Chapters 4 & 5
Chapter 4: Preparations
Cain
He walked quickly down the halls of the cells, his boots tapping on the stone floors. This building had been in town for generations. One of the oldest, strongest buildings since the sky blessed this land. There were only a handful in town that had survived for more than a couple generations, but the old stone ones were solid and sure. Cornerstones of their clan.
And fucking Jaxon got himself locked up in this particular one at least once a moon cycle. The little bitch needed himself a mate so he’d stay out of shit. Stop entertaining himself by being a menace.
Cain stopped at the cell. The only one with a bear in it and two guards standing sentinel outside. Not because Jaxon could break out, but because they were waiting for Cain or Rawson to pick him up.
He was sitting on the floor, his knees bent, and his shackled wrists propped up on them. His head leaned back against the wall, his shaggy dark hair draped over his face. He was clean shaven today, which didn’t happen often, but the man had a wicked baby face. He was adorable as fuck. Which Jaxon hated. Adorable meant he looked young.
He was also shirtless, showing off his angry, colorful ink that dappled over his torso and arms.
His eyes opened when Cain paused in front of the cell, crossing his arms.
“This cell should be named after me,” Jaxon drawled, bored. As if he was being put out.
Cain shook his head, nodding to the sentinel to release him but waving him off when he went to remove the shackles. Instead, he took the key and Jaxon’s arm.
He didn’t speak as he escorted Jaxon out. Out of the prison house and down the road. To the longest standing building, the manor house of the Aspen clan.
They were watched, disapproving expressions followed Jaxon most places he went. Did it bother Jaxon? Not in the least.
“What did you do this time?” Cain asked, hearing the frustration in his voice.
“Set a fire. Accidentally, of course,” Jaxon said.
Cain shook his head, opening the front door and leading him down the hall to Rawson’s room. Rawson was still out, dealing with clan business. Cain was sure their Primal was still pushing his subtle agenda of Rawson taking a mate. Cain smirked just thinking about how harassed their Deputy was going to be when he returned.
He opened Rawson’s door and pushed Jaxon inside.
The room was dark wood and crimson fabric. The left side was dominated by a large bed that sprawled most of the length of the room. There were posts at the end with crimson fabric hanging from them, able to be drawn at any time.
The windows were all shut up, leaving the room feeling stuffy. There was a single small square one in the far corner that hadn’t been covered. Probably because Rawson had been looking out, waiting for Vienna to leave the property before he left his room.
Cain shut the door and turned to Jaxon, frowning. “I thought you were over this.”
“Over what?” Jaxon asked, yawning.
“Over being a pain in the ass. You cause more problems for me than you understand.”
“Then leave me in the cell next time.” He collapsed on the chair, making a point of the chains on his wrist clanging.
Cain waited until Jaxon looked at him before pointedly stuffing the key in his pocket, frowning deeper. “You don’t think Rawson has enough to deal with right now? We have cubs going missing all the time. He’s got pressure from the Primary to choose a fucking mate. He needs to soothe the clan as the blood-covered forest creeps ever closer to the town. And then there’s you. Only giving a fuck about yourself.”
“Not true,” Jaxon drawled. “I give plenty of fucks just not about the same things you do.”
Can sighed in frustration, sitting on the end of the bed. He dropped his head into his hands, willing his headache to recede. “Seriously, Jax. Can’t you just back off for a while? Stay out of trouble?”
“Believe it or not, I wasn’t looking for trouble this time. The fire was… more or less an accident.”
Cain looked up, obvious disbelief in his gaze. “Oh yea?” he deadpanned.
Jaxon chuckled, a cute fucking grin climbing his face. The little bitch.
“Yes. Merigold was threatening – again – to run away from home. I heard her screaming at her parents and as she stormed out, I bumped into the firefeeder. Well, it created a glorious display but it also set fire to their yard.”
“Did Merigold run?”
“She sure did. Right back inside.”
Some of the cubs, when they were getting ready to age, became a little… influxed with emotion. Generally, this meant that their mating assignment was being woven by the sky. Merigold was having one hellava time with the introduction of her mating assignment if that were the case.
Jaxon had always paid some attention to the girl. Cain and Rawson suspected it was because they’d be facing a mating together at the next ceremony. Cain both wished it upon him and dreaded it.
