Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

6. Glyph of Hope

July 2018, Southern Russia, near Buyan Isle on the River Don

***

Damir's carriage was an old Niva, basic by design and beat-up after who knows how many off-road trips. But its innards looked shiny when Damir popped the hood to demonstrate just how good his girl was. The explanation was lost on Volya. However, to improve Damir's mood he muddled through the carburetors-and-plugs talk.

Naturally, it took longer to be on their way than Damir had imagined. It just was the law of the universe that everything took longer to prep for a 100% carnivorous werewolf, even when this werewolf had a stash of powdered Werewolf Gatorade for emergencies.

The Niva seemed to heave a relieved sigh once Damir sped it out of Moscow. It rolled on jauntily, happy to show what it was capable of vs. sitting in a garage, sagging under the weight of stuff packed into it. Damir also cheered up, opened all four windows and drove with a cigarette hanging off his lip.

Volya used the window to stretch out his legs and closed his eyes. The list Damir had given him unscrolled in his memory, while the villages, towns, railroad crossing and fields of rye gave way to towns, villages, railroad crossings and fields of corn as the roaded threaded south.

Ivan Sirota, aged 45, Saransk Prison. Sila Wolkov, aged 5, orphanage, Rostov. Neljub Dikoy, aged 19, location unknown. Bronya Wolkov, 28 to 30 years of age—

At some point, Liam texted in panic that Anabelle was moving in freaking tomorrow and Anabelle texted in exhilaration that she was moving in freaking tomorrow.

Volya sent thumbs up in response to both siblings, then texted take care of him, okay? to Anabelle. Anabelle asked him if he could hear her eyes rolling from Moscow. He'd almost told her he wasn't in Moscow, but then half-lied, I guess?

He probably should have told Liam that he'd left Moscow, but by the time he built up his courage to fess up he was on the road again, both the time for composing long texts and the road had run out.

Going to the Buyan now, he texted hastily, hot under the collar despite the draft in the car. Then he added, I love you.

Niva barreled down the grass toward the River Don, hopping over the bumps. The phone jumped up and down too, making it hellishly difficult to type, but he felt he had too. He'd hate himself if he didn't, even if Liam had never come to terms with his journey. Even if Liam couldn't come with him as he had once promised he would.

"That's it, that's the site," Damir said unnecessarily, parking the vehicle closer to the river than when they had to set up the huge camp. With just two of them, they planned to be right at the shore. "Do you recognize it?"

"Duh?"

"Of course you do. Okay, let's set up—"

Volya stopped listening. He climbed out of the car, stretching his legs. Around him, the familiar gentle green shapes rolled to the horizon. The bright blue river flowed between its banks. The dragonflies chased their buzzing prey through the sky.

It was the site, indubitably, but it had changed in many ways.

The air pressed heavier on his chest. The birds chirped louder, sending signals of alarm to one another. The grass rippled into each shuddering breath of the wind. The clouds raced overhead, promising rain or maybe even a thunderstorm. And the scents that filled his nostrils were many and different from idyllic dry grass, sunbaked dirt and wet stones as the river water splashed over them.