Vuko POV
Something no one tells you about Quests. There's a lot of walking, trudging, lumbering, plodding, slogging ...
... by the time the sun shimmers at the horizon behind me and the crescent moon dips below the horizon before me, I have thought of every word I know of to describe really, really, really boring walking.
There is absolutely nothing here. I think of the stories we told each other when we were pups. About wraiths that lived beneath the sand of the Barren that would pull you down into their nests. They would paralyze you and then their grubs would feed off you, slowly eating you alive. That was a favorite. There are the roaming packs of wilder-scorpions, creatures that are half beast, half scorpion. Where the beast's tail should be is a scorpion's sting that will cause your skin to turn black and then they eat you alive. Then there was the one about the tumbleweed spiders. Their bodies transparent so all you see is ripples on t
Silvia POV Over the next week I decide Esme is the worst teacher I've ever had. And I didn't like any of my teachers back in the Wildlands. Now I've matured and suffered and I can see that maybe I wasn't the easiest student to teach, blah blah blah. The truth is I prefer to learn on my own. Since I was a pup I would grit my teeth and go completely rigid whenever an adult tried to make me do something I didn't want to do. Then when Fer announced herself at my Naming, I realised I was not the only one digging in her heels. If I'm obstinate then Fer is impossible. I like Esme. She's funny. I love the way her bracelets jangle when she moves (not silver, gold! She says 'moon gold' which I assume is a metaphor). I love the way she can go from sitting with her feet up to standing in full warrior stance. I asked her where she learned her fighting techniques --mostly to distract her from trying to teach me---and she said from the wind. I really can't
Silvia POV "You heard me," says Esme, "We need to figure out how to defend this city from a werewolf pack attack. You are the apex predators here. You need to get organized." "Can't you do something?" I say. Esme sighs and rolls her eyes. "I'm a witch not a nuclear weapon, Silvia." "Fine," I say, "Then can you teach me. You know, with the iron." "Silvia," she says, then she turns to Fulvio, "Fulvio, you are werewolves. You need a pack." This stings more than I want to admit. My pack rejected me. And I have vowed to myself that if I ever get the chance, I will reject them--and any other pack-- right back. I turn away, ready to leave. I even make it as far as the door when Luka calls me. "Silvia, you have to see this!" he says, "Please!" It's not fair. How can I say no to him. I'm that childish though that I even drag my feet as I go back to the living room. Fulvio is putting the coffee table back in the
Silvia POV Esme had called us the apex predators. But looking around the Diner at 11pm on a Thursday night with the rain falling outside and me, Fulvio and Esme standing anxiously waiting, I don't feel like an apex anything. Luka had begged to be allowed to come with us but in this Esme and Valerie had been in agreement. Absolutely not! Not until we knew what we were dealing with. The night sky is cloudy, covering the crescent moon. I wonder if my plan wil work. I pray to the Goddess that it will. And then I prayed that it won't. What will I be starting? Cook is standing in a corner of the kitchen, facing the wall and flipping imaginary burgers on an imaginary grill. This was Esme's contribution. She enchanted Cook to think it was just another night at the Diner, flipping burgers. He's going to be surprised though when the enchantment wears off and he's not drunk. That's how he ends all his nights. His liver will thank us. I'm
Vuko POV When I approach, no guardians come out. I walk beneath the high road and the vibrations of the hundreds--maybe even more--of machines on it rumble through the viaducts below. The passages are dark and dank. I sense shapes moving within them and the smell is foul. But human. There is nothing for me to fear here. Still no one stops me. It appears that anyone may pass into the city as long as they can pass the Barren. It's lazy, I think. What kind of leadership leaves its defences to chance. Once I'm through the viaducts, I know I am in the city itself. I know this because it's like an assault on all my senses. Lights flicker in the darkness and I'm distracted by them because I can't tell what is a threat and what is not. Cars rattle and screech past overhead, there are shouts and cries, the babble of voices, and discordant music emanating from around corners and inside edifices. A thumping bass accompanies a missing melody. A trumpet s
Silvia POV I spoke to an entire roomful (pack?) of Rogues! Me! I stood up there and words came out and then I asked a really simple question--could we work together as a pack?--and the next thing everyone was talking at once. Not arguing. Talking! Every one of them thought it was a fantastic idea to work together as a pack! I'm still shaking. I don't even know where all that came from. The salmagundi has run out so Esme re-enchants Cook to do something more useful and he starts frying up some chips. He's still looking the happiest I've ever seen him. His chips are super greasy but if you add enough salt and vinegar they're pretty good. Then I think that there's a lot of talking but maybe it's too many at once. So I suggest that everyone introduces themselves. That turns out to be another fantastic idea. It's my night. It's like I can't do anything wrong. There's Graydon Airwolf of course. He's the oldest. There are many others from the Wildlands and a few, like the Aurorawolves, M
Vuko POV Silvia stands and so does the big ginger guy whose face I want to smash in immediately. I'm tired, I'm desperately thirsty and my stomach is spasming from the disappointment of that empty pot of stew. Could things be worse? Probably. But it's hard to see how just at the moment. Vi is making snarling, menacing noises but he's too weak for more than that. So that's why the first words I say to Silva after four years of separation and heartache are: "I need water. Food." Romantic? You better believe it. Silvia still stands staring at me like a hostile stranger, but the Witch moves fast. She leads me to an empty table and brings me a jug of water. I try to drink it slowly but the water sloshes everywhere as I gulp it down. I want to swim in it, splash it all around me, live in it. I can't remember when anything tasted this good. I've embarrassed myself enough already so I don't even care that every
Silvia POV I can't bear how Vuko is looking at me. It's like he's ripping the sutures from wounds that I didn't even know I still had. Him walking in when he did, looking like he'd come straight through hell, with that crazy look in his eyes, the scent of him nearly knocking me flat, I had been about to run straight to him. It was Fer who stopped me. You've never seen his wolf, she said. Was that true? Vuko has that silky blue-black hair, brooding obsidian eyes. The wolf in the alley had been big and blue-black. Vuko was always tall, but four years ago he still had the gangly look all the teen boys had. He was clumsy and would knock things over as if he still thought he was pup-size. Now, though. Now he has filled out. Even though he looks half-starved from wherever he has been, his shoulders are broader, his legs longer, his jaw more square. He looks like a hunter. But the wolf in the alley had said he had a message fo
Vuko POV I see the change in Silvia's eyes first, then her whole body seems to unwind from a tight coil. She sees me again! She knows me! In that moment I remember when we used to sneak out on the sweltering summer nights to swim in the lake, how the fresh, cold water would shock us into silence, then send us shivering to each other for warmth. Silvia in my arms looking at me exactly as she looks at me now. Or when she had been fighting with her teachers and you could practically see the sparks rising flying from her feet as she stormed off. I would find her and I would coax the fight out of her. I could make her laugh. I would listen. I'm the same and not the same. She's the same too, and not the same. She has her wolf now, of course. And our wolves have never met. And then there are the scenes she just conjured out of the air as she told her story ... But no, I think, she's still mine. Still my Silvia. I move toward her, ready to ta