*Isabella*
Dust rises up off the road, clogging our lungs and coating our tongues. Even though we’re walking on the raised sidewalk that runs along the outside of the shops to keep our boots out of the horse muck, it hasn’t rained much yet this spring, and the grit in my eyes is proof we are due a nice thunderstorm.
“Where are we going, Ma?” Alice whines, darting forward toward our mother so quickly she near pulls my shoulder out of its socket. Keeping a good grip on her hand, I tug her back. “Sis said we aren’t going west.”
“That was before.” Ma’s words are clipped. She doesn’t even turn her head to look at us. “We’re just going to listen.”
On my other side, Robert huffs under his breath but says nothing. I wish I hadn’t promised them anything last night. I’d felt defeated myself and thought there was little chance of us ever leaving this place only to have everything turned on its head when our cousin was killed.
“We’re doin’ more than that.” Joseph, who is a good four feet behind us and has gotten separated from the rest of the family a few times as busy shoppers exit the businesses around us, stepping into an opening and not recognizing the fact that the young man loping so far behind us is actually part of our party.
“No one has decided nothin’,” Ma reiterates. This time, she does whip around to give us a stern look before turning back around in time to avoid running into a gaggle of children running down the walkway, laughing, with licorice in their hands. “Heathens,” Ma mutters.
Pa grunts. He has that steely look on his face, the one that tells us no matter what our mother may be attempting to speak into existence, the decision has, for certain, already been made.
I knew it last night when Pa’s eyes met mine from across the room, only a flame’s flicker after Henry left this world.
After that, Uncle Tim had lain into Pa. How could we possibly stay here now? We have to leave now before it’s too late.
Pa had suggested they wait until today, give it some time and proper thought, but Uncle Tim was more determined than ever.
Today, a couple of veterans my father is acquainted with from the war are holding a meeting to see how much interest there is in organizing a party. It’s the same one my uncle and Mr. Casper were talking about just a few hours before Henry met his demise. Over breakfast, Ma had ranted about how it was likely to be a bunch of foreigners who don’t even speak the language, folks we won’t even be able to communicate with through the mind-link because they ain’t from our pack.
Pa, the picture of tranquility, sipped his coffee and reminded her that we’d promised her grieving brother we’d hear them out.
“I don’t know why we are dragging the children along,” Ma says as we approach the old bank building that now serves as a makeshift meeting space since the new bank opened across town.
I’m not surprised when Pa pretends he didn’t hear Ma’s statement. He does that when he don’t feel like arguing and doesn’t have an answer she’ll like.
I’m about to walk inside when I hear a whoop go up across the street. My head turns in that direction, and immediately my mouth drops open as I see what all the noise is about.
It’s a rare sight for our little town. Feathers, leather, bright colors, long black hair, skin truly kissed by the sun’s rays. Four men walk along the walkway, wide smiles on their faces as they take in everything our Tennessee town has to offer. I can imagine everywhere they look, they see something new and interesting, too, as none of us are anything like them.
My eyes meet a pair of black glossy orbs, and my breath stutters in my throat. Even though he’s clear on the other side of the street and a team of horses has just raced by, stirring up the dust, I see him as clear as I saw the back of Ma’s head as I followed her here before his very existence snapped me out of one reality and into another one.
He sees me, too.
The acknowledgement is small, just a shallow inhale, the tilt of his head, the quirk of a smile in the corner of his mouth.
Then, his friend says something, and he turns away, shiny black hair floating like ribbons as he turns.
“Izzy?”
My attention is ripped back to my family as a yelp escapes my gaping mouth. “Sorry,” I mutter as Pa raises an eyebrow. “That was loud.”
Again, his only response is a low rumble in the back of his throat that tells me I cannot get anything by the steady eyes of a man who was once responsible for convincing thousands of men to follow him across death’s threshold.
He holds the door to the bank for us, and we all go in.
Once again, I’m caught off guard. I was expecting ten or fifteen people, but the entire room is full. Ma lets out an unamused laugh as Pa takes her hand and leads her to a spot with a little more room. I reach for Robert’s hand to pull him along, but he snatches away from me, reminding me he’s not a baby anymore. I let him go, giving him a scowl, and the three of us follow, with Joseph lagging behind.
