Amber wolf, p.1
Amber Wolf, page 1
Amber Wolf
by Lauren Searson-Patrick
WILDFUL WRITINGS
Murrumbateman, NSW, Australia
This is a work of fiction. Its characters, places and incidents are a product of the author‘s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Lauren Searson-Patrick
www.laurenspbooks.com.au
Instagram: @laurenspbooks
Cover Design and Book Design by Franziska Stern
www.coverdungeon.com
Instagram: @coverdungeonrabbit
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-6454523-0-3
Hardback ISBN: 978-0-6454523-1-0
eBook ISBN: 978-0-6454523-2-7
For my wildlings, Jack and Isabella
It‘s never too late, or too early, to follow your dreams
Then
PROLOGUE
My daughter snuggles deeper under the thick patchwork bed covers, the burning candle catching the sparkle of her green eyes – eyes so like her father's they reopen that never-healing wound every time she looks at me. But they're eyes that still hold the innocence of youth and I will do everything in my power to keep it there.
For as long as time will allow.
She looks at me now, expectant of the story to come. This is our ritual – a story and a song to carry her into sleep. I lie down next to her, on top of the covers, pinning her in as I watch the snow fall outside the window. I used to hate the cold. Now, I relish the reminder of how far we've come.
And yet, we have further to go.
'Long ago,' I start, choosing the one she most needs to remember, one that will inspire hope. And faith. 'In a time before stories began, there was a little girl, not much older than you.'
She smiles at me, the way her face lights up drawing my own to my lips.
'A little girl who loved nothing more than to play in the meadows around her. The colours of the flowers and the trees filled her mind with rainbows; the animals that rushed to greet her occupied her days with friends and happiness. But the little girl felt there was something missing from her life. A gap she wasn't quite sure how to fill.
'Until a larger, more powerful animal danced in the shadows of her vision. Every day she would play in the meadow and, every day, the animal watched from the trees. Slowly, carefully, she played a little closer as she continued her games, even as the other animals refused to join her.
'It was as if the animal, whose eyes shone between the trees, called only to her.'
The lids of her green eyes are starting to droop when I look over, pulling my gaze from the snow. I roll on my side to face her, trailing a finger along her nose as I watch the steady rise and fall of the covers over her chest slow as sleep claims her. My heart swells with all I have to tell her and the spaces she fills with love. Spaces I didn't know existed until I knew she was coming.
Another day, I think to myself.
Another day I will finish the story. Another day I will tell her of the animal that stalked the little girl and her dreams, trying to warn her of things to come and guide her way. Of how it so desperately wanted to take her somewhere and all she had to do was follow. How, too late, she found out the destination and it wasn't only somewhere she wanted to go – but needed to.
But that little girl didn't follow, and his song stayed in her heart forever; a melody unheard by any other. One that told her she'd made a mistake that day. That she should have steeled her spine and stepped into that forest.
Another day, I will tell her that some opportunities are missed and some are gained. And it is never, never too late to find your resolve and let the bravery run through your veins. That the bravery won't mean you're not scared, just stronger than your fear. I will tell her it's never too late to follow your dreams and find your destiny. Everything she needs is already inside her.
Tomorrow.
We have tomorrow to talk about the Star.
And we'll follow the wolf together.
•
I hadn't expected to end up here. So far from the snow and the rolling green hills from my own youth. But looking out of the kitchen window, to the yard my daughter has spent the day playing in, a certain relief starts to creep into my mind. Back home, the differences weren't yet as marked. Here, I can show Adelais the tiny changes so few saw as consequential. Here, I can make sure she knows it's more than our home at stake. And here I can give her freedoms, a childhood she never would have had there.
A tiny chirping finds me from the hallway and I turn, placing my mug on the kitchen table. Despite the heat here, I've never been able to give up my tea. Adelais's unguarded smile shines back at me, the bird she brought back from the brink of death perched on her shoulder. Absently she lifts a finger and strokes its tiny belly; it almost doubles in size as it puffs up under her attention.
I watch as it quickly deflates, attention captured by something out the window, and I wonder if it misses its home too. Giving a final squawk, it takes flight back down the hallway just as a shiver trembles down my spine.
My heart catches, my gaze flying back to the window and scanning the yard.
I don't see anything. But then, I don't really expect to. It's the sense of someone withholding their emotions from me I can feel. The way my gift sparks to attention in the presence of another with similar abilities. Waiting to feel what they do in different touches along my skin.
But it's the muted sensation that makes my heart race. That the presence I feel knows to try and keep their emotions from me.
'Adelais,' I whisper, willing my voice not to shake. 'Let's play a game.'
She giggles as she wriggles under the table and I gently shush her, fighting the urge to snap at her for making any sound. I give myself the briefest of moments to savour the image of her crouched low under the table, her skin flushed with excitement for the game she thinks we're about to begin. A moment to look into those green eyes, even as the pang of loss finds me again.
