Chapter 23

I hear the birds begin to sing and feel the light of a new day. Exiting the tree hollow, I shake out my fur and then stretch my sore, tired body. Good morning to day three of being alone. I don’t feel like eating; my stomach has been in knots. I’m used to hardly eating anyway. After changing clothes and slipping my shoes on my feet, I’m ready to go. I sling my backpack on, but something feels off.

I look around with my nose in the air, trying to pinpoint the source of my unease, but there’s nothing around me but quiet forest. I shake the ominous feeling away and set a brisk pace. The river can’t be too much farther away, I hope.

Trekking through the empty woods has been muddling my mind. I’m so alone. I thought I was alone before—at least I had Gran or Peter to talk to. Now, it’s just my mind freaking me out whenever I hear an animal scurrying in the bushes or fallen leaves. How do other rogues do it? I have to laugh at that thought. They don’t. Rogues turn feral and usually end up living in their wolf form, losing their minds and sense of self.

My heart begins to thump wildly in my chest. What is going on with me? I push my feet into a jog, but I feel like I’m not going fast enough. What’s the rush? Really, I’ll find the river eventually. The thought doesn’t sit right with me, and my legs speed up on their own, pushing harder. Have I lost my mind already? This is so stupid, Gypsy; don’t lose your marbles now.

My legs begin to burn, but I can’t slow down. I must keep going, harder, faster. Push, girl! It’s getting more and more difficult to breathe, and I don’t have much energy left to give. A noise over my left shoulder startles me, making me jump, and renews my vigor to push harder. It sounds like panting and the thrumming of multiple feet through the forest floor. I don’t dare look back. Suddenly, I feel them getting closer. I don’t see them yet, but I can’t outrun wolves on my two legs.

I focus my mind to bring my wolf forward. I’ve never shifted on the move, but I don’t have a choice. Fur juts out and bones realign in one fluid motion. I did it! My shoes and clothing are ripped away, but I don’t falter. I run as fast as I can. A howl rings out behind me. My adrenaline spurs me forward. A straight line will get me killed. I make a sharp turn and keep moving then turn back again. My chasers are hot on my tail. I can almost feel them getting closer. I dart through the trees and keep going. Don’t give up, keep running. I make another quick turn and feel the breath of the wolf that just missed me. I don’t know how many there are. I don’t dare look back. There’s no denying I’m being chased, and it’s my life if I’m caught.

I hear the river before I see it, and I know it’s my only salvation. I zigzag toward the sound and put on a burst of speed. The water is rushing over boulders with a rough current. Only an idiot would jump in there—guess that makes me an idiot. The snarl at my flank startles me, and I don’t think, just jump.

***

Four, almost five days in this damned cell. I’m going crazy in here. My wolf wants out, and my ankles and wrists are killing me. I’m dirty, and my muscles are tired and weak. I’ve had no visitors since the first day, and the guards refuse to speak to me. I grew up with those assholes. They’ve only been giving me a scrap of bread and one bottle of water per day. Father must have cut Mother off from me, I can’t even mind link her or anyone else in the pack. This is ridiculous: I’m innocent and so is Gypsy. Why can’t he see that? Stubborn bastard, he’s just as bad as my grandfather, making that stupid law in the first place. I get wanting to prevent war, but it still happened, didn’t it?

My grandfather hated Alpha Edgar. He was constantly picking off stragglers from our pack. Once, Grandfather found out that they killed a thirteen-year-old boy after he was wandering in the wrong direction. I was a young child, but I remember the fight that it caused. That damned pack. They’re a bunch of savages, killing anyone that crossed their border, even by accident. Beating an innocent, beautiful slave girl. I let out a defeated breath. We were never like that. Grandfather was more relaxed. He would help others, but Alpha Edgar forced his hand when he killed that kid.

My father is a stickler for authority and rules, which is why I’m in here. I wonder if I were anyone else, would I be dead already? Would he have killed me if I weren’t his son? When I was eighteen, we did catch a scout from the Pine Ridge Pack. Father and I tortured him for information for five days before we took his head. It was a good thing because he had a lot of information about our pack. Information that could have been devastating if Alpha Greg got his hands on it.

The lock clinks on the outside door before Aunt Cora steps in. She’s a welcome sight. I give her a nod, knowing she wouldn’t hear a “hello." She hands over a bowl and waits at the door of my cell. I touch my fingers to my chin, “thank you.” I’m one of the few that actually learned sign language in order to communicate with her. She gives me a nod and then pulls a salve out of her pocket. Oh, thank the Goddess. Cora’s salves can heal just about anything. She smacks the bars to get my attention. I hold my hands out flat and shake them back and forth. “What?”

She signs, “Your girl run away.” I knit my brows. I rotate two fingers over my open palm. “What do you mean?” She touches the tips of her fingers to her palm then flicks them outward. They banished her? I point to Cora and then sign. “How do you know?” She points to her lips and then touches the thumb of her open hand to her forehead. She read Father’s lips. She continues to sign, “Guards chase, not catch. River, guards girl lost.” I let out a strangled breath. I nod then sign, “Thank you." Cora reaches in to grip my arm with a soft smile on her lips. She lets go and then leaves.

My stomach grumbles. I’m hungry, but I know I’ll make myself sick if I eat too much or too fast. I slowly eat a few bites of the pot roast then set it aside as my stomach adjusts. I gotta get out of here, but there’s no way out. I know because I helped Father reinforce the cells. Gypsy got away. She’s banished, but she got away. She’s alive. Thank Goddess. At least I know she’s alright. As soon as I get out of here, I’m going to find her.