Aunt Lena is perched on the edge of one of the few chairs left in the space, a handkerchief pressed to her nose. Hanna sits on the floor next to her, forlorn, and Uncle Tim, whose hands grip his wife’s shoulders, follows us with puffy eyes. Next to him, Mr. Casper and his family stand stoic, their heads tipped slightly as if to punctuate the fact that they wanted to be here all along, and it didn’t take the death of a young man to persuade them to stand with their friends.
Once we are tucked out of the way a bit, I take a look around. I’ve lived here my entire life and don’t recognize a single face, other than those I’ve already named. Most of these people look like they just swam across the ocean and walked from Savannah or some other port city. They’re dirty. Thin. Their clothes are worn and wrinkled. A few of them cough into their sleeves or sneeze. Ma wraps her arms around Alice and Robert and pulls them closer as if that will keep them from becoming infected with whatever these folks are suffering from.
None of them look prepared to shift and run for thousands of miles across forests and prairies, to cross mountains, to swim across rapid rivers. What the hell are they thinking?
“I think we’ll go ahead and get started.” A man with gray hair dressed in a military uniform steps forward, another, slightly younger man in marching garbs at his shoulder. “I’m Major Sanders, and this is Burns. We’re holdin’ this meetin’ to see if there’s any interest in organizing a party to head west—tomorrow.”
A murmur rips through the crowd, and at first I think it’s because everyone is so surprised that we’re leaving right away, but then, people begin shaking their heads, and I realize they don’t understand a damn word he’s saying.
Sanders swears under his breath. “Anyone speak English? Parle vous English?” His French accent is almost comical, but I can’t laugh at a time like this, so I bite it back.
A girl about my age in the back of the room raises her hand. “I do. Some.”
Sanders swears again, and the girl translates, which has all the mothers covering their children’s dirty ears.
This time, I can’t help it, and a giggle slips out. Ma elbows me hard in the ribs, and I manage to rein it in.
“What’s yer name?” Sanders asks her.
“Genevieve,” she says, bowing her head to him as if he’s the Alpha or something. She steps through the crowd to stand in front of him.
“All right, Ginny,” he says, like he’s hard of hearing or just doesn’t care that he’s changed who she is. “Tell ‘em everything I say. Every word. Except the swears. Got it?”
She nods, and when Sanders starts lecturing us all about how we’re basically all starting a slow march into death’s open arms, the girl repeats what he’s saying in French.
My eyes wander around the room, taking in the various reactions from the crowd. One after another, their mouths drop open as Sanders—and Ginny—explain all the dangers we’ll be encountering should we be foolish enough to embark on this journey. “Deadly snakes, poisonous plants, water that’s not safe to drink, raging rivers, and worst of all, native rogues.”
When he says those last two words, Ginny’s forehead crinkles, and she turns to look at him. “Native rogues?” she repeats in her thick accent. “I don’t know how to say it.”
“Wolves that have lived in these parts for thousands of years,” Sanders tells her. “They still think those lands out west are theirs, even though the humans are tellin’ ‘em otherwise.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, thinking of the four men we saw across the street on the way here, namely the handsome one who caught my eye. They weren’t native rogues—but they were from a native pack. There’s a difference, though I doubt Sanders will have Ginny explain. Some of the packs between here and Wyoming are kind and helpful. They trade with us and the humans. As long as no one tries to take the land where they’ve settled, peace is possible.
But further west, we will encounter packs that refuse to budge. They see anyone coming their way as a threat. And maybe they’re right, but that won’t stop the humans.
And apparently, that won’t stop us neither.
A thin gentleman with a scruffy beard full of dirt raises his hand. Sanders acknowledges him, but his question is in French. Ginny translates, “Are we taking land that belongs to someone else?”
A hardy laugh emanates from both Sanders and Burns. “It ain’t theirs if they can’t keep it. Either us or someone else.”
In response, all Ginny says is, “Oui.” Yes, yes we are.
