The Clan of Outcasts (Seasons 1 and 2)

Part 2: "Reborn"

The Forest

"Get up!"

Velora yelped as a thick, blunt object connected heavily with her side. She curled herself into a ball and tried to swallow back the bile climbing her throat. She opened her eyes to see a soiled boot fill her vision. It lifted.

"I said get up!"

Velora snatched her body out of the way, but everything felt slow and foggy. She smacked her head against the tree behind her, and used that to prop herself up in a sitting position. A burly, bad-smelling man crouched in front of her. His low-hanging jowls proclaimed the malnourishment suffered by the whole group.

"You ain't dead yet, Stray," he snarled in her face. "On your feet. Time to get moving."

Velora heard the words, and imagined the feeling of standing up and walking away—but her body didn't move.

"Come on!" He grabbed her shoulder and hauled her upright.

Velora felt as if her bones had been replaced with cloth. He dragged her like a limp doll over to the fire. She felt no pain—or too much pain.

"Another one," he grunted.

A soothing female voice echoed just on the edge of Velora's hearing. "It's the forest. It's making everyone sick. We need food to strengthen our bodies—"

"Well there isn't any! I sent scouts out two days ago to see if there was anything left of the village—"

"Stronger than they can..."

"Leave behind..."

The words were more garbled, blending together in nonsense as Velora felt her body suddenly get very tight and it was hard to breathe. Something rubbed against her leg—no, she was shaking so hard that her body rubbed against the ground.

The sounds of voices gave way to the growls of animals. When Velora could see straight again, she screamed.

The only people left around her were mangled bodies, still trickling fresh blood. The only living creatures roaming the camp in the dark were a pack of lean, dark wolves. They had made short work of those already dead, but they had gotten their full of others besides her.

Velora felt the rush of fear giving her body the strength she needed to escape—but the moment she moved, the pack would be on her. Right now, they were full and relaxed, and did not regard her as a threat.

Velora fought to hold her body inert and squeeze her eyes shut as the wolves scurried around, sniffling the surroundings and growling as they wrestled each other. She chomped down on the insides of her cheeks to keep her chin from trembling.

At last, the wail echoed through the deep night. All activity ceased as the alpha greywolf summoned his pack. They answered, and Velora listened to the snorts and snarls of the departing pack. Only when she could not hear any sound but that of the surrounding forest did Velora dare to open her eyes.

The pack was long gone. She struggled to her feet amid the carnage. She recognized the bodies of some of the survivors, but not all. The rest of them were still out in the forest somewhere.

They had left her behind because they assumed she was too weak to keep up; Velora narrowed her eyes as she spotted a trail through the undergrowth far too large to have been left by the wolves. Just outside the perimeter, she found a heavy boot print that matched the tread that had been so generously presented to her so many hours ago.

She would find them. She would survive. They dismissed her as weak, but now it was time to prove her mettle.

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