Chapter 6 The Wolf Knows
[Kaelan's POV]
A Beta lowered his voice, "She came out again."
Another voice, "Should we still report it?"
"...No. Even if we report it, he won't do anything about it." The Beta pursed his lips. Mate—how could he manage that?
I pushed open the door and walked out. Both patrolmen immediately fell silent, like someone had grabbed their throats. The older one first looked down, pretending to check his bootlaces. The younger one's ears reddened as he tightened his grip on his spear.
Walking down the path, I saw someone crouching by the creek in the distance.
It was that old patrol. During yesterday's shift change I'd heard others call him Hale. He'd been with Blackthorn for twenty years, face lined like knife cuts, supposedly never spoke to Wolfsbane people.
But now he was crouching on the rock beside me, watching me wash the old wounds on my arm.
"Water's too cold," he said.
"Better than staying dirty." I scooped up creek water and gently poured it over the wound. The water was indeed cold—the instant it touched, pain shot through my skin and I couldn't help hissing.
He grunted, either disapproving or too lazy to care. As I wrung out the cloth strip to rewrap it, he suddenly handed me a small bundle of clean linen.
"This one's got no mud."
I glanced at him and accepted it.
He didn't look at me, only stared at the creek surface. "At least you don't cry."
"Would crying help?" I tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"No," he said. "That's why I never cried, even as a child."
I almost laughed.
Footsteps pressed over from the training ground just then.
Steady and heavy.
Hale looked up first, that bit of relaxation on his face instantly vanishing. He stood up, fist pressed to his chest, movements sharp as a taut string.
I didn't turn around, but knew who it was.
That scent had already arrived. Pine, cold iron, and something deeply suppressed, like fire smothered under stone.
Draven passed by the training ground edge.
I caught him pausing in my peripheral vision.
Hale's back straightened further, even his breathing held. I tied the cloth strip tight without looking up or at him.
After several breaths, Hale stepped back.
But that scent didn't immediately fade. I kept my head down, smoothing the cloth, fingertips slightly tense, something warming in my chest.
The day passed quickly.
During shift change, Finn ran across the training ground carrying a staff, lifting his chin at me in greeting. I didn't go over, just watched him for a while from the side. He practiced seriously, sweat trickling down his neck, wooden staff spinning fast in his hands.
When I returned to the cabin at evening, the patrol log lay spread on a wooden board.
Finn was bent over writing.
As I passed behind his shoulder, I caught him drawing a mark after a line of text.
Black wolf circling, seventh night.
Deep into the night, I opened the door to fetch water when someone approached.
Draven.
He'd been on the other side, not particularly close to me. But seeing me, he froze.
Moonlight pressed against the ground. He stood there, shoulders and back rigid, as if every bone was fighting his body. He looked at me with frightening intensity.
I stared into his eyes without retreating, though my heartbeat quickened.
The pine scent in the air grew heavier, pressing at my throat, wrapping around my body. Heat slowly surged from below, my neck burning hot, body going soft.
I saw him beginning to harden, his hands gradually forming fists, breathing growing heavier.
The next second, he turned and left.
Quick steps, like fleeing.
I stood motionless until the sound disappeared.
Returning to my door, I saw the black wolf standing at the edge of darkness.
Not a hallucination.
It stopped not far away, amber eyes looking straight at me.
I didn't retreat.
It stepped forward half a pace, claws touching ground without making a sound.
I still didn't retreat.
It stood for several breaths, then suddenly turned and melted into the darkness.
After closing the door, I leaned against it, waiting for my body's heat to subside, hearing my own scattered breathing.
When I went out the next day, the patrol guarding the path intersection just tilted his head slightly upon seeing me.
I followed that direction to the training ground's edge. Finn was practicing with his staff and waved at me when he saw me.
"Come over."
I stood without moving. Finn was a sweet young man, and I was Blackthorn's prisoner—I shouldn't cause him too much trouble.
He waved his wooden staff again. "Not asking you to go to war. Just try it."
But I needed strength, especially the power to protect myself. After hesitating, I walked over.
Finn handed me the staff. "Grip here. Right, not too tight. Spread your legs a bit, lower your center."
I complied.
He circled to my side, raising his hand to touch my wrist. "Press down more."
I instinctively stiffened.
Finn immediately pulled back his hand. "Sorry. I was just—"
"It's fine." I gripped the staff again. "Continue."
He looked at me once before nodding. "Your shoulders are too tense. Relax, or someone can disarm you with one flick."
Gritting my teeth, I lowered my center as he instructed. The wooden staff grew warm in my palm, my arms also aching. Finn demonstrated the movement beside me. I followed along—nearly tripping myself on the first try, steadying on the second, finally sweeping out a proper arc with the staff head on the third.
"That's right." Finn smiled. "You learn pretty fast."
When I looked up, I happened to see the council hall window.
A figure stood behind it.
Tall and still.
Even from this distance, I could feel that gaze pressing on my hands.
Finn was still saying something I didn't catch clearly. When I looked again, that figure remained.
He hadn't left.
Only when another figure appeared by the window did he move slightly, turning his face away.
I gripped the staff, palm growing hotter.
After training ended, I didn't immediately return to the cabin, walking slowly back along the creek.
The sky had already darkened, water rushing against stones. I'd just rounded a tree root when I heard a thin whimper.
A child's voice.
I crouched down, pushing aside wet mud and weeds to see a golden-haired, blue-eyed little boy stuck in a gap between tree roots. His right foot was trapped deep, covered in mud, struggling harder only making him more stuck.
Seeing me, his eyes filled with tears as he reached out chubby little hands.
"Stop squirming!" I lay down, protecting his leg with my hand as I reached into the mud.
The tree root edges were sharp, burning as they scraped my hand. I bit down hard, pushing my entire wrist in until my palm finally supported his soft little foot. Muddy water poured up my sleeve, so cold I shivered. I carefully lifted him bit by bit while he hugged my arm and helped push, finally pulling him free.
The little thing was covered in mud, trembling in my arms.
He looked at me timidly, seeing my bleeding hand, then stuck out his tongue to lick the blood on my fingers.
I stroked his soft golden hair, thinking of my sweet Lina. Before Mother disappeared, she'd been just as mischievous, getting stuck everywhere with me always rescuing her. My chest suddenly loosened as I smiled.
"You sure know how to pick places to get stuck."
Holding the soft bundle while warm sunlight bathed us, this was the first time I'd felt warmth since arriving at Blackthorn.
Crack.
When the sound came from behind, the contentment on my face hadn't fully faded. Pine and cold iron scents drifted past my nose.
I looked up.
Draven stood several steps away, carrying an old blanket to wrap the child. He first saw me covered in mud, then the bloody scratches on my hands, finally his gaze settling on the child drowsing in my arms.
Wind blew across the creek, carrying moisture. His eyes pressed heavily on the wounds on my hands, Adam's apple bobbing as if words were stuck there.
Finally he approached, carefully taking the child into his arms.
His movements were gentler than expected, and practiced.
The child burrowed into his embrace, yawning with his little mouth open, tilting his head to continue sleeping.
—He would make a good father. I suddenly thought this without knowing why.
My heart jumped suddenly. What was I thinking? My face grew warm.
"You wander around the Pack every day," he said.
I looked up at him. "So?"
"The Pack doesn't support idlers. You start working tomorrow." Draven held the child, gently patting his back.
"Doing what?" I looked at him in surprise.
"Whatever Nyx tells you to do, you do it."
