"Suna was shot with silver." His mother's graying hair seemed whiter at the message, but her unyielding expression endured as she focused on her daughter, rather than the Silver.
"Where?" he growled, his muscles flexing involuntarily as his body stiffened. "Where was she shot?"
"In the leg. Non-lethal. At least not yet."
He nodded, and with impatience said, "Get her what she needs. Use it all if you must."
His mother had turned around before he finished, just requiring his approval to use the rare healing agent for silver wounds. Although his mother knew she didn't need to ask to use the Whispering Sunder.
Suna was born alongside Ronan as his twin, and no one should ever have to question whether or not to treatherwounds.
He moved towards the turned-over truck. The riders standing beside it were marred with lacerations, blood and dirt, but nothing life-threatening. Ferla, a cousin of his striving to establish her place, was unconscious, her chest slowly rising and falling. She would no doubt awake with disappointment.
"Where is Rem?" Ronan growled, looking around.
"I don't know. We can't find her. Ferla is out from Wolfsbane," Torri said, a Theta brought for service by the Warden family.Clearly not as a guard.
"You lost her," he stated, moving right past that statement.
The Theta looked hard at Ronan before nodding and averting his gaze.
"How do you lose a human that was in the same vehicle as you? A Silver at that, one that wecannotlose?"
Nia was the one to pipe up this time, firmly gazing at Ronan through one eye as the other was swollen shut, a dazed sense about her. "I blacked out. I thought she might be with you. Oh, no… We need to find Rem."
Ronan looked off, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.Not much time has even passed.He then moved only his eyes back to them.
"Shall we go—" Nia postured with false bravery, this task far from being suited for a Gamma.
“Not yet," he growled, moving past the lot. "Send three Betas once I am out of scent’s range. Let me go first. Something is not right, and I don’t want too many scents in the woods. I need to see what is happening.”
If harm befell Rem, he felt directly responsible. This interruption in their journey was something Rem could not be expected to handle; how she fared was a direct reflection on him.
Ronan moved with purpose in the only direction they could have gone, shifting to a large, charcoal gray wolf with scars lining his body. His gaze remained on the ground, scanning for tracks. And yet, there was no scent.
Eventually, the sound of his pack faded as he only heard critters scurrying in the woods, along with the chirping of many bird and bugs. He wondered how any human could move this fast while carrying another… perhaps itwasn’ta human.
It wasn't until he ran for many more minutes that he caught the metallic smell of blood. He halted with a bracing of his joints and knelt down to deeply smell the Earth. Then he saw it—blood caked into the grass.
It was, somehow, without a discernible scent. Just metal.
Marks in the grass mirrored hasty movements. He heeded the bloody trail, still searching for the smell of whoever was carrying her, but it never came.
His nerves frayed at the lack of identity. Out of anyone,heshould be able to catch the scent. Was it a new magic? Or the human magic that they called science? He never liked changes like these. They were dangerous and unknown.
He came upon a larger pool of blood, and that grated at his patience.
The burden of accountability weighed heavier on him. He didn't like to fail as a leader.
It made him move faster.
* * *
It was taking longerthan he expected, the scent always at the same distance, and he never seemed to gain any ground. This couldn't be a human, despite the others being of the hunters.
Then it hit his ears like the buzzing of a nearby fly—he ceased all movement, even his breathing, as he directed his attention to the disturbance he heard. A female voice came through with more clarity, and it aligned with the trail of blood.
He moved faster, although quieter than before.