They all hated the ceremonies. Especially since they’d aged to the point where their matings could be assigned by the sky at any time. But lately, over the past couple generations, the sky has been failing every so often. The disasters that came after the failed were… ugly.
So, Rawson, Cain, and Jamie dreaded the matings. The problem was, if they didn’t want to leave it up to the sky to hand them a mate, they needed to choose one on their own. And so far, no one has come even close to being appealing.
Cain didn’t truly think Merigold was for Jaxon. He didn’t even think Jaxon thought so, either. But something was there enough that Jaxon was usually around to interfere with her escape attempts.
“Maz is missing,” Jaxon said.
Cain looked up. “What?” he snapped.
“His lover hasn’t seen him in over a week.”
“Does Rawson know?” Cain asked, rubbing his face. It might be selfish to think, but the only thought that streamed through his head was, Not Maz. Anyone but Maz.
“I haven’t spoken to him.”
There was something sharp in Jazon’s voice that made Cain look at him. But if that sharpness had been reflected in his expression, it was already gone. Back again was the infernal boredom that Jaxon embodied.
As if summoned, the bedroom door flung open, and their Deputy stood in the doorway. “We need to go,” he said. “Maz – he’s hiding somewhere.”
Jaxon rolled his eyes, sighing exasperatedly as he looked at Cain with a brow raised over half lidded eyes.
“He’s not here,” Cain said. “Not in Bear Tower Heights.”
“How do you know? We need to look.”
Cain nodded in Jaxon’s direction. “He’s looked. He’s asked. He’s searched. Maz isn’t here.”
Rawson turned to take in Jaxon where he lounged in the chair behind the open door with his shackled wrists in his lap. “What did you do now?” he asked as he shut the door. His shoulders were tense, like he was ready to break out of his skin.
“It matters to you?” Jaxon asked, rolling his eyes.
“I had to go, Jax. I can’t just blow off the Primary,” Rawson said.
“No, I suppose not. You gonna suck his dick when he asks?” When Rawson’s jaw tensed, Jaxon narrowed his eyes. “Or have you already?”
There was a threatening growl that filled the room on the breath of air Rawson released. “Stop being so crude. You know I have responsibilities. I can’t go around causing trouble like you.”
“Not anymore. You’re too important now,” Jaxon drawled.
Cain nodded, leaning back on his arms. Jaxon was acting out because he was mad. At least it made sense now.
When they were kids, the three of them used to cause trouble together. Healthy mischief. Not setting fires or falling houses. Yes, Jaxon had done that two moons ago. And somehow managed to blow a hole in the side of the wall that surrounded the town.
The man was a destructive force with no real constructive outlet. He could be. Oh, he absolutely could be. But he refused. And now Cain thought he knew why. He had hated when Rawson had been named Deputy, first in line to the Primary. And then later, Rawson had named Cain his Enforcer. Effectively taking their relationships and turning them upside down, straining and putting a halt in their development.
Now Cain and Rawson had too many responsibilities to spend a whole lot of time doing anything other than attending them. And Jaxon was left behind. Partly by choice, but partly forced when Rawson was named.
Rawson stared at Jaxon for several breaths before turning away. For a second, he closed his eyes, willing to calm himself. He was the epitome of self-control, but Jaxon knew how to try every ounce of patience the man had.
“You’re sure Maz is really gone?” Rawson asked, his voice quieter.
“Yea,” Jaxon answered, his voice bleak. Devoid of the boredom and nonchalance. “He’s not here. I looked all around the perimeter, too.”
“Fuck, Jax, really?” Rawson said, spinning on him again. “Maz is gone, and you think you should leave the perimeter to look for him?”
Jaxon rolled his eyes, letting himself slide down into the chair further as he looked at the small square window that was open to the world at the far end of the room. “I’d be doing you a favor,” he muttered, leaving off the rest of the sentence. If I disappeared.
Rawson moved faster than Cain managed to sit up. He had Jaxon on his feet, pressed roughly against the wall as he stared in his face furiously. “You’re the biggest pain in my fucking ass, Jax. You cause so much hell for me, I don’t think you actually understand the shit I’ve done to keep you in this town. To keep you out of the damn pit. You’re a sky-fucked drain here most days but for fuck’s sake, Jax, you’re my pain in the ass. And you’re fucking staying here with me if I have to tie you to the goddam bed.”
