Chapter 8 The exile

The dusty road leading out of the Shadow fang village was filled with hatred. Astraea stumbled, her bare feet sliced by sharp stones and burning from the midday heat of the southern sun.

Her back was a roadmap of pain, the thirty fresh whip marks, a deep red color on the torn remains of her tunic.

Every step felt like she was walking on broken glass, yet the iron grip Boyce had on her upper arm dragged her forward without mercy.

“Keep moving, thief,” Boyce growled, pushing her hard. She nearly bit her tongue.

“ The Alpha wants you our of our land before the sun goes down. I would hate to carry your dead body the rest of the way.”

“I can walk,” Astraea said, her throat felt like it was filled with sand.

As they passed through the houses, people gathered. These were the people she had gathered herbs for, mother’s she had watched over when their children were sick. The elders she had respected.

Now they stood with their hands full of stones. “Get out, curse bringer,” a woman shouted.

It was Martha, the baker's wife. She came forward and threw a stone. It hit Astraea straight on the temple. A thin line of blood followed the sweat on her face.

Astraea shocked, looked at the woman, with wide, hollowed eyes. “Martha, I helped you when your son…”

“Don't you dare speak my son's name,” Martha spat, reaching for another stone. “My son is hungry because the crops are dying. You stole our luck. You stole our compass.”

“I did not, please. You have to believe me.” A heavy mold of dried mud hit Astraea's mouth, silencing her.

The crowd erupted in laughter.

“Worthless omega? Go back to the hole you crawled out from. Leave our Alpha to a real woman.”

Astraea looked back towards the balcony of the pack house. Jaxon was there, Verena by his side, his arms wrapped around her waist. He was looking at her like she was a piece of trash, cleared from his house.

Verena, however, was nibbling on a dark red cherry. Her eyes filled with delight. She caught Astraea's eyes and gave a tiny mocking wave.

“Look at them,” Boyce mocked as they reached the village gates. “They hate you more than they hate the blight. You are lucky the Alpha gave you exile. If it were up to the pack, you'll be hanging from the silver oak tree by your neck.”

“He knows I did not do it, Boyce.” Astraea whispered, her voice cracking. “Deep down, he knows.”

Boyce laughed a harsh sound. “Even if he knows, what does it matter? You are weak. Verena is strong. A king doesn't need a broken tool when he has a new blade. Move.”

The green fields of the South began to thin as they came closer to the border, the grey zone where the warmth of the sun king began to lose its battles against the eternal winter of the north.

The three enforcers with boyce, Kael, Torin, and Silas, were playing with their spears.

“How long do you think she will last once we cross the line?” Torin asked, his voice loud enough for Astraea to hear.

“She has no shoes and she's bleeding like a stuffed pig. I say she doesn't make it to the first ice shelf. I'll give her an hour.” Kael chuckled.

“The frostbite would take her toes first. Then the lungs…”

“Shut up” Boyce snapped.

They stopped at the edge of the big ravine. The trees were no longer green, black skeletal things covered the ground. The air was no longer the dry, dusty heat of the south. It was now an unnatural chill that made goosebumps break out on Astraea's flesh.

“This is it, this is where I stop” Boyce said, letting go of Astraea's arm. He pushed her into the dirt at the edge of the dead land. “The border. cross it and you are no longer a wolf, you are just meat.”

“Torin, Kael, and Silas will take you the rest of the way.” Astraea looked up, her breath in her throat, as she saw the mist moving over the black ground.

“Boyce, please, just a pair of shoes. This is suicide.” He turned and left them.

Torin knelt down his expression turning dark. “You don't get it, do you? Jaxon didn't tell us to just watch you walk away.”

Astraea’s heart dropped to her feet. “What?”

Torin brought out his dagger. “Jaxon's orders were quiet, exile her he said in front of the pack. But then he whispered to Boyce.”

“Make sure she doesn't linger. Make sure she doesn't find a way to tell her lies to the other packs. Bury her in the deadlands where no one will find the bones.”

Astraea moved backward on her hands and knees. “He ordered you to kill me?”

“He wants a clean slate, Astraea.” Kael said, coming with a spear, pointing at her chest. “Verena wants a clean slate too. We can't have a disgrace sister wandering the world, can we? It's bad for the pack.”

“ Run, little rabbit.” Silas grinned showing his teeth. “We'll give you a ten second head start. It will be more fun if there is a chance.”

“One,” Torin started, his voice low.

Astraea didn't wait. She forced her broken body to stand up. The pain in her feet hurt, but the terror was stronger. She turned and ran into the midst of the deadlands.

“Two, three.”

The ground was like iron, the air hitting her lung like a thousand tiny needles, making her chest ache with every cut. She ran through the skeletal trees, her hair flying like a dusty flower. Behind her, she heard heavy boots of the enforcers.

Astraea ran through the knee-deep snow, her bare feet, her bare feet not feeling the stone on the frozen ground. They had gone numb, miles ago, it had reached the t

errifying stage of frostbite where the pain disappears and is replaced by silence.