Captive Of The Warg, (Wargs of the Outland #2)

Wargrix

The question of what they were hunting remained an enigma hours into the trek. That Basil, now fully grown and thick-muscled, had been left behind unsettled her further. The blue wolf often accompanied Bayne on hunts. Why not today?

She'd posed the question to Bayne soon after departure, but the wargrex's reply had only served to frustrate her further. "Claws and teeth won't serve us today."

So she'd stewed and ignored him ever since. She'd tried to let the crisp, mountain air perk her mood. The evergreen scents spiced each deep breath she took, and a pair of thrushes skipped and dove overhead before darting away. Even Saska's prattling was relaxing.

It was no use, though, she couldn't distract herself from that damnable warg's powerful muscles. Or from the magnetic swing of the ax at his hip. And there was another question rattling about in her head. One which posed a great deal of noise in her mind, and she couldn't stand it anymore.

Saska's breath puffed out in warm clouds as she waffled on, unaware that Reia was only half listening. "I can't wait for Tungfolk next year. All the packs will be there!"

"Where is there?" Reia asked absently.

"Esk—it's the largest warg city in the motherland."

"Hmm." Reia wondered why she hadn't sighted a squirrel in miles. She looked up, but there were no more birds scudding along the sky's dreary underbelly. Just the mad laughter of crows in the distant woods. The thrushes were long gone.

Up ahead, Nork sent a giant snowball at Flekki's head. Groll and Bolrus snickered as Flekki back bowed and he plowed face-first into the ice. Laughing, Bayne scooped up a giant snowball in his great paws.

Reia watched the wargrex carefully, her lips parting as he catapulted the ice with a feral grin. Groll's guffaws died instantly as the snow exploded on his wide, laughing mouth.

"My father won't attend," Saska went on, her hair glinting auburn in the grey light, "but Thrax and Rowan will be there. I hear there's a new wargrex of Esk. One interested in trade with East Gate. There's a rumor that the Wargrex of Esk has invited a delegate from East Gate to Tungfolk." Saska bumped her shoulder. "That should be interesting."

"Very." Reia bumped her back, taking a drink from her waterskin.

"I think every eligible warga is going, too." Saska's voice lowered. "Apparently there's no wargrix of Esk...yet."

Reia coughed, wincing as the water swooped down the wrong pipe and shot out her nose.

There it was! That godscursed word again. Wargrix.

She stowed her water with a sputtering wheeze, her glare swerving to Saska. Finally, that gnawing question would be answered. "What—" She coughed, cleared her throat, and tried again. "What exactly is a wargrix?"

She'd been hoping to glean information from random conversations so that she didn't have to ask anyone outright. Her eyes flitted furtively to Bayne. Especially not that hoary-mouthed, lemon-sucking canker-bladder. She'd choke on a lake of water before she'd ask him anything ever again. So far, though, there'd been no mention of this wargrix person.

Her curiosity writhed with impatience as she waited for Saska to answer.

"A wargrix is the highest rank in the pack," the girl finally said, her tone hushed. "Mate of the wargrex." Brown eyes flicked sideways, enveloping Reia in a voluble and unmistakable look. You. You are wargrix.

Reia's heart spluttered. Heat careened into her face. For a beat, her feet plowed discordantly through the snow, which drew several warg gazes.

Including Bayne's. He peered at her over his wide shoulder, amber irises darkening with intrigue.