How badly she wished that never happened, especially in that moment.
The sun streaked through with golden rays as she looked at the canopy above, glancing down when she heard the scurrying of creatures in the thick underbrush. The addition of a warm breeze would have made this almost serene—
"So, do you want to go over what will happen?" Deacon asked. "I should be with you at all times, at least for now, but you might want to be more prepared. I let you have your peace, but we are very close now, and we have things to go over."
She sighed, not wanting to talk to him, but she knew she had to because he became her assigned interpreter, as shifters did not speak English. She actually wasn't quite surewhatthey spoke, as the language barrier had been news to her.
Rem gripped the reins of the horse that she rode on. "What I want to go over is when you will give my brother back," she replied, glaring at the blonde shifter who rode next to her. Behind him, in the forest, were more shifters that ran on all fours, reminding her she wasn't escaping them anytime soon. She added, "Why do you insist on bringing mybrotherinto this? You still haven't told me. It’s to make me compliant, isn’t it? Well, that’s sick of all of you. How could I possibly want to mate with your Alpha when you scared the life out of my brother?"
She tucked her silver-colored hair behind her ears. It was greasy and dirty after two weeks of non-stop travel, and she was certain she looked like a hag that belonged to the forests.
Deacon looked away, as if ashamed. "Look, I can’t talk about that, alright? If it’s any consolation, you’ll know very soon. And I can’t help that you’re in this situation, okay? None of this is my call. Your brother is requested, along with you, and I am in no position to argue. I've already told you this."
Rem looked down at her white horse, black dots speckling its fur. It looked like a picture of a Dalmatian in the books that her mother read to them as children—one of the few books permitted.
With a low tone, she said, "I don’t think you understand, though. If Oliver is harmed, I will doeverythingin my power to return it tenfold. I don’t care what your Alpha wants if he hurts my brother."
Deacon gave a tepid smile. "You will make a strong Luna."
She looked the opposite way of Deacon, hating how that sounded, a sense of violation crawling under her skin like a thousand bugs. "No, stop. Don’t talk like that. I don't want to be your Luna. I have told you that more than once."
"You have to be prepared for that, though," he said with confusion. "You're a Silver. There’s a strong chance your mate will be an Alpha, especially ours, since you’re so close to our territory.”
"You said I had the option to go to someone other than an Alpha," she argued.
It wasn't like the idea excited her, but she argued just to argue. It was better than nothing.
He tutted. "I—look, I just said that to calm you down. I mean, it’s not entirely untruthful—there are a few more Silvers than there are unmated Alphas in our alliance. But, more than likely, you're going to Ronan. We are all territory driven, and you’re the only one near ours. You have a strong look to you, too, that he will like—no, sorry, I don't mean to offend. I just mean you have alook. It's trivial, but it can mean a lot for my kind."
She knew what he meant—she had been told she was beautiful by more than her family, but that she also had a slightly masculine look with a wide jaw, thin nose with a wider base, and her dark eyebrows encased her large eyes in a way that made a glare quite unnerving. It was a look inherited from her gran.
Her doe eyes and full lips softened her face—something inherited from her father's line—and it was odd to think thatshifterswould appreciate the mixture, whereas most human men did not.
She gave a sardonic chuckle, finding that to be more salt in the wound. The fact that she had been born with blood best suited for shifters—and had just been complimented by one—made her bitter.
"Just get another Silver. I know there are others," she countered. “I don’t care about your kind and your territory nonsense… Or, you know what, I’ll actually reverse that and say you touchedmyterritory. My home. My family. My brother. A little hypocritical, don’t you think?”
"The other Silvers have already taken to the others to the other packs. You’re the last one left."
"Fine, then tell me what awaits me," she conceded, huffing. "But don’t think I am just okay with any of this. I don’t care if this is normal for you creatures. It’snotnormal for me."
Rem stared at the foreign shifter next to her, the male lost in a mental reply. Deacon was a lean shifter, probably in his twenties. He wore a lot of leather and cloth, like the other shifters. One thing that immediately set him apart was the tattoos on his forearm, shaped in decorative lines that elegantly intertwined with each other.
The witches told humans that shifters bore tattoos to silently communicate, each one bearing significance, such as runes, decorative line work, or images meant to represent various aspects of their lives. Because of that, very few humans ever stained their skin with ink, so as not to send the wrong message.
Seeing nothing but tattooed creatures was a permanent reminder of how far away from home she was.
He furrowed his dark eyebrows that clashed against his lighter hair, shaking his head like he didn’t know how to fully respond. "Look, no—there’s just too much to cover… Alright, how about we just focus on Ronan, then, since that’s why you’re here.” He shifted his position on his horse. “Our Alpha is to see you, smell you, and observe you. Then, if he likes what he sees, he will choose you. Although he probably will anyway, just due to you being a Silver so he can grant himself your powers—"
They halted their horses, a few wolves coming out of the woods and onto the dirt trail, standing in front of them. The wolves were larger than any true wolf, an intelligence in their eyes revealing human intellect. One of them—a beige-colored wolf—turned into a man in a quick succession of fur rescinding, legs thinning, and nearly everything else shrinking. Rem learned that their Elders blessed their clothes to allow shifters to morph without tearing, so as not to waste their precious materials.
The beige wolf was the leader of the traveling group, and she learned a few days ago that his name was Owen. He resembled Deacon in many ways, save Owen's features were sharper, his body stockier. He too was one of the few that spoke English, his Clan specializing in translation. "Alright, before we get any deeper, we need to do something first," Owen said.
Rem licked her dry, chapped lips, her heart pounding against her rib cage. "Do what?"
Another wolf came from the woods and fluidly turned into a human. Rem had always thought the process would be painful and ugly, but she supposed the effortless transformation also made sense, like wearing a second skin.
The other shifter was the older female from before, who Rem learned was an Elder named Fiona. She wore the same vibrant red robes and a thick leather belt around her waist with a golden emblem on the front to denote her rank. Rem didn't trust this one in the slightest.
