Tides

CHAPTER 9--Cassin

Cassin was shown around the camp by the Omega, a slight, tall female with unusual, blonde hair highlighted with some black strands. She could have been considered pretty, even beautiful if she didn't scowl so much.  The Omega gave no name and answered to the term 'omega.' If they weren't a werewolf, Cassin would've felt bad for them.

He was immediately put to work, hauling water back to the camp for fifteen werewolves. Fun.

Cassin grunted under the weight of the yoke he was wearing that held a water bucket hanging at each end. "Stupid, motherfucker," he muttered.

A slap rang like a thunderclap through his entire body, and Cassin had to brace himself in order to not fall over. Water sloshed over the rims of the buckets.

Omega was glaring at him the slightest hint of canine silver in her blue eyes. "Do not speak, Void Creature, or I will lay you open like a rotten fruit!"

Cassin thought she was being a bit dramatic, 'Void Creature' and 'rotten fruit' and whatnot, but he said nothing. Shaking the slap from his skin, Cassin nodded wordlessly. He understood his place now, how Valeno had explained it.

"Good, now go!" Omega pointed to the center of the camp where the alpha's tent stood. Cassin went, cheek still stinging.

How the camp was set up was with the alpha's tent in the center, then the Beta, then the families with young cubs who were still suckling, then Warriors, Hunters, the Submissives, and then the omega. Technically, every Wolf was trained to be a warrior if the need arose, but for disputes between other packs, Warriors stepped in. That was how Valeno had explained it once the Alphas had left him to rest in the healer's tent, at least.

Cassin set the water down outside of Teriv and Kemyit's tent and went back to the stream to fetch more. Omega trailed him, having set down her water buckets outside a Hunter's tent. Cassin silently hated her for being able to slap him around and for being a werewolf. It hadn't always been this way. Once upon a time, Cassin had been friends with a werewolf. But that was before. Before the werewolves had lied about a plague that had been killing vampires by the thousands. Before they had hidden the real truth: They were the creators of the plague, intent on killing every last vampire for the benefit of earning more space for the growing Wolf population. Yes, that had been before. And now no vampire had trusted a werewolf since.

Cassin began to wonder what had happened to his former werewolf friend. It had been almost thirteen vampire years–162 regular years–since he had seen him. And what had his name been again? Something tickled the back of Cassin's brain. It had started with...

Abruptly, Cassin's heart went cold. It had started with a V. 

There was no way. The werewolf lying in the healer's tent was not the same werewolf who Cassin had known when he was six. It couldn't be. And yet the name was the same. Valeno. Valeno, Cassin knew no other Valeno's. So it was him. The kind little cub who watched butterflies come out of their cocoons, and played hide-and-seek with Cassin was a mercenary. A vampire killing mercenary!

The world was not right.

"Hurry up, vampire!" snarled Omega, cuffing Cassin's shoulder. His wounded shoulder. Cassin hissed with pain. The healer had sewed it up per Valeno's request as well as his side after the Alphas had left. He wanted Cassin up to full working strength as soon as possible. 

Cassin went back to filling water buckets, contemplating the odds that there was another Valeno out there. A meaner deadlier version. He wondered why he was trying to justify the situation. Valeno was a werewolf for all the gods' sake! But when he remembered the kindness in the werewolf's voice after the young man had dragged Cassin out of the river, he paused.