Chapter Twenty-Two

Where you go, I will go…

—Ruth 1:16

 

THOMAS KNEW WORKING alongside the Mitchum Wolves would be an experience for the pack members and for Ryan. Only traders, a few scouts, and their leadership had ever been around or interacted with humans, much less a true human-turned. And this would take time since Ryan had never been around Wolves either. Some were friendly, others were standoffish, but everyone seemed to work for a common goal as they prepared for the inevitable attack. Two families had left the pack, traveling south to follow another Alpha and avoid the war. Everyone remaining worked to fight back.

It wasn’t happy work, as they built the façade of a packhouse deep in the cave and set a trap for the Bellum Wolves who made it that far. Shifted archers practiced as the non-fighting pack members prepared camouflage and oiled and set traps and snares. Ryan’s survey marker flags fluttered in branches above each trap so no friendlies would find themselves inadvertently in the wrong spot.

Ryan seemed to begin to understand the antiquated Wolf laws and pack mentality a little better. He seemed to finally wrap his head around why Thomas hadn’t tried to find some way of letting him know he hadn’t died in the accident, that such communication would have violated so many of their rules and potentially angered their sometimes-ruthless gods. While Ryan didn’t agree with many of their strange ways, Thomas helped him understand some of them—the concept of providing for each other and the greater good of everyone, rather than just the individual, was just one.

Thomas waved at Penn, motioning him over. Penn was as tall as Ryan but leaner, like a runner or swimmer, but still quite strong. Thomas laughed at his hesitancy and encouraged him by waving at him again. The shy guy approached them nervously.

“Hey, Penn, I want you to meet my mate. This is Ryan. Ryan, this is my best friend, Penn Halvorsen. Don’t worry, Penn, he just looks mean.” Thomas elbowed Ryan.

Ryan frowned at Thomas. “I don’t look mean. Hello, Penn, it’s nice to meet you.” He stood and extended his hand.

Penn shook it firmly. “Thomas isn’t wrong.” He assessed Ryan nervously.

“See, this is why you need to smile more,” Thomas pointed out.

“I smile all the time,” Ryan said and then grinned purposefully at Penn.

They all laughed, and Penn seemed to relax as the three of them chatted for a few minutes about supplies, war plans, and their worries.

“Thanks for introducing us; it was good to finally meet you, Ryan. I’ve heard so much about you from Thomas,” Penn said and indicated he needed to get back to work.

“You, too. Come by and visit us anytime at our cabin,” Ryan said.

Penn turned to Thomas as if seeking permission, then glanced between Ryan and Thomas. Poor Ryan could only stand there in confusion.

“Yes, Penn. Ryan just invited you inside our home,” Thomas said and squeezed Penn’s arm encouragingly. “You can come to visit anytime. He meant it.”

“Thanks,” Penn said and nodded respectfully at Ryan.

After he left, Ryan asked why that was such a big deal to Penn. Thomas explained how an invitation inside private quarters was seen as an honor in their pack, not done as casually as it was in the human world.

“I wasn’t supposed to do that?”

“Invitations like you just made are rare. We’re a close pack, but inside our rooms, or private quarters, that’s another story. So you basically made Penn like a first cousin coming over for family time.”

“Yeah, I’m cool with that,” Ryan said.

Thomas winked at him. “I know, or you wouldn’t have invited him. It just means more to Penn coming from you. Now, he’ll think you’ve accepted him into the fold.”

Ryan repeated, understanding what he’d done, “Our fold.” And Ryan tried not to laugh.

Amused, Thomas said, “Yes, Ryan, our little fold of two and now our friend Penn.” And he knew Ryan was pleased with this outcome as the thoughts of having a friend began to roll. Thomas couldn’t be happier; out of all the pack members for Ryan to befriend, Penn was the one.

Ryan continued with his work but seemed to be observing the pack members closely. Thomas remembered Ryan telling him how, in prison, people-watching had always fascinated him as a method of learning. Ryan was clearly taking it all in, learning by closely studying them. They operated harmoniously together against a threat to their safety and their way of life. Even the older children were involved, and women and men worked together as equals. Several male pairs were clearly together. No one stared at them. No one treated them any differently than the mates who were female and male.

Ryan smiled at the pairings who were women. “I’ve never seen that before. The sense of belonging and acceptance is appealing.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Thomas whispered. “Don’t you drink the Kool-Aid.”

Ryan rolled his eyes at Thomas. “Everything seems so…”

“Utopian.” Thomas sighed. “I know, but nothing is perfect, and neither are they. Trust me. Nine years of indoctrination.” Thomas tapped his temple. “Pack mentality is a strong force. Not like mind control, but there’s influence. If that makes any sense.” Thomas looked around, studying the other pack members.

