Broken Moon: Part 5 Page 6

"Grandma!" she hissed as loudly as she dared. "Open up, it's me!"

  A few moments later she heard the sound of the latch being lifted. The door creaked open an inch, then wide enough for her to squeeze inside. Harriet's wrinkled face squinted out at her from the firelit room, a heavy wooden crutch propped up beneath either arm.

  April couldn't hold back the smile that spread across her face at the sight of the old woman. She hadn't realised how much she'd missed her over the last few days. In an instant she had stepped inside the cabin and was hugging her.

  Harriet muttered a few words of complaint as she wobbled on her crutches, but she embraced her granddaughter back with equal warmth, stroking her hair with a bony hand as the wind blew in around them.

  "What have I told you about making me leave that door open?" Harriet said.

  April gave her one more squeeze and then let go, prodding the door shut with her boot. The warmth of a cosy cabin was another thing she hadn't realised she'd missed, and she rubbed her hands together near the hearth as Harriet limped over to her chair and eased herself down with a groan.

  "I knew you'd be back. Some of the others didn't think so, but I told them otherwise. You've got a lot to answer for, girl."

  April turned back to face her, for the first time apprehensive about what her grandmother might say. "You know what happened?"

  "I know you wouldn't have given that little upstart a good smack without a damn good reason." Harriet snorted. "He's practically trying to keep me locked up in here. Told the others I was too ill to come out. I can still walk, can't I?" She waved one of her crutches to illustrate the point, but from the way she winced April could tell her swollen joints were still far from healed.

  "Not everyone agrees with him being the new leader, do they?"

  "Of course they don't, but they don't have the sense to do anything about it! Dumb mutts, the lot of them."

  "Grandma," April said, sitting down in the chair opposite and leaning forward. "Do you think they'll make him step down, if I can persuade them?"

  Harriet's eyes were drawn to the token hanging around April's neck. Her aggravated expression smoothed out, and a look of contemplation replaced it. "So Ingrid finally did something sensible." She sighed. "Make an elder step down? That's a tall order."

  "But you made them change their minds about things in the past. It has to be possible."

  Harriet looked at her for a long time, and when she spoke again the voice of the boisterous old woman was gone. She spoke with wisdom and sincerity, as one leader might speak to another.

  "Rules aren't what matter to werewolves. They all think they do, because it's easier for them. Gives them something solid to hold on to. But rules are what humans make, not wolves. Wolves listen to their alpha. They follow whatever they think gives them their best chance at strength and survival."

  "Is that more important than our traditions?"

  Harriet nodded. "Traditions and alphas mean the exact same thing; security, stability. Those are what matter to the average wolf. It takes one in a dozen—like you or me—to think one step further." She tapped April's leg with her crutch. "The only reason Hazel's in charge is because he convinced them he was their safest bet for the time being. You convince our pack that you're stronger than him, stronger than Ingrid, stronger than me, and stronger than our traditions, then they'll do anything you say. Never hesitate, never show them any weakness, never give them any reason to think you might be wrong. If you can make them believe in you enough, then they won't feel like they need those rules any longer."

  April's trepidation grew. She was barely ready to start making decisions on her own, let alone be the kind of revolutionary leader Harriet was describing. She felt hopelessly out of her depth.

  "That person sounds a lot more like you than me," she said.

  Harriet looked into the fire. "Maybe it could've been when I was younger, but I realised it too late. By then Ingrid was already an elder, and she fought me every step of the way. She never did forgive me for the choices I made."

  April touched the token around her neck. "I think she does now. She said she was sorry for all the years she argued with you."

  Harriet gave her a curious look, as though she didn't quite believe it. But hidden in that look was a glimmer of something that almost begged to hope. The hope of a mother for a daughter she'd considered long lost. Then it was gone.

  "Doesn't matter now. The pack was divided with the two of us in charge, along with Gene and Beech. If I'd spoken up when I was younger I might've been able to change things for good, but I never got the chance. People haven't made their minds up about what kind of a woman you'll grow into yet. You make sure you let them know who you are right from the start, and you'll be able to change things I never could."

  "But what about Hazel? He's going to give me a lot more trouble than Ingrid ever gave you."

  Harriet thought for a moment. "Why do you think people are following him right now?"

  April shrugged. "Because he's an elder. He's promising to fix all the problems we had."

  "And..?"

  "And because they're scared."

  "Exactly." Harriet nodded. "People make bad choices when they're scared if the alternative's making no choice at all. Hazel's a cunning little runt, but he'd never have become an elder if things weren't desperate. Why d'you think he's trying to keep me cooped up in here? Because he knows the others will start questioning him once they see him stood up alongside a proper leader."

  April clasped her hands together. They were still trembling a little despite the warmth. "You make it sound like I can just stand up to him and have everything fall into place. I don't know if I—" She gasped in pain as a sharp rap from Harriet's crutch interrupted her.

  "You do know. You are that person, April." Her grandmother glared at her, eyes burning with the spirit of a much younger woman. "Do you understand what I'm saying? You can never doubt. Never second-guess. The moment they smell fear on you, you'll lose them."

