Caught Between Them

We limped back towards the pack house like we’d just wrestled a grizzly bear with a bad case of road rage. Dawn was cracking over the horizon, painting the sky in bruised oranges and purples. Brock sported a fresh souvenir a nasty gash on his arm that was turning his fur a concerning shade of crimson.

“That was…” Brock wheezed, leaning on me for support like a furry leaning tower of Pisa. “An experience, to say the least.”

I snorted, a puff of air escaping my nose. “Yeah, ‘experience’ doesn’t even cover it. How about ‘night of the glowstick wolves’?”

Brock managed a weak chuckle, then winced as the movement sent a fresh jolt of pain shooting through his arm. “Imagine trying to explain that to the council. ‘So yeah, these wolves with built-in rave lights saved our furry butts!'”

The thought sent a fresh wave of laughter bubbling up in my chest. Explaining the whole Glacierclaw situation to Logan was going to be a real doozy. But hey, at least the pack was safe. That was all that mattered, right?

Rounding the final bend in the path, the sight of the pack house brought a wave of relief crashing over me. Smoke curled from the chimney, a comforting sign of normalcy amidst the chaos of the night. Except, normal wasn’t exactly on the menu anymore.

We spotted Logan pacing outside, his face etched with worry lines deeper than a canyon. Uh oh, someone wasn’t having a good pre-breakfast meditation session.

“Look,” Brock rasped, his voice sounding like gravel grinding together. “There’s the alpha, looking like a storm cloud about to burst.”

We approached Logan at the speed of a sloth on a sugar crash. The air crackled with tension as we limped closer, the silence broken only by the crunch of dead leaves under our paws.

“What happened?” Logan barked, his voice laced with enough urgency to wake the dead. “Did you find the rogues?”

We both nodded, then launched into a breathless explanation of the night’s events. From the initial patrol gone wrong to the epic smackdown with the rogues, we spilled the beans (except for the slightly embarrassing bit about the rave wolves. We’d deal with that later).

Logan listened intently, his expression morphing from disbelief to something that might have been… gratitude? As our story unfolded, it was like his worry lines were slowly getting ironed out.

“So, you’re saying…” Logan finally asked, his voice a low rumble. “These… what did you call them? Glowstick wolves? Saved the day?”

“Pretty much,” I confirmed, feeling a surge of pride puff up my chest. “They were like furry wrecking balls with built-in party lights.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Logan’s lips, a rare sight that almost made me forget about the whole rogue and glowstick wolf situation. “Rave lights, huh? Amelia, you never fail to surprise me.”

As he spoke, his gaze darted towards Brock’s arm, which now resembled a crime scene more than a werewolf appendage.

“Looks like you could use some patching up, Brock,” Logan said, his voice softening with concern. “Sage! Get over here with the healing herbs, stat!”

Ugh. Speaking of surprises, here came Sage, miraculously unscathed from the entire rogue dust-up. She materialized from behind a nearby tree like a ghost, a pouch of herbs clutched in her hand and a smug smile plastered on her face. Great, just what we needed. A helping paw from Miss Mystery herself.

“Here,” she purred, her voice dripping with faux concern as she knelt beside Brock. “Let me take a look at that nasty wound.”

I bristled. I would have much preferred to be the one patching Brock up, but with Logan as our audience, I couldn’t exactly object. Still, I muttered under my breath, “Fantastic, just fantastic. Now we have to deal with Miss Mystery’s… ministrations.”

Luckily, my snarky remark seemed to go unnoticed. Brock, wincing in pain, simply nodded and allowed Sage to tend to his wound. I watched them with narrowed eyes, a strange mix of jealousy and suspicion churning in my gut.

As Sage cleaned the wound with a practiced hand, Logan turned to me, his gaze sharp. “Amelia,” he began, his voice low and serious. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Something about these… glowstick wolves.”

I hesitated, caught between loyalty to the pack and a weird sense of obligation to the rave wolf crew. “There’s… not much more to tell, alpha,” I stammered, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

Logan’s gaze held mine for a long beat, his eyes narrowed in a way that made me squirm. “Something tells me you’re holding back, Amelia. And while I appreciate your… unorthodox methods of finding allies, full disclosure would be appreciated.”

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. The truth was, I didn’t fully understand the Glacierclaws myself. They were a mystery wrapped in an enigma, glowing fur and all. But the way they’d intervened, the way they’d spoken of the rogues plaguing their lands too… it all felt off.

“There’s just… something about them, alpha,” I finally confessed, my voice barely a whisper. “They’re not like regular wolves. They’re… different.”

Logan’s face remained unreadable. “Different how?”

I hesitated, then blurted out, “Their eyes glow! Like little rave lights!”

The corner of Logan’s mouth twitched, a flicker of amusement momentarily chasing away the worry lines etched on his brow. “Rave lights, huh? Sounds like something out of a pup’s bedtime story.”

I flushed. “They do! But I swear, alpha, it’s true.”

He sighed, a deep rumble that seemed to shake the very ground beneath our paws. “Alright, Amelia. I trust your judgment. For now. But keep an eye on these… rave wolves. And if anything feels off, report it immediately.”

“Yes sir,” I mumbled, feeling a sliver of relief.

Sage, having finished patching Brock’s wound with surprising efficiency, rose to her feet. “Looks like he’ll live,” she announced, her voice flat, devoid of any warmth. “Though perhaps a little less reckless patrolling in the future would be wise.”This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

Brock shot her a glare, but before he could retort, Logan stepped in. “Enough,” he boomed, his voice silencing both of them. “We’ve all had a long night. Get some rest, both of you. We’ll deal with the aftermath of this… rogue situation later.”

With that, Logan turned and stalked off towards the pack house, leaving us three standing in an awkward silence. Sage, ever the enigma, simply gave me a curt nod and disappeared into the woods as silently as she’d appeared.

Brock, his face pale but his eyes gleaming with a familiar intensity, looked at me. “So,” he said, his voice raspy. “Glowstick wolves, huh? Sounds like we have a lot to discuss.”

I grinned, a wave of exhaustion washing over me despite the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. “We do,” I agreed. “But first, some sleep. We can unravel the mystery of the rave wolves after a nap.”

Brock chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “Sounds like a plan.”

Together, we limped towards the pack house, the rising sun painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The night had been long and perilous, but we were alive, the pack was safe, and for now, that was all that truly mattered. As I drifted off to sleep, however, the image of those glowing eyes flickered in my mind, a reminder that the night’s events had only just begun to unfold their secrets.