Nodding, Weston made more notes. “A new laptop would be helpful. We have a printer, for the official documentation. Alpha Grier understood the old notes suffered from age, pencil marks and ink rubbing off after being handled. His solution was the laptop, printer, and plastic folders to store the documents. I’ve been typing the old notes to preserve them,” he said, clearly fond of the work.
“Great.” Keon added a scanner to the shopping list building in his mind. When Weston made a noncommittal grunt, he changed the subject with another pull of his dwindling cigarette. “Drew will scour the internet for information, and may ask his brother, who’s a cop. I’ve told him roughly what to expect, in regards to their behaviour. I’ve included a list of medical supplies I want Eliseo to replenish, if possible. Thatcher is persistent, and our supplies will fade fast if he lingers.”
“Good idea.” Weston scratched furiously at his paper. He flipped the page and filled more lines. “Crutches or medical supports would be advisable. Some of the carpenters have tried to make them, over the years, but they don’t last long, supporting a grown man’s weight. Steel and metal are better.”
Keon agreed, letting him make notes and added to his mental list. “I’ve asked Rylee to place an advert in the local and national newspapers. He runs a sanctuary, and has clout with the media and the college.” He didn’t want anyone left behind, or unaware Keon had called them home. At the least, they had the opportunity to get in touch with family, letting their loved ones know they were safe and happy.
Becoming Alpha had never been part of his heritage or plans, but was it fate? Maybe everything leading to this moment happened to bring these families and mates home? To give them the understanding and acceptance his father had given Keon.
For years, decades…from the beginning of Vihaan’s existence, the world had been screaming for change. Keon had the chance to act, the opportunity to change the world.
The news would spread, and people could decide what they wanted. Unlike the animal species of Vihaan, forever banished once they crossed through the doorway, foame had free access. Once people like Leo knew it was safe, they could choose. When they got home, Keon would be ready and willing to accept them into his pack. As he would for Rylee, if he took the risk of returning. No matter what, his pack would always provide sanctuary for Vihaan refugees. His pack would become the mirror to Rylee’s fraternity.
A safe-haven to those Vihaan had unfairly judged unworthy.
*
Milo
“BE QUICK.” THATCHERglowered, as Milo wrapped a cloak around his shoulders and left camp.
It had taken too long to get approval to escape his guards and leave the camp, but at least the Meskli hadn’t yet arrived. He still had time. Milo walked slowly, out of necessity with his crutches sinking into the soil and grass, but also to prevent his father realising how important this journey was to him. The only benefit of the delay was that Haley had already disappeared into the forest with her friends and wouldn’t be joining him.
Passing the unofficial boundary of where Thatcher had set up camp, and where Alpha Keon had agreed to leave them in peace until the Meskli arrived, Milo felt like he was doing something dangerous. Leaving behind his birth pack on an adventure far greater than the reality. Unsteady, step by faltering foot, he made his way into a meadow between the two packs.
Seeing a guard hut ahead, Milo redirected his crutches. The less people who knew he’d been asking questions, the better it would go when he ventured into Keon’s pack to ask what the Alpha was truly like.
“Hello,” he called, lifting fingers from the crutch in a half-hearted wave.
The guard turned, eyed Milo cautiously, then nodded a greeting. Milo hoped the cloak, and the satchel strapped across his chest made him appear like a drifting traveller, as they often passed his own pack when moving between areas. He had no idea if the same happened here, but luck seemed on his side today.
“Where are you heading, friend?” the guard asked, eyeing the crutches.
Milo managed a smile, not too bright but not unfriendly. “Just passing by. I thought I’d stretch my legs, but these high winds are frustrating. We might be in for a storm,” he admitted, trying to be vague. Though the winds weren’t ‘high’ yet, he had a feeling they’d escalate in the next few hours.
Nodding, the guard ran a hand over his cheek. “You may be right,” he reasoned, with a faint smile. “This area is more exposed. When the winds come, they whistle through your bones. My father always said that shade of watery purple in the sky was a sign of a storm.”
Intrigued, Milo looked up, absently raising a hand to shield his eyes only for the crutch to drop from under his arm. He scrambled to grab it, but the guard caught it first, handing it back with a nod. He bobbed a silent ‘thank you’ back, then gazed up. “I see what you mean. There’s lilac through the clouds,” he realised, agreeing it was a bad omen.
“If you’re in the area and it hits, head to one of the guard huts or the centre of the village,” the guard said, more helpful than he’d anticipated. “There’s an emergency bunker under the podium where folks can take shelter. It’s in the middle of the village, with the pack flag on it. You can’t miss it. Might want to take a stroll down in the good weather to get your bearings, huh?”
The suggestion was kind, considerate, and lacked the condescension he was used to from Thatcher’s guards. “Thank you. I might,” Milo replied, grateful for the valuable information. If nothing else, the bunker would be an excellent place to hide if his father raged about the challenge, or if he ran out of time to seek sanctuary before the challenge took place.
Ideally, Milo wanted the matter settled within hours of the Meskli’s arrival, but since no one knew when that might be, he needed a solid, secure plan in place beforehand with at least one contingency, which the bunker could now be. At a push, he’d planned to hide in the forest if things went south, but a bunker in the middle of Alpha Keon’s pack was far safer.
“May I ask…they say you have a new Alpha,” he began, not sure how hard to push this line of questioning.
The guard nodded, with a faraway smile. “He’s done good by us,” he said, glancing around before leaning in to lower his voice. “He cares aboutallof his pack, regardless of what you look like, how you function, or who you take a liking to, if you get my drift?” He winked, in what Milo presumed was a hint that Alpha Keon would accept people like him, disabled in ways other Alphas would consider a burden.
“I think so.” He adjusted his crutches, and took a risk. “He’s not…like his brother, is he? I’ve heard Simeon was terrifying.” And he hoped the guard knew Simeon’s staunch opinion on the disabled being an unwanted nuisance well enough to know why Milo would feel that way.
“No. I didn’t mind Simeon, if I’m honest,” the guard said, with a negligent shrug. “We trained together, went to school together. I could tolerate him better than some, but he treated Keon terribly, and the poor kid?” He paused and cleared his throat. “?excuse me, the Alpha?learned how to be a better man. Maybe because of his brother, or in spite of him. He sure was a kid who liked to prove folk wrong. I guess he’s still doing it.”
Milo couldn’t resist a smile. The guard was clearly bored and pleased to have someone to talk to, and he’d found the right topic. “I’m glad to hear that. I’d very much like to stay to talk further, but I’m afraid I’m sinking.”
The guard looked down to where his crutches were deeply buried in muddy grass and laughed, gesturing to the far left. “There’s a worn path this way, leading into the village. Best take that, and let you get your bearings before you head back,” he said, kindly hovering as Milo lifted his crutches from small mucky divots. When he struggled with the left one, the guard gave it a thump under the handle which dislodged it.
“Thank you for your time,” Milo said, adding a goodbye. He took the suggested path, wondering if it was too risky to head into the village. At least he would find a place to rest, even if he chose not to snoop further today.