  April was about to protest, but suddenly she was reminded of the night Hazel had come to her after she'd been punished. She remembered the way he'd tried, almost desperately, to convince her of his good intentions, and the harder he tried, the more desperate he became, the less she'd believed him. If it hadn't been for their encounter that night, would she still have been driven to challenge his leadership?

  She realised then what Harriet was saying. Doubts and weakness would eat away at the hold a leader had over their pack until they were all but powerless. It had happened to Ingrid, and she had already seen it in Hazel.

  April looked at her grandmother, and in her expression she revealed the one great doubt that still weighed upon her heart.

  Harriet scowled, refusing to show her the sympathy that might have reawakened her buried feelings for Cyan. "Do you love him?"

  "I don't know."

  "Then decide."

  April shook her head in frustration, struggling not to remember the intimacy she'd shared with her lover two nights ago. "You're telling me to let go of him, aren't you?"

  "No, I mean exactly what I say. You have to choose."

  "But he's an exile, an outsider. You know it'll only make things harder."

  Harriet gave her a stern, matter-of-fact nod. "It will, but that choice is yours. I told you, a strong leader can trump any rule or tradition if they have the confidence. But if you choose him, you have to be certain he's what you want."

  April couldn't. When she thought of Cyan she felt like her heart was about to burst. She wanted him more than she'd ever wanted another person. But her longing was intermingled with so much fear that it made her chest tight until she could barely breathe. She remembered the judgemental eyes of her pack the day she was punished. She remembered the shame and the agony of the whip cutting into her back, leaving her with scars that would be a lifelong reminder of what their relationship had wrought. She was afraid of the whispers of the others that would undermine her confidence if she chose to pursue a relation
ship with him.

  She tried to justify her feelings through the scorn she would face from her pack, but that was a trial she had already faced—and endured the punishment for. The doubts that kept her from deciding were far more frightening. Even if Cyan loved her back, would he feel the same way a year from now? He'd betrayed her feelings once already.

  She'd once believed that she could be happy as Harper's mate, only for time to unravel those feelings. The pain of losing him had helped temper her into a stronger person, but it had also left her brittle. To acknowledge that she loved Cyan, to embrace it fully, would be to bare her soul to a far worse blow. More than failing in her task to depose Hazel, more than the worry that she might not live up to the expectations of her pack, she feared that losing a man she truly loved would shatter her into pieces.

  And there she had her answer. If she was to be the leader she needed to be, she must never doubt, she must never question, she must never fear.

  "I can't love him," she whispered. As she gave voice to the words it felt like something bright insider her had burned to ash.

  "I can't tell you what to do with your own heart, only that you listen to it," Harriet said.

  "You never doubted your own love?"

  "Not for a second."

  An acceptant numbness came over April. A light in her life had just gone out, but it had brought with it a soothing dark. She was no longer afraid of the task before her, but she no longer looked forward to the days that might come after.

  She was to be a leader, not a mate. And a leader, at least, could always be sure of where her purpose lay.

  * * * * *

  As Cyan followed Hazel's pawprints through the night he knew full well he could be walking to his own death. Long ago he had been the kind of wolf who would risk his life readily for others. He still was, he supposed, but the risk had felt meaningless for many years now. The night he first came here, followed this same path, and fought off the ferals to save April's life, he hadn't felt like a hero. All the lives that had been endangered, and some even lost, because of his selfish ignorance in the past still weighed on him. He lived in hope that enough good deeds would one day ease his guilt, but it was hard to compare those small acts to the spectacle of the things he'd wrought.

  He remembered the flames of a burning orchard, and the names of his old pack mates who had died trying to escape it. Many more would have died if he'd had his way that night.

  Old memories. If he lost his life this evening, would he be able to rest knowing that he'd finally atoned for them? The angry instincts of his wolf burning through his veins didn't feel like they would ever go away.

  The path he was following led straight towards the cabin he and April had stayed in all those weeks ago, and the familiar route called to mind something he'd told her that first night.

  I don't think anyone gets punished for how they feel, only for what they do.

  His lips curled in his wolf's best imitation of a smile. Faced with his own mortality, and for once given the time to ponder it, everything suddenly seemed very simple. What a waste it had been trying to deny his wolf's instinct all this time. He had savage, wild urges. Dark thoughts that compelled him to do bad things. They were as much a part of him as the black of his fur and the amber of his eyes. But their existence wasn't some fundamental flaw in his character. Everyone, even the kindest of souls, had dark and questionable impulses. It had been his choice to act on them that made him a bad person.

  He resolved, then and there, that he would not kill Hazel in anger that night. For once the thoughts of his wolf and his human seemed to agree.

  I'm tired of fighting you, one said to the other.

  There were many things he was justified in feeling guilty for, but his own nature was not one of them. It was his time with April that had helped him to stop judging himself so harshly. The last few days with her had brought a calmness to his soul that he had never felt before.