Silence followed his words and for once, Jaxon didn’t look like his normal snarky self. That constant expression of him not giving a shit about anyone or anything wasn’t there. He closed his eyes and hung his head. Just an inch or so but enough that he acknowledged Rawson.
“He’s really gone?” Rawson asked again, his voice low as he let go of Jaxon, though he didn’t back away. “You looked everywhere? In every house? In every -”
“I looked,” Jaxon interrupted. “Everywhere, Rawson. Everywhere that I was allowed. And everywhere I wasn’t.”
Meaning he broke into several buildings and areas of town.
“Fuck,” Rawson whispered, lowering his head to rest on Jaxon’s shoulder.
Jaxon didn’t move. His gaze went far away as he blinked in what looked like slow motion. His hands were still locked together, hanging in front of him. Rawson’s once fierce, angry grip at Jaxon’s face as he had the other man shoved against the wall, was now resting on Jaxon’s chest.
Maz… Maz was Rawson’s little brother.
Cain got up from the bed and joined them, reaching between them to pull Jaxon’s wrists towards him where he could reach the shackles. He was sure they all felt the click of the lock releasing.
“I’m sorry,” Rawson said, moving his head up so his face was against Jaxon’s neck. He moved closer, bringing his body almost completely against Jaxon’s.
At one time, the three of them had found themselves falling into a closer relationship than was typically had. Three people. Three men. Together. It wasn’t normal.
And it had all fallen away once Rawson was made Deputy. He had an image. A responsibility.
Jaxon shook his head. “Just doing your duty, right?”
None of them missed the bitterness in his tone.
“You realize I’ve put off taking a mate, right?” Rawson whispered, brushing his lips against Jaxon’s neck.
Jaxon hadn’t moved. Even after the shackles were released, he kept his hands hanging at his sides, refusing to give in to the close proximity.
“And how long do you think you can put that off? As the Deputy of Aspen clan, you have a duty.”
Rawson sighed. After a breath, he pulled back to meet Jaxon’s gaze. “I promise, we’ll talk about this later. But if there’s any chance of finding Maz, we needed to start looking last week.”
Jaxon nodded. “I was on my way to tell you when the little bitches picked me up. It was quicker to wait for Cain to get me out than it was to argue with them.”
Rawson nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“I’ll wait here. Just tell me what you need,” Jaxon moved back to the chair, but Rawson stopped him.
“What I need is you with me right now. You’ve always been a rock, Jax. Nothing bothers you. I need that right now.”
Jaxon sighed. “You’re going to make me go with you to see Inyas, aren’t you?”
Rawson nodded, glancing at Cain. There was no question, Cain would go with him. He nodded all the same. “My brother,” he whispered. “If he’s not here, then there’s only one place he could be.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but it was probably true in this case. Maz was an arrogant fucker so Cain wouldn’t put it past him to think that he was above all the nonsense that the group of hell girls caused. What did they call themselves?
What they were, were a nuisance. Once that had been left alone since the troubled blonde had been rejected by her supposed mate. That was a royal fuck up on the sky’s part. She was absolutely not meant to be in that position. And she got all uppity and left Bear Tower Heights with a chip on her shoulder.
She didn’t understand. There was something deeply wrong with the story and it was affecting everything. It started with the forest bleeding. And then the matings were starting to get fucked up. The sky only succeeded in every seven out of eight. Yes, a high success rate but still, there shouldn’t be a fail rate at all. Cain shuddered to think what could possibly be next.
Jaxon took a breath. When he turned to them again, Rawson led them from the room. Cain could already hear heated discussion in the conference room before they had reached it. Inwardly, he sighed. Jaxon wasn’t alone in his avoidance of the gatherings of the Primal’s advisors. The hotheads who think they’re important because once in a blue moon they had a good idea that the Primal listened to.
Yea, Cain tried to stay far away from them. There wasn’t a single instance where Cain had been in their presence and not wanted to rip their heads off. He was only a little satisfied that they knew he could. His bear was strong and fierce.
Rawson threw open the door and the room came to a stop. Inyas looked up, frowning. “You didn’t find him, did you?”
