Oath of the Hunter

11 - Close Call

Rowan

River is quiet as he studies the emerald trees shooting past in a blur; lost in thought or admiration or something caught in between. It is a beautiful view, I have to admit. Dense, lush forests loom on either side of the road and distant cliffs blot out the sky. A fog of exhaustion hangs over us both, even despite the cool, fresh air hissing through the window I've opened a little. The road weaves an asphalt ribbon before us, meandering its way towards Lakeside. We've left Lach, Kay and Matteo in Milo's care, this afternoon, after a full morning of traversing every inch of their land. Milo wants to gather the patrols in batches and organise training sessions for the others to observe, if only to welcome criticism and give his pack a better chance of fighting against these hunters.

River and I have escaped to check the town for any evidence of lurking hunters, and for a little bit of peace, quiet, and privacy. It's difficult, after all, to have a moment to ourselves in a house full of super-hearing werewolves and paper walls.

My fated sits poised in the passenger seat, his clothes deceptively casual— a dark jumper concealing a belt of weapons and a form of toned muscle.

"Any ideas on where these hunters could be staying?" I ask him, rolling down the window all the way and bracing my arm on the door. A swirl of scents invades the car; moss, dew, musk, ozone threatening rain. I take a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. In the back of my mind, my wolf stirs. It has been days now since I shifted properly and ran— not just to prove myself to a wary alpha. He longs to check out this new place, file away all the unfamiliar scents, and feel the wind in his fur.

"They'll be well-hidden, if they're any good," River tells me, settling into the topic like a moth to flame. "I guess they will stick to hidden places— old warehouses, motels, abandoned homes. Places where people don't ask questions."

"The outskirts, then," I muse. It would be rather difficult for hunters to hide in the busy town centre with too many witnesses to their macabre training sessions and the bloodstains on their clothes and the weapons on their belts.

"Exactly. That's where we used to go when we dealt with packs that were further away. It's easier to slip in and out, that way."

We, meaning him and the other Ferreus hunters, back when hunting werewolves was his life, his job, and his legacy.

He clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, his gaze darting out the window, a hand instinctively messing with the throwing blades strapped to his belt. Whenever those hunters are brought up, he checks for threats and assures his weapons are in easy reach, as though the mere mention of the Ferreus hunters will summon them. I understand his wariness and his desire for security all too well, having witnessed first-hand the empty mercury gazes and the razor-edged fury of those hunters he once aligned with.

"So if we find them today—" I forge on in an attempt to shift his focus— "we can come back with backup and take them out here. Is that your plan?"

"We'll have the advantage of surprise, that way, instead of waiting for them to attack an already fragile pack," he decides, his wariness thawing. "They won't expect us to take the fight to them."

A little smile touches my lips as I cast my thoughts back to a month earlier, back when River was still wary of my alliance yet determined to take out the Duskland pack. Back then, he gave me his plans hesitantly, and now he confides in me. I'm glad of it.

Once we reach Lakeside, I park the car in a secluded street, and River and I head into town on the lookout for hunters.

There's a small police station nestled next to a library, but we both know it's pointless to check it out. Darius assured us last night that he does not have an alliance with anyone outside of his pack. In fact, it seems to be a miracle he has accepted my and River's help. Back in Crescent Valley, the police and townsfolk alike are aware of my kind and my claim over the land. Part of the agreement to living there is a vow to keep quiet, but the vast majority of the residents keep our secret due to the foundations of trust my parents laid down, which I have built upon. Darius' pack are secluded, without any allies, and he assured us before we left that the Lakeside residents — of the town, that is — are clueless and must above all else remain so. He says they're a liability. Then again, a tree can't grow if it doesn't secure its roots.