Atticus
He was reading about the Battle of Barren Bridge – the battle that had ignited The Longest War – in a limp attempt to distract himself from the news his lead spy, Griffin, had dropped upon on him as the sun breached the sky.
He’d had to hold tight to his temper as he’d listened; the first few wolves had been gathering in the field for training as Griffin had murmured low in his ear.
“The Red Ripper pack,” he’d whispered. “That’s what they’re calling themselves.” Atticus had been conscious of eyes on him – eyes that looked to him for guidance. He’d squashed his rage, and pasted on a nonchalant smile.
“Very well.” He’d dismissed Griffin with a pat to the shoulder, a familial gesture which he’d hoped had put the few pack members gathered at ease. It wasn’t their job to worry about such things. It was his.
His hand crumpled the edge of the page he was reading. With a sigh, he refocused his mind on the words.
The faelen swarmed, he read, cavalry surging, infantry holding fast. They held the high ground, a strategic choice that undermined the brutal fighting style of the wolves. The river cut between ranks, and they charged before the agreed upon time – before the moon had risen.
The writing dissolved into notes on tactics and possible strategies – ways in which the wolves could have won. Disdainfully, he tossed the book aside. It bored him, and a bored mind was too easily swayed to memory and cruel, relentless thoughts.
His ancestors had been fools. They had been fools to trust the faelen. He would not make the same mistake they had.
“You wanted to see us, Alpha?” Ralphin poked his head through the cracked doorway, and Atticus felt the tension in his shoulders ease ever so slightly.
“Come in,” he said, nodding to first Ralphin and then Trove as they filed in. His eyes widened momentarily as his parents followed, Alvaro and Nearyn eyeing him with gentle concern.
He recovered quickly, smiling blithely at them both. “You may be seated.”
His mother’s face, at least, was apologetic. “Pardon our intrusion, Alpha.”
Atticus waved a hand. “There is no need for the formalities, mother. Though I am interested to hear why you are both present.”
Alvaro sighed, his gaze darting to Ralphin. Before he could speak, Atticus rolled his eyes.
“It’s always you, isn’t it?”
“Sorry.” Ralphin did not look very sorry at all. “It sounded important. I thought they’d want to hear.”
“We do,” chipped in Nearyn.
Alvaro put a hand on her elbow. “If you’ll allow us to stay.”
Atticus nodded. “Of course. Ralphin is right – you should be here for this meeting. I was planning to tell you after I’d discussed it with these two,” he paused, giving his Beta and Gamma a scathing look for no good reason, “but this streamlines matters.”
Nearyn inclined her head. “As you wish.”
“I’ll get right to it,” Atticus said, clasping his hands loosely together. “I have word from Griffin. He has been infiltrating other packs, and he has heard rumours – more than rumours – of the formation of a new pack.” He raised an eyebrow. “They go by the Red Ripper pack. Apparently.”
Ralphin snorted, but Nearyn’s brow furrowed. “That name does not bode well.”
“Worried about a little competition, Nearyn?” Trove laughed.
She scowled. “No. There are no established packs that could so much as threaten us, let alone a band of misfits playing pretend. It is their name, and that alone, which concerns me.”
Beside her, Alvaro stilled. “I had forgotten.”
“It is foolish to forget such horrors,” she muttered.
“Well?” Atticus asked impatiently, folding his arms across his chest. “What does it mean?”
“The Red Ripper is considered legend by many,” Alvaro said, taking his mate’s hand. “A wolf intent on attaining power by any means necessary. The key to that power, he believed, was in being able to shift at will.”
Atticus’s skin bristled. He himself had thought the same. Indeed, had the wolves at the Battle of Barren Bridge been able to shift, they would have had a fair chance against the faelen army. Their weakness was tied to the moon, and defeating such a weakness would make them unstoppable.
“That makes sense,” he hummed, pulling himself from his thoughts. “Griffin said the news was spreading because wolves were leaving their packs – some honourably, others less so. Those that requested to take their leave spoke of searching for something – something powerful. They were cagey with the details. Some Alphas allowed them to go. Others did not.”
Ralphin let out a long, slow breath. “You think that is what they’re searching for? The ability to shift at will?”
Nearyn paled. Alvaro rubbed soothing circles into the dorsum of her hand.
“Surely that’s not possible,” Trove interjected. “Wolves have turned with the moon for millennia. If it were possible to break that bond, someone would surely have done it by now. It is our greatest shortcoming.” He tugged at the ends of his hair, their scraggly tips brushing his chin.
“It is impossible,” Nearyn said, her voice ringing with finality. “If that is what they are looking for, they will return home empty handed.”
Atticus coughed. “Perhaps. Perhaps their search will be fruitless…”
“But?” His father probed.
“Well – would it be such a terrible thing? Doubtless, they will hold this secret close to their chest. But we are the most terrible, powerful pack in all of Eldda.” He puffed himself up to his full height. “We could simply allow them to do the hard work of mastering the moon, and then steal the information right from them. After all, how hard would it be to get one of our wolves in there, acting as though they have left our pack in search of even greater glory?”
Alvaro raised an eyebrow. “Would that be a believable tale? You said it yourself, Att – we are terrible, and we are powerful. Which of our wolves would be stupid enough to leave Blood Moon behind, gambling away such terror and such power on a newly formed pack of rejects and rogues?”
“They are neither rejects nor rogues, father,” Atticus argued. “I am not suggesting that we run headfirst into this. I merely think it would be wise to consider what they could do for us.”
“It is worth considering,” said Ralphin. “Though I agree with your father. Our power does, in part, rely on the frailty of other wolves. Such frailty may cease to exist, should such an ability become widespread.”
“You do us a great disservice, Ralphin,” sneered Atticus, “if you truly believe that our power lies with the weakness of the other packs. We are powerful because we take what is ours, and that which is not. We are powerful because we are powerful.”
“Of course, Alpha.” Ralphin ducked his head, but as he lifted it once more his onyx eyes blazed. “I merely thought it was worth considering. Such a gift is heady – and it may bring with it more than one imagines.”
“I think what Ralphin is trying to say,” Trove interrupted, glancing between the two of them nervously, “is that these things always come with a cost – one which is usually hidden until it is too late.”
Atticus sighed. They were right, and he knew it. But such power was tempting – terribly so.
He smiled tightly. “Do not fret. I will not make a move until we are in agreement on the matter. For now, I plan to wait. Our reputation precedes us.” His smile grew, blossoming into a predatory grin. “Perhaps they will come to us.”