Ryan made an excited sound. “Like Mento or Darkseid.”

Thomas brightened but then said wickedly, “Or Brainiac or Professor X.”

Ryan continued to play along. “There was that one chick too.”

Thomas chuckled. “There were many more mind control chicks than guys in comic books now that I think about it. That’s kind of messed up.”

“Like even the comic books were trying to control our minds,” Ryan said with some profound realization.

Thomas snorted. “Stop with the deep thinking.”

Ryan shrugged.

“I never really thought you were as into them as I was,” Thomas said as he turned his head to Ryan.

“I was into you,” Ryan said, looking into his eyes.

Thomas leaned over and kissed him.

They went back to their duties with the others on the new paths, the pack’s scent becoming heavy there as everyone hauled rotting leaves from the forest floor home with them to the real packhouse, spreading out the debris to cover the actual paths. They stocked up on food and supplies, so pack members could stay inside rather than out in the forest. It was hard for everyone, preparing for war.

Two days later, the scout’s reports confirmed what had been feared. Thirty Bellum Wolves, their first and frontline attackers, were approaching from the west. Twenty more, a second wave, would converge on them from the north. Fifty War Wolves to take out a pack that had been there for generations. The Mitchum pack had the raw numbers but not the number of fighters.

Thomas left the cabin frequently, joining up with the pack and handling tactical planning elements. Ryan helped in other ways, doing his part, hauling supplies and camouflaging the metal stands. Ryan sat on the floor ripping forest-colored material into strips when Thomas came home with bad news about Penn. He’d been attacked by Bellum Wolves when he’d gone with the messenger convoy.

“He’ll be okay,” Thomas said but was sure Ryan could see his stress and worry. “Grace will patch him up.”

“Good,” Ryan said but frowned harder as he ripped another strip of canvas with more aggression.

The next morning, during a final pack meeting before the battle, the council and Alpha Mitchum addressed the group outside the Steele cave, the location of their offensive plan.

“Their intent is to kill, not injure or capture,” Councilman Adler said. “These are not mates and children. They are not families coming here to seek refuge. They are fighters intent on ending us and taking our home.”

Malcolm Mitchum stood and addressed them next. “They are moving faster. Our three messengers barely evaded their aggression. It was clear—” Malcolm pointed to Penn, and Penn seemed to hang his head in shame. “Penn nearly died from his injuries. The Bellum warriors have no intention of talks or mercy. I know this is something we never imagined doing…” Malcolm looked to where the buried traps lay in wait. “But to keep our pack safe, we will do whatever we have to.”

Agreement floated through the air as well as a heaviness. They all felt it. Everyone was somber as they finished what needed to be done in the dwindling hours before the war would begin.

The previous nights, when the pack returned to the packhouse, and they were in the clear, Thomas and Ryan had journeyed out and secured their supplies and escape points, and after retrieving one of the maps, they had their route drawn out and memorized. The goal would be to get to the place where Tristan and Ryan had previously agreed they’d meet should there be trouble from law enforcement.

The night before the Bellums were to arrive, Thomas went with Ryan down to the gate. There, beneath the lock on the ground, Ryan laid stones in a design and then tied a small rope to the loop on the hasp, leaving the ends dangling. Tristan couldn’t unlock the gate without seeing it. By putting the warning here, they hoped Tristan would go directly to the road and not venture up to the cabin where he could walk right into a dangerous situation.

“This is our signal that if there’s trouble to go to the meeting point,” Ryan said. “He’ll come at night, honk once, wait, and then honk again. Then we know it’s Tristan, and we go to the road.”

Thomas understood and agreed with the plan. They headed back up the mountain to shut down the cabin. Ryan made sure all the fires were completely out. He dragged out the furniture covers, and together, they covered the furniture. While Ryan disconnected the batteries for their solar power, Thomas stored the window crystals and personal trinkets in the glass bookshelf and covered it. They disposed of perishable items, feeding them to the fish in the lake. Ryan put out plenty of feed for his chickens and goats, and extra water in the hope he wouldn’t have to abandon them. He wrote a letter to Tristan, leaving it on the table.

Lastly, Ryan put the porch chairs inside, then stood on the porch and waited for Thomas. Thomas closed the door, slid the locking wood beam into place, crawled through the living room window, and closed it behind him. They checked the outdoor solar panels, and that had been the last task to handle. There was nothing more to do other than leave the cabin behind.

Thomas felt a horrible loss as they stood in front of it one last time together. It had become their home. The reality of their shared dream realized. Thomas closed his eyes and listened in on Ryan’s thoughts.

