Greykin Mountain

| 13 | Ice Cavern

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The ice tunnels stretched on forever. Jackson's paw pads began to feel coarse against the frozen ground, his nose felt sore every time he inhaled the cold air, and his fur—despite his hot body temperature—was starting to stiffen. Maybe wolf walkers weren't completely resistant to the cold, after all.

          He trailed behind the pack, his thoughts a tangled mess inside his skull. At first, he wondered why that blood had seemed so captivating and why he couldn't stop thinking about it. Then he pondered over what had happened last night between him and Damon. He wasn't sure why that was bothering him, either.

          That was a lie. He knew why he was thinking about it. He liked Damon. He found him attractive, and when he'd nuzzled his neck, he'd felt a strange yet enthralling desire. His simple crush felt like more for a moment, but he was left feeling foolish when Damon abandoned him and ran to Aysel, his mate.

          Jackson wouldn't waste his time or be so disrespectful as to pursue a married man...but he couldn't dismiss all the things Damon made him feel. And why had Damon done it in the first place? Why had he come over to him, touched him like that...and then denied it even happened? That frustrated Jackson.

          Right now, all he wanted was to scurry to the front of the group so that he could walk beside Damon, but not only did he fear what the wolves would do if he tried to pass them, but he was also worried Damon might snap and tell him to piss off. That man was so volatile that Jackson wasn't sure what to expect, and at the moment, he didn't want to have to watch his tongue or his step. So, he'd stay at the back of the line and battle his thoughts.

          But then his stomach grumbled. He felt his body writhe a little, his hunger letting him know just how impatient it was becoming. And with that hunger, his thoughts reverted to the frozen blood. Was that why it had captivated him so much—because he was hungry? He lifted his head, hoping to see the tunnel's exit, but all that lay ahead was blue darkness.

          With a disgruntled huff, he looked down at his paws again. But then his sights fixed on something in the ice. Blurred, dark splotches danced along the ground, and it didn't take him very long to realize he was staring at a reflection.

          He stared up at the cave wall to see beautiful paintings stretched across the stone. Men with spears chasing fleeing wolves, wolves hunting men, and one piece, in particular, intrigued him: a tall, bipedal wolf surrounded by bowing wolves. The paintings looked old; both hand and paw prints were scattered around, too...and one section of the wall possessed twisting lines similar to the tattoo on Damon's right arm. Were they connected?

          Something shuffled around behind him.

          Jackson peered over his shoulder. He stopped in his tracks to search the darkness, but he wasn't able to see anything other than ice, which creaked like a tree in the wind.

          A snarl snatched his attention, and when he turned to see Elias glaring at him, he hurried to catch up to him and the others. If he could communicate with Elias, he might ask him how much further this cave went on for, but he couldn't. He had no choice but to keep following.

          The pack continued through the narrowing tunnel, and despite the occasional tired whine from a wolf or two, Damon didn't stop. He did, however, look back at his pack when they began slowing down, and with a hesitant frown on his face, he ordered the group to halt once they reached a wide cavern.

          Jackson slumped down the moment he saw everyone else curling up, and what a relief it was on his aching legs. He lay on his side, letting his eyes close as his body relaxed. But when he heard a commotion, he set his sights on Damon and Elias.