Hare Moon

Pick Your Battles

Previously in Hare Moon...Clarice revealed Milton's true motivations. But what are Clarice's motivations?

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"So what kind of meeting is this?"

"A council meeting. All the important people in Lochden join hands to sing Kumbaya and decide how to screw up our pack next." Clarice doesn't sound bitter at all...

Silence seems like the safest option so I follow along quietly until we reach the Town Hall. The old stumps all squat around the building like one of those awful modern art installations that schools are so fond of studying. Here and there small groups or individuals perch on them. They look up as we approach the building to watch us with unabashed nosiness. 

To my surprise we don't sneak round the back, or peer in the windows. Clarice marches right up to the front doors and breezes past the two alert guards. I duck my head as I Velcro myself to him and hope they don't stop me. If I'm close enough they will assume we are one person and have no reason to question my uninvited human presence.

The Lycan council, as I've decided to refer to it — because despite Dr Will's insistence, the wolf shifter council is neither cool sounding nor efficient to say — looks much like a human council. Everyone wears suits or highland formal, and sit around in serious discussion. The Alpha stands at the front overlooking a large table covered in a map like Jon Snow planning a war. Sunny would be proud of that reference. 

Milton stands beside his father, at attention in his button up and tie. I always thought Milton wore smart clothing to school for the same reason I do— thinly veiled narcissism and a deeply ingrained need to act pretentious. But maybe it's in case he gets called to a meeting? Well, either way it's a good look on him. You know, if one was interested in viewing him, which one is not. 

At a table to their right sit Ylva and another woman, and to their left sit Chief Perry and another man. The rest of the room holds tables arranged in a circle, all filled with pack members I don't recognise. TK stands casually at the back of the room beside a door along with another man and a woman, all dressed in the loose soldiers kit.

"The southern legs have been driving out Ghostpines from the small settlements near their territories." The Alpha's voice is quiet but radiates power, making my hairs stand on end. The room listens respectfully and waits a beat to make sure he is finished.

"Why does that concern us? The Ghostpines are no friends, and that's on the other side of Europe. We keep our noses out, as always," a man with a white beard says.

"Don't be dense, the Ghostpines will retaliate and if they start a war the effects will ripple out and before we know it we have a refugee crisis or worse." Chief Perry looks livid.

"He's right, the other packs know we're no friends of the Ghostpines and that we've been successful in keeping them mostly out of Britain. This is the first place they'll go for sanctuary." Someone agrees.

"If it escalates our allies in France and Ireland will be at risk and we will be called upon to aid them," Ylva says.

"Allies in— we have no allies!" someone splutters, "The moment they get a whiff of war the Irish will retreat back to their sheltered little island and your so called father, no offense Luna, is never going to give us his support now. Not with the Heir Alpha—"

"Do not finish that sentence," The Alpha booms, "That man likes to fuss and throw his weight around but when the time comes our alliance will hold."

"So what is our course of action?" Whitebeard grumbles.

"Perhaps if we extend our ear to the packs in the south and offer some support we can facilitate a truce between them and the Ghostpines to sort this out peacefully." The woman beside Ylva raises her finger gracefully as she speaks. Ylva nods along.