I just want to be happy, damn it. Why is that so impossible to achieve? Here at the end of the world, in a place so perfect with the love of my life. And something or someone has to come and destroy everything. To take it all away. To try and take Thomas away from me again.

Thomas sighed next to him and opened his eyes, seeing it all the same way himself. For someone so quiet, sometimes Ryan could be so very loud.

Thomas looked over at Ryan. “Use that. Remember what we are fighting for.” He looked up to the sky for a long moment. “And if that doesn’t work, just remember we’re felons. We are the bad guys.”

“We were never the bad guys, Thomas.”

“I know.”

They moved to the Wolf path and traveled until they came to the Boar Lands.

“I love you,” Thomas said. Then, Remember the plan. If you are injured, we go. If I am injured, we go. If it looks bad, we go.

Ryan nodded his agreement. “I love you; be safe,” he said and hugged Thomas to him tight. “And don’t forget to tell me what’s going on since I can’t hear the Mitchum pack.” Thomas kissed him once, assured him, and Ryan went to their assigned position on the skywalk with the other archers as everyone else got into place.

The stage was truly set for their foil.

Thomas, having squared everything away with Ryan and their private plan, stood at the base of the tree and closed his eyes. He called forth his Wolf. Wolf understood what needed to be done.

My Alpha, Wolf called to Malcolm Mitchum with his respectful request.

Without hesitation, Alpha Mitchum reestablished the link Wolf had severed with his pack. There was no time to celebrate this silent homecoming as Wolf now sensed danger. Thomas opened his eyes as Wolf receded and climbed the ladder to take his position with his bow next to Ryan.

When the forest suddenly went silent, bow strings stretched back. Everyone heard the scout coming before they saw him. Great paws ate up the earth as their fastest runner, Penn, sprinted and leapt, avoiding traps and a charging boar before skidding to a stop. Panting, he sent out his dire warning.

They are right behind me. Be ready now!

“Here they come,” Thomas told Ryan since he could not hear Penn.

Penn ran to the cave, his scent marking his path, and got into position.

The archers nocked their arrows and waited, camouflaged in the trees on the concealed hunting stands, as the first line of War Wolves came barreling in. They were hot on the scent trail of the Mitchum scout. The traps took two Bellums down instantly, their whines brief as the archers assigned to traps finished them off, sinking arrows into fur. Other archers took aim at the ones who made it through. Shrieking and squealing filled the air as a pack of wild, thick-tusked boars stampeded into the threat of so many Wolves coming at them. Complete chaos and brutal bloodshed reigned as it seemed they just kept coming. Several warriors made their way through the first deadly obstacles and were on their way into the cave.

All able fighters and nonfighters waited inside the cave and attacked four-on-one, as was the plan, overpowering the War Wolves with sheer numbers. If things began to look bad at the front section, the Mitchum pack would drop back to the next area deeper inside the cave, where more traps and crossbow archers waited. And should that fail, a narrow passageway out allowed for escape as a small rigged blast at the front of the cave would entomb the Bellum Wolves when the only other passageway out was also blown.

Thomas was at Ryan’s side as they relentlessly fired arrow after arrow, his arms burning as much as Ryan’s must be. They shot relentlessly, firing shaft after shaft. Sounds of vicious fighting echoed from the cave, along with snarling, snapping, and teeth tearing. Wolves and human-form Wolves cried out in pain, sending their agony through the pack links. Through it all, Thomas was glad Ryan was spared the link to their suffering.

The archers stayed focused on the most significant threat until the last attacker fell. Bellum Wolves howled out as they ripped mangled limbs from traps, so determined to keep fighting and destroy that they didn’t seem to notice their mortal wounds.

Ryan’s thoughts were clear to Thomas after witnessing this several times. It was all truth. These Wolves had come to kill them. He glanced at Thomas, who nodded back grimly. Ryan’s aim became truer and his will to win stronger. He didn’t want to leave his home or hard-earned life with his mate. They had lost each other once; it wasn’t going to happen again. They both ignored the screaming pain in their arms, only swapping out when it was time to reload their quivers.

Death was a sound no one wanted to hear. Its song turned the blood cold and changed the soul. Trauma swirled in the air like a plague searching for its next victims, and no doubt, they all would suffer long after this was over. The metallic clang of steel and iron traps snapping and crossbows firing inside the cave echoed the more horrible sounds of war, letting them know the Bellums had progressed to the second line of defense in the cave. Half of the archers turned to the north and aimed at the rest of the attacking Wolves, pouring in from the other direction as the remaining archers finished off the first wave of fighters.

Twenty vicious fighters raced into the cave, their teeth bared, some with arrows already protruding from their bodies. Ryan sucked in harsh breaths when there was nothing else to shoot at, his blood thrumming, the adrenaline pumping, just like Thomas as he heaved alongside him. Thomas also sensed Ryan’s Wolf wanting out.

