Runaway Rogue

Chapter Seven: Caspian's POV

Caspian hated it. He hated all of it. And he knew he wasn't alone in his feelings. Last night had been awful, vile. It brought back all those memories that he tried to shove into the deepest part of his mind. He thought they were past this. They had thought puffing their chests and baring their teeth had worked, at least a little bit. And now, he was standing beside Forest in front of the best fighters in the pack who all looked sick to their stomachs.

"As you all know by now, we had another attack last night," Forest announced, his voice cold, so unlike the man who had been sobbing last night. The men would never see that side of his, though. They would only see the cruel enforcer who responded. "A rogue evaded our patrol and managed to attack one of our own. We lost Ada."

Caspian raised his chin, kept his eyes focused. His mind was less willing to be controlled, flashing images. She had been dead when he arrived. Others were still trying to save her. That was the hardest part, prying the less experienced members off her cold body when they swore they could save her. And her unborn child. They all knew she had bled too much, but the mind could be stubborn in the worst of times.

Rogues were deranged things. Once, before the attack, he had thought that they were nothing of consequence. Strong enough packs could fight them off and his pack was well enough equipped and well enough trained. Turns out that it was hard to fight fair when your opponent didn't have a shred of humanity.

"I know that our previous procedure was to detain and question. And I want to stress that what happened last night was no one's fault. We are fighting an unpredictable enemy and after all the losses we have suffered, we are a vulnerable target. If we let them, they will pillage us, take everything we own. They are trying to survive and they do not care who gets in the way."

That unfortunately seemed to include very pregnant women who had never hurt a fly in her lifetime.

Forest pressed on, his features impassive. "Moving forward, I don't care about capturing them. If they cross our border, they know exactly what they are doing. If you see a rogue, kill them. No exceptions. Our priority right now is keeping this pack safe. Should we have some reprieve from the attacks, we can reevaluate our situation and standing. Until then, kill them. I don't care how, just get it done. Do we understand?"

Everyone nodded their hands, mouths pressed firmly closed.

"Good. Carry on. Reporting everything and anything back to myself or to Caspian," Forest instructed.

The group fell away from the muster point, dispersing through the pack. Some would start the evening rounds, checking and rechecking the perimeter. Others would return home, their shift already completed. All of them would carry some of the burden of what happened.

Caspian stood in the cold wind, watching them all go.

"You alright?" Forest asked. His expression was still the same, but there was some softness in his tone now.

"I'm fine."

"Listen, last night was hard on everyone, but I know it was especially hard on you. I want you to take the night off, okay? I don't know what's going on with you, but you could do with some rest."

"I said I'm fine," Caspian ground out. The last thing he wanted right now was to be trapped in his own home, by himself.

"It's an order," Forest called out, already walking away.

So, Caspian dragged himself to his own house. He told himself he wouldn't think about any of it, that he would turn on his television and let his mind melt. The sickly, sticky feelings that swirled within him wouldn't let him rest though.

His house was his sanctuary. He was supposed to be comfortable and at peace here. Now, when he looked at the sitting room where he often drank his coffee and read the news, he saw a lonely space. When he walked into the kitchen, he saw a fridge that was nearly empty, the clear mark of a depressed bachelor. Everything from his bed to the masculine products in his shower reminded him that he was very much alone, and just for a split second when his wolf took over that day, he had thought that it was the end of his solitude.

He thought he would come home to a soft, sweet mate like Forest did. He thought he would know a love that was as strong as his parents.

He had been alone for so long, and had grown comfortable in the silence. But now, after just the tiniest flicker of hope, all he wanted was some noise.

It would pass. He knew it would. He would bury this want and the ache would dull over time. He would remember that he could be grateful for a hundred other things, like a roof over his head, a reliable friend like Forest, a pack that he was honored to serve. Maybe Forest was right and he really did need some rest.

But when he laid in bed and closed his eyes, all he saw was a very dead woman.

Rotting in front of the TV did end up being the best option. He watched movie after show after sports game. Nothing could hold his attention. Tea didn't make him sleepy. Coffee didn't perk him up. Alcohol didn't take the edge off. He was vacant and too aware. His very bones were exhausted, his eyes refused to shut. He wanted to go for a run, his legs wouldn't lift him off the couch.

The sun went down, the sky darkened quickly as it always did in the mountains. He tried to tell himself to go to bed, but hated the thought of going alone. He needed to eat something if he wanted to be functional tomorrow morning, but the thought of consuming anything made him sick.

It was one in the morning when he heard it. He couldn't identify exactly what it was, but it was a sound of distress. Ada had died because they had been too late. He would not be too late again. He darted out of his home, only sparing a fraction of a second to grab his old bush axe. The moment he was outside, he was off and running, not daring to risk shifting into wolf form in case he needed his hands for something like wrapping bandages or applying pressure to a wound.

The noise he had heard came from close by and he followed the sound of shouts and rustling in the trees, his legs moving in a blur. He heard the yells of some of his men, then a scream of a wolf, high pitched and desperate.

He prayed it wasn't one of his own.

He burst through the leafy area, seeing one of the patrollers seize a tiny brown wolf. The little female screamed and wailed, her small body thrashing. The cries had been hers no doubt.

His first thought was that she didn't look like other rogues. No mange, no fluids leaking from the eyes or nose. When she flashed her teeth in an attempt to bite, they all looked healthy enough and her coat was far cleaner than most. And she wasn't fighting like a rogue either, more like a pup who didn't know her own boundaries yet.

But she certainly smelled like a rogue, wet dog and rotting flesh.

He saw the way the man who grabbed her hesitated. He must have been thinking the same thing as Caspian. She was clean and well kept, tiny, but relatively healthy.

It didn't matter. Orders were orders. All wolves knew to never cross into another territory unannounced and rogues had no right to enter any territory, period.

If this pack member wouldn't kill the little runt, then he would have to. He felt the weight of the bush axe in his hand, part of him horrified that he had to use it. He so favored the kinder death of a sleepy little poison, but there was no room for that now. He raised his arm up.

"No!" a woman shrieked.

His legs were kicked out from under him and he crashed down to the soft earth with a thud. The blade was ripped from his hand before he could even blink.

And before he could even consider fighting, a body was on top of his. Thighs on either side of his, a hand planted on his chest. He barely noticed that his own bush axe was getting awfully close to his throat.

And when wild amber eyes met his own, his entire body melted.

~~~Question of the Day~~~

What tips would you give to someone traveling for the first time?