“They owe your father,” she said.
“My father—”
“Was my brother. Bronson Dade. The murdered Alpha of Blackfish.”
CHAPTER 32
Grayson
Crusted snow covered the worst of the carnage. For some, it was easier to see an uneven field and believe the lumps were rocks or dormant shrubbery, not the bodies of the fallen. Overhead, white star-shaped flakes drifted from a mournful sky. The wind howled, whistling through the trees as if to ignore the dead. Otherwise, everything was silent. No birds circling like black scavengers. No banners to flap in the beaten-metal air. No drums to call the living home.
No glory in what had been done here.
Five days had passed since the attack on Owen Griffith’s settlement, and what remained of the buildings smoldered on the far horizon. Those who escaped that day had done so by the grace of fate and their preparedness. Those who ran toward the fight had been victorious—if victory meant the few left standing when hostages had been taken.
But we’d left all that behind—the blackened skeletons of what had once been homes—and as we’d left, a dog had howled with the cry of the abandoned. I’d wondered if it was Burn.
This new carnage spreading at my feet, though, was here for a reason. Broken spears stood at uncommon angles. Hairy pigs lay beneath the snow, but the wolves who died had reverted to their human forms, and although we’d arrived too late to swing the battle, I had to walk this field. I had to see… needed to fucking see who lay beneath the snow.
Wind sliced through the heavy tunic I wore. I didn’t notice the cold as I walked from mound to mound, pushing aside snow with my fingers. Looking for the faces. Those I identified. Counting the dead.
The sun hovered low behind the clouds, but still a sharp, edgy blade. Sparse daylight remained, and each minute pounded with urgency. Catrina had been taken. Adriel. Pond, and Levi, who’d been helping with the evacuation. My first fear was that I’d find them here, lost and cold. But each face I uncovered burned me with a vengeful relief—no one I recognized, but each one was worth killing for, and I would kill those responsible. By my honor and my blood, I would find them. Not stop until it was done, although this fighting field was here to slow us down. Enrage us with the cost in pursuit.
I wasn’t sure who the men were, buried beneath the snow. Perhaps they came from Cariboo. Or Alpen rebels I hadn’t met. From the way the bodies lay, the ambush caught them unaware. Men with more bravery than experience, but willing to fight.
I straightened, bent my head for a moment, unable to draw the lament to my lips through the knot in my throat. The first notes were rough and broken. But I owed them the honor, to sing their souls home. As Alpha, to mourn their loss. Their value. To shed the tears of their loved ones.
“The snow weeps and covers their bones, with no one left to cry,” Mace said from behind me. “We can’t spare the arrows to let them go.”
One to light the way. One to break the bonds.
I turned away.
“What do your spies tell you?”
“A small force guards the hostages. The larger hides and waits.”
“They head north?”
“Toward a valley. Sheer mountains all around. Both Pike and Cashel will scout ahead.”
Snow was easy to knock down.
“We get the hostages first.”
“Goes without saying.”
Snow crunched beneath my feet as we walked back to the camp. Fires burned in iron cages. The scent of cooking meat hung in the air. Voices were subdued and angry, the usual in camps where the men hated war with the same vengeance that drove them to fight.
Our numbers were fewer than we needed, but weeks ago, we’d sent exploratory teams through the breach in the Alpen’s passage. Found a backdoor into Cariboo territory. Since then, we’d been moving men and supplies through the passage while the men under Mace’s command were moving overland with me.
We were the decoys, drawing Amal’s attention while teams searched newly discovered passages for useful ratholes.
And because the hostages were also not moving through passages, that meant they were decoys, too. Intended to draw my attention.
It changed nothing. Lec Rus would arrive soon with the next shipment of supplies—if the weather held. But the supplies and reinforcements would follow us if we left tonight. A possibility, since we were close enough to the hostages to strike. Something we needed to do before they went too far into the mountains of Cariboo.
Fallon stood at the command tent’s entrance, holding back the flap. She’d insisted on coming, managed the weakness in her leg with gritted teeth. I needed her expertise and respected her ability to know her own limits.