But even if he was here, he couldn't protect either of us from this.
The smile I draw to my face is forced but I know she's too young to understand that yet and it warms my heart to stare into the face of innocence.
'Stay here until I tell you to come out, okay?'
She nods eagerly.
'That's an important part of the game, Adelais.' My throat is thick. 'Only come out if I tell you.'
I stand up when she nods again, dropping into the hole in the floor. I close the door and drop the tablecloth back down. I knew this moment would come, knew we couldn't hide forever. A surge of fury races through my chest that we've not been allowed the life we should have had.
'Hello, Catriona,' he says quietly as he appears behind me.
I spin on my heel to face him, pressing myself against the kitchen table, its edge digging into my fingers where I grip it to steady me.
'An interesting life you've tried to make here.' He gestures vaguely to the colourful kitchen.
'It's certainly more than the life I was headed for.' The strength in my voice surprises me, fuelled by my anger.
I'd known he'd find us and, yet, the inevitability still makes it hard to breathe. In my fiercest dreams I thought we would have more time. More time to—
Slowly, he shakes his head. 'You had everything, Catriona, but you threw it away for … for a life punctuated by a gingham tablecloth,' he scoffs, looking at the kitchen table.
'I'm not going back – not yet.' I jam my knees together to keep them from shaking.
He steps forward, the tell-tale pink spots rising on his cheeks, the anger I've been running from for so long surging to the surface before my eyes. His breath on my face is hot and I crinkle my nose, but I don't move away. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower. Even still, the eyes that were once so familiar no longer hold any affection – only rage – and the shaking in my limbs starts to change from anger to genuine fear.
Fear I desperately try to clamp down so Adelais doesn't feel it.
'You've been incredibly stupid, of course,' he spits. 'But, I suppose, that can only be expected. You have always shown poor judgement. What's been harder to understand is your unbelievable selfishness.'
I stare back at him, cursing how much of this Adelais is hearing and sending her a silent, desperate thank you for staying so quiet. Apologising for loving someone I wasn't supposed to is not something I can do.
Despite what that love cost.
'You're right on one point, at least,' he says, his face still so close to mine our noses almost touch. 'You're not going back.'
NOW
CHAPTER ONE
Raised voices sound from a pocket of homes to our right. I don't need to look at Will to know he's heard it, too, or remind him how quickly a raised voice can turn into a knife in the back. The little shanty town, its dwellings pressing against the original parts of the city wall, looks the same as yesterday. It's been a month since the last super-storm wiped away most of the structures here and the rebuilding of t he hovels won't change much until the next one.
'Get out!'
The voice is young and flinty, and Will and I subtly move a fraction faster in that direction, the lines of people begging on the streets not once looking away from us.
I clear my throat as we round the corner. Will and I have an unspoken understanding that these people's lives are hard enough and, where possible, we keep our weapons away. But I would be stupid not to be ready to respond with force if needed.
Just as the group comes into view, they explode into action before us. Two men wrestle in the filth on the ground as a woman's shrill screams pierce the air. A sobbing child watches from a short distance and an older one hovers between the two men and the child – glancing between them, as if torn by where they should be.
'Alright, you're finished now,' Will says as he prowls towards them, broad shoulders stretching out his black guard's uniform.
I stay a step behind to cover his blind spot. Glancing over my shoulder, the small number of onlookers gathering behind me watches silently. Until a man in a torn, sleeveless shirt starts cheering, spittle flying from his mouth.
The others join him, stepping closer.
'You've got less than sixty seconds,' I mutter to Will, glancing between the brawling group and the approaching, growing crowd. Will knows how good I am at reading people, even if he doesn't know why. I just wish he could feel it too sometimes so he wouldn't cut it so fine. But he always assumes the best of people.
The woman stops screaming, shouting profanities at the two men instead.
A glass bottle smashes. Close enough to my feet for the glass to crunch under the soles of my boots as I continue to follow Will.
'Twenty seconds,' I say quietly.
'That was too fast,' Will says, no hint of strain in his voice. 'You always skip count.'
'There's something about having glass thrown at you that calls for it.'
Will ushers the woman away before returning to the two men and hauling the one on top to his feet. Size and training are an advantage out here, but so is access to adequate nutrition. The fighting men are no match for Will, and they know it.
'You done?' Will asks casually.
Despite the violence-hungry crowd at my back, they won't see another fight here today. The steam has gone out of them. Each of their chests heave, blood and muck marking their clothes.
I hope they have others somewhere.
I turn back to the crowd, their cheering turning to disappointed grunts.
'They're done,' I say. 'You can head on out.'
The man who started the cheer is the last to turn away, mock saluting me as he goes.
