To Rule the Alpha's Heart

5. A Long Night (Part 2)

To Calla's surprise, Cyril and the Nortend shifters obeyed her command. They brought her to the back of the ship, past the sails and oars and countless men that worked them.

At first, she worried that Cyril was leading her toward the cabin at the boat's stern, undoubtedly where Alpha Einarr slept, but the human man stopped several paces in front of the cabin door. Instead, Cyril gestured toward an animal-skin canopy that created a makeshift tent on the deck. It was small– far too small to shelter more than five women.

"The slaves are kept here, Luna," he announced.

Calla's stomach turned, but she nodded once to Cyril– a thank you and a dismissal. She didn't want to speak to any member of the Nortend crew, human or beast, again that evening. Instead, she held her chin high as she peeled back the animal-skin canvas to enter the slave tent.

Just as Calla had feared, the interior of the shoddy tent was musty and smelt of human odor. Very little light breached the animal-hide walls, but orange flame from the nearest lantern on the ship illuminated the interior through the flapped entrance. Calla narrowed her eyes, counting four women sitting around in a circle. She couldn't make out their features, but white, round eyes snapped toward the entrance as she entered.

"H-hello," Calla began, suddenly losing her ferocity as the women eyed her warily.

The woman closest to the entrance frowned. "They've taken another city, then?"

Calla crept further inside the tent, taking a seat at the first open spot. She shook her head, "No, they haven't, actually. "

The four women's eyes widened even further, as they sat up straighter. One of them leaned forward, as if to earn a clearer view of Calla in the shadows.

"What do you mean? It's not possible," she whispered. Her voice sounded older, more raspy than the other.

Calla lowered her eyes to her fingers that were fidgeting in her lap. How could she boast of Belrynne's survival when so many others had not been so fortunate? She swallowed the lump in her throat before responding. "There was a negotiation of sorts. My life in exchange for the safety and freedom of my people."

Thick silence settled over the group of women as they considered Calla's words. The same older woman broke the quiet. "Are you one of them?"

"No!" Calla protested, her voice louder than before. "Gods, no. My mother and father are human. I am human. I was going to be Berlynne's next Seer, actually."

The smallest form in the tent gasped, and Calla was horrified to see a child– no older than fifteen. "A Seer! Is that why the Skinwalkers wanted you?"

Calla struggled to maintain an even cadence, even as horror gripped her vocal-chords as she realized that the werewolves– Alpha Einarr– had taken such a young girl into servitude. "I-I suppose that had something to do with it."

A lie. Calla knew that Alpha Einarr had chosen her because he believed she was his mate. But how could she possibly begin to explain that concept to women from Eatrela when she did not rightfully understand it herself?! Until she knew more about the matter, she wouldn't disclose the fact that she was called 'Luna' by these people, either.

"Are you four the only people they stole?" Calla held her breath, half-terrified to hear their answer.

"Heavens above, no." It was the first woman, the one that sat beside Calla now, who spoke. "Most of the men and women that they captured are on the other ships. With the rest of the cargo."

Calla nearly lost her stomach at the word. Cargo. Human lives, reduced to nothing more than commodities for trade and capture...

"We are the surplus," the youngest added.