44 | A DISRUPTION IN THE HIERARCHY

When I reach Reinier territory, Fallon’s the one who meets me and escorts me through the boundary. Just like before. This time, he doesn’t bother talking to me, just gives me one of those silent nods of greeting before gesturing for me to follow him. I feel the tension drain out of me the second I cross into the familiar territory. Just like before, memories assault me as we make our way to the main house Paris uses for her official meetings.

We pass a few Reiniers going about their business, completely ignoring me, but I feel the weight of being watched despite never once looking directly into their eyes. They’re taking care to show me that they’re barely tolerating my presence here, but not actively trying to hurt me or even show any real malice. At least they’re not all avoiding me like they had last time, making the whole village seem like a ghost town. Now it looks a little more like the place I grew up in.

The gentle sounds of the distant waves against the rocky shore setting a sort of background music as some of the older Wolven go about performing their daily chores. Two Wolven with ash-blonde hair, probably part of one of the over seas allies, haul freshly chopped firewood from house to house. Another five Wolven are setting clothes out to dry on a clothes line on the other side of one of the houses, their eyes downcast and heads slightly bowed - like they’re purposefully trying to avoid looking at me - or I at them. It’s so strange to be ignored so openly by people I once knew as well as my own mother, that, for a moment, I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate dimension.

Then I remind myself of the history we all share - most of it bad - and feel the reality of it roll over me. At the very least, no one’s trying to attack me. So that in an of itself is a win in my book. I don’t need anyone to acknowledge me here. They’re no longer part of me like they once were.
I note how some of the houses seem eerily quiet, like they’re empty and have been for a while. My brain catalogs them, deciding now’s not the time to ponder if the occupants are dead or just relocated to other parts of the settlement. Some of the other houses that seem just the same have subtle differences here and there that change how I once pictured them. A fixed roof here, a taller tree out front there, pretty flowers in window boxes, an entire cabin painted in a more neutral shade of tan. I can’t help but note how things have changed, and feel a little sad at some of the differences as we finally reach the main house.

Things around here are still changing.

Fallon himself seems different. More put-together than the man I’d reunited with a month ago. His sky-blue eyes are rimmed in shadow, but they’re also clear and alert. His hair’s still a mess of dyed strawberry-blonde in stead of the natural gold and red that streaked it before…and I find myself missing the old coloration. Pushing the nostalgia aside, I pause on the steps of the main house before he can leave me here like last time.

“Hey, Fallon,” I call out to him. The man turns to give me a wary look, one eyebrow quirked up. “You don’t have to keep dying it.” I don’t bother explaining what I’m talking about - we both know I mean his hair. I half expect my older cousin to snarl at me and shoot back an icy response about me minding my own business. But he doesn’t. Instead, his forehead smooths out and a sad look filters into his eyes, making him look more like the guy I remember from nine years ago rather than the broken thing so many of the Pack seem to be these days.

“Paris is waiting for you.” He tells me after a moment, turning away before I have the chance to say anything else, and bounding back towards the edges of the territory.

I frown at his shrinking form as he puts some distance between us, my eyes following him until he disappears into the thick tree line at the edges of the village. I can’t help but wonder what his deal is. Why he’s out on the edges of the border - guarding - rather than at Paris’ side. He’s one of the Beta Wolven in the Pack, last time I checked, him, our cousin Hazel, Ivy, and a few of the older Reiniers should be prime choices as Beta to Paris. Yet… as I look around, I can’t really see a defined Pack. No united force. Everyone’s just scattered and broken. A broken and dysfunctional Pack is a weak Pack - and weak Packs don’t last long. I make a mental note to discuss this with Paris before I leave.

With a heavy sigh, I turn back around and open the door to the main house. Craven wasn’t sitting out here to greet visitors like last time, not that I really expected him to be since he and Ry should be giving their report to Paris if they’re back. I let myself into the house, passing the opened rooms that used to hold treasured memories for me and make my way to the room Paris has been using as an office.

The door is closed, muffled voices only just audible as people converse on the other side of the door. Even with my Wolven hearing, I can’t make out what’s being said, and have to suppress a smile as I recall how - over ten years ago - Paris, Ry, and I would be standing here while Grandmother held meetings inside. We’d be straining to try and spy on the conversations - with no real luck. Grandmother had sound proofed many of the rooms in this house specifically so no one could listen in unless they were invited.

I raise my hands to knock on the door, but just before my knuckles hit the surface, the door opens. Craven gazes at me coolly from the other side, a slight smirk on his face when he sees my surprised expression. His cerulean eyes are clearer than before, less empty and void and more alive that I’ve seen in years. I’m so used to seeing the old hysteria in them that had earned him the nick name Mad Dog in the Pack that I feel like I’m looking at an entirely different person. His sandy blonde hair’s swept up in a pony tail, the scars on his exposed skin more striking than before. The freshly healed scars at his throat nearly blending into his pale skin now.

