Crying Wolf - 4. Chapter 4

Skye

Standing outside of the White Hare, he remains frozen in place with one hand reaching for the door before retreating back to his side. Gaze darting nervously from side to side, the streets are empty in this part of the city.

“Just go the fuck in already.”

Bolstering his resolve, Skye forces his body into motion and opens the solid wooden door inward on its hinges. Hurrying inside before he has a chance to turn around with his tail between his legs, it takes a moment for his lavender gaze to adjust to the dimly lit interior. Scuffed scarred round wooden tables sporadically fill the room, every bit as haphazard at the unkempt grizzled grey head that pops up from behind the bar.

“ ‘elcome to the ‘are, wot can I get ‘ye?”

“It’s only me… Skye. Not like you see anyone new here anyhow, Lynx.”

Skirting around chairs with torn upholstered seats, he sidles up to the bar and leans against the counter.

“An ale.”

“O’course.”

A hand that is gnarled and bent thuds down a tankard upon the bar top before filling it with warm amber hued ale. Lifting it to his lips, Skye takes a long gulp before setting it back down with a dramatic satisfied sigh.

“You’re getting better at brewing with every batch.”

“Bah, naw why ‘ye lolling ‘ere an trying ta chat me like a ‘ainted lady? Did ‘ye naw c’mere just ta butter me up.”

“Why do you always greet us like someone new is going to waltz in through that door?”

“I ‘ave manners ‘ye pup. I’m a ‘usiness owner.”

“Must be awfully quiet with the lockdown. Don’t figure many are getting out for a pint. Don’t you get bored here all alone?”

“I see an ‘ear more’n ‘ye think, pup.”

“You know I hate it when you call me that.”

Lynx’s only answer is a mad laugh while he diligently wipes the bar with a damp rag.

“Wonder when it will let up…”

“Not ‘ith wolves at the door.”

“If we stay cooped up in our houses, York will be past the doors.”

“‘Risa knows wot ‘hes bout. Them curs’ll be ‘owlin on back ‘ta York ‘ight quick.”

“Look, I know Arisa is a good strong leader, but if it’s as simple as all that then why enforce this city-wide sit-in? It’s not York…not completely. There is something else out there that has her spooked, but I’ll be damned if I know what exactly.”

Skye takes another long swig of his ale, swirling the amber liquid around inside the tankard. Of course Lynx had no straight answers, he knew that before he’d even bothered to leave his house.

Even after playing into the delicate dance that is needed anytime you deal with the mad old wolf, all he’d gained were vague assertions and what felt like double entendres. He’d all but asked outright what had prompted Arisa into her actions. Tapping his fingertips in a tattoo against the scarred wood bar top, Skye sighs before going in for the risk. In a quiet conspiratorial tone he leans in close to whisper.

“What is it, Lynx? It’s not York, I know it isn’t. I went out there this morning, and saw some of those York curs in our territory and they were afraid of something, too. What is it? You know things…hear rumors.”

The barkeep flashes me a crooked toothy grin before taking my tankard back from between my slack fingers.

“Be safe, pup. D’nna let the big bad ‘ave at ‘ye.”

Summarily dismissed, Lynx turns his back to Skye and goes about his day with nothing more to say on any subject.

Tsk.

He knew it would be wasted time sitting here trying to garner any more information.

“Have a good evening, Lynx. Thanks for the pint.”

His grizzled grey head bobs almost imperceptibly in acknowledgement. Pushing himself away from the bar, Skye reverses his path through the dimly lit interior of the White Hare to the door. Opening out into a damp chill in the air and the colors of twilight darkening the sky above, he sets off back towards the direction of home.

Hands in his pockets, he takes a somewhat more circuitous route and walks towards the outlying part of the city. The wall is truly a sight to behold when you are right beside it. It is incongruous and out of place in the way it cuts a ragged border around the entirety of Leeds.

Taking deep inhalations of the fast coming night air, he tries hard not to dwell on making use of the callow beasts talents. Just getting a good breath of fresh air… He couldn’t help the symphony of scents carried on the breeze.

Still nothing of note jumped out at him.

All that meant was that it wasn’t close enough to the city to be taken notice of.

Skye refuses to let go of it, and one way or another he was going to get to the bottom of what was lurking out there. Long repressed memories of his family being slaughtered once again arise in his mind. Never again. He’d not be caught unawares a second time like that…

“Nothing to be done for it now, best head on home.”

Tsk.

Overthinking was beginning to give him a headache.

Darker and darker the sky above his head grows, and it is when he has nearly made it back home that he hears it.

Awoooo.

A chorus of real wolves vocalizing in the distance, their plaintive cries reaching them even here in the city. Nothing unusual there… and then there is an answering call.

Awoooooooo.

This one sings alone.

Haunting and a bit melancholy, the howl sends a shiver down his spine. Full and sonorous it easily carries far and wide in answer to the other wolves. There is something daunting in the power of the sound.

Looking down, he can see that his hand is shaking. Annoyed with himself, he pulls his cap lower over his eyes despite the dark of night and makes quick work of returning to his house. Shutting the door behind him, he sags back against the wood as Skye struggles to contain his ragged breathing.

Throwing his cap onto the hook in the entryway, he holds both hands up before his face. Still shaking. Without thinking, he throws home the rarely used lock on the door… as though that will do anything if something big and bad enough wants to get in.

“Big and bad…”

Lynx’s parting words resurface in his mind.

“No, can’t be…”

The Born hadn’t been seen in this area in a decade. York was their greatest threat, a bunch of asses that they were. It just couldn’t be that… but it made sense and that frightened him more than anything.

What could get Arisa riled enough to put her pack on lockdown?

A Born werewolf certainly could…

“Has to be something else… It can’t be that.”

Walking up the stairs, Skye heads for his bedroom. Undressing in the dark, he lets his clothes pile on the floor at his feet before climbing nude into his bed. Feeling all too much like a small child listening for things to go bump in the night, he lays there clutching the bedclothes to his chest.

Bloody fangs and claws ripping through flesh.

“No, not again.”

Hearing hyper-fixating on every small sound, he lays as still as possible. The booming howl does not come again, nor does the call of the normal wild wolves, but the damage is done. Skye cannot let go of the chilling portent that lone howl carried.

“Just stop it, Skye. You’ve heard nothing more and it’s not close anyhow.”

If you close your eyes then it will come rend you to bits while you slumber.

“If they wanted to finish the job, then they’ve had years to do it.”

Arisa has never in all these years issued a lockdown. This is something much bigger.

“Just shut up and go to sleep already.”

You’re talking to yourself, you know…

“I said shut up and go to sleep.”

Angry with himself and refusing to admit that he is afraid of whatever is out there, he rolls over onto his side and pulls the thin sheets up over his head. For what feels like hours, he lays there still and silent with only his wandering dooming thoughts for company. Eventually the sweet release of slumber takes him and he’s able to shove away the problems of the world for a while.