*Isabella*The bell on the door rings above me as I push through the opening to the general store, dragging Robert and Alice along. Normally, they’d want to come in here. Ma gave me two dimes to buy them licorice, but they’re so worked up about what we’re missing at the meeting, it takes the scent of sweets wafting from the front counter to remind them that they actually get a treat. “Go on,” I tell them, giving them a little shove. “Go pick out somethin’ that’ll last you.”Both of them take off running, nearly toppling a display of jars of lard on top of a barrel. I swear under my breath, but they make it through without causing a disaster. Shaking my head, I follow them to the front counter where Mrs. Nancy Williams greets them with a chuckle. She’s better natured than most or else she’d have ‘em both by the ear.Her husband, Mr. Bernard Williams, isn’t so nice. Thankfully, he’s busy. I hear his voice across the store and step around the lard display to see him standing over by wher
*Chet*I know that my cousins and younger brother will chastise me the moment we step away from the beautiful girl in the shop, and I am not wrong. Hell, they started the moment she looked in my direction, shouting out their rude thoughts in a language I was thankful she doesn’t understand.We head outside, and it’s my brother, Mowanza, who is the first to make a snide remark, speaking in our native Shaconage tongue. “She was pretty, but she won’t make it fifty miles.”I turn and glare at him. “Watch it, Mo.” I am in no mood to put up with his nonsense at the moment as I go over my conversation with the girl again and again. Why do people take such stupid risks? Why would guides act so foolishly?“Yeah, Mo,” our cousin, Howahkan agrees, but I know he is about to switch sides. “Don’t speak ill of the dead.”I turn and give Kan a playful shove, making him laugh. He is two years older than me at twenty-three and has always been thin as a rail until about a year ago when he finally starte
*Isabella*The sound of my sister and brother slurping on their candy rubbed me the wrong way as I navigate the dusty walkway outside. Ma and Pa had told us to just come on home once they had their candy, assuming they’d be done with their meetin’ by then. But when we walk outside of the general store, I see our parents a few paces ahead of us and rush after them, draggin’ Robert and Alice along.“Keep it in yer mouth or else it’ll get coated in dirt,” Robert advises Alice.“My mouth ain’t as big as yours,” she replies.“Come on. We gotta catch Ma and Pa.” I give her arm a tougher yank, and she yelps. Recognizing the sound, Ma turns her head. “What’s the matter, Alice?”“She’s got lead for feet,” I answer. “Pa, I need to talk to you.” All the information Chet shared with me gets tangled in my brain as I try to remember all the important facts. Pa probably don’t need to know how he smelled like an endless field of golden grain, but he does need to know about the game.“What is it, Izz
*Isabella*“You know that ain’t a fair price, Mac,” Harry says from the other side of the fence that acts as a corral. Behind him, a whole buncha cows are mooin’ and rushin’ around, stirrin’ up clouds of dust. Pa and him would be nose to nose if he weren’t so much shorter than pa. The negotiation seems to be breakin’ down.I don’t like to listen to people haggle. Always makes me feel a little desperate and cheap, like maybe if I can’t afford what the fella’s askin’, I shouldn’t be buyin’, so I wander away, leavin’ Joseph and Uncle Tim with Pa. I see a young calf followin’ behind its mama, and it makes me smile.“You like the baby cow?” a warm tenor voice says over my shoulder. “Think he’s cute? That’s what most girls think about, right? Not eatin’ ‘em.”I turn to see a pair of cattle hands who
*Isabella*Broad strokes of soft orange light brush along the horizon, filtering through the trees and illuminating the world in a golden haze. I blink a few times, stretch, and then remember what today is. Arching my back, I bump my sister, who moans in protest.“Sorry, Alice,” I tell her, not even tryin’ to whisper. “It’s mornin’.”She reaches up to scratch her nose without even openin’ her eyes. “Let me be.”“Let you be?” I chuckle, climbin’ over her to get my day started. “Don’t you know what today is?”Robert’s voice is chipper as he announces he’s awake. “We’re leavin’ today, Alice. Gotta get up and get a move on.”With that, Alice comes around, sittin’ up in bed with her hair all tangled, her doll clutched to her chest. “We’re leavin’ today!” It’s no
