The Movement

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The blood has dried—smoke sticks to the skin

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The blood has dried—smoke sticks to the skin. 

All can be washed away.

It's the screams that won't leave the inside of my ears. 

My father, Finian, and Greyson fought as if they were all den brothers. Victoria has left blood smears, with a clench in her jaw. A monster was awakened within her, even Finian took a step back to allow her Wild some composure. To face her Wild is to face the fact that you only have two options, live or die. There is no in-between. 

 Not one wolf lived. 

Now when Victoria walks, the wolves part to allow her to step forward and she is followed by a group of females from different packs that have braided their hair exactly like hers. They form a semi-circle around her as if protecting something special, something sacred. 

Victoria needs no protection. 

The crows have gathered following us as we march. Victoria hurls rocks from healing battered hands. She kills two. 

"You can't kill them all," I say. 

"I can try," she smiles with her teeth—truly terrifying. 

A spasm when the ash breeze touches my sore jaw, almost as if the wind wants to make my skin feel better. There is a snarl from my Wild, it sounds more like never than a growl. 

"Never," I growl out, letting the same wind used to caress my skin understand.  The sound carries into the forest swaying the trees with the groan of wood. I'm stunned for a few seconds at what I had just done. A silence falls on the wolves who regard me with slightly opened mouths, and eyes that have enlarged. 

Blue eyes meet mine but they are not my Half — I blink, and the eyes are gone. 

Walking back to the center of the territory, it's hard not to look around, the feeling of being stalked shivers down my spine. Something is watching. At times there is a shadow that gives the location away. But I can't what stalks my movement. I can feel him, but I can't see the warrior who now steps as I step into the ground as if learning how I walk. This reminds me of how I learned how to walk as the Ram walked on the cliffs. How I learned from the mountain lion, the wolverine, from the bear.  Something is with me now. I feel his presence on the back of my neck with my hair raised. 

The Wild sends a caution growl towards what is stalking me, the sound is met with hunting silence. 

The Luna is there to greet us with a stoic face, and judging eyes. We have brought no one from that pack back with us. Their skulls line the beaches for the fleets of ships to anchor on. Let them see what awaits them. 

"Elska, come here." My sister walks with her toe first, towards the direction of my voice. She's wrapped up in her Silk. My mother once said to her, that the material protects a female from the harm of the eyes of a mate. Now my sister is wearing the dress as if she has thick armor covering her body. 

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