Forest of Lies

Chapter 38-Strange Ghosts

✨Enjoy this little chapter of mystery and reflection, this should be fun. 😊
————————————————————————-
There were many things about his life Halden Galsin already hated. All of them because of the male he had to call My Lord Father.

At age two, Halden came to hate the older wolf's grating cruel voice.

At age five, his cold eyed caretaker and teachers that dragged him away from his mother's bright and flowery rooms into ones that were cold and dreary.

Age seven, he grew to hate seeing his mother tremble from every touch by her mate and every time he yelled in frustration.

Age eight, Halden hated when he was first taught to shift, to kill an innocent animal, and to feel the iron tang of blood on his tongue.

Age nine, he hated the look of pleasure in his father's gaze as Duke Mogrem and the family witnessed the execution of a starving farmer of lower shifter status. A deer shifter caught stealing from the ducal granary to feed his family.

And now, at age ten, Halden hated with a fervor the loud voices of his father's cousins echoing from down in the great hall. Their drunken laughter and horrid noise having kept little Onyx awake for an hour longer past her bedtime.

His terrified and sad baby sister who had given up crying for her mother to come home. It had been nine days since their parents left, seven days since any news of their well being was known. Their father murdered by the Luna Queen in a fit of madness, leaving Haldin as the new Duke and Alpha of the Wild Sands Pack. It was a title that petrified young Halden to the core of his being.

Power and renown he knew well were a danger as it was a life of ease and leisure. Halden and Onyx were clothed in fine silks, strolled through gardens of flowers and fruit trees ringed by thick, red sandstone walls guarded day and night by armored guards. The Pack territory stretched from rich lowlands of productive grain fields, along part of the coast filled with trade ships, to the very edge of the kingdom where the land turned to desert and sand dunes.

It was a world that rippled with fear, an air of tension felt by all that lived in and out of the former Duke's castle. A castle Halden had found to be its own prison, a place of rough walls that could not be hidden by the tapestries of war and hunts. The floors that went hot and cold despite the sumptuous rugs, the hollow eyed and fearful servants and the few collared slaves that did their best to hide in the shadows and hidden side halls.

His mother was a ghost amidst these shadows, though she was done up as a beautiful duchess she was prone to wandering or tending the massive gardens when not forced to be in the company of her mate. Onyx was always at her side, her honey gold locks fluttering around her head, a tiny doll within her hold, eyes of darkest green that many at first glance thought were black.

Sitting in the soft chair by her bedside, Halden wished he shared those eyes. His mother never looked at him straight on for long, he had his father's eyes after all. Shining bronze orbs that diminished the auburn colors of his hair that came from his mother. He wished she was here, here to comfort Onyx and Halden with the tales only she could tell.

The wonders of a forest life in the shadows of the Old Mountain. A peaceful living in stone and wood houses built generations ago, a close knit community led by a shaman. A female shaman that led rituals and cared for the sick and injured. A village protected by brave and respectful warriors, the Marked, protectors of the Tenabrae. All were loved and cared for there, safe from those who do others harm.

It was a world unlike the Red Sands Pack, no cruel soilders and cowering civilians. No brutal punishments and displays of brutal battle tactics for all to witness. To the children, it was a dream told by their mother during the quiet hours of night or amidst the fiercest of thunderstorms filled with howling wind and pounding rain.