Wolven

Chapter 8 - Power in Anger

That night, Ataneq takes me out of the Vale, away from their haven and the rest of the pack. Rowan and a woman from the pack accompany us, and we all walk together through the jagged hills. The woman's name is Lyra, I learn as we journey by Ataneq's lead. She is a hard-looking woman, with eyes as dark and sharp as her facial features, not giving much contribution to the conversation that Rowan and I hold. She isn't a native, and says she was originally a rogue outcast from a pack in Montana when I asked her. Coming from such a faraway place, I'm curious about how she ended up in the Arctic Circle, but reluctant to ask because of her standoffish nature. I join Ataneq’s point position as the jagged peaks begin thinning out into peat-covered fields.

He asks me how I’m doing, and I answer with a simple response. Another matter of discussion has been on my mind since my arrival to the Vale.

“Do you remember the first time we met, Ataneq?” His cool-toned eyes look to my questioning ones as I match his stride.

“Vividly. It was only a short week ago.” I look back over my shoulder, noting the distance that we’ve put between Rowan and Lyra, whose conversations are lost to my ears from the distance.

“During the night, you were chasing an Inuit woman carrying a young child,” I add to his description, my voice soft and low. The look on his face tells me he knows where the discussion is headed. I read him only briefly, before his features turn blank. His silence bids me to continue. 

“She was heavily injured… and before she died in my arms, she told me that wolves were taking the Native children from her village.” I pause, checking myself before I go on. I don’t want to sound like I’m accusing him, or his pack… The situation just doesn’t line up with his demeanor, it doesn’t line up with the peace and warmth that this man emanates.

“Why… Why would you kill her?” I find my hand moving involuntarily to his, my fore- and middle finger sliding around his last two outer digits with gentle emphasis. He looks at me with a soft expression at the contact, curling my fingers against his warm palm. That look alone begins to dispel the confusion in my heart.

“We did not,” he voices as he looks down as we walk, and my hand moves back to my side. “There was no way she could know, but we were escorting her to your village, after fending off a few members of the clan that attacked it the following day.” A clear set of golden orbs, alight with the fires of malice, flashed across my memory. The ghost of a scent carrying death and fear sends a chill rushing up my spine.

“The black wolf,” I whisper, more to myself than to Ataneq. He nods.

“The leader of the Tornuaq clan.” My thoughts return to that day in the village once more, and I let my hand fall back to its side. “Your people were on guard because of our appearance, thankfully. A runner was sent back to the Vale to gather the rest of our hunters, but the rest stayed close. We had two Highbourne within your village to protect that day.”

“That infant is one as well?” I ask Ataneq, “Is it safe?” He affirms both questions silently with a nod before replying verbally. 

“We gathered the babe during the confusion of the assault. He’s being raised by one of the newest mothers, with a child of her own around his age.” The pieces fall to place in my mind, then.

“Why is the… Tornuaq clan hunting Highbourne?” Ataneq slows to a stop as we round the base of a hill to reach a small lake, nestled between two large peaks.

“That is an explanation for another time.”

My brother and Lyra join us after the moment it takes them to catch up, and I return the smile that Rowan offers me.

“Let’s rock and roll, King,” he says towards Ataneq, who looks from my brother to me. His warm smile coaxes the small bits of anxiety that I’d been harboring since we left the Vale to leave my chest.

“Alright, Rheaden. My guess is that you have an idea as to why you were brought out here,” he starts, and I give him a small nod. “To break past the barriers you have constructed against what you are.” He finishes the clarification for good measure. I take a quick glance at Lyra, then Rowan. Lyra returns my look coolly, and my brother offers me an encouraging nod.  I look back to Ataneq, who beckons me to him. Once in front of him, he rests both hands lightly on my shoulders, gripping them lightly as his forehead lowers to touch mine. His icy eyes are close, his comforting scent washing over me fresh.

“Are you ready, Rheaden?” he whispers. His eyes are clear, a bright vigor behind the light-colored pigments. His sudden excitement is contagious, filling my heart with a spark of lively anticipation. I nod against his forehead, my nose brushing his slightly hooked one.

“Yes.” His smile widens.

“Close your eyes,” he tells me very softly, and I comply. “I want you to try and tune out everything but my voice.” I take a steadying breath of the cold air, my lungs filling with the scents of the green hills, the lake. The aromas of late summer. I let them drop out of my mind, let the wind on my cheek become nonexistent as well as the smells. One of Ataneq’s hands moves to the back of my neck, grasping me firmly. “Confront that which is inside, bring it to the forefront of your thoughts. Utilize your command over it. Identify the things that prevent you from obtaining freedom, so that you may extinguish them.”

In my mind, I stand before the great wall that divides me from whatever is on the other side. The apprehension holds me back. The dull pain, the roiling distress that claws at my insides and pulls me down with a force that weakens my resistance, keeps me from any form of peace. Experimentally, I take a mental jab at this barrier, this ache. When nothing changes, I realize I have no idea what I’m doing. I try again, with a similar result. Frustration flares, its light sending a brief flash of angry heat through my heart. My tight grip on Ataneq’s coat sleeves goes unnoticed to me until he returns the strong grasp to my shoulder and the back of my neck.

“You are strong, Rheaden. I am right here. I am right next to you.” My eyes are still closed, and I remain in the deep focus, standing down the roiling, cloud-like barrier. Ataneq’s voice comes like a brief thought, or the gentle whispering of the wind. Yet, its meaning lingers. His added strength remains with me like the heart-aching echoes of his wolven cry.

Then the fire in my heart flares again, for a short moment. The strength it gives me is something I desperately reach for as it fades, and I mentally try to face down the barrier once more in an attempt to get it back. I can feel Ataneq beside me this time. The thick, malignant clouds seem to slip through the reaching fingers of my mind, bringing back the anger at my own failure to control myself.

Know that there is raw power in anger, Rheaden.

The strength from Ataneq sparks at the sound of his distant voice, and with it, the dormant heat in my chest blazes to life. A force so fully empowering explodes through my mind, that it practically shakes me to the core with its volatile strength. The fire in my chest spreads in a quick shot through my body, shooting from head to toes like piercing forks of lightning. With an unbridled fury, I release the rage onto the barrier.