*Isabella*Over the last week or so, I’ve gotten used to the gentle rocking of the wagon back and forth as we slowly make our way across the prairie. From time to time, we’ll pass by a small town, and sometimes a few people will ride their horses in to see if there’s anything to trade.But for the most part, we’ve broken away from civilization already. It’s hard to imagine. We’re so far away from everything I’ve ever known, and in front of us sits a vast ocean of waving grass, the bright sun, and lots a critters that wanna kill us.Most of the day, I’m in my wolf form, runnin’ with the cattle. But Pa likes for me to stay with Ma and the younger kids whenever we get to a part of the journey that is a bit more dangerous. I tried arguin’ with him about it the first time he tried to run me off, but one thing I learned a long time ago is that it don’t make no sense to argue with Pa. I ain
*Chet*“We thank you, Moon Goddess, for the blessing of this animal who has given its life to feed our people. Mighty bison, we thank you for the gift of your life, and we will honor you by using your strength as our strength.”My hunting party says, “Let it be so,” together in our Shaconage language, and then we open our eyes and prepare to move the mighty bison I’ve killed back to our village to be cleaned and processed. It is the fourth bison I’ve killed this week, and along with the kills from the other hunters from my pack, we have already claimed enough meat to feed our people through the winter.It’s a good thing, too, because this herd will be moving out of our lands soon, and then we will have to wait for another herd to come through, which might not be until next spring.With the crops we are growing that will be harvested this fall, we should be set for the harsh winter.&ldqu
*Isabella*The rogue’s a grinnin’ at me like he just found his next meal. I stop dead in my tracks and stare at him, sizing him up. He’s way bigger than me, but he’s scrawny. I bet he ain’t as fast as me, and I bet he ain’t even that strong.Still, when he bares his teeth and growls at me, I think twice about going at him. Instead, I take a step back. He starts to chuckle a bit in the back of his throat, like he knows somethin’ I don’t.That’s when I smell another rogue somewhere nearby, and I have to wonder if he ain’t comin’ from behind me.Backing up is probably a bad idea. But I can’t go forward neither.‘Pa?’ I say through the mind-link. ‘I gotta problem.’‘Where are you, Izzy?’ he says back in that tone that tells me he’s annoyed. ‘Ma said you was on your way.’‘I was.’
*Isabella*Steppin’ out into the sunlight, I squint against the brightness, realizin’ it’s later in the mornin’ than I thought.“My goodness, we must’ve slept late,” I murmur to Chet just as a pony races by, nearly knockin’ me off my feet.“Hey, Izzy!” Robert hollers, grinnin’ from atop a gorgeous Appaloosa filly, his small hands tight on the reins.“Hey, Robert! Look at you go!” I call back, my heart lighter seein’ him safe and happy.Pa strides over, his expression unreadable as he takes in the sight before us. The Chyara settlement is alive with movement. Everywhere, people are workin’ in harmony, tendin’ to the land and each other.Shepherds guide flocks through open fields while other men tend to their herds. Women kneel in gardens, their hands skillful as they pull weeds and harvest food. Others weave baskets, likely used for gatherin’ nuts, berries, and roots. Older children fetch water from the creek while the younger ones follow their mothers or play in groups, watched over b
*Isabella*My heart pounds as the Chyara elder’s words settle in. We ain’t leavin’ tonight. We are stayin’ here—in their land, in their settlement, surrounded by their people. I ain’t sure if that’s an act of hospitality or control.“You four will stay here tonight,” the elder says firmly, his expression unreadable. “It is too dark to travel with the young boy.”I glance at Chet and Pa, searchin’ their faces for a response. We all know this ain’t exactly a request.“Tell your warriors to return to your camp and bring word to the boy’s mother that he is well,” the elder continues.I nod slowly. “We rightly appreciate yer help and the invitation to stay the night,” I say, keepin’ my voice steady, though unease prickles along my skin. The settlement is well protected, the people strong, and they ain’t done nothin’ to harm Robert. But somethin’ inside me still ain’t sure whether we can fully trust ‘em yet.Through the mind-link, I ask, “Should we do as he says?”Chet answers first. “We ma
*Isabella*The warriors untie our hands but keep a watchful eye on us. They don’t say much, just gesture for us to follow. I exchange a glance with Chet and Pa, then fall in step behind them, my heart hammerin’ so hard I reckon they can hear it.They lead us down a narrow path, deeper into the land they protect. The towering rock formations rise above us, jagged against the dark sky, but it ain't a cave we’re walkin’ toward—it’s a village. Lodges and tepees, sturdy and well-kept, stretch across the valley floor, flickerin’ firelight dancin’ between ‘em. The air is thick with the scent of cookin’ meat, smoke, and earth.Children peek out from behind the tents, watchin’ us with wide, curious eyes, while men and women stand near the fires, murmurin’ to one another as we pass. This is a home, a community.Chet, his voice low and formal, speaks through the mind-link, “This is no rogu
