Thom had bad feeling about all of it. Bad feelings weren’t that uncommon anymore and they no longer came as a surprise. Visitors, however—those tended to be surprising.
His lips pressed into a thin, white line as he jogged down the hill toward the gates. Thordin had every right to be paranoid. They all did. Their luck had been holding too much lately and it was bound to run out sometime, probably soon.
Only one of that pack showed up. That can’t be a good thing. I sincerely doubt it’s a good thing. His lips thinned and he picked up his pace. They’d be lucky if Thordin hadn’t done something that couldn’t be undone, especially with the razor’s edge he’d been walking lately since Sif’s arrival. Thom wasn’t sure where the pair stood—he wasn’t sure that even Thordin knew. It hadn’t come up yet. Things were tense, but quiet.
He shook his head at himself. I should tell Drew that one of his brother’s pack is here. But Drew was out at the greenhouse with Greg, checking on the salvaged plants. It would have to wait until Thom knew why the werewolf had come—and whether their latest visitor brought good news or bad.
Phelan’s voice echoed in the distance as Thom ducked through the open gate. “Thordin! Back off!”
That doesn’t sound promising. Thom broke into a run, swearing as his bad ankle protested. Even though it had healed well enough, it still chose the worst possible times to protest when he did things like running in the snow. He hoped it would get better in time, but he wasn’t going to hold out much hope that would happen.
“I said back off, dammit.” Phelan looked about ready to judiciously apply his staff to Thordin’s head as the bigger man menaced a cowering, curly-haired man hunkered in a bush. Thom winced, slowing as he came within the last few steps of Phelan.
“What the hell is going on out here?”
“I told him not to move an inch and he didn’t listen,” Thordin growled. “He’s a stranger.”
“He’s not a stranger,” Thom said. He knew he man’s face, recognized him as the quietest, smiling but shy member of Daniel’s pack. “He’s been here, shared our fire. Step off, Thordin.”
“Thomas,” the werewolf breathed in relief. “Danny hoped you’d still be here.”
“I don’t know where he’d imagine I’d go,” Thom said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, watching Thordin out of the corner of his eye. Thordin eased back but kept on clutching his axe like he was ready to cleave the newcomer in half. “What’s going on? Where’s Daniel?”
“They’re still west of here, other side of the lake,” the werewolf said. “Said they’d catch up, sent me ahead. I’m the quickest, y’see, and I wasn’t afraid to run the ice on the lake.”
“What happened?”
“There’s more survivors,” the werewolf said. “More like you, across the lake. They’re trying to hold out.”
“Hold out against what?” Phelan asked, fingers white-knuckled as he gripped his staff. “What’s out there?”
“Monsters,” the werewolf whispered. “Monsters coming out of the west. They’re coming and I don’t know that they can be stopped.”
oh no..bad enough a werewolf shows up but he has news of monsters coming their way. whew….
Good thing I’m not there. Too much stress for me. 🙂
Thanks for the latest post. Good stuff.