Greykin Mountain

| 19 | Scent

⥐ ⋞ ☽ ⋟ ⥐

It wasn't much different than the other side of the mountain. Towering trees, a forest that seemed to stretch on forever, flooded with the scent of pine and lavender...and something Jackson didn't recognize. It was like burning wood—no...like a burning damp forest. But he couldn't see any fire or smoke. Where was it coming from?

          He looked around where Damon had instructed his pack to rest while he and the council figured out a plan. Most of the wolves were curled up together inside a shallow cave, some had perched upon the few fallen trees, and Jackson was sitting by a frozen pond. He wished he was by himself, but Tokala was sitting just a few feet away and glanced at him whenever he made the slightest movement.

          Jackson tried to listen to the council's discussion—

          "Don't do that," Tokala said.

          Startled, he looked over at the orange wolf. How did he know he was trying to eavesdrop?

          "You'll be told what needs to be heard when they're done talking."

          "I was just—"

          "What? You shouldn't nose around."

          Jackson looked down at the snow. "Everyone seems really tense about those hunters."

          "We are...and you should be, too. They're just as dangerous as cadejo."

          "Why?"

          "Because they hunt wolf walkers. They know our weaknesses, they use our strengths against us, and I told you before that they've killed more of us than the cadejo have."

          "But...why? Why do they kill us?"

          "It's a long story. Another ti—"

          "Can't you tell me now?" Jackson interjected.

          Tokala looked him up and down with a look of pondering but then turned to face him. "A long, long time ago, wolf walkers had another name: werewolves. Werewolves, along with most other non-humans, were forced to live in the shadows. Eventually, they got tired of it and chose to live in the open. It was fine for a while—of course, there were those that saw anything non-human as a threat, but for the most part, life was good."

          Jackson listened, wishing he had his notepad once again.

          "The Dor-Sanguian bloodline of werewolves hunted humans—that had been their way for centuries. But that land was home to the Lord of Vampires, who swore to protect the humans from the werewolves."

          His eyes widened a little. So...vampires were real?

          "Humans never knew how to fight us, but he did, and with weapons that could harm us, the humans finally grew confident enough to hunt us like dogs. Ever since then, werewolves have been seen as a threat. That was when Fenrisúlfr came along—the wolves planned to use him to fight back against the humans, but instead, he chose to help that vampire and his demon mate create peace. And it worked...for a while. Werewolves became wolf walkers; we lived among humans—we even helped them. But then the great war came, Fenrisúlfr sided with the Zenith—the vampire's demon mate—and so did all wolf walkers. It was us against humans."

          "What happened?"

          "Fenrisúlfr disappeared near the war's end, leaving wolf walkers vulnerable."