*Chet*The decision to remain on horseback alongside Mac and Unega rather than shifting was not made lightly. My wolf senses are sharp, but if we find Robert—and I am determined that we will—we must be in our human forms to help him.The scent of a human lingers along the path, interwoven with Robert’s wolf shifter scent, unsettling me. The others have noticed it, too.“Alpha, we all smell another human,” Mo informs me through the mind-link.“I have noticed that as well. Stay vigilant. Keep following the trail. We will find him,” I reply, keeping my voice steady.I glance at Unega. She is more worried than I have ever seen her. Her father, usually a pillar of unwavering strength, rides beside us, his jaw tight with unspoken dread.I slow my horse and dismount, kneeling beside a deep imprint in the earth. “Look here, Unega,” I say, pressing my fingers into the edge of the tra
*Isabella*Since the mornin’ after I became Luna—my birthday, when our pack bowed their heads to me, acceptin’ me as their Alpha’s mate—every day has been a whirlwind. Even on the days filled with monotonous travel, there’s always somethin’ wondrous waitin’ just beyond the horizon. Each sunrise, a chance to become a better leader.The elk hunt showed us that when we work together, we are unstoppable. Our warriors took down a prized bull elk with pristine form on our first try, a testament to what we can accomplish as a unified pack.I sit beside Chet on our wagon, my heart light despite the dust on the trail. “Just imagine what life will be like once we’re settled,” I muse. “Buffalo and elk herds runnin’ wild, plenty of game, a real home for our pack.”Chet, lookin’ a touch sleepy, gives me a sidelong glance. “Life will be better once we are
*Chet*As soon as I ensure Unega is safely in her father’s wagon, I stride swiftly toward my own, waking my brother and cousins with a firm shake of their shoulders.“Up. Now,” I command in a hushed tone, careful not to wake the families in the other wagons. “Unega and I were attacked.”Mo sits up immediately, eyes sharp despite the early hour. “Where? Was she injured?”“No, just a scratch on her shoulder,” I assure him. “She fought well, and we were victorious. Two rogues ambushed us in a grove of trees about one hundred and fifty yards from camp. Unega gravely wounded one, and I took the life of the other.”
*Isabella*Chet and I are far enough away from the wagon party that they ain’t able to hear us, but we don’t wanna alert any potential enemies to our hidin’ place.“I will try to be quiet,” I say through the mind-link. With a sly smile, I add, “But no promises.”With his palm cradlin’ my head, Chet lies me on my back in the lush moss beneath the trees. He unlaces the bodice of my dress, and my breasts spring forward into the cool night air. As soon as they are uncovered, both of them are enveloped again by Chet’s enormous hands.“You are so beautiful,” he praises me through the mind-link, attemptin’ to be as quiet as possible.As he continues to worship my breasts with his lips and tongue, Chet’s hands roam down to the hem of my dress, liftin’ it to above my waist. He licks and sucks m
*Isabella*The mornin’ is silent, thick with grief. Last night’s fight was bloody, and the weight of it still presses down on all of us.Dust swirls around the worn wooden sides of the wagons as we roll forward, the fields stretchin’ out around us in shades of brown and gold. The sunset paints the sky in hues of ochre and orange—so different from the deep green forests, the grassy glades, and the hills and valleys of Tennessee. This journey, this transformation, feels just as drastic. I’m caught in the space between sorrow and adventure, my heart torn between what we’ve lost and what lies ahead.Today, rather than ridin’ with Chet, I stay in the wagon with Ma and the youngin’s, offerin’ what little comfort I can.Pa keeps his eyes locked on the horizon, his shoulders stiff, ever watchful. We’ve lost too much already. We can’t afford to lose more.Even in the bright light of day, the air feels thick—like a storm is brewin’ just beyond our reach. My wolf senses prickle with unease, a me
*Chet*Shadows slice through the moonlit dust of our camp. A cruel, unnatural presence hovers in the darkness.“Unega, take the women and children closest to you, and put them all in the same wagon. Unega! We are being attacked. You must protect them,” I hope she is awake and can hear me.Suddenly, the ripping sound of flesh, the sickening crunch of bone, the desperate snarls of friends and foes as they fall hits my ears.Through the mind-link I check on Unega. “Are you still with me?”“I’m here.”The scent of blood and fear, a suffocating blanket, chokes me. Mo and Takoda work together to take down one of our attackers as I race around to flank a huge male wolf Mac has by the throat.Mac subdues the enemy as my teeth snap on his haunches. He is done; on to the