Chapter 23 Survivors
Lyra
Before I shift, I go back in to check on Bram one more time. “I’ll be right back,” I whisper, tightening the cloak around my shoulders.
Bram sits up in the bed, his breath still raspy. “Lyra, don’t go. It's not safe out there, and I’m sure Jorin will be back soon enough.”
I hesitate in the doorway, my hand on the frame, staring at the black smoke curling above the trees beyond the clearing. “I can’t,” I say softly, without turning. “I need to make sure he’s okay.”
“He would want you safe.”
“I owe him,” I snap, sharper than I mean to. “He saved my life,” I say more gently. “He took me in when the pack cast me out. I can’t forget something like that.”
Bram groans as he tries to get up and fails. “You’ll be walking straight into any surviving enemy wolves. Lyra, he’s not stupid. If he made it, he’ll come back.”
“And if he didn’t make it, then I’ll find what’s left of him.” I glance back at Bram, his face pale. “But I’m not waiting. I won’t leave him alone. He might need my help.”
Before he can protest again, I step outside and pull the door closed behind me. The scent of smoke clings to the air, to my skin, to everything. I drop my cloak and tunic on the ground, and shift quickly, my bones cracking and my fur rising.
My paws sink into ash, soft and strange like snow. Beneath it, the earth feels hollow. Ahead, the trees are broken into black, jagged silhouettes. I move fast, weaving through what’s left of the woods. My eyes and ears are straining for movement, breath, any sign of Jorin.
The mind-link is quieter than it was before, and that’s how I know the ones who lay dying are dead. The howls were constant, panicked, screaming, wild with pain, and now they’ve faded.
I press forward, faster now. The breath is sharp in my lungs, and my eyes sting. “Come on, Jorin. Where are you? Give me a sign. Anything,” I shoot through the mind-link.
I freeze, lifting my nose to the wind, where the stench of scorched earth is overwhelming, but beneath it, something sharper cuts through: the scent of blood, sweat, fury–and Jorin.
My paws barely touch the ground as I sprint toward the source. Inside my chest, my heart is hammering against my ribs. The scent twists through the trees, erratic, frantic, and laced with danger.
I crest a ridge and find him in a clearing below, snarling and snapping. His teeth are bared as he clashes with two massive wolves. I know them. Even through the shift, I know them.
Villie and Tarik, brothers by blood and loyal to the evil Alpha until the bitter, burning end, have somehow escaped the fire, and now, they’ve found Jorin.
He’s outnumbered, cornered against a stone wall. Tarik lunges, his teeth aimed for Jorin’s throat. Jorin dodges and slides under his body. Villie circles. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, tail stiff with dominance.
I leap, crashing into Villie, my weight slamming him sideways. We tumble in a snarl of jaws and claws, his teeth grazing my throat as I twist, and he rakes his claws down my ribs. I yelp and twist, and he tries to roll on top of me, but I’m faster. I slam my head into his snout and bite down hard on his throat.
I release Villie and whip around to see Jorin still fighting Tarik. With a savage twist, Jorin slams Tarik into the ground. The impact sends a dull thud through the earth beneath my paws. Tarik snaps at him again, but Jorin’s faster. He rears back and sinks his teeth into Tarik’s throat, holding there, unrelenting.
They thrash in the dirt, claws raking, snarls deafening. I crouch low, ready to leap in if Jorin falters, but he doesn’t. When he tears free, Tarik crumples in the ash. A final, ragged growl rattles from his chest before his body stills. Jorin staggers upright, his sides heaving, but his eyes find mine, sharp and defiant.
He sways, and I move to him instantly, brushing my muzzle against his and pressing close as relief pours through me in dizzying waves. He’s alive, and so am I—for now.
We run side by side, our paws pounding the forest floor.
“They came out of nowhere,” Jorin says through the mind-link, his voice clipped with lingering adrenaline. “Villie and Tarik. I don’t know how they avoided the fire. They should’ve burned with the rest.”
“I’m just glad I was close enough to help,” I reply, matching his stride. “You were outnumbered.”
“I’m glad you were there to help again, too. Thank you, Lyra.” It’s quiet, sincere.
“Don’t thank me yet.” I hesitate, then add, “I have news you might not like.”
He doesn’t respond right away, just flicks an ear as we leap over a fallen log and veer toward the ridge that leads back to his cottage.
“I found Bram,” I say. “He was alone and barely breathing. I took him to your place to rest.
There’s another pause, longer this time. “He’s at the cottage?”
“Yes. Just until he recovers.”
Jorin says nothing, but I can feel the change in his demeanor. He’s not exactly angry. Just... not thrilled.
We reach the edge of the trees, paws skimming over damp earth as the cottage comes into view. Through the window, we can see the dim shapes of furniture and other belongings inside.
Jorin’s steps slow when he catches sight of Bram through the window, lying curled on my bed. His ears twitch. He doesn’t say anything, but I feel the tension roll off him.
We slip inside without a word. The fire’s low. I nudge the door shut with my muzzle. Jorin goes behind the partition and shifts first, bones cracking, fur dissolving into skin. After he dresses, I take my turn.
The change stings more than usual. My side is still raw, and a scratch on my throat drips blood from Villie’s claws. I bite down a groan as I dress quickly into a shirt and leggings I have folded on a low stool. Jorin’s already pouring water into a tin cup when I step out.
He hands it to me without meeting my eyes. “You bleeding?”
“Just a scratch.” I lie, taking a big gulp of the water. “You?”
“I’ll live,” he mutters.
“She found you?” Both Bram and Jorin say it to one another at the same time.
A beat of silence passes, then Bram lifts an eyebrow. “Guess she’s good at that.”
I clear my throat. “Tarik and Villie—do you think more of them survived?”
“I hope not,” Jorin says grimly. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ve made our choice. There’s no going back.”
I lean against the wall, trying to ignore the sting of the scratch on my ribs that should’ve healed by now. “You think we did the right thing? Lighting the fire?”
He hesitates. “I think the pack was already burning from the inside. We just added fuel to the flames.”
Guilt prickles along my spine. “I’m so sorry you got caught in it, Bram.”
“It’s not entirely your fault,” he says, casting a sideways glance at Jorin. “I’m all right. Breathing better. Feeling better, too. We need to decide what’s next. I’ve been thinking… I should go back.”
“Yes,” Jorin says immediately. “I think that’s a great idea.”
I look at Bram. “You do?”
“He’s right. The sooner we know what they’re planning, the better.” Jorin is adamant.
“I don’t think it’s such a great idea,” I say. “You’re still healing. If something goes wrong—
Bram cuts me off. “They will most likely assume I died in the fire, but if I get caught out here with you…”
“Would they even care enough to check?” Jorin mutters under his breath.
Silence falls over us, the unspoken truth heavy in the air. If the pack believes Bram is dead, he might move freely, unnoticed. If they are searching and find him, Alpha Kaelan’s anger could make staying with us the gravest mistake he ever makes.