“He’s gone. That’s been confirmed.”
Inyas sighed. “Come in, Rawson. Sit.”
Rawson walked in, rounding the table until he was seated next to their Primal. Jaxon and Cain stood a few feet behind him. Cain didn’t miss the few disdained looks thrown at Jaxon. Nor did he miss the others: annoyance, irritation, superiority.
It was enough to make Cain want to hit them.
“What do you need?” Inyas asked.
“I need to find him,” Rawson said.
“How?” Rysland asked, tilting his head to the side. “You have some way to track him within the bloody forest?”
“We know where he’s likely been taken,” Rawson said. “The band of misfits are hellbent on their misguided idea of ‘retribution’ for not getting their wrongly fated. I’m done sitting aside, waiting for them to steal someone else from us.”
“Where was this gung forward motion when the first bear was taken?” Hopper asked.
Cain rolled his eyes. “How easily you forget that Rawson was the only one that jumped on board your idea of getting them back. And he has every other time it’s been brought up. How about if you get your tail out of your ass and pay back his support with your own?”
Jaxon snorted. Most of the eyes in the room turned to him.
“Why is he here?” Rysland asked, sneering at Jaxon. “He was in jail just an hour ago. Where he should stay.”
“I’m sure being put into jail while trying to keep another bear from wandering into the bloody forest is a wonderful practice and all,” Cain snapped, “But how about we focus on getting Maz before it’s too late?”
The problem was, they all knew it was too late. If Maz had been missing for a week, he wasn’t coming back. He probably wasn’t alive.
Which made this mission more of an attack than a rescue.
“Who was trying to run?” Inyas asked, his voice quiet, as if he were trying to soothe the high emotions in the room.
“Marigold,” Jaxon said. “She’s been having it out with her family again. I set fire to her yard to keep her in.”
Inyas shook his head. “While I appreciate your efforts to keep our cubs safe, Jaxon, perhaps a less destructive way in the future?”
Jaxon shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do, Your Primeliness.”
Cain tried very hard not to smirk. Even as Inyas attempted to hide his amusement by clearing his throat.
“We know where they’re located, do we not?” Inyas asked.
“We do,” Hopper answered.
“Then we’ll gather our troops and leave at dawn. We find Maz and if he’s not alive, we take no prisoners.”
“There are children,” one of the younger men said.
Several bears frowned. Killing children was unacceptable. But what to do with them.
“We also might want some questions answered,” Rysland said.
Inyas nodded. “Very well. You, Rysland, may take five prisoners. Five. And the children, we’ll bring them back here and raise them under the sky’s blessing. We’ll raise them as our own. We leave at dawn.”
Chapter 5: The Ambush
Wrenley
The night they murdered Maz went by in a blurr. Wrenley curled on the mattress without seeing much around her. She didn’t take off her pack but kept it on her back and hidden. She was sure she didn’t agree with the mission of the Women of Chaos. Not if they could kill someone simply because of where they lived.
She started dreaming about Maz that night. It started with him telling her about himself.
“I wasn’t a bad guy. Arrogant, maybe. Too sure of myself, for sure. But I didn’t deserve their death.”
He’d carry on, talking to her in her sleep for hours. It was so real at times that Wrenley would wake up and expect him to be there. He wasn’t, of course. It was just the men in the den she’d been invited into.
Finian was gorgeous, every inch. And since he apparently preferred to sleep in the nude, Wrenley woke to a very evocative sight. And a sexy fucking smile when he found her gawking. Smooth, from head to foot in what had to be a very meticulously maintained grooming regime.
She’d apparently been too upset to pay attention the day they killed Maz to see that he stripped. However, she noted that although they slept on something thicker and softer than the thin foam mats that she’d been on when she stumbled upon Aurelia and her small contingent, the bedding and pillow situation was certainly not up to Wrenley’s preferred standards.
Was it sad that that was what she missed the most of DeadEnd? Her many pillows and blankets? It felt a little pathetic when she thought about it.
Wrenley walked around their camp the following day looking at everyone with question. Not because she remembered Maz’s words but because it truly bothered her that they’d murdered him in cold blood. For existing. For being in the wrong place at the wrong time. For crimes that weren’t his own. For being a civilian of Bear Tower Heights.