  It didn't matter whether he was doing what he did out of selflessness, or duty, or some hope that it would win her heart. It mattered that she had made him do it. She'd made him back into the person he'd always wanted to be; a protector.

  He had been steeling himself for a long and trying journey up the mountain, but Hazel's tracks shifted back into the imprints of human feet before they even reached the bridge. Cyan stayed low, slowing to a more cautious pace and tucking himself in beneath the trees off to the side of the path. If Hazel had sacrificed his wolf's speed so early on then he was either planning to stop and rest, or he was about to catch up with the rest of his followers.

  Though he hoped for the opportunity to take his quarry unawares, Cyan doubted Hazel was stupid enough to stop and rest so close to the main camp. He had to have suspected someone would be coming after him.

  Sure enough, the tracks in the snow soon veered off the path, and Cyan's fears were confirmed when he caught sight of the hunting cabin in the distance, orange firelight streaming out through the open door. Two wolves stood guard outside. He couldn't see any others nearby, but the pawprints leading away through the snow in all directions were far too numerous and fresh to have been left by so few werewolves.

  Cyan checked his surroundings, pricking his ears for the sounds of anyone else nearby. He might have walked right past a sentry already without even realising. After a moment of careful listening he began to feel a little more confident that he hadn't alerted anyone, and he chanced to sneak a little closer to the cabin. There was enough cover in the darkness beneath the low-hanging branches to circle his way around to the cliff face behind the cabin. The two sentries kept their eyes fixed straight ahead, in the direction of the path.

  Cyan's tail brushed one of the branches above him, and he instinctively dropped to the ground as a sudden avalanche of snow slid free from the tree, pummelling into his back and crashing into the ground around him. He froze, half-buried in the flurry, blinking stray flakes from his eyes. One of the sentries turned and took a few steps in his direction. The wolf's eyes hovered over the spot where Cyan lay in the shadows, then flicked up to the swaying branches of the tree. Flakes of snow from the afterflurry still danced in the air. The sentry snorted a cloud of hot steam from his muzzle, then went back to his post.

  Cyan breathed again, lifting himself out of the snow as carefully as possible to avoid making any more noise. The pattering sound of the frozen lumps hitting the ground as they rolled off his back made him wince, but the sentries took no notice. Perhaps they too had been on their feet for days.

  Once he had found a safe vantage point hidden in the shadows beneath the cliff, Cyan paused to think. He could hear a faint murmur of voices coming from inside the cabin, and he guessed that Hazel's was one of them. If they were this close to the main camp, going back to warn April and the others wasn't likely to buy much time. Judging from the amount of pawprints, Hazel must have called back most, if not all of his patrols already.

  Probably right after we ran into them up in the mist, Cyan thought to himself. Hazel must have sent his people back down this side of the mountain while he tracked them through the caves by himself.

  After a few moments of waiting he risked moving closer to the cabin again, curious to overhear what was being said inside. He managed to make his way almost to the back of the building without leaving the shadows, but he was so close to the sentries now that the slightest sound might alert them. When he looked beneath the stilted cabin he could see them sitting down on the far side, flanking the steps that led up to the door. If they turned around he would have no way to slip back into the shadows unseen.

  Cyan's impatience grew. He couldn't stand around doing nothing, and he still felt that his best chance at helping April was to find an opportunity to confront Hazel. After a minute of straining his ears to try and make out the muffled voices he finally dared to move closer, treading as softly as he could until he was up against the back wall. Lifting himself on his hind legs, he finally managed to make sense of what was being said.

/>   Hazel was talking to at least two other people. One of the voices belonged to the wolf he knew as the shrill-voiced female, but he couldn't identify the other male in the room with them.

  "It won't be long before we get everyone back," the unidentified male said. "They won't have gone far."

  "I told them to gather here," Hazel responded. His tone was short and impatient.

  "They're hungry. We haven't been able to hunt properly in days."

  "There'll be time to eat once this situation's been dealt with."

  "What about Ingrid and the ferals?" the female said. She sounded much more timid than Cyan remembered her.

  "They don't matter now! April's back at the camp, and the outsider's with her."

  "We can go back without the others," the male said. "April knows what she's done is wrong, if we just talk to her I'm sure she'll see sense."

  "She's going to stir up trouble with Harriet, is what she's going to do! If she manages to persuade the others to listen to that old woman, I'll need all of you there to show them that things are different now."

  "What do you mean by that?" The female said it so quietly Cyan barely made out the words.

  "If it comes to violence, then you all need to be ready," Hazel said.

  A moment of silence followed.

  "We can't do that to our own family," the male said.

  "Even if they're ready to throw away everything we've worked to build for ourselves?"

  "I'm not saying they're right." The male sounded reluctant. "The ferals and Ingrid are one thing, the outsider too, but..."

  Hazel raised his voice. "You'll do what you need to, and I'll expect the others to do the same. This is the price we pay to set things right."

  No more words were said. Cyan heard the sound of boots pacing up and down the length of the cabin, and a moment later someone came down the steps outside. He waited to hear more conversation, some further clue as to when the others might arrive back, or how he might corner Hazel on his own.