“Archers, hold and be ready,” Thomas barked out. “Observe and report.”

The archers knelt, two facing in each direction, serving as lookouts from the skywalks as the remaining archers stayed nocked and ready to fire. The clash of intense fighting still came from the cave. Great echoing howls of pain pierced the forest air. The Mitchum pack had injured and casualties. The stench of more death surrounded them. But the thirty were dead, and the twenty were outnumbered and cornered in a confined space full of pitfalls.

“We wait,” Thomas said, searching for signs of the pack exiting the cave so he could give the signal to light the fuse to Talley.

Penn stumbled out of the mouth of the cave with a Bellum Wolf on his back, tearing at his fur and skin with viciously sharp teeth.

“No,” Ryan screamed and was down the ladder in a slide and running before Thomas could stop him.

“Ryan!” Thomas let out a heart-stopping scream. He watched in terror as his mate ran, full-out, then withdrew a knife and, flying through the air, dove into the Bellum, viciously stabbing as it snarled and bit at the new target.

Thomas pulled back the bowstring and aimed as Ryan used one hand to hold the Wolf’s throat, his other sinking the knife in again deep. Thomas let out a breath, releasing the tension and lowering his bow as the Bellum collapsed over Ryan, and Ryan kicked him off. Ryan had the bloody knife in his teeth as he picked Penn up and relocated to the shelter and cover of several large boulders. He then looked up to the stand to Thomas.

“Thank fuck,” Thomas breathed out, but his heart banged against his chest, and Wolf seethed inside him at what they’d just witnessed, at what they could have lost.

Thomas refocused; the call to blow the cave’s front entrance hadn’t come as silence slowly washed over the land. Heavy breaths began to calm. The woods went silent and smelled of so much blood. Thomas held up a fist and shook his head.

No one moved. It seemed like forever before the boar pack settled and drifted away, back to rooting in the mud. A squirrel chattered and complained about the mess in the forest below. The birds chirped and fluttered again.

Archers, report, Thomas commanded.

Clear.

Scouts, report, Thomas said.

Clear. All directions.

Cave, report, Thomas said.

Cave clear. We have casualties and severe injuries.

Packhouse, report, Thomas said.

Packhouse clear.

Medical, let’s go, Thomas said.

Moving in, Grace said.

“First, we help with the injured, then our dead, then their dead, then clean up,” Thomas said aloud. He looked below where Ryan and Penn were safely tucked away and yelled out, “It’s over.”

The archers made their way down the skywalk ladders, leaving only two above as lookouts and cover.

“Father,” Thomas called.

“Coming out now,” Malcolm said, sounding worse for wear.

“Are you injured?” Thomas asked.

“Nothing Grace can’t fix,” Malcolm said.

They helped carry their injured out of the cave, where Grace and her large staff of volunteers triaged and field-treated their loved ones. The injured were either moved or helped back to the packhouse infirmary and dining hall. Both had been prepared in advance for this outcome. The pack members who died in the battle were also carried home for later honorable burials and formal ceremonies. They had lost many, eighteen dead. Thirty-seven severely injured. Four had lost limbs. Many were missing ears. Those injuries would never heal.

Penn lay on his side as Wolf, breathing slowly. Ryan knelt next to him, pressing gauze to the slashes in his side, attempting to slow the bleeding while Penn weakly healed himself. An open gash and missing flesh over Penn’s mouth left his teeth exposed. Penn whined, and his uninjured eye stared gratefully at Ryan. Thomas said nothing as he cleaned and wrapped a bandage tightly around Ryan’s forearm from the Wolf bite he’d sustained while saving Penn.

Ryan’s hand shook, but he carefully stroked the fur on Penn’s head. Penn sighed and closed his eye. “Shh, just heal. You fought bravely,” Ryan murmured, and he sat with Penn until the gashes had mostly knit themselves back together. When Grace’s team came with a portable stretcher for Penn, Ryan moved out of the way and went to the next Wolf he could help or comfort. Thomas followed, doing the same.

“Mad?” Ryan asked quietly.

“Nope.” Thomas kissed the side of Ryan’s forehead. “You saved him. Almost gave me a heart attack in the process, but you did the right thing. He’ll be okay.”

Ryan blinked several times. “I couldn’t just let that happen, Thomas.”

Thomas ran his hand over Ryan’s hair. “I know, love. I’m never mad at the goodness in you.”

Ryan squeezed Thomas’s hand, and they both found ways to continue helping the others.

The remaining archers helped with the transports, carried on homemade stretchers through the woods, miles back home to the packhouse.