From what Wrenley had gathered, he wasn’t even one of the so called bears who’d rejected one of them. Or anyone.
So, why did he deserve to die? And so brutally, too.
But she kept dreaming about Maz. And he continued to talk as if he were alive and there in the room with her. After three nights, his dialogue shifted to urge Wrenley to ask questions. Ask why. Ask who and how. Ask what their end goal is, beyond just hurting the people who hurt them.
It was at this point that Wrenley tried to get answers from dream-Maz. What caused the trees to bleed so much? Or at all? How does she stop it? Was there something right in front of her that she was missing?
But it was a one-way call. Maz couldn’t hear her. If he did, he gave no indication.
Wrenley started asking about the trees and blood. But it became apparent that if there was an answer to be had, they weren’t giving it. Or they didn’t know. She thought that they were probably so used to the trees bleeding that they stopped questioning it. It ceased being an anomaly.
Then she did as Maz suggested. She started asking questions. Why did they pick up Maz? Were they always hunting for strays from Bear Tower Heights and the neighboring towns? What was their end goal?
The answers were not what she wanted to hear.
“They all allow the practice of rejecting fated mates. Of disregarding the sky’s assignment.”
“They should all be punished.”
“All the bears who think that they’re above the sky’s fate. They will all be punished.”
It solidified at least one thing. She wasn’t going to be a permanent resident with the Women of Chaos. Indiscriminate murder was not what she was about.
And the more she thought about it, the more she thought that murder probably wasn’t the answer at all. So, they were rejected from some mating thing. That meant that they should die? Choose that person or die? Accept that person for the rest of their lives or die?
That seemed a little harsh to Wrenley. A little too black and white.
However, Wrenley was left with an issue. Where was she going to go? In all her conversations with the people of this settlement, even the ones who just wanted to live, the answers were clear: if you’re not one of them, they’re cruel, unyielding demons. Unforgiving, unbending bears.
She was also under the impression that the situation where Maz had found himself was likewise reversed. If a stray member of this band was found by one of the bear clans, they were treated in the same fashion.
“It’s like salt to the wound,” Elita told her one evening. “They already pushed us out of our clans, refused us the life the sky chose for us, and then when we wander on our own, they kill us.”
Wrenley wanted to point out that if they were associated with the band of crazy women who were killing random townspeople, of course they’d be seen as hostile with a target over their heads. But she thought that probably wasn’t the way to keep her place until she found another path to follow. One that might give her answers.
If not the Women of Chaos, and not the bear clans of the towns, then where?
One night, the dialogue with dream-Maz shifted again. This time he started talking about his brother. Telling her that his brother was coming.
“He’s a good man, under a lot of pressure. Hear him out. Don’t let their thirst for vengeance and death skew your opinion. Give him a chance. Give them all a chance. Just like you gave me.”
Wrenley woke up bothered by this. His brother was coming? From town? For what purpose?
The dream hung around her as she wandered through the camp that day. Watching the children play. Watching Aurelia and Zel looking like some weird, twisted fairy tale’s version of love birds. Watching Itsa and her den as they conversed and laughed. Watching Finian exist in his gorgeous perfection. Who in their right mind had rejected him for anything? She had some serious questions.
And yet, she found that she wasn’t all that interested in him. Not because he wasn’t kind or interesting. But because she felt herself resisting making any true ties to these people. They didn’t believe in the same things. Their morals were very different.
Besides, Wrenley’s mission wasn’t one of revenge. It was one of fixing. And to fix the fairy tale, she needed to know how it was broken.
She didn’t want to sleep that night. She didn’t want to see dream-Maz and his endless confusing thoughts. It was frustrating listening to a one-way dialogue and being unable to interact. To have questions and remain unable to ask questions.
“Wren?”
She turned to look at Finian, just barely able to see his outline in the dimness of their den. Even that was fucking hot.
“You alright?”
Wrenley nodded. “Yep. Just trying to figure out where I’m needed. Where I need to go to get the answers I need.”
“About the bloody forest?”
She nodded. “Yea. I really need to find out why the fairy tale is broken. How it’s broken. And how to fix it.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s why I’m here.”
He didn’t answer for a time. She’d closed her eyes thinking he’d fallen asleep. But his words spoken in a voice that made her shiver in appreciation had her opening her eyes again.
