Turned: A werewolf love story

Chapter 10: Confrontation

An empty reservoir had been converted to an enormous holding pen for werewolves. Twenty feet deep and spanning several acres, its edge was lined with wooden fencing angled inward.

Inside, wolves paced everywhere, restless. From this distance they looked like mere animals. Charlotte stood at the gate and tried to identify Bernard, but he was lost in a sea of gray fur. Her heart quailed.

"Well?" said Allard. "Go find him."

Charlotte cast him a sidelong glance, ears laid back, the hint of a snarl tugging at her lips. "I shall. And when we return, you shall be shown for what you are."

Allard smirked and opened the gate with a half-bow. "Certainly, madam."

Charlotte drew a steadying breath and jumped into the pit.

Several wolves nearby backed away, then raised their hackles and bared their teeth. Charlotte summoned all her courage and snarled back. "This isn't the time! I need Bernard!"

At the sound of her voice, the wolves flinched and backed away. Their snarls took on a hint of desperation.

They were afraid of her?

Charlotte's fear faded a little. Perhaps they would not attack her. She could move among them, find Bernard, and they could escape.

An iron ladder led up to the gate, but it was too narrow for a wolf to use. They had chewed it anyway, leaving bright scratches in the metal. Charlotte examined it. Perhaps she and Bernard could navigate it, since they possessed their human intelligence.

Then she set out into the throng, sniffing and peering about for her husband.

Excrement covered the reservoir’s dried mud floor. There were also gnawed bones and dead wolves--they ate each other after a while. The mages had mentioned nothing about feeding them. The smell would have sickened a human, but to her animal senses, it carried messages. Hungry. Sick. Frightened.

They stared at Charlotte, and some bared their teeth and postured, but as long as she avoided eye contact, none of them interfered with her search. Indeed, her fear of them was replaced by horror and pity.

The male wolves were larger than the females, and many females had children with them. Charlotte tried not to stare, and her heart ached. The children were quite small, with short muzzles and round ears, and stayed close to their mothers. Some wrestled and played like puppies.

These were the people of Lyedyn City, and even the curse had not broken the bond of mother and child.

Perhaps it would not break her bond with her husband.

A familiar smell touched her nostrils, and Charlotte followed it eagerly. The wolves parted before her, and a little further on, she found Bernard.

He lay with his head on his paws and ears flat, the picture of dejection. He'd turned his back on the other wolves and stared at the wall.

"Bernard!" Charlotte bounded to his side. "Bernard, I'm here! Are you all right?"

He lifted his head and stared at her. His eyes were shallow and wild.

Charlotte crouched beside him, longing to take his hand. "My love, it's me. Come back to me!"

He scrambled to his feet and backed away from her, teeth bared. She moaned. "Please, no! Don't you remember who you are?"

Bernard whirled and ran.

Charlotte bounded after him. He fled through the assembled captives, who watched with ears pricked. She followed him, heart pounding. How could she get through to the man inside the beast? She had brought him back before, somehow. Perhaps the key was her voice—the other wolves reacted to it. She must corner him and talk to him.