The Wolf of the Wilds

The Song

After that the summit quickly approached. The anticipation was getting to Helena a little and she grew more snappish and fidgety as time went by. At first she thought it was the full moon that made her so anxious, but once the night had past her nerves didn't subside. She'd never been one for nail biting, but on the day of their departure her nails were little more than stubs.

The party was in the town, a procession of horses, carts and wolves standing in line. There was a little commotion as they loaded on their supplies, checked their horses and said their farewells to friends and family.

Cheval nudged Helena's side as he gave her an impatient look, huffing breezily as a wolf nearby began crying, the noise assaulting the ears of the maudlin pair. Lena patted his shoulder twice, leaning closer.

"Don't worry, soon we'll be away from this infernal ruckus," she said, earning an appreciative flick of the head.

Up ahead she saw Iona conversing with Felix. They had grown considerably closer in recent times and it wasn't unusual to see them walking side by side in town. Helena was happy for them, it was just frustrating watching them dance around the subject like a pair of fearful pups. They both resolutely refused to acknowledge their feelings and the longing gazes they kept throwing around were grating on her nerves. At times she'd been very tempted to just lock them in a room for the day and see if that would sort them out.

Of course, she understood their hesitation. They had a unique and difficult situation to face, but it'd help if they just spoke to each other like adult wolves.

Eventually they parted with a hug and Iona came skipping over with rosy cheeks. Her plaited hair swung behind her like a pendulum as she pounced on the wary rogue with heedless glee.

"Oh I'm going to miss you Lena!" She said, squeezing her with a surprising amount of force. Helena rubbed her back hurriedly and tugged at her dress in an effort to escape her grasp.

"Okay, okay, you can stop suffocating me now," she replied with a hint of desperation. Iona quickly relaxed her grip and stepped back sheepishly.

"Sorry, I clearly don't know my own strength."

Helena readjusted her belt and looked at Iona with a slight smile.

"I suppose I won't hold it against you this once. It'll certainly be odd not seeing you, but we'll be back soon enough. I'll bring you back a souvenir if I can," Lena offered.

"Thank you. I hope you have a nice time and do tell me all the juicy details when you return. I want to know all of the dirt," she said with a fiendish grin. Lena's smile twisted into a smirk.

"Don't worry, I'll make notes."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Adrian, bearing two leather water canteens.

"Morning Iona," he said, handing Helena one of the canteens.

"Hello Adrian. Looking forward to the summit?" She asked with a tilt of the head and an innocent expression. The beta eyed her wearily, still unsure of what to make of her. He stood at Helena's side and began inspecting the ground.

"Yes, I guess," he mumbled, scratching his rough chin. Iona snorted and put her hands on her hips.

"So eloquent as always Adrian. Helena, for your sake I really hope he's more talkative in the bedroom." 

Adrian made a very undignified noise and Helena held back a laugh, patting her mate's back.

"Don't fret, you're just a bit stressed about the journey aren't you Adrian?" She reasoned, earning a disgruntled nod. Iona looked between the two wolves and tutted fondly. 

"Ah, very well. I best not be keeping you any longer then. I'll see you both soon." She gave Helena one last hug and shook Adrian's hand.

After that they were sent off with a parade of waving wolves and only once they were past the pack boundaries were they truly alone. Up front was the alphas, the navigator and two warriors. In the middle Petrine, the scouts and an additional three warriors resided, leaving Helena and Adrian to follow along at the back.

Today, the sun seemed determined to cook them all. That in itself was a rarity and it was one of the few times that Helena had been reminded of her forest home since her departure all those weeks ago. She tipped her head back and enjoyed the soft heat that covered her skin as it sunk down and warmed her, taking a deep breath of the summer air. It had an autumn tang to it now, fresh even with the mounting temperature.

Despite her enjoyment, her fellows seemed less than impressed by the heatwave. The odour of sweat hung like a heavy cloud over them, while the sound of deep breaths and gulps of water was a chaotic melody.

"You'd think that they'd hold the meeting in spring rather than the height of summer, wouldn't you?" She said as they passed into the canopy of the forest, the shadows giving them some relief from the weather.

Adrian sipped at his canteen and nodded.

"You'd think so wouldn't you?" He said bitterly. He wasn't very fond of summer, nor the sun for that matter. If he had it his way, then he'd stay inside the whole season. "I think they do it because Imber is so terribly miserable the rest of the year. They wouldn't be able to convince anyone to attend if it was going to rain the whole time."

"That's true. Whenever I've visited it's always been torrential." 

"Same here. When did you visit before?"

"About four years ago. I went to the city of Wye for weapon repairs. It's on the west so their weather is even more miserable if possible."

"I don't envy you."

The rest of the journey south west passed pleasantly. The party didn't encounter any issues as they followed the coastal roads and the nights were warm and mild, perfect conditions for camping.

Most nights Lena would stay up late into the night, long after the other wolves had been claimed by dreams, thinking, contemplating and reminiscing.

The night before their arrival at the ferry Helena sat against the base of a fir tree, the fire before her and the tents erected in a circle around the clearing. The fire was hissing and crackling as it clung to its last embers of life, the trees swaying under the slight breeze. She stared at the waning crescent moon above, her knife resting flat across her knees as she hummed a quiet song.

It was a childhood memory of sorts.

Every night as a small child her brother, afraid of her angering their parents, would sneak into her room to help her go to sleep. He had sat on the floor beside her bed and sung the words under his breath, gently ushering her to the land of rest. The ash tree and the lake, the song was called. She could remember the tapping of his finger on the floor boards, the smell of the lavender bush that sat outside her window and the feel of the patchwork blanket that she pulled up to chin each night.

It was a pleasant memory.

She didn't even make it to the final verse, before her head lulled forward and she allowed herself to slip into her tormented nightmares.