Of Snow And Mist [The Lusion Series: Book One]

Chapter Eleven: Truces and Tracers

To be alive is to be free, but even freedom has its limits.

Every breath Quillo takes is a powerful form of anger. He hasn't left his wolf form for days and he dances the line between aggression and submission with every step. 

I've grown to ignore his wounded ego ways. He was used to being a pillar of power, and now he's been overthrown by a female. If anything, I just feel pity for the wolf. 

The landscape has gone from barren icelands to green mountains in a matter of days. I know by the strange scents being carried in the wind that we are closing in. 

Kinta trots quietly behind me as we make our way down a mountain ridge. When we checked the map this morning, we knew that the mountains meant we were in Wyoming, teetering on the edge of the pack's territory. 

But we've been tearing up the edge of their lands all morning and there's still no sign of them. I perk my ears again in hopes of hearing another wolf, but to no avail.

They're probably isolating themselves in the center of their territory. Apparently, a lot of angry farmers have been hunting the wolves in this area for the past few years. There's no doubt in my mind that the Guardians tried to protect some of the wolves and got themselves killed in the process. Kinta explains through our mind-link.

Quillo, who is keeping his head down at the back of the group, snorts. I'm sure they did die. Any pack south of us is full of morons. 

I curl up my lip in distaste, but do nothing more. I don't feel like having another fight with Quillo so early in our day. Just as we make our way to the base of the mountains, a fresh scent wafts through the pines. I stay put at my higher ground and sniff in that direction. Kinta and Quillo do the same. 

It was definitely a wolf's scent, but it was different.

Wolves, Quillo's voice is grave, we best keep on the move. They won't take too kindly to us walking all over their turf. 

I let out a small sound from my throat. So that's why the scent is strange. The old trail we've been following is a pack of actual wolves.

That's odd, though. I muse, The scents we've been following are different from this wolf's .

That's because the scent we've been following are actual Guardian scents. Quillo snaps.

But how?  Kinta starts.

Because you brainless lump of-

I turn around and snarl at Quillo's irritated wolf. Shut up before I make you.

Quillo lets out a mild growl, but lets it slide. He's been learning his place in our trio the past few days.

As I was saying, I can feel Quillo's glare on my back as I start a brisk pace down the slope, The Guardian pack must be skilled enough to know the wolf pack's language. They probably made some kind of truce. 

Oh. Kinta exhales and follows closely behind me. 

As we reach the roots of the trees, I feel a strange pull. It feels like an aching in my body. I quickly survey the terrain to see if something is making me feel this way.

Asha, are you okay? Kinta comes to stand next to me and rubs her head affectionately on my shoulder.

I brake my gaze with the woods and swish my tail in a sort of anger. It had gone as quickly as it had came. I'm fine.

Kinta's small brown wolf whimpers in submission and I send her a bewildered look. I must've been harsher than I meant to be.

I hate to interrupt your party, ladies, but we should probably get a move on. Quillo impatiently paces at the edge of the woods.