SIX

FREYA’s POV

It’s been less than two hours since Elena’s been gone, but to me, it feels like an eternity has passed. I wonder if she will be able to find any medication for father, but more importantly, I have to wonder if the medication will work at all given the condition that he is in right now.

I look at Dylan who is sleeping soundly next to me on my bed. He has kicked off his blanket in his sleep and is drooling all over our pink worn-out mattress. I love my little brother, but I hate his drools. They stink. He’ll probably stink even more when he finds his wolf one day.

In the next room, it sounds like father has woken from his sleep and is talking to mother, but I cannot be sure. All I can hear are incoherent sounds coming through the paper-thin wall between our rooms.

I stand up from the torn and tattered bed and walk towards the only window in my bedroom, wishing for some fresh air. The room is too stuffy. But as I open the creaky wings of the window, I am not greeted by the cool morning air, instead, I am greeted by piercing screams.

“They’re here! They’re here! Run!” someone shrieks. It sounds like Michael, father’s friend. He runs past our house like a crazed man, alerting everyone as he makes a mad dash back home to warn his family.

More screams follow and I smell smoke.

Damn, the Blood Stone pack is here. Quickly I shut my window and run towards mother and father’s room. They already know even before I stumble through their door.

Father shakes his head in despair and mother’s eyes are everywhere. She is obviously panicking.

“Bunker…need to hide,” father croaks. Many years ago, father made a little wooden bunker behind our house to store our goods and given his condition now, it might be the best place to go. Surely we can’t leave father behind.

Or can we?

“Yes, yes…” mother stands up, placing a trembling hand across her chest.

Father moans even as he tries to sit up holding onto his wounds, and mother helps him to his wobbly feet but he slumps onto his knees as soon as his feet touch the ground. He has no strength left.

Mother starts to cry but she tries to help him up again, not giving up.

“Just go, leave me…” father pushes mother away with all his might. “Get Dylan..”

Mother’s eyes shoot up and meet my gaze. I nod, understanding what she means. I will bring the little one to safety first. I run out of the room and scoop Dylan up in my arms, jolting the little one awake. He blinks at the sudden avalanche of actions but does not cry. Perhaps even at the tender age of two, he already understands the gravity of our situation. Without a word, he wraps his arms tightly around my neck and hides his face in my hair as I run for the bunker.

But it is too late. One foot out of our house and I am faced with a pack of bloodthirsty wolves.

***

ELENA’s POV

I lose a shoe on the climb back up the hill, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters now is giving father his medication. The sun is almost up and I am nearly home. A tiny smile plays on my lips and I feel a surge of hope swell within my heart.

Everything’s going to be alright, I tell myself. Even the pharmacist’s assistant was kind enough to give the medication for free. That in itself was a miracle. Mother used to say that a rainbow will always come after a storm, and perhaps this elusive rainbow has finally appeared for us. We’ll give father his medicine and when he gets better, maybe we can move somewhere else before the Blood Stone pack …… comes.

Something’s wrong.

I sniff the air as I approach our village. There is smoke, it is not the aromatic smell from someone’s kitchen but rather the suffocating stench of massive burning.

A house is on fire!

Shit!

I sprint up the hill, running as fast as my two feet can carry me and ignoring the twigs and branches that scrape my barefoot. But as I approach the village that I grew up in, I am greeted by not one, but three houses that are on fire and billows of dark grey smoke that consume the morning sky.

Oh no…..

Quickly I crouch behind the thick bushes a few feet away from the entrance to our little village. I am lucky no one spots me.

I see the Blood Stone pack. They are everywhere! Some are in wolf form, others still in their human form. I see them rounding up the villagers near the entrance of the village, laughing and mocking at them.

Where are my family? I peek through the leafy greens trying to get a better view and then, I see them. And my heart breaks.

Father is lying on mother’s arms within the group of villagers, half-dead as little Dylan whimpers holding onto mother’s skirt. And Freya…oh no…they’ve got Freya!

She is held by the collar of her light blue cotton dress, struggling, as one of Blood Stone’s men  breathe in the scent of her hair. Another stands nearby, his eyes undressing my sister in his mind. I see them laughing as they make derogatory remarks about my sister.

How dare they touch my sister! My breathing labours as I try to think of a way to save them. What can I do?

Then I see another man come forward to where Freya is struggling and he barks, “You know our orders. Clyde wants one female from every family. We don’t take more than that, otherwise, there’ll be nothing left for us later on.”

What does that mean? Are they here for tributes? My heart races in both fear and rage. How dare they touch my little sister! How dare they come and lay waste to our village! We have worked so hard for everything that we own. How dare they come and destroy everything?!

Rage courses through my veins and I sink my fingers into my palm, shredding them in frustrations and anger. If only I could shift. Through the leaves, I can see Michael pleading with the men as they grab his wife from the group.

Why are they taking her? She is already a mother of two boys! From where I hide, I see Michael trying to stop them, pulling at the leg of one of the men and begging for them to let her go. His wife, Cecil, screams for her husband as she trashes wildly in the grasp of one of the men. Michael is slapped across the face and gutted in his stomach by the man but still, he clings onto the man’s leg, desperately pleading for his wife’s freedom.

Then suddenly, one of the wolves leap onto him and sink its teeth into Michael’s throat, tearing into his jugular veins. Then everything becomes deathly silent. I blink, not understanding what has just happened.

“MICHAEL!” a high pitched shrill tears through the silence and realization stabs at me like a knife through the heart. The wolf killed Michael in cold blood. He slumps onto the ground like a sack of potatoes, blood pooling the muddy soil and Cecil cries in despair, kicking and flapping her hands in the air even as one of the men restrain her. Beside them, Freya stops moving, as does everyone else in the village.

I clasp a hand to my mouth and father’s medicine bag rolls onto the ground, forgotten.

Oh God…they killed Michael. They KILLED Michael!

“See this useless wolf? Defy us and you will end up like him!”One of the men declares, his voice cutting through Cecil’s screams. Irritated, he turns and backhands her across her face, sending her staggering back. She screams and tries to shift only for another wolf to bite into her back. Cecil’s screams scale back to a heart-wrenching whimper as her children stare unblinking at their father’s lifeless body, both utterly in shock. The events of today will surely scar them for life.

“We are here on Alpha Clyde’s orders!” the man continues, holding everyone’s fearful attention. He lifts a finger, “One, for your goods and two..” He gives a leering look at Freya who avoids his gaze, “For one tribute from each family.”

I inhale sharply…. A tribute. So they really are here for the women. I see the look of terror frozen on Freya’s face and the despair in mother’s eyes as well every one of the villagers’. We are outnumbered and simply cannot fight back. Every family will be losing a loved one today.

A part of me wants to run away. If I do, I will be safe and no one would know. But I cannot. This is my family. How can I abandon them?

At that moment, I know what I have to do. I stand up from my hiding place and walk calmly towards the village. One step. No one sees me. I can still run away and pretend this all never happened.

Two steps. Father opens his eyes and sees me and I see him shaking his head in protest. He knows what I am about to do.

Three steps, I step on a dried twig and it snaps. One of the men turns his head around and sees me.

Four steps, I raise my hands in an act of surrender. Five steps…I stop and force myself to say, “Take me. I volunteer as tribute for my family.”