Chosen

42

If the Alpha hadn't picked up my scent, or caught onto my father and realized the deception, then he would surely find me by the loud chattering of my teeth.

The harvest had come, and days could either be warm or chilly. Today was not such a bad day, in all honesty. The sun was still shining just over the horizon and there were no clouds in the sky. It was almost pleasant. That is, if one was dry, and walking on dry land.

The gentle breeze was not so gentle against my soaked skin, and the water held a bite to it that seemed to sink into me. The sun was not strong enough to warm the part of me that stood out of the water, and the rushing of the currant made it so that I was splashed every so often, just enough to keep me soaked from head to toe.

This was great for keeping my scent at bay, and if I didn't die of hypothermia, perhaps I'd actually make it out of White Moon in one piece.

It felt as though I was walking for hours. The sun was soon to start slipping beneath the edge of the world, and I would be left in darkness. Of course, that meant it would only get colder.

Just as the sun began to reach the definitely-not-daytime-anymore level, I reached the curve of the river that I knew was no longer in White Moon territory. This meant I'd technically been out of White Moon for some time, as the curve was a meter or so past the border, but I'd been unsure of the landscape and had decided to play it safe, staying in the water until I'd found the turn. I knew that I still wasn't in the clear; I was close enough that it would take no effort at all for a White Moon Lycan to find me and drag me back. But I was cold, and tired of swimming upstream.

Crawling, I made my way up the bank, dragging my heavy limbs to a soft patch of grass, My clothes stuck to my skin, and despite their light weight, they seemed impossibly heavy as they held in water from the trip. It took a great deal of effort to turn over and wring out the underdress.

I couldn't decide if it was smarter to leave the wet, thick stockings on, or take them off. My legs were sore, and despite being on dry land, I felt like I was still wadding through the river, so I took them off. One less weight for my legs to carry.

My underdress barely reached midthigh, and it was thin enough that the incessant chill slipped through the fabric to my skin. The dress would dry quickly, but it wouldn't be enough to keep me warm.

I had to move. There was no way I'd make it back to Black Moon tonight, but perhaps Rykor had sent out scouts or something to watch White Moon. If I could find one of them, I'd be safe. Black Moon would be northwest of White Moon, but I had no idea where Rykor would have placed the scouts. How was I supposed to know where an Alpha would plan his attack?

No. Something inside me refused the self-deprecation. You would know. You do know. You were with Rykor as he worked, he taught you the strategies he used to keep Black Moon safe. You worked with him for months, you know how he plans. Think!

But I was so tired, and the wind was so harsh, the air so cold.

No! You will not give up. People are counting on you. Rykor is waiting for you. You can do this. You have to do this.

Yes, I could do this. Against my instincts, I closed my eyes, shutting off the world around me – and any potential Lycans that might try to sneak up on me. Instead, I imagined the map of White Moon that Rykor had in his office. He'd outlined the border, as well as the patrols and base camps along the boundary line. The base camps were scattered evenly along the border, and Rykor had said something about them, something important...

"Reynolds is a fool."

I lifted a questioning gaze to Rykor, whose eyes roamed over the map of White Moon. He was teaching me about border safety, and we'd gone over White Moon's strategy, as that was the one with which I was most familiar.

"What do you mean? His plan is sound. He placed base camps every four miles, and since the average Lycan can run about 40 miles per hour, it would only take roughly five minutes to patrol between base camps. If there was an alert, the neighboring camps would hear and send out the alarm before racing to the other's aid. The average patrol Lycan can last at least fifteen minutes in weaponless combat, so assuming there isn't an ambush, the reinforcements would come, the warriors would answer the distress call, and the border would be secure."

Rykor nodded, pleased that I'd surmised that on my own. "True. Mathematically, it's a sound plan. But how often does Reynolds' visit the border?"

"The Alpha?" I blinked, like the question was ridiculous. Which it was. "He doesn't go out to the border unless there's an emergency."

"And that's the problem. Because if he'd have actually bothered to walk his boundary lines," Rykor turned the map towards me, gesturing to the border with a sweeping hand, "he would have seen this."

It took a moment, but then I saw it. First, the river that cut through the west end of the territory, looping through, just barely making it into the heart of White Moon land. Then, it curved and exited towards the south, right next to the formal entrance to the pack lands. It seems the patrol Lycans had not factored in the width of the river when placing base camps. There were two miles in between the heavily guarded entrance and the river, then another two past the river to the patrol camp. Then it was another three miles to the river, and since the land beside the river was unstable, the base camp after that was another two miles away on land. The river itself was about a half mile wide, and more often than not, the currant was strong and difficult for a Lycan to cross.

"He should have split the base camp along the edges of the river. Someone could enter or exit the pack through the rivers and the patrols wouldn't even notice."

Rykor nodded, impressed. "That's not all someone could do."

I gasped, my eyes opening, taking in the scenery around me, checking to make sure I was alone. I held my breath as I listened for the rustling of leaves, but it was no use. The rushing of the river and the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears was all I could hear. I struggling to stand up, stumbling my way through the woods, not caring how much noise I made. I just needed to move, needed to get there, because I was so close.

I knew where Rykor would have sent his Lycans.