Dark Times

Chapter One

"Whose bright idea was this?" Trish asked, kicking at the very edge of the pack line. A scowl lit up her face. Secretly, she was definitely enjoying this. Usually, her green eyes were a wicked shade of genocide. Right now, they were just homicidal. That had to count for something.

I watched her pace from my position in the tree, where the overhang of dying leaves blocked me from the sun. We were in the Fervidus territories, named aptly so for their scorching temperatures. And humidity. And all around general unpleasantness. So yeah, they weren't particularly great.

"It doesn't matter whose idea it was," Fallen beta and resident misery guts Igor replied. He was taking deep breaths, struggling to calm himself. "What matters is getting it fixed."

But that wasn't good enough for Trish. She needed someone to blame. Her gaze shot up to the canopy, pinning onto me.

"I'll bet you a dime she came up with this." Her stare was accusing, her tone sharp. "The dumb ideas are always hers."

"It doesn't matter whose idea it was," Igor insisted. "What matters is—"

"Getting it fixed. Yes, we know." For a second, she tore her glare away from me, but it was back before I could get ahead of myself. "Anything you'd like to say, Lorrie? Anything to confess?"

Anything I'd like to confess? Blimey. Where was I supposed to start? Maybe she was getting at the part where I'd stolen a good third of everyone's rations for tonight. Or maybe she knew about my inability to form emotional attachments. No! I knew what it was. It was definitely my guilty pleasure found in dry crackers. I'd known for months now she was onto me.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I lied. "I've just been doing what Simon says."

Trish growled. "I'm going to kill her."

"Simon says stop talking."

Igor grabbed a hold of her arm before she could advance any further. He gave it a shake, a warning.

"No one's killing anybody." Today. "We need to calm down and think about this rationally. Lorrie, if you know anything, you need to say it."

So, we had a problem on our hands. As a ragtag team of rogues, staying together was highly important. Some guy back at the base said strength in numbers. So we stuck together. As the most responsible, Igor always took the lead. Trish was his self-proclaimed right hand woman. I was the troublemaker and Peter was kind of just there. Currently, Peter's kind of just gone. Dangerously close to a pack territory, he'd fallen victim to temptation.

Peter was a lad that liked his food. We had plenty with us, but he turned his nose up at it. Of course, with Igor and Trish busy, I probably should've convinced him not to do anything stupid. Instead, I may have sort of kind of possibly bigged him up.

Who was I to argue with natural selection? If he'd ventured into pack lands and got himself killed, then that was his problem. He could take it up with management.

"I may or may not have heard a rumour."

Trish pulled a face. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. Peter decided game and berries weren't good enough for him. He went to find better food on pack lands."

Both of them gaped up at me. "And you let him go?"

I shrugged. "I'm a firm believer in human rights. If he wants to move around, who am I to stop him?"

Trish resumed her pacing, stabbing her fingers through her blonde hair. Igor only sighed.

"You know better than this."