“I think you’re not getting answers because we don't’ really know. The forest…. It’s been bleeding for a long time. All of my lifetime. All of my parents’ lifetime. It’s gone on so long that if we ever knew the answer, it’s been forgotten.”
Wrenley frowned. This fairy tale was a new break. The door had only appeared within the year. “Where can I find the answer?”
“If there’s an answer to be had, probably deep within the clans somewhere. The elders would have the knowledge if it was worth hanging onto.”
“You mean the nasty, evil bears?” she asked, only a hint of irony in her voice.
He chuckled. “Yes. They tend to keep knowledge close to them, remembering everything so the rest of the clan doesn’t need to.”
Wrenley fell asleep thinking about this. How was she going to get into a clan so she could find these elders and get the information she needed to fix the tale? And of course, Maz was there. Talking away. Telling her about his brother.
She tuned him out for the most part. Considering different ways, even in her sleep, that she could infiltrate the clan. The nearest town. Hunt out these elders and demand some answers.
It wasn’t until Maz was screaming at her to wake up that Wrenley’s attention returned to dream-Maz.
“He’s here. Wake up! WAKE UP!”
Wrenley’s eyes snapped open and she lay perfectly still to listen. The only thing she could hear was the sound of her pounding heart. For a minute, she was disoriented. Something had woken her up. It was too much to consider that dream-Maz had. Because it was just a dream. He wasn’t really there. She was feeling guilty. Guilty that he’d died and she hadn’t had balls enough to try and save him.
Even so, she tried to listen beyond her own blood rushing. To see if she could pick up any sounds from outside the den. It was still dark inside so the sun hadn’t come up yet.
It was just guilt.
But try as she may, sleep wouldn’t come again. She felt uneasy. So she sat up, dressed in the quiet of the surrounding men, slipped on her shoes and then fastened her bag to her back. Once it vanished from sight and feel, she stood and headed towards the door as quietly as she could. She didn’t want to wake the others.
With her hand on the handle, Wrenley paused. There was something outside. Fire crackling? They should have been put out by then. It was late. Another sound, like a muffled cry.
It was just a dream, she assured herself, even as all the little hairs on her body stood up. Just a dream that has me uneasy. Nothing else.
Taking a breath, she pulled open the door.
And blazing fire met her eyes. Fire licking up the sides of surrounding dens, not just in the grates. Many of the faces she’d come to know were either on their knees gagged or bloodied and dead sprawled across the ground.
Wrenley shook her head, taking a step back as Elita’s empty eyes looked up at her from a dozen feet away where she was sprawled on her back, her head tilted to face Wrenley’s den. There were men, large shadows, moving around the camp quickly, setting fires and pulling bodies. Only as she stood in horrified silence did the sounds around her finally register.
Metal against metal. Fighting. Hollering. Screaming. Terrified children crying for their parents.
She’d taken too long staring in disbelief. A large shadow appeared in front of her and before she’d had time to react, he had a fistful of her hair and had pulled her out of the den.
Wrenley pushed against him, elbowed him in the gut. Tried to bring her foot up to kick him in the balls. It was definitely a him. She could tell by the hard planes of his chest as he dragged her out.
The grip he had on her head sent stars through her vision it hurt so bad. She was shoved to her knees. Even as she tried to reach behind her for her knife, she was kicked in the chest and sent sprawling across the ground as she gasped for breath.
The hand around her neck in the next moment barely registered since she already couldn’t breathe. Blurry faces swam before her eyes as she struggled to take in air. The cold steel of a blade pressed against her skin, right under her ear.
“She’s not a bear,” a low, dark voice said.
“She’s still one of the vermin,” the man holding the tip of the blade to her growled.
“Spare her. We’ll bring her back. See what she can tell us. Why she’s holed up with the scum rejects.”
The man holding her didn’t like it. She could feel the fury in him. His want to kill her. But the blade left her skin just as she took a delicious breath of oxygen. Letting it fill her lungs and bring tears to her eyes.
Wrenley wasn't given time to reorient herself before she was spun to her hands and knees where she coughed. Her head was yanked back by a fistful of hair again, so harshly her neck felt like it was going to snap. She was forced to follow the motion onto her knees. Her hands were roughly zip tied behind her before a length of fabric was forced in her mouth, gagging her.
