Page 21 of Banished From the Pack

Axel’s lips part as if he’s going to speak, but then they press close, and he shakes his head. “Please proceed, Elder Amexaryl.”

“Axel,” I breathe. “Please don’t do this.” My arms and legs shake hard like the land when a sinkhole is forming. Tears drip from my eyes as I look at him. I don’t know what’s happening, but I feel weak and helpless, like a dying animal.

He swallows, a funny little lump in his throat moving up and down, and directs his gaze elsewhere. “I have no choice. The needs of the pack outweigh the needs of the one.”

He repeats the words like it’s a well-used phrase. Even though he’s supposed to be the leader, he must be as helpless as I am, because I can feel the pain in his every word, that this is hurting him in ways it doesn’t hurt me.

Elder Amexaryl picks up the stick with the feathers. “Hold onto her, and don’t let go until I tell you to.”

Axel’s hands clench mine, and he gazes into my eyes.

We both stare at one another, and though tears only leak from my eyes, I know he’s crying inside. I can feel it, through some strange instinct that makes his pain my own.

The elder draws symbols in the air between us.

I begin to sob.

She picks up one of the jars, opens it, and dips her fingertip inside. She flicks the substance from her finger between us, and the symbols light up and twirl slowly in a circle. Then, she picks up the deer hoof stick and shakes it.

The moon on my arm bursts into flames, searing my skin. I try to wrench away from Axel, but his fingers hold on tight. “Axel, no!” I cry. “Please stop.”

“It’s almost over,” he whispers, his voice a hoarse rasp.

I clutch his wrists, clawing at him, writhing as unbearable pain shoots through my body and deeper than that, into my bones, my blood, the vibration of life inside me.

He, too, appears to be in the clutches of agony. His jaw is clenched, and he lets out a tortured groan, like an animal caught in a trap.

“Help,” I cry, not sure if I need help for me or for Axel or for both of us.

Ama stands with muscular arms folded, a victorious smile on her face, like this moment is special for her.

Hatred for her boils in my stomach.

The shaman keeps shaking the feet, rattling them together like a rattlesnake, until I want to scream, to tear my hands off if that’s the only escape. The moon mark on my arm sears into my soul, wrapping around some deep seed inside me. I feel a ripping sensation in the core of my being, like someone is ripping my spine out of my body. I shriek, and Axel closes his eyes, gasping as if in pain. Elder Amexaryl mutters strange words as she shakes the wretched rattle. The symbols between us whirl faster and faster, making a high-pitched hum that shreds my ear drums. I scream again, trying to rip my hands from Axel, but he’s holding onto me so hard I know he’s going to leave marks.

The old woman’s voice rises in pitch and intensity.

I’ve never felt anything so excruciating as the pain tearing through my soul.

“Release her, now!” the elder cries.

Axel’s hands open. I spring away as he staggers backward, falling to his knees, clutching his head.

Ama rushes to soothe him, but he shoves her away. “Get away from me,” he shouts.

Hurt crashes through me in waves. I don’t understand how something I can’t even see can wound me so deeply. If it were a cut, I would bandage it. If it were a crushed limb, I would tear it off with my wolf teeth just to be rid of it. But I can’t do anything, can’t escape the excruciating, incomprehensible pain. I turn and race from the room, sprint down the porch, and shift into wolf form without stopping to undress. I trip when I’m halfway shifted, thudding to the ground and rolling over and over. Then I run, hard and fast, without seeing a thing. I just run. I dash across the shimmering road, and a car screeches to a halt, a horrible sound rising from it and following me behind the next house.

I don’t stop. I run for what seems like days but might be only minutes. I speed past the structures where Lewis cleansed and dressed me. Unbearable pain throbs from the place where the moon once marked me, but I don’t care. Finally, I find myself at the yurt where the healer lives. I shift back to human form, stand before her yurt, and batter the door with my palms.

The door opens, and Artuna looks at me with one white eye and one blue one. “I’m sorry, my child.”

“Where’s my mama?” I scream.

“You’re too late,” she says. “Your mother is dying.”

“No!” I cry, pushing past her. I race to the center of the yurt where my mother rests on a fur pelt, barely breathing.

“Luna,” she wheezes. “Is that you?”