Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

26. Wood for the Trees

Note to self: edited Jan 25, 2022

If he didn't know they were going to a secret place of power, Volya would have become paranoid about Liam's intentions. Liam turned his SUV onto an overgrown trek through the woods so wild, it brought to mind Snow White's misfortunes. Centennial spruces rose on both sides, with only a few aspens here and there to dilute their somber boughs with neon-lime leaves. The underbrush slapped the SUV's sides. A few floppy branches overhung so low over the road that they pounded the windshield.

Volya caught the scent of deer and rabbit, spotted a doe twice. The animals lifted their heads to stare at the bobbing SUV, but wandered from the road without panic.

Soon, even the road became so tentative that the white pickup truck waiting for them looked out of place. Liam slammed on the breaks. The tires bounced off the boulders riddling the ground, to belly-flop to a complete stop a few feet away from the pickup. The silence after the engine noises was deafening. Then, birds' chirping filled it.

"We're here," Liam pointed needlessly, stuffing a ball cap onto his head. This was also needlessly done—his tight, shiny curls looked wonderful. Stifling a regretful sigh, Volya climbed out the SUV and trailed after Liam.

The man who stood on the other side of the pickup, smoking and studying the trees, didn't look like he was overjoyed to see them. Stocky but not unfit, the Elder—for Volya doubted they could run at someone accidentally in the heart of wilderness—must have been in his mid-fifties to early sixties. His face was rugged but clean-shaven, with well-defined folds running from nose to mouth with a plumper lower lip. The graying hair pulled in a braid, ran down his neck, onto the collar of a felt vest. Aside from that, he wore a plain dark-blue shirt and matching jeans. The clever brown eyes, screened by heavy-rimmed glasses, moved from Liam to Volya, without a comment.

"Good morning," said Liam, "thank you for meeting with us, Elder Warden."

Usually, Liam acted with as much ease among the people twice his senior as he was with Volya, but here he put aside all the charm, straightening like a schoolboy. Not that he was much older than a schoolboy...

"Hello," Warden said, flicking the cigarette out and extinguishing it on the sole of his shoe. He tossed the butt into a trash bag in his truck.

They all shook hands.

Liam repeated his thanks, then stuffed his hands into his pockets and went to sit in the SUV, leaving Volya with the Elder.

"You can put this thing away," the Elder said, jerking his chin at Volya's iPad.

"It has the translating app," Volya protested through the very app he was talking about.

"You don't say."

"My English sucks," Volya explained in English. And winced at how wrong the heathen vowels sounded even to his own ear. Marina had trained him to pick up on it, but correcting it was a work in progress. Months, she had said, it would take months... Until then, he was stuck in limbo of knowing he was terrible and chipping at it one vowel at a time, through gritted teeth.

The Elder shook his head. "You can put it away."

"But I wouldn't understand anything you tell me."

The Elder scoffed and walked away under the canopy of the spruces, his steps cushioned by moss and fallen spruce needles.

One more minute—and he'd blend into the trees, disappear from sight.

Volya had no choice but to hurry after him.

"I have nothing to tell you, foreigner. I've promised to take you to our sacred landscape as a favor to Lydia," the Elder said over his shoulder once Volya caught up.