We tread carefully over the stone road that runs through the makeshift houses on this side of the wall, mindful of the rubbish, rodents, and all manner of bodily fluids I put from my mind. It's better not to know what I walk in. The smell is bad enough, one I can never get used to, and completely overwhelms the scent of the sea. My nose crinkles and a hunched figure snickers at me from the side of the road.
'You'll be sucked dry and die, just the same as us,' she says, but I ignore her and continue to focus on my surroundings.
Our patrol area is mainly made up of the docks and the road leading up to the dockside gate in and out of Rhyton, where we are almost completely exposed to the sun that beats down on us. I'm simultaneously thankful for my guard uniform that's specially made for the conditions, and ashamed that the people who live here don't have access to them.
I look back up to the high, ginger-coloured walls of the city as Will and I weave our way through the slum beyond the gate and make out Phoenix and Hayes atop the wall. Phoenix's head is thrown back in an easy laugh at something Hayes has leaned in to tell him, the sunlight catching the strands of Phoenix's honey-brown hair before he replaces his hat.
The scaffolding, where it is being reinforced against the strength of the encroaching ocean, towers into the sky, dwarfing them. Most of the original coast of Driarn is now under water and the newly coastal cities and towns need to make sure they too don't go under.
The capital, Rhyton, is no exception.
The number of people looking to get out of the city via the dockside gate is invariably less than those seeking to get in. Those on the way out are mostly the more fortunate dock workers and fishermen who have dwellings inside the city. Those looking to get in seek refuge from homes even closer to the ocean than Rhyton, or farmland that is no longer productive.
I see the hope in their eyes, feel the quiet excitement and apprehension that emanates from each of them, and look away.
Shutting myself off to people is something I do regularly; physically feeling their emotions all the time can be exhausting. Often I wonder if it's selfish to not acknowledge how hard it is for people in a less fortunate position than me. But most of them won't find their new lives in this city and knowing their feelings now won't change that.
My feet throb with a familiar ache as our shift draws to a close. My skin is almost crying for a cold shower by the time we head back up the road, on our way back to guard headquarters and our residence block.
The city is framed by a pale pink and purple sky as evening comes; it's harder to see in the in-between time of day and night. Up ahead, the beggar from this morning rocks backwards and forwards, mumbling to herself. It's difficult to understand the words but I strain to hear anyway as we continue over the stones, her demeanour markedly different to earlier today.
A spark of blue flashes in the sunset over Rhyton, briefly enriching the surrounding hues. I stop dead, the soles of my feet pulsing, as a flicker of familiarity races across my mind and the tiny flame I hold in my chest. But it's gone before I can drag it forward for examination.
Will turns back to me, dark brows raised in question, and I start as I realise the beggar is now next to me.
'No more – they can't give any more,' she says, looking at the sky as well, now, too. 'Please, help me, they're dying.'
The crowd gives her a slightly wider berth as her agitation increases until she's screaming at the pastel sky, bringing me back from my lost memories. I take my eyes from her to share a look with Will. Before I can register his face, I'm thrust backwards, my feet slipping on the stone road.
She's too fast and the hands she's fisted in my uniform drive me further away from the city wall. The stench of her breath fills my nose and water lines my eyes. Her teeth are yellowed and her filthy skin disguises her age. For a beat too many, my heart skips until my body remembers its training and I dig my heels into the stone, wrenching her wrists from my front.
But not cleanly enough to avoid an elbow to the ribs.
'They're dying, you must help them!' she screams. 'Just listen to me, please!'
She thrashes and screams in my grasp as desperation pierces through my defenses, running along my skin like nails. Her spit lands on my face and I twist my features in disgust. Will tries briefly to talk her down before slamming the butt of his pistol into the back of her head. It's enough for her to collapse to her knees but not lose consciousness. I release her gnarled hands and she cradles her bruised skull, rocking on her knees. I can feel her anguish, but it's shadowed by my irritation that I didn't see her coming.
The heat rises on my face as my breathing levels out. I refuse to acknowledge the stares of the gathering crowd. When she doesn't move to get up, I kneel before her, even as my heart tries to collect itself once more, forcing myself to look in her face. Her sapphire-coloured eyes pin me in place, their irises ringed with two lines of hazel like I've not seen before.
'Easy, Lish,' Will warns under his breath as he hovers behind me.
'Please,' she begs, quiet now. Her strange eyes bore into mine.
'I'm not going to hurt you,' I say, although there are some Guards she would be right to fear. She shakes her head.
'Please,' she says, her voice thick. I furrow my brow, no longer able to get a good read on her emotions – they're all over the place and empty at the same time. 'You need to help them,' she rasps, scanning my face. Her sapphire and hazel eyes find mine as she gently rests her hand on my arm, pleading with me, the fire gone out of her entirely. She stills and blinks up at me, cocking her head. 'Remember the—you must—' she inhales sharply and places a hand to her chest. 'Oh'—she tries to smile—'you followed the light and you've been found.'
