The Rise of the Fire Moon

  ***

  Tir ran as fast as he could, limping and stumbling on his damaged leg. But the pain from the bleeding gash hardly registered compared to the clawing sensation inside of him. The blood on his paws was drying to as sticky red crust on his paws, but rather than cool it seemed to be growing warmer. Tir felt as though his paws were burning.

  How could one day have gone so horribly wrong?

  Tir had to stop. His body shook with convulsions and dry sobs scraped their way up his throat. He gasped and shuddered, lying down in the grass and curling into a tight knot. The pain in his leg felt icy and numb, but his blood still trickled into the grass. Tight iron bands were tightening around his throat, like the paw of the white renegade. He spat on the ground, and saw that his spit was red with blood.

  What was he doing here? The fire had destroyed his life. It burned through everything he had ever known and tossed him away into a strange land. In his delirium, he could see the blinding, malevolent flames rushing like wind over the fields, coming to claim him as it had his friends and family. They were gone, all of them. Arwena, Kiala, Misari, Avrok—all of them, dead and devoured by the hungry blaze. He was alone now; there was nothing left but him. Why had he been spared? He didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t even bring himself to kill a deer—oh, why did these things affect him so strongly and no one else? Captain Leron would call him weak. Was he a weak? Palva would be able to tell him.

  “YOU!”

  A feral roar, tight with fury, rippled across the fields.

  “YOU MURDERER!”

  Tir struggled up to his paws, frightened, eyes scanning the flat landscape. What was going on? Who was screaming—?

  BOOM! Something heavy rammed into Tir from behind, knocking him off his feet. He flew with the force of the blow and landed in a bloody heap a few feet away, the wind knocked out of his lungs. Tir gasped and tried to stand but he twisted on his gashed leg and fell, his face in the dust.

  Someone had locked fangs around the back of his neck and was shaking him in a frenzied rhythm as if he were a rabbit. The blurred ground and sky danced about in a swerving, sickening pattern as his head cracked from side to side. He tried to snarl but found he had no energy left to make anything more than a strangled choke.

  “YOU KILLED HER! KILLED HER!”

  That voice sounded familiar, though Tir had never before heard it so tearing with rage. Black clouds were rising up before his eyes. His attacker had released him, hurling his head back against the ground. Tir could feel the warm blood trickling through his fur. Strangely, his mind had grown so smoky, that he couldn’t yet feel any pain at all. He moaned and tried to roll away, but another paw pinned him down.

  With a huge effort, Tir raised his head a few inches, but all he could see was a blur of shocking white. He thrashed, summoning up the last shreds of strength he had left in him, but his paws only scraped the ground. A desperate cry for help was scraping its way up his throat but before he could make a sound, a snarling face with electric-green eyes whipped around and lunged for his throat again. Tir’s mind cleared with a sickening jolt, and he flew to his paws, throwing off the other wolf’s weight in a burst of surprised strength.

  “You!” he gasped.

  The white renegade from the forest was standing in front of him. Her white fur was streaked with blood, and she bristled with such fury that she looked twice her size.

  “I remember you,” she said. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I told you I never wanted to see you again! I never should have let you out of the forest; see the good it’s done me.”

  “No!” Tir shouted, scrabbling his paws in the grass to back away from her. “I’m—I’m not on your territory. What do you want?”

  “Don’t insult me with your questions. I want answers and I want vengeance, you murderer.”

  “I’m not a murderer,” Tir said, angry despite his fear. His mind was reeling. “What are you talking about? I haven’t killed anyone.”

  “LIAR!” The renegade lunged for him and Tir jumped out of her way, gasping in pain as he landed on his torn leg.

  “You aren’t making any sense!” he said, backing away from her. She was swaying as she advanced, her face taut and trembling with rage. “Calm down,” he said in a quieter tone, though his voice cracked. “I can’t fight you now; I’m no danger to you—see? I am injured. I’m sure you—”

  The renegade struck him across the face with a swift paw, sending him tumbling backwards.

  “Do not dare to condescend me!” she hissed. “Don’t speak with such reason, don’t dare try to behave as if you don’t know what has happened, what you and your wolves have already done.”

  “What?” Tir mumbled. He blinked away the blackness that had swamped his vision when she struck him. “What’ve I done?”

  “You killed her. All of you. And don’t think that any single one of you is going to get away with it.”

  “Who? Who was killed?” Tir struggled to his paws and scuffled backwards, tripping over his useless leg.

  “You know who ‘twas! The deer! You killed the deer! The blood is on your paws at this very moment!”

  The deer!

  “No!” Tir shouted, hiding his bloody paws in the grass while trying to move away. “It wasn’t me! I couldn’t have!”

  “You lie,” she spat. “You helped them.”

  Fear and guilt washed over Tir, sticky and hot like blood.

  “I didn’t want to!” he wailed. “It was the alpha’s orders, I swear on it!”

  The renegade halted, her eyes bulging.

  “The alpha?”

  Tir jerked his head and looked away, knowing he had said too much.

  “Where is this alpha?” she demanded.

  “I—I can’t tell you.”

  “Tell me!” she snarled, leaping at him.

  “No!” Tir tried to jump away, but fell in the dirt. “What do you want with her?”

  The renegade silenced, seeming to think on this for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice had fallen to a low, gravelly rasp, strained, as though she was fighting to keep calm.

  “I wish to speak with her. There are a few things we need to straighten out.”

  Tir led the white renegade across the fields and towards the rest of the hunting patrol. His mind was reeling; he hardly knew what he was doing. But surely it was fine, if this renegade only wanted to speak with Alpha Liyra—he couldn’t stop her, at any rate.

  “Who is this?” Leron demanded, striding towards Tir and the renegade. “Who is this wolf, and where did you find her?”

  “She wishes to speak with Alpha Liyra,” Tir said, swaying on his paws and not meeting Leron’s eyes. “She was insistent.”

  “You are leading a strange wolf into our redoubt? What makes you think you can—”

  “Shut up, Captain,” Simetra barked from the ground. Nerasa, Raatri, and Xelind were hovering over her, watching the blood-streaked renegade with wide eyes. “If this wolf wishes to speak with the alpha, then that is fine,” she said. “She lived here before us, after all.”

  Leron made a rough noise and jerked his head in the direction of the redoubt.

  “Fine then. Bring another stranger. Has this entire pack lost its mind? The sort of ideas—”

  “Next time you have a good idea, Captain, be sure to let us know,” Simetra spat. “You are being foolish.”

  She twisted her head to look at the anxious wolves behind her.

  “Raatri,” she ordered. “Go and help Yielsa carry the prey back into redoubt. The rest of you, come with us.”

  Raatri dashed off to help Yielsa with the deer. Yielsa was far away, visible only as a tawny dot on the horizon, dragging a larger blurry brown dot. Tir wondered what the renegade could have meant about hunting the deer. Surely there was enough for all of them?

  With Nerasa’s help, Simetra struggled up into a standing position. And Leron, still growling to himself, led the way back into the redoubt.