Chapter 175 – The Journey
Mara
The second day on the road always feels longer than the first. Muscles ache, paws sting from frost, lungs burn with cold air. Even wolves bred for endurance find their stride wearing thin after a night and a day of relentless travel.
Ronan runs at the front, a massive black shadow cutting through the snow, every line of him taut with purpose. He hasn’t slowed once, hasn’t spared a word since dawn.
Kieran lopes beside him, silver coat bristling, eyes fixed on the horizon like he can will Silvercrest to collapse before we arrive. They’re like two storms pacing the same wind.
Behind them, Hazel and Jace match strides, both disciplined, both carrying themselves too rigidly, as if sheer posture could hide what simmers beneath their skins. And weaving between them all, darting, nipping, provoking, is Eli.
Gods help me, Eli hates silence more than anything. Which means he’s been filling it. Loudly and constantly.
He nips at Hazel’s flank until she growls, then darts away before she can retaliate. You look cold. You should run a bit closer to Jace, he tosses across the link, the words edged with mischief.
“I’m fine,” Hazel mutters once we shift back to human forms at a midday halt, breath steaming as she drags furs around her shoulders.
“Are you sure?” Eli presses, sprawling beside her on the snow-packed ground. “Your lips are practically blue. If you’re not careful, you’ll freeze solid, and then where would poor Jace be?”
Hazel glares. Jace scowls into the distance, jaw ticking, ears still faintly red from exertion.
Eli leans closer, dropping his voice to a scandalous whisper. “The practical thing would be to share warmth tonight. Skin to skin. Body heat and all that. I could offer you a detailed explanation of the multitude of advantages of doubling up naked in your sleeping bags if you’d like me to.”
“Eli,” Hazel snaps, cheeks blazing crimson that has nothing to do with the cold.
Jace coughs into his fist, a sound far too strangled to be casual.
I almost laugh, but I manage to hold it back with great self-restraint. I’m Mara Vale, and laughter is for fools who forget the world is about to end. So I just roll my eyes and mutter, “Saints preserve me.”
Eli grins at me like a fox who’s raided the coop. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this, Mara. You’re just as invested as I am in waiting for these two to trip over their own hormones.”
Hazel groans. “I will strangle you.”
“You’d have to catch me first,” Eli replies, all teeth.
“And besides, Jace would never forgive you. He loves having me around. He’d mourn me forever. Although the possibility exists that he’d find himself weeping into your arms, probably kissing you for comfort. Which would be tragic but wildly entertaining.”
Jace jerks his head toward him. “Do you ever shut up?”
Eli gasps, clutching his chest. “Jace, was that a joke? Did you just attempt humor? My heart-”
“Your heart’s still beating,” Ronan growls between tearing off chunks of bread and chewing with grim determination.
Eli ignores him, of course. He’s fearless when it comes to Ronan’s temper. Or maybe reckless. Probably both. Maybe neither. Their dynamic is as puzzling as it is undeniable.
We shift again after food, running until twilight. The rhythm of paws on snow becomes its own music. A steady, relentless drumbeat that keeps us moving forward.
The forest arches above us, branches heavy with snow. Our breath plumes in white clouds, merging before disappearing.
Hazel keeps stealing sidelong looks at Jace, her stride angling toward his without meaning to. He never turns his gaze on her, he’s far too disciplined, but his pace adjusts instinctively whenever she slows.
Wolves don’t lie with their bodies. Eli knows it. I know it. Hazel and Jace are the only ones pretending otherwise.
Ronan’s gait is brutal, devouring ground with every stride.
Kieran mirrors him, but where Ronan’s strength is controlled, Kieran’s bristles with agitation. He’s too fast in bursts, too sharp in the turn of his head, his hackles raised even when there’s no threat.
By nightfall, when we collapse into human form again and build a fire under the trees, the air is thick with tension. Eli circles us like a wolf scenting blood.
“Sleeping arrangements,” he declares. “Clearly, we must double up for warmth. I call Ronan, obviously. Otherwise he’ll sulk the rest of the way and annoy everyone.” He grins at his Alpha’s scowl.
“Which leaves Mara with Kieran. Don’t look at me like that, you two are perfectly respectable. I’m pretty sure Mara won’t accost you in the middle of the night, Kieran. And that means Hazel and Jace must share.”
Hazel sputters. “Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely yes,” Eli counters, draping himself over Ronan’s lap like he owns him.
“Do you want to freeze? I mean, I suppose you could try to sleep alone, but when your limbs snap off from frostbite, don’t come crying to me.”
Jace shifts uncomfortably, staring hard at the fire. “I can manage fine.”
“You can manage fine with her beside you,” Eli insists, all false sweetness. “Don’t be shy, you can keep your clothes on if it makes you more comfortable. It will be entirely innocent. Unless…” He tilts his head, eyes gleaming. “Unless there’s something you’d like to confess.”
Hazel buries her face in her hands.
I rub my temples. “Eli, one day I’ll gag you and leave you in a snowbank.”
“Promises, promises,” he sing-songs.
Ronan finally snaps. “Enough.” The word cracks like thunder. For a moment, even Eli falls silent.
The firelight throws Ronan’s face into harsh lines, his eyes burning gold. Kieran sits beside him like a shadow, silent and drawn. Neither has said much all day, their brooding as heavy as the snow pressing down on the branches above us.
But then Eli smirks, leaning back with shameless satisfaction. “Yes, Alpha,” he says sweetly. “I’ll be good.”
He won’t. We all know it.
The camp quiets eventually, as everyone settles down to sleep.
Jace lies down stiff as stone, angled away from Hazel, though his ears burn crimson. Hazel huffs and throws herself down beside him, yanking a blanket over her head. They think they’re subtle. They aren’t.
Eli curls against Ronan, his entire body radiating smugness, his expression saying mission accomplished. “Want to fool around a little?” he stage whispers and Ronan exhales like a man who has lived with chaos long enough to like it.
I stretch out with Kieran close by, feigning exasperation. Inside, I’m quietly entertained. Because Eli’s relentless needling does more than irritate. It reminds us we’re still alive. Still human. Still wolves who laugh, even with war on the horizon.
The flames spit and crackle, throwing sparks into the dark. Hazel and Jace whisper sharp words under their breath.
She accuses him of hogging space, he mutters that she fidgets like a restless pup. Their bickering is brittle and strained, and yet neither moves an inch away. Their shoulders touch under the furs, rigid with denial.
Eli watches them with wolfish delight, his grin half-hidden against Ronan’s chest. He’ll press them again in the morning, I’m sure. He’s relentless that way, a thorn we can’t remove, maybe the only one keeping us from drowning in dread.
Kieran stares into the fire, looking haunted. Ronan doesn’t even blink, gaze locked on shadows as if Alaric himself might emerge.
Two men consumed by war, while Eli plays matchmaker and I… I find myself grateful. Because distraction is a weapon too. And if Eli wants to waste his energy tormenting Hazel and Jace into acknowledging what’s plain to everyone else, let him.