried.
“What’s your name little guy?”
“Maximus Kyle Collingwood,” he gave me a toothy grin while he struggled to pull himself onto my lap. He was wearing worn black slacks and a white shirt that was at least two sizes too big for him.
“Where are your parent’s?” He looked away as he continued to shuffle on my lap.
“Your old brother Darcy killed them. They weren’t hurting anybody. My dad was on a business trip in Fresno California. So was your brother,” I didn’t stop the tears from falling then. How was I supposed to let this little boy sit on my lap when he knew that my brother killed his parents?
“I know you’re different than your brother. But he was different too. He was confused about something. I remember how he looked at me, like he was surprised I was there. My daddy told me not to cry. So I didn’t. I still haven’t. My daddy didn’t want me to.” Max wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tightly. I met Alayah’s eyes from a few seats down. She nodded and turned away, resuming conversation with Hayleigh next to her. The funeral had yet to start, and I could feel the anxiousness already spreading through me.
“Lucie!” I turned around and saw Casey waving me over to the hearse that had been used to transport Tabby from the funeral home that had prepared her body for our service. Max silently got off of my lap and I got up from my seat in the front row and made my way back to the hearse. Dom, Kaija, Alayah, Zorra, Casey and I were going to be the pallbearers for Tabby. Zorra’s face was sullen and I couldn’t help but reach my arms around her and pull her tight to my chest.
“It’s not your fault,”
“I should have seen the signs. He was my brother.”
“Sometimes the people closest to a person become the most blind to how the person truly is. We see what we want to, what we expect to. Not always what it is truly there.” Her sobs soaked my shirt as she cried into it. All of her walls were finally down. This was Zorra King. The second that I let her go, arms engulfed me. I heard someone crying and it made me even sadder than I already was.
It took a few seconds to realize that the sound of someone crying, had been me. Casey tightened his arms around me and I stood there for a few more seconds, just basking in his warmth.
“Are you ready now?” I nodded when he let me go and I stood ready to become a pallbearer for the first time in my life. We had always burned our dead. It was just another testament to how much the Hunters strove to be different from the Werewolves. Zorra grabbed the first hand hold and I grabbed the one on the other side. Casey stood behind me with Dom on his other side. Alayah and Kaija followed and took the last two. The casket was light but still we all carried it. Everyone who cared about Tabby was a pallbearer. Everyone else was just at the funeral because the deceased was a friend of the Luna. I felt both disgusted and respected at the notion. Apparently that was just another thing I was going to have to get used to. We lowered her and stepped away. We all had stets in the first rows on either side of the isle.
A priest stepped forward and began reading passages from his bible. I got lost in staring at her casket. It took Max shaking my leg for me to finally snap out of my thoughts and turn my attention towards the priest again.
“Luna, do you have anything you would like to say on behalf of the deceased?” Terror flooded through my veins. Sweat coated my hands and I hastily wiped them on my dress slacks that I had borrowed from Alayah. I nodded to the priest who gave me a sad smile and stepped aside. I stood in front of her casket for a moment before I spoke, gently stroking her casket basking in my own sorrow. I reached into my pocket and took out the weathered paper that had been folded and refolded a thousand times before.
“A great author once said, ‘No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see it through to the end and learn something from it.’ What can we learn from the death of a seven year old? Do we learn that life is more precious? I think that most of us already believe life is precious. I can’t name one of you here that hasn’t lost someone. We all know pain, we’ve all felt the pain that I’m feeling right now; even though most of you aren’t here on your own volition. You are here because I care about the little girl that is lying dead in that casket right there.” I gestured to the casket behind me. I took a deep breath, then continued.
“The same great author continued by saying, ‘but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sorrow that comes to us without warning.’ Tabby died without warning. Kidnapped and then shot to death because of one man thought that because he had lost someone to the hand of a random killing, that I should lose some to the same fate.” I took another deep breath.
“If we let the actions of my past define our future, then the useless violence that plagued my past will plague our future. If any of you think that because of my history your future is doomed to fail, please speak up now. Leave if you think you would do better to face all of your enemies that await you outside this pack.” Silence filled the crowd as neighbor turn to a neighbor, each watching to see who, if any was going to get up and openly renounce the Pack. No one moved. Casey walked up wrapped his arm around my waist.
“I believe that it is time that you all knew the truth about what is coming,” Casey’s voice echoed through the crowd and stunned faces turned towards him anticipating his next words.
“As we stand now, there are three groups that are out to see us dead. Most are just trying to get at Luce, but there is a rogue group that is out to kill us all. My father had denied many entrance and sanctuary in our pack when he was still running it. They joined together to form a pack known as the Refugee Pack. Lucie’s brother is now working with them-,” the sound of distant shouting had both Casey and I tensing, as our eyes scoured the distance looking for the source of the disturbance. About three hundred yards away standing at the edge of the tree line stood Auggie. He ran faster than I had ever seen him run before, coming at us like a bullet from a gun. Less than a minute later Auggie stood in front of us. He bent over grasping his legs as he tried to re-catch his breath.
