The wielders are coming, and they're ready for violence.
With a cub in her arms, Arietta James, a dedicated vet technician in training, flees for her life and the life of the little shifter she's ready to die to protect. Her escape lands her right i...
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Gavriel had not slept in twenty-eight hours. And now that the sun had fully risen once more, he would have many more hours until it was time to rest again.
These were the long days, filled with moments of exhaustion that threatened his strength. These were the times when he made wishes of alternate realities, ones in which his sister and parents were still alive. If nothing more than to have someone yell at him to rest when he needed it.
This exhaustion did not always lead to sleep, even if he wanted it. Ten years had passed, and his room in the inner home still felt bereft at night without his sister whispering stories through their tiny connected vent. Or his mother knocking once on his door and entering without waiting for permission, his father right behind her.
Ten years, and still his mind presented him with grief-soaked memories. Would any amount of sleep finally give him some semblance of peace?
Running a hand over his face, he sighed and glanced back over to his lieutenants clustered at the small table in the aerie's kitchen. "Report."
Finn, one of his lieutenants, scratched behind his ear. "The wielders haven't left the border since the girl and the cub arrived. We've sent our team out in warning, but they backed off. They're not harming ours or crossing the territory lines. Just... waiting."
Ronan, in the chair next to Finn, grunted. "They're being peaceful. But I don't like feeling like they're watching us."
Neither did Gavriel.
"Have we sent a scout?" Gavriel's gaze passed over his lieutenants. The four at the table were his best. His friends, his family, his advisors. They had had his back when it mattered. And any of them would die for the shifters under their care.
"We have," Lianna said. Her dark hair cascaded in neat small braids over her shoulder. "There are at least 7 at the border. Four are confirmed fire wielders, one is a water wielder, and two are unknown."
"Keep an eye on them," Gavriel said. "We need to know everything—their weaponry, their abilities, who they report to." For now, they may be content to wait at the border, but how long would that last? Gavriel didn't trust it. "Who is the scout?"
"Miguel," Ronan leaned back further in his chair, his arms relaxed at his side. To anyone else, the leopard shifter might appear at ease. For those who had been trained, they would note the sharp edge in his eyes, the focus in his expression.
"Good." Gavriel's thumb traced a line against the edge of the mug in front of him. Miguel was one of their best trackers. As a hawk shifter, Miguel would see and hear every minute detail, down to the shift of a finger or a catch of breath. "Have him check in every hour." He looked at Cael. Unlike Ronan, Cael stood next to the small kitchen counter, arms at his side. Every movement Cael made was carefully calculated. Hawk shifters often had a hard time letting their human side take over. Although excellent trackers, they often felt less human than the other shifters. They had to practice common gestures to appear more human when sent into the city. "Cael, you take the next shift for Miguel."
