Luna of Rogues

Part 29 - A Walking Armoury

This chapter is for smokybear18 for voting on every single part <3

I've got another two chapters ready and more on the way, so stay tuned. We're just starting to kick off again. I'm writing this when I should be doing an essay  #thuglife (it's lucky my mum doesn't pay attention to which word document I've got open).

The next morning dawned bright and hazy. Before the sun was even up, my second-in-command was shaking me awake. Fion stood at his shoulder with her arms folded across her chest.

"What?" I asked groggily and with no small amount of annoyance. I knew I had been having a wonderful dream, even if I couldn't for the life of me remember what it had been about.

"Border patrol caught a scent," Ollie explained. He wasn't the type for beating about the bush. "There is a small group of wolves to our north-west. Just four or five, but I have reason to believe they're feral."

That word was better than a bucket of cold water. I blinked to clear my mind, but it only served to remind me how much I would prefer to keep my eyes closed. "Ferals? Why?"

Odd. They had been staying away from us at all costs since Brandon died. I wondered if they were salty that their master plan had failed, or wary of something. What made Last Haven more dangerous than any of the established packs?

Could it be a person? I considered Rhodric, but he wasn't currently here. Did they know that, though? I wasn't sure, and I didn't have the brainpower to think it through in that moment.

"Because they have a prisoner who's shouting for help through the mind-link to anyone who'll listen. I'm surprised you haven't heard it."

"I was asleep," I reminded him. Ollie acknowledged that with an apologetic smile and waited expectantly for his instructions. I pulled myself up into a sitting position and ran a hand through my tangled hair. "We'll investigate."

"Just investigate?" Ollie asked in a tone which suggested he thought that was an underreaction.

"We'll investigate forcefully," I corrected myself. "Find me another two fighters — we'll match their numbers."

I did prefer to fight fair when I could, if only because I had experienced the despair of being outnumbered personally. Besides, while ferals fought with less care for their own wellbeing and without mercy, they didn't have any magical talent for combat. My friends and I were as trained as fighters could possibly get, so I had no fear of losing.

"Will Ryker and Emmett do?" he asked me dubiously, eyeing the only pair of fighters who were up this early.

I decided that they would do just fine, and Ollie went to brief them while we got ready. Fion actually turned down the offer to come along, explaining that she had firewood duty this morning. But Leo agreed instantly and assembled my armour for me. He shifted once I was cocooned like a metal turtle, and together we waited in the courtyard for the others. I didn't bother replacing Fion — four was still a decent number.

At this early hour, the younger generation were still asleep. But elder people, as I had found, often woke before the sun during winter. It was those old-timers who roamed the courtyard quietly, and it was them who caught the first glimpse of my new attire.

It caught more attention than I had predicted ... and for an entirely different reason. The rogues didn't stop and stare at an unusual sight, but they were having double-takes at a familiar one. I heard a faint whisper of, "Eira."

The next thing I knew, the name was spreading around until the courtyard rang with it.

"Eira, Eira, Eira," they seemed to say, one after each other. I had never felt more out of place in my home — as the trigger for some kind of shared knowledge. What confused me even more was the utter sorrow in their gazes. As if they were seeing a ghost when they looked at me.