Crescent (Tribes, Book 1) [completed]

Prologue

The Armistice

Deep in the heart of the evergreen forest, a bonfire crackled and sparked in the dusky light. Every ear perked to the rushing river nearby, using its sound and smell as a guide to bring them together once more.

Men filtered out of the trees like ghosts and settled at the fire like knights at a round table. Travelers from around the country, brothers at war, all here for a single purpose.

This was a time of coming together, a night of peace in a never-ending battle between scorned kin. Misunderstandings and grudges long held would, for one long night, be put aside for the sake of the preservation of all their history.

This year, each aging chieftain understood the importance of presenting the next generation of leaders with a reason to stay united. Though family may bicker and claw at each other like a cat to a mouse, they would forever be tied by the bonds of their forefathers.

The crowd grew steadily, all welcomed for the time of ceremony and remembrance. Those long since exiled took this one night a year to pull closer to their estranged clan. Those who chose to try to make it on their own also joined in, for once feeling as though they belonged.

Three men in particular found this night especially endearing. Three distant cousins who had every reason to hate each other. Who, by every standard set by their fathers, should loathe the other two with a burning passion meant to extinguish any mercy clinging to their souls.

It was never your own tribe's fault that things ended as they did.

Distant thunder rumbled as the sun took its final bow below the horizon. A rumble echoed by the victorious growl of a thousand voices raised in exultation. Tonight, they were one, as they were always mean to be. Tonight, there were no governments or treaties or humans to put them in their place. There was no separation, only the common bond of what had been done to them.

The stories started, then. Stories passed down from generation to generation. The oldest spoke of witches and curses and women who saw past the monsters. Always there was a woman who chose to stay. Without them, where would any of these men be?

Next came the familiar tales of their ancestors. Great exploits and horrible failures. Times of plenty and times of famine. Of taking wives and birthing children. So many stories it could make a man's head spin, yet each in that clearing soaked it in like a sponge. These were the tales of their people.

Then came the war stories. Three elderly leaders of the three divisions took turns telling their stories. A man was wronged by his friends. No, those friends spoke out against the man's wickedness. No, no, that couldn't be it either. It must have been that the third man tried to stand as a mediator between outraged brothers and was killed in the process.

Then the war. Then the division and the reservations.

Even in the telling of the stories, one could feel the mounting tension, the ill will between those who should stand together always. It would take much to lead the people back together. To show them they could all be stronger as one entity than as three segregations.

As the stories ended, men turned to talk to their fellow clan members. Some laughed,others argued. Three specific men rose and ventured into the dark woods, toward the rushing river.

Each hailed from a different tribe, bearing the marking to remind him who he belonged with and who he should avoid. Each carried himself in a regal manner, born to lead his people when the time for his succession came. As if drawn by a singular force, each stopped at the riverbank and stared up at the tiny sliver of light visible in the night sky.

Five meager feet separated one man from the next. Five feet and a chasm of ingrained hostility.

The Crescent leader spoke first, a mediator of sorts between the two more volatile males."Our people grow farther apart by the day. It was never meant to be like this."

The other two grunted their approval.

The Bloodmoon turned his piercing red gaze to the other males and huffed. "Our people are strong, but still not strong enough to fight back when it counts. I may hate all of you, but we need each other. We're all parts of a whole."

Another sound of the utmost agreement.

"I see our people conform more each day," The Rille finally consented. "I don't like it. We aren't meant to split apart like this. Together, all of us create a whole." He looked to his estranged brethren. "Who will remind us of our humanity if we aren't united?"

"Humanity." The Bloodmoon scoffed. "We are Lycan, through and through. What humanity?"

The Crescent held up a hand, hearing and understanding both sides of the argument. "That's what he means. If we don't remember our gentler side, the side that contains the animal, we will destroy ourselves from within."

A heavy sigh exuded from all three men as one soft cloud of mist in the cold night air.

"One day we'll take our fathers' places. One day we will lead the three tribes." The Rille turned to face the others. The Armistice gave him courage, reminded him tonight was not a night for battles fought on a battlefield. Tonight was for battles fought in the minds of men. "With our help, we could reunite them again."

"What good is unity if we don't use it to take what we want?" The Bloodmoon turned to face the Rille, leaving The Crescent facing the water's edge.

"Unity reminds us we are never alone." The Crescent nodded in complete agreement with The Rille. "United, we lived at peace among the humans. We could do it again."

The Bloodmoon grumbled. "They will never trust us."

The Rille chuckled. "Have a little faith in our people, future alpha. Have a little faith in yourself."

The Crescent lifted his chin. "We must swear a bond tonight, this night when our fathers and our people won't judge us for our actions."

"What bond should we swear?" The Rille asked.

The Bloodmoon raised his face to the sky and breathed in the fresh scent of earth and family. "We will reunite our tribes. We will be one people again."

"We will not live in seclusion all our lives." The Rille added. "We'll find a way to become brothers once more."

The Crescent smiled. "We vow to remain brothers, us three, until our last breath. Never will we raise a hand against the others." He flicked a hand to extend his claws and pulled a gaping wound through his palm. "So, we swear it."

The other men followed suit, then pressed their palms together with his. "So we swear it."

Their blood mingled, sealing a familial link that had long since been dormant. Red eyes met green eyes met golden eyes. Each man nodded. They were brothers by blood now, and none would soon forget it. One day, they would bring their people peace. One day, they would bring them together again.

Until then, each formed a plan to communicate constantly with the others.