Glenda was dead. The days of mourning had passed, and despite her final words to Erys, the young wolf had not left. She could not stop thinking about the name her mother had spoken.
“How could it be? The Lechners were wiped out…”
Everyone knew the Lechner clan had long passed from Islimore. All that remained were the smaller clans which had given their patronage to a dead and archaic family who no longer protected their people. She laid on her bedding looking up at the canvas ceiling of the tent she called home. They had been nomadic for so long. If there was any truth to what her mother said, if there was a Lechner in Bloodraven, she had to find out.
“Frack.”
Erys rolled off the makeshift bed and started to pack a small parcel with a change of clothes and her journal. Two knives, hand forged and laid into stag handles resting in their sheaths were placed at the small of her back. Her hand extended toward the staff which had been her mother’s, and the alpha before her. It was odd holding it. Something about it felt… wrong. The brunette wondered if that was how her own mother felt when she first inherited it.
With her hunting leathers on, the dark haired she-wolf made her way toward the exit of her tent. Her hand moved the flap out of the way only to see a man standing just outside. He boasted lighter hair and a more fair complexion. Blue eyes like the ocean looked upon the woman with a sad and pleading look.
“Don’t go,” he said, closing the distance between them.
“I must.”
He shook his head.
“No, you know as well as I, the Lechners abandoned us a long time ago. Even if the visions your mother spoke of are true they do not deserve our loyalty any more. This Gerwald Lechner can take back Bloodraven on his own. We must see to ourselves now.”
Erys stepped back, almost walking back into her tent. She was shocked, almost offended. Her eyes betrayed what she felt on the inside. How could he say such things, her childhood friend, someone that meant so much more to her than that.
Her intended.
“Irik! How can you say such things? Whether my mother’s vision was right or not? The days of mourning have just ended. This was her last request, her final words. You were there, you heard them. I cannot dishonor her by ignoring them. It is not our way.”
Erys pushed past him, almost crying as she did. It was hard enough that her mother had just passed, but now the one person who needed to understand did not. She could hear his footsteps behind her. They were faster, and his stride was longer. Irik was a tall man, even for their kind. His hand wrapped around her arm, pulling, turning her to face him. He was not gentle, but she was fast, quick. The blade of her knife met the sun hardened skin of this throat and rested there. A small amount of pressure was applied, barely breaking his flesh as a single drop of blood ran down her blade.
“I am going, and you are staying.”
Her eyes met his, daring him to challenge her.
“I am the alpha now. If you cannot respect that, or the final wish of our last then perhaps you are not the man I thought you to be. If Gerwald is here on Islimore, I will return with him.”
Irik released his grip. His eyes bore into hers with an incredulous stare. His face settled and his jaw set. He was not foolish enough to challenge his alpha so soon after the days of mourning. Even if he could win, and he knew he could, the rest of the pack would not follow him out of the loyalty he needed to maintain order. There were other ways to control Erys.
“If you leave, when you return you will find me mated to another.”
His lips turned, a proud smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He knew what she wanted, what she wanted for a long time. It was his to give or take, and now it would be his weapon.
Erys dipped her head and closed her eyes. Irik’s smile grew. Her bright blue eyes met his once more. The tears she had been fighting had finally won.
“So be it.”
“How could it be? The Lechners were wiped out…”
Everyone knew the Lechner clan had long passed from Islimore. All that remained were the smaller clans which had given their patronage to a dead and archaic family who no longer protected their people. She laid on her bedding looking up at the canvas ceiling of the tent she called home. They had been nomadic for so long. If there was any truth to what her mother said, if there was a Lechner in Bloodraven, she had to find out.
“Frack.”
Erys rolled off the makeshift bed and started to pack a small parcel with a change of clothes and her journal. Two knives, hand forged and laid into stag handles resting in their sheaths were placed at the small of her back. Her hand extended toward the staff which had been her mother’s, and the alpha before her. It was odd holding it. Something about it felt… wrong. The brunette wondered if that was how her own mother felt when she first inherited it.
With her hunting leathers on, the dark haired she-wolf made her way toward the exit of her tent. Her hand moved the flap out of the way only to see a man standing just outside. He boasted lighter hair and a more fair complexion. Blue eyes like the ocean looked upon the woman with a sad and pleading look.
“Don’t go,” he said, closing the distance between them.
“I must.”
He shook his head.
“No, you know as well as I, the Lechners abandoned us a long time ago. Even if the visions your mother spoke of are true they do not deserve our loyalty any more. This Gerwald Lechner can take back Bloodraven on his own. We must see to ourselves now.”
Erys stepped back, almost walking back into her tent. She was shocked, almost offended. Her eyes betrayed what she felt on the inside. How could he say such things, her childhood friend, someone that meant so much more to her than that.
Her intended.
“Irik! How can you say such things? Whether my mother’s vision was right or not? The days of mourning have just ended. This was her last request, her final words. You were there, you heard them. I cannot dishonor her by ignoring them. It is not our way.”
Erys pushed past him, almost crying as she did. It was hard enough that her mother had just passed, but now the one person who needed to understand did not. She could hear his footsteps behind her. They were faster, and his stride was longer. Irik was a tall man, even for their kind. His hand wrapped around her arm, pulling, turning her to face him. He was not gentle, but she was fast, quick. The blade of her knife met the sun hardened skin of this throat and rested there. A small amount of pressure was applied, barely breaking his flesh as a single drop of blood ran down her blade.
“I am going, and you are staying.”
Her eyes met his, daring him to challenge her.
“I am the alpha now. If you cannot respect that, or the final wish of our last then perhaps you are not the man I thought you to be. If Gerwald is here on Islimore, I will return with him.”
Irik released his grip. His eyes bore into hers with an incredulous stare. His face settled and his jaw set. He was not foolish enough to challenge his alpha so soon after the days of mourning. Even if he could win, and he knew he could, the rest of the pack would not follow him out of the loyalty he needed to maintain order. There were other ways to control Erys.
“If you leave, when you return you will find me mated to another.”
His lips turned, a proud smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He knew what she wanted, what she wanted for a long time. It was his to give or take, and now it would be his weapon.
Erys dipped her head and closed her eyes. Irik’s smile grew. Her bright blue eyes met his once more. The tears she had been fighting had finally won.
“So be it.”
