Red's Wolves

Chapter Seventeen

The normally peaceful village was a scene of chaotic panic when they arrived. The scent of burning was much stronger than it had been by the pond, and then the sight of smoke could be seen above the canopy of leaves.

"There you are," Palo said breathlessly by way of greeting, running up to them as soon as they were in sight.

"What's happening?" Alera asked though she knew she already had the answer. She knew they shouldn't have bothered these peaceful people. It was asking too much for them to take them in, regardless of them being her mother's people.

"It's Nicholas," Jere's father said quickly, his attention moving from them to the forest. "He couldn't get us to come out on our own, so he's trying to burn the whole thing down to get us out."

It was worse than she feared.

"There's no further time to explain. We have to help, the flames aren't slowing down." Palo had run off towards the other side of the village to help with the water-seeking efforts.

Alera and Jere looked at each other only for a moment before they were off, racing deeper into the woods towards the smell of fire and the billowing smoke wafting into the sky. A large group of fae was already concentrating their efforts on the blaze— some were casting magic to pummel the conflagration while others were assisting with passing to one another bucket after bucket before throwing water onto the fire and starting it all over again.

They immediately took their place in line, taking buckets full of water and sending the empty ones back to be refilled. The efforts almost felt useless and futile as the flames almost seemed to increase and grow taller.

Alera cursed— she wished she could do more. She felt nothing short of guilty. It was because of her that Nicholas was there. They were peaceful people who were left alone to live their lives without the threat of the inside world until she arrived and ruined for them. Not unlike how she always had the ability to ruin anything that was good in her world, beginning with killing her mother the day she was born.

With a shuddering breath, she switched her attention from the chain of buckets to the familiar form of Hevea standing at the front of the group, closest to the flames. She watched as he raised his hands into the air, moving them in calculated sweeps while he muttered something in their language. From the plants and trees water droplets gathered between his moving arms, creating a sphere of swirling liquid that he sent out towards the fire, creating a wall of steam as the water collided with the flames.

The line stopped moving and silenced as if everyone was holding their breath while they watched and waited. No sooner had the water hit the flames with a sizzling hiss than did the flames seem to fall back, controlled by a force stranger than nature, and just as angry as the intent behind it. Vengeful even, if Alera didn't know any better, as they reluctantly disbursed.

A cheer resounded from the nearby fae, but Alera knew it couldn't be that easy.

She watched her grandfather's shoulders slump like they were holding the weight of the world, and he turned towards the line but stopped.

And fell to his knees as the head of an arrow protruded through his chest.

Alera heard the cry of the wolves first, their mournful howls too familiar to her ears. Cries of startlement and screams of surprise then replaced the cheers that once echoed through the forest, and Alera was frozen in place. She could only watch as the water-saturated ground around Hevea's body turned red with his blood.

A small group of fae fell upon him without delay, and soon he was being carried away, though she didn't see him move, and didn't know if she should follow. But when she finally decided to take that step forward, it was already too late to act. Jere placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head when she looked at him in question.

"He can't be our concern right now," he said, but she could tell by the tone of his voice that even he didn't believe his words.

"How can you say that? He's my grandfather. I should be with him."

"He is being taken care of," he replied and motioned to the crowd around them. She followed his gaze and saw the crowd around them watching Havea be taken away as well, but none of them followed, despite the tension she sensed from them, like they wanted to.

"Everyone here has a purpose," he continued. "They know their place. Just like we're trying to find ours. And right now, it's right here."

"How can you know that for certain?"

"They're here because of us," he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear him. She knew he was no longer talking about the fae. "They're not going to leave until we make them. We owe it to these people— to your grandfather— to make this right."

Jere was right. She knew he was right and she hated that he was right. Everything in her wanted to run towards her ailing grandfather, uncertain if the last remaining connection to her mother would survive his injury or not. But he was right. They had brought this torment to their peaceful forest. It was because of her their world was burning, and there was nothing left for her to do than to set it right.

She didn't have to wait long.

"Move forward!" She heard the leader of the hunters, the one who she had been working with closely as of late, yell the command that put everything into motion. The archers took the front of the procession, their bows drawn and arrows nocked while they trudged their way through the brunt overgrowth. Behind them the magic wielders began waiving their arms in systematic movements, causing ripples of power to form protective shields in front of the archers.

The wolves advanced next, the pack of them in flashes of white, silver, and dark gray ran between the archers and mages alike. With teeth bared and howls resonating throughout the first, they were the first to make purchase with the opposing foes within the thick wooden overgrowth. Yells of surprise and pain could be heard, confirming Alera's suspicions.

She and Jere followed. Alera had her mother's blade in her grip, unable to remember when she had unsheathed it or if she had even let it go since they left the pond. Jere's hands flexed as if preparing to care for whoever needed his assistance next. They were doing all they could, readying themselves for whatever awaited them on the other side of the safety of the forest walls. She didn't have her bow, and he didn't have a weapon, so they remained back behind the group, but they had to go with them. They had to figure out the best way to make this right.

Commotion ahead of them paused their forward procession. Shouts of warning came first, and then the wolves were running back towards them as if retreating. The masses in front of her began backing up and parting their group to either side of their path. Alera placed a hand on Jere's shoulder and stood up on her toes to see what was happening in front of them.

She gasped, and her fingers dug into Jere's shoulder to keep her upright. He yelped in response, but it didn't take him long to discover what had caught her so off-guard.

Separating the thick forest before them were oily dark roots, tearing trunks from the earth and decimating any living greenery in their path. The wolves recoiled from the unnatural essence of the vines, ears back and tails between their legs while they snarled and bared their teeth, still attempting to protect their people and home. The archers, though separated, kept their bows drawn for whatever waited once the forest was cleared.

"I told you I'd find them, sire."

Alera's head snapped up at the familiar voice.

Standing in the clearing, controlling the poisonous vines, was none other than Prince Nicholas. And standing on either side of them were her former maid, Brigette, and Xavier, her father's most trusted advisor.