Continuing from Battle;
The staff glowed gently on the hill I’d rammed it into, lighting the way for those that needed it. I knelt, feeling the vibrations from the Earth as it reached my outstretched palm. Two groups, one larger than the other, were fleeing a much larger group behind. The middle group were slower and further away from my staff’s guiding light. They were the ones I needed to help.
“Mother Earth, help me guide those that seek sanctuary. Those that chase, slow them down. Bind them in the woodland’s power. So mote it be.” The wind blew around me, the trees rustled, their whispers telling me they’d heard and heeded my call. I stalked down the hill, aware that the first group were nearly upon me.
Then, crashing through the trees, a group of wolves appeared. As they saw the staff’s light, they shifted. Most of them were women, herding and protecting the younger ones who were tired, out of breath, exhausted. Some collapsed by the staff, some needed help up the small hill.
“Rest,” I whispered to them in the breeze from the trees. “You are safe.”
“There was another group,” the oldest female cries out, her voice high and tight.
“I know,” I whispered back. “Stay there so I can help them,” I tell her. The younger ones huddle into her and I feel my aunt’s protective shield envelop them. Standing, I withdraw my blades and watch as the second group comes into view. A young cub stumbles and the others slow to help; that explains why there are two groups of fleeing she-wolves and cubs.
As the second group pass me, I take up my defence position on the path, asking the shadows to hide me.
Soon, there are snarls and growls approaching me. The hunting group is smaller now, the trees have tied and bound those they could. I smile; these Wolves have forgotten whose territory they are in.
As the hunting pack approaches, I ask the shadows to fall back and command my staff’s light to brighten. As it does, the wolves skid to a halt. Some shift into their human form. I would call them men, however, men do not hurt nor hunt women and children.
“You will shift,” I command them in an Alpha voice. I might not be a Wolf, but the frequency of an Alpha can be imitated, by some. Ella and I are two examples.
Some do as I command, some fight it. “Fight it, and you will not live to see the dawn.”
In my mind, I ask the trees to circle the hunters in. One way or another, the Alpha in these parts will have his work cut out. Some Wolves notice the change in the scenery and whimper, then shift and kneel. One shifts before me, a sneer upon his bloody lips.
“You’re no wolf,” he tells me.
“I’d say you weren’t either, well, not a decent one,” I retort. I keep my arms steady, hiding the curved blades of the Callaghan’s. When he sees those, I expect one of two things to happen. But I don’t want that to happen just yet.
“You’re a cheeky witch, aren’t you?” He asks. With a nod from me to his feet, the vines tangle him.
“I am a witch, yes. Do you know which one?” I ask him, taking in his cocky smirk, his lean frame and muscled form, he has no idea. Or if he does, he thinks he can win. I’ve been training with these blades since I was three years of age. Eighteen years is not a long time, but long enough to know how to use them against rogue wolves. He looks around, and seeing some of his men kneeling, he orders them to rise. They refuse. They’re the wiser ones here, I observe to my Aunt.
“What did you do to them, witch?” He barks and begins to stalk towards me. I move my arms, extending my blades and he stops. The look of terror on his face is enough for me to know he now knows which family of witches I hail from.
“We can’t have…” he spits out and he turns, seeking a way out. He tries to climb the trees, however, they bow over, forming a dome, depositing him back into the middle.
“Oh, but you have. Your friends, they knew. How many witches have the voice of an Alpha?” He turns and runs at me, claws out, snout snarling. He shifts as he jumps and in moments, the silver of my blades have cut him many times, injuring him, slowing him.
“And still, you attacked, signing your own death warrant, but first, we will have answers.” I notice the fear in his eyes at his now painfully slow death. The silver liquid that runs in the blades will have begun to kill him.
I feel my Aunt’s presence and that of the Callaghan Alpha outside the ring of trees. I bid the trees to open, allowing them entry. The circle closes again, allowing no one to leave.
The reckoning has begun.