when he said we were scattered all over the place, but... Seems like it’s true.”
“Joram,” someone else said, emerging from the darkness. “Er, Blight, sir,” he corrected himself quickly. “Is the prisoner awake?”
“Who else would I be talking to?” answered the ancient wolf.
A hand shot out and connected with a jaw. For once, Devin was glad it wasn’t his mouth that bleeding.
Then, turning back to Devin, Blight said, “Fort Branch? You’ve already helped me more than you know. When the Skarachee elder’s life force began to drain, it strengthened me. I awakened with a heart full of vengeance, a soul that will not rest. That is, until I’ve retaken my rightful place as the grand alpha.”
“You’re going to Fort Branch?” Devin asked. “But... why? I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to, pup,” Blight growled. “You will simply do what I tell you to do. You want revenge on your brother? Who stole your dignity and cast you out? Is that what you want?”
Joram Blight drew very close to Devin, and as the old wolf took Devin’s head in his hands, Devin looked down to see that he was walking heavily on a twisted cane.
“Is that it? Your heart burns with rage, doesn’t it? You want to kill him for what he did. You want to punish him?”
“I...” Despite himself, Devin had begun to nod. “More than anything. Yes.”
“Good,” Blight smiled, silver capped teeth glistening in the moonlight. “Good.”
Blight turned away from Devin, who had slumped over again and was pulling ragged breaths.
Something whipped through the air.
In the split-second before Devin’s entire world exploded and then faded into inky black, he saw the end of that gnarled cane. A shape – three vertical lines, further apart at the top than the bottom, with a thick line connecting all of them – burned itself into his memory.
The next morning, when he awoke half-sunk in a swamp, the only thing he knew was that he needed to go back to Fort Branch. Why, he couldn’t think, but he knew he had to go home.
Devin looked around, and ran his hand along his throbbing jaw. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon and Devin took two stuttering, uncertain steps away from it. There, he found, tucked under some fallen branches, was his motorcycle. It was apparently safe and untouched, just waiting for him.
The keys were on the ground.
Glancing around one last time, Devin tried to make sense of it, tried to get his head straight enough to figure out where he was, and how long he’d been there, but it was no good.
Nothing was any good.
The only thing he could think about was how bad his goddamn head hurt. How badly it stung when he breathed and air went over his busted lips.
Reeling, Devin climbed onto the bike and knocked away all the stuff that was piled up on it with one sweep of his arm. When he did, he noticed three pink lines on his wrist, as though someone had burned them into his skin. Three pink lines, tilting away from each other at the top, all joined with a band across them.
Devin took another breath and kicked the bike, nodding as the engine roared, then purred, and he slowly made his way away from the water, in search of a road.
There was one other thing on his mind, Devin realized, as a drop of salty sweat hit his lips, and burned.
How much he hated Damon.
Gripping the handlebars and watching the moon, he sped west.
He didn’t care what it took.
Devin was going to get even.
-5-
––––––––
“G ood,” Poko said, in his rattling voice. “Now, tell me what you see.”
I flattened my hands against the fire-warmed stones in the middle of the cave. It was cold out – not Arizona cold, real, actual cold – and had been, for most of the four days Damon had been gone.
“I’m trying to see Damon,” I said. “But, I can’t focus on anything.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Poko shifted his weight. I heard his pine straw mat crackling. “You mustn’t try so hard to focus on
“Joram,” someone else said, emerging from the darkness. “Er, Blight, sir,” he corrected himself quickly. “Is the prisoner awake?”
“Who else would I be talking to?” answered the ancient wolf.
A hand shot out and connected with a jaw. For once, Devin was glad it wasn’t his mouth that bleeding.
Then, turning back to Devin, Blight said, “Fort Branch? You’ve already helped me more than you know. When the Skarachee elder’s life force began to drain, it strengthened me. I awakened with a heart full of vengeance, a soul that will not rest. That is, until I’ve retaken my rightful place as the grand alpha.”
“You’re going to Fort Branch?” Devin asked. “But... why? I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to, pup,” Blight growled. “You will simply do what I tell you to do. You want revenge on your brother? Who stole your dignity and cast you out? Is that what you want?”
Joram Blight drew very close to Devin, and as the old wolf took Devin’s head in his hands, Devin looked down to see that he was walking heavily on a twisted cane.
“Is that it? Your heart burns with rage, doesn’t it? You want to kill him for what he did. You want to punish him?”
“I...” Despite himself, Devin had begun to nod. “More than anything. Yes.”
“Good,” Blight smiled, silver capped teeth glistening in the moonlight. “Good.”
Blight turned away from Devin, who had slumped over again and was pulling ragged breaths.
Something whipped through the air.
In the split-second before Devin’s entire world exploded and then faded into inky black, he saw the end of that gnarled cane. A shape – three vertical lines, further apart at the top than the bottom, with a thick line connecting all of them – burned itself into his memory.
The next morning, when he awoke half-sunk in a swamp, the only thing he knew was that he needed to go back to Fort Branch. Why, he couldn’t think, but he knew he had to go home.
Devin looked around, and ran his hand along his throbbing jaw. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon and Devin took two stuttering, uncertain steps away from it. There, he found, tucked under some fallen branches, was his motorcycle. It was apparently safe and untouched, just waiting for him.
The keys were on the ground.
Glancing around one last time, Devin tried to make sense of it, tried to get his head straight enough to figure out where he was, and how long he’d been there, but it was no good.
Nothing was any good.
The only thing he could think about was how bad his goddamn head hurt. How badly it stung when he breathed and air went over his busted lips.
Reeling, Devin climbed onto the bike and knocked away all the stuff that was piled up on it with one sweep of his arm. When he did, he noticed three pink lines on his wrist, as though someone had burned them into his skin. Three pink lines, tilting away from each other at the top, all joined with a band across them.
Devin took another breath and kicked the bike, nodding as the engine roared, then purred, and he slowly made his way away from the water, in search of a road.
There was one other thing on his mind, Devin realized, as a drop of salty sweat hit his lips, and burned.
How much he hated Damon.
Gripping the handlebars and watching the moon, he sped west.
He didn’t care what it took.
Devin was going to get even.
-5-
––––––––
“G ood,” Poko said, in his rattling voice. “Now, tell me what you see.”
I flattened my hands against the fire-warmed stones in the middle of the cave. It was cold out – not Arizona cold, real, actual cold – and had been, for most of the four days Damon had been gone.
“I’m trying to see Damon,” I said. “But, I can’t focus on anything.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Poko shifted his weight. I heard his pine straw mat crackling. “You mustn’t try so hard to focus on
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