“Wisteria, glad you could join us.” He tells me, a slight strain to his voice - as if his vocal chords are still healing. He takes a step back to allow me into the room. I blink and walk in after giving myself a slight mental shake.

“Wisty,” Again, Paris seems relieved to see me. Ryker is sitting in a chair in front of her messy desk, Paris moving to greet me with a hug as she had last time. I let her squeeze me, her familiar ginger and salt scent wrapping me in a warming embrace. “You’re timing is excellent. The boys just got into town.” She tells me once she’s released me. She gestures for me to take the empty seat beside Ry’s. I glance back to see Craven’s taken the chair pushed into the corner where he’d sat last time. I sit and make myself comfortable as I wait for them to fill me in.

“I was just giving Paris the report,” Ryker tells me, looking better - like Craven - though he’s got more shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep. But over-all, the aimlessness that had haunted him before seems to be gone. “The Hunter Clan we were tracking,” He begins and shares a look with Paris. One I know all-too-well from the regretful-tinge to their eyes and slight thinning of their lips. A feeling of dread stirs in my stomach as the worst possible thing pops into my head.

“They were one of the Clans Petra had the Pack chase out.” I say it as if by simply stating it will give the statement the benefit of the doubt. Paris winces and Ryker clears his throat, making the slight hope I had that I was giving the worst-case-scenario.

“Unfortunately, it was worse than that.” Ry’s voice gets a little tight and I look over to see him paler than usual. “She had her best Enforcers Track and hunt them to the brink of extinction.” My whole body goes cold. “Right now, the Mississippi Clan has recovered significantly and holds a very big grudge against the Reiniers.”

“Which is understandable.” I breathe and Paris nods back grimly.

“Yes, well, the few who would actually speak to us weren’t aware what Pack we belonged to, but we weren’t able to get much information from anyone on the whereabouts of the Hunter Branch family Dalton.” Ry finishes. “We did get a lead on a Hunter by the name of Graves, but we lost track of them when they led us south.” Rykers lets out a heavy sigh, his lips twisting into a begrudging smile. “I have a feeling they knew we were tailing them and purposefully lost us in Baton Rouge on the way back north.”

“Alright, well, you two tried your best.” I huff on a sigh and look between my three cousins. “I’ll talk to the Ancient and see if she can’t give me anything else to help us Track him. In the mean time, you should rest up.” I look back to Paris. “And get your Pack in order. Things feel…weird around here.” Paris has the decency to flush a little at my harsh words.

“Yeah, I was giving everyone time to settle after…but I know I need to do some weeding out soon.” She sighs and glances towards the door to the room over my shoulder. “I just don’t think I can run the Pack with just one Beta. Neither Craven nor Ry want the job, so I’ve been thinking about Ivy or Hazel and Fallon.” Paris mutters and shakes her head. “Ivy’s just a kid,” She runs a hand through her hair, jostling the bright red curtain as her eyes search the far wall.

“She’s a strong Beta. Her sense of loyalty seems well grounded.” I shrug back, giving Paris a rueful smile. “You could always make the older
Wolven your Advisors.” I offer. Paris looks up at me in surprise, a small ‘o’ forming from her parted lips.

“That’s…not a bad idea.” Ryker hums beside me, a tension I hadn’t realized had been in the room relaxing as the three seem to ponder the idea.

“Well, I’m glad I could help.” I grin at them and stand, feeling more grounded than I have in a while just by offering some kind of help. “I’d better be getting back, something’s up with my pass to cross into Azure lands and I have to go talk to the Alpha.” I sigh an turn to the door. Craven gets up from his chair with the other two and follow me out to the front of the house. “I’ll call for a meeting once I get more news from the Ancient.” I add, turning to give them a parting wave.

I smile at my cousins, my eyes lingering over their Tracker tattoos that marked them as the Elite squad. A pang of sadness and a little jealousy spears through my stomach, and for a second, I wonder what things would have been like if I were more like them - a Wolven through and through. *Would I have been part of their Elite squad? A Tracker, marked and bound to their group and the Pack?* The brief thought is there and gone within a second, making my smile become a little wider at the very thought. *No*. I decide. *Even as a child, my life wouldn’t have been like theirs. Had I been like them, I’d never be inducted into the Tracker group. Grandmother would have groomed me into the Alpha she wanted to lead. I’d probably have been more alienated from my family that I had been as a child. At least I had Paris and Ryker as friends when I was here, despite how things ended up changing over the years, that bond has held*. And for that small mercy, I’m grateful.