And then she was forced to watch the faces she’s come to know murdered, just as they’d done to Maz. Ruthlessly. Carelessly. Unbiased. The only ones spared were Wrenley, another female, three males, and the children.
They moved like shadows, large, lethal, and quick. They were silent and dark as they tore apart the camp.
By the time she was pulled to her feet and forced to walk, the sun was coming up, blinking through the canopy of the trees and the sails that protected the camp from blood.
Wrenley didn’t try to speak. There was no point. One of the men they’d spared tried. Continuously. The murderers didn’t pay him any attention but to force him to continue walking. She thought they’d be walking until they hit town, whichever town they were heading to. But twenty minutes from camp, they loaded their prisoners and the children into a cart tied to two enormous work horses.
The ride to camp was quiet except for the crying kids. They were as young as not old enough to truly hold up their head. The one thing Wrenley continued to think was, at least they didn’t kill children. She couldn't say that Aurelia wouldn’t have. Not sure why, but Wrenley was sure that she’d have killed a kid or two if it would have made a difference. Or if she’d had the opportunity.
The town was surrounded by a tall wall, easily a dozen feet high. The outside was something from a gruesome movie, covered in dripping blood. And the treetops leaned over the wall with their gory limbs and leaves, as if they were reaching inside the town.
And the town? Cute fairy tale cottages with thatch roofs and planter boxes on their windows. Small front yards with fences and gates. Lush green grass. Smoke curling out of chimneys.
Wrenley watched with wide eyes, transfixed. There weren’t any bloody trees inside the town. The few trees that dotted the landscape were blessedly gore-free. And in the early morning sun, the sleepy little town was a dream. Beautiful, like a puzzle that you sit and admire when you’ve finished the nightmare of trying to piece it together.
The further the cart was pulled through the town, Wrenley realized how very big it was. Sprawling in all directions. And the closer to the center she got, the larger the buildings became. No longer small and quaint and adorable. But now made of stone and several stories. There were lanterns outside and lining the walks.
But then the cart came to a stop and she didn’t need to guess at the building they were in front of. There was no mistaking that it was a prison. Not overly large but big enough that she guessed there were many cells inside.
The door in their cart opened. Wrenley drew her attention from admiring the town to watch the men gently pull and guide out the children. They were gentle. Kind. Even smiling to try and put them at ease.
As if the kids had so soon forgotten how the men had killed their parents a few short hours ago.
Again, she was caught between the contrast of how these men treated the kids and how she just knew that wouldn’t have been the case if the situations were reversed. There’d be no prisoners. No lives spared.
When the last of them had been pulled out, they moved on to the prisoners. The man who kept trying to talk through his gag struggled. He pulled against their hold, yelling something through his gag.
One of the handlers sighed, gripping him by the neck for another to punch him in the gut. The man doubled over, gasping, and was hauled away.
Then one of the handler’s attention was on Wrenley. He held out his hand, gesturing for her to come closer.
Although everything in her wanted to resist, she’d seen what happened to resistance. And she wasn’t going to escape if she couldn’t breathe. If she was being beaten. So, she slid across the cart on her knees until she was close enough that he hauled her out as if she weighed nothing more than a rag doll.
“You’re not a bear,” he said. It was the second time she’d heard that.
Wrenley shook her head.
“It’s not often another kind is mixed without our society. It’s too bad you chose the wrong friends, girl.”
She shook her head again, trying to convey that that wasn’t the case. They were simply the first people she’d come across. That she knew they weren’t the kind of people she needed to be around. Not after what they’d done to Maz. But she hadn’t acted quick enough. She hadn’t known where else to go or how to get there.
Obviously, none of that was conveyed through her movements and he ushered her inside. Inside the cold stone walls and further into a cell where he released her hands and ungagged her.
He shut the cell, barring her inside. “I’m afraid you’re not going to like your stay in Bear Tower Heights,” he said as he turned to walk away.
There was no use trying to tell him. He was a lackey. Someone who’d done his job and nothing more. Wrenley looked across the hall into the cell block where another of the prisoners had been placed. Another girl. She looked up and met Wrenley’s eyes.
“I wish they’d have killed me,” she whispered, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall. “It would have been far less painful then what we’re about to face.”