A mysterious past, an unrequited love, and a desperate need to find himself, fifteen-year-old Kalyn has enough to occupy him without being on the verge of a massive societal upheaval. Join Kalyn and his friends as they explore what it means to come...
Over the coming weeks, the attack and the impending trial seem to be on the tip of everyone's tongue, though no one dares to utter their suspicions. There are Wolves everywhere now—more than I remember—prowling the streets and perking up their ears at stray bits of gossip. Corsa seems to be the only one undeterred by this snarling audience, and it would be a lie to claim I didn't cringe every time she broke into one of her tirades in public.
I have a hard enough time fitting in here without the added attention. The unsavory affiliation... At every turn, Enos and I try to quiet her for her (and our) own good.
Though there are some outspoken outliers, most of the tribe seems to be hopeful that the truth will all come to light at the trial. There are witnesses in droves... not to mention that Dager's wolfhound is five times the size of the other Incarnate. He will pay reparations (heavens knows he can afford it), and, though it could never be enough to replace what was lost, peace will be restored. All we must do is wait. Wait and have faith that justice will be done.
As the days tick closer, the villagers seem to hold a unified breath. Elder Pashal remains in his sick bed, and the family has rallied behind Dager in his absence. Rations have been scarce. Dager claims that preparations for the trial have prevented him from stocking his stores, but certain families host bountiful feasts each night, their guest list highly exclusive.
Skirmishes at the border are a daily occurrence. Due to the dangers, the Wolves have tightened security, only allowing those with special permits beyond the walls to hunt and forage. Travelers are still barred from entrance.
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"I've been banned from the general store," Corsa announces one evening after returning from town empty-handed. Her eyes are unfocused, her tone breathless.
"What?" Enos demands. "What happened??" There is no hiding the accusation in his tone. We are all well aware of Corsa's rants, of her accosting anyone and everyone who will listen. She must have taken things too far this time. There must have been a fight. Though we all know it, no one airs this blame aloud.
"Nothing," Corsa answers, feeling our judgment. "There were two men at the front. They said I wasn't welcome any more. None of us are."
"How are we supposed to eat?" Even if we were able to obtain a permit (no one I know has been), neither Corsa's cat nor my lizard are up to the task of hunting.
"I don't know," she admits, head in her hands.
"What about the farm?" Enos grasps. It is almost time for harvest. Surely our hard work will save us.
"The Wolves are seizing crops to stock the shelves." As if announced, there is a knock at the door.
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