“Auggie what is it? Couldn’t this wait until after the funeral? Speaking of the funeral, why aren’t you here? I left your suit out this morning.”
“Sorry, bro. I just got thinking this morning and then something struck me. I called around to some other packs in the area. I don’t know why it was bugging me so much, but I just had to see if my suspicions were right.”
“Cut to the point Auggie. What did you find?”
“It’s the Refugee pack. They’ve been slaughtered.”
~☾~
~Darcy’s POV~
Last night I had been shown to a tent on the edge of the camp. I had a nameless roommate. I had vaguely recognized him from Dion’s but he still hadn’t spoken a single word to me and for that I was grateful. It had taken me a few disorienting moments this morning to figure out where I was, but after a few moments I calmed down and slipped back on my socks and shoes that I had taken off the night before.
I stepped out into the warm rays of sunlight and nearly moaned at the feeling of the rays hitting my bare skin.
“Hey Darc,” Mani was beaming with her hands secured around a basket filled with what looked like clothes shoes and other necessary stuff.
“Dion told me to give this to you,”
“What if it doesn’t fit?”
“It will fit,” her affirmation almost made me wonder if she had been the one to pick out the things. I shrugged it off and took the basket, going back into the tent. I dumped the contents of the basket on the bed, happy to see that there wasn’t anything alarming in it. I was almost disappointed not to find something repulsively offensive in the basket like I had first expected the second that I had seen Mani carrying around a suspicious basket.
The basket had contained a couple of white v neck T-shirts, a worn leather jacket, a few pairs of dark washed jeans and some new black leather boots. Much to my despair when I had left home, I had left all of my favorite things there, including my leather boots. I stripped out of my filthy clothes and changed into the fresh ones, almost sighing in relief the second that I had put on the clean boxers. I put on the socks and then put on the boots, tightening them to a comfortable level. The last thing in the basket was a brand new bottle of cologne. I opened the package and tore off a piece of the paper package. I sprayed the paper and then took a sniff. It smelled amazing. It almost creeped me out on how much I actually liked the stuff that Mani had given me, but once again I chose not to dwell on it and instead left the tent with the basket filled with my soiled clothes. I found a girl standing outside my tent. She looked exhausted with deep bags under her eyes and an unhealthy hue to her skin.
She held out her arms expectantly and hung her head as she waited for me to hand her the basket. Some part of me wanted to talk to her, ask her why she was doing this, if she was being mistreated. But the other part of me, the more dominant part, said to just hand her the basket. It was as if there were two parts of my brain now split between a rational, humane side and then a careless and cruel side. I handed her the basket and walked away. I needed to focus my thoughts. This was getting out of hand. I rushed towards the middle of camp, hoping to find Nakota there so I could talk all of this out with her. She might not have all the answers anymore since she had just killed her mom the night before, but I still hoped she’d give me some sort of insight into what was going on.
I found her sitting on a log, fingering a hand woven bracelet on her wrist. I sat down next to her, expecting her to turn her attention to me once I sat down. But she still played with the bracelet.
“Hey,” my voice was surprisingly soft as I tried to gyre her attention towards me. Her chocolate brown eyes met mine, coated with a sadness I had grown to know and feel so well. The loss of a life of someone you thought that you cared about never faded from you, but sometimes, if you were lucky, the weight of the burden can lessen over time.
“Darcy, what have I done?” Tears fell down her face in thick tracks and I barely had seconds to brace myself before she swung her arms around me. Her head nuzzled into my shoulder and an overwhelming sense of peace flowed through me. I wove my fingers in her hair and brought my own head close to her’s as I mumbled incoherent words to her. Her sobs grew heavier and I knew I needed to do try something else. A nameless song came to my mind and I started mindlessly humming it to her. Her sobs grew softer and soon the sobbing transformed into a soft parade of tears along with the occasional deep shaking breath. Others had wordlessly exited their tents to see what all the commotion was about. At the sight of Nakota crying into my arms many turned away, even more gave me looks of pity. One face stood out in the crowd though. Maniae. She had a bowl grasped in her hands, filled with looked like fresh fruit. A loud crack sounded and everyone turned towards Maniae. Her hands were coated with blood with deep cuts running down the lengths of her palms. I watched in amazement was they healed before my eyes. She wiped the blood on her jeans, and then glanced up and met my eyes.
Many emotions were swirling in her eyes as she started back at me. Pain. Regret. Anger. But what shocked me most was the lock that Dion was giving her. It was a look that I had seen many times already on him. One that reeked of trouble and warned of devastation. Dion had just seen something that he was going to use to his advantage, and if there was one thing that I had learned about Dion in our short time together, it was that you never wanted him to have the look. Ever. About anything. I could only hope now that whatever he was planning wouldn’t put either my life or Nakota’s at risk.
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Author's note: “No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see it through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sorrow that comes to us without warning.” Is a quote from the book Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. Credit is reserved to the author of the quote and is in no means am I claiming it is my own.
Other Authors note: Thanks so much for reading! I appreciate it, just as I appreciate every vote, comment and fan you all give me. Peace and chocolate,
~Kali