"Father, what was that about?" Caleb asked.
His father quickly snapped the coin purse shut, and began walking in the direction of their home. Caleb was right behind him.
"That was business, son. Amaruq has just requested new swords and armor for his men. He insisted on paying me handsomely and keeping it a secret." His father informed him.
"Isn't that a little shady, poppa?" Caleb asked, finding the leader's request odd, even by Amaruq's standards.
"It's not uncommon, especially if men like them feel threatened." He opened the door that divided their home frm heir place is business.
Caleb's mother immediately walked up to him and retrieved the basket of goods.
His father continued, "Beowolf's death has triggered something on this island."
Caleb scoffed at his father's admission.
"Pa, that brutes death wasn't done by any human."
His father shot him look he hadn't seen in years. Caleb realized she had misspoken.
"Uhhh...That's what I heard from one of the fishermen." He corrected.
His father's intense gaze did not waver. "Until whatever this is blows over, we must keep our heads down, and our noses clean. We will make these weapons for Amaruq, but we will tell no one. Until our business is concluded with him, no more talk of Beowolf or his men's characters.
Caleb fumed with rage at each complicit word that dripped from his father's mouth. On one hand, he could understand his father's complicity. That bag of gold could last for many years to come. He had also arranged a very lucrative marriage arrangement for Caleb. On the other hand, Amaruq and his gang had caused nothing but trouble since they had decided to fight against the owner of this island. Even though no one spoke about Amaruq burning down Bouvier's, they all knew it was true. Caleb had a dreadful feeling about making weapons for this lot.
They were merciless and at times, immature and impetuous. He just hoped the weapons they made for them wouldn't be used against him and his family. The Lycans couldn't be trusted. Caleb knew the best thing to do was to agree with his father and assist him with the job. He also knew he had to do something to protect the island.
What?
He wasn't so sure. He would think on it more. A solution would surely occur, but for now, he had come up with a plan to throw Sylvie's mother off of her scent for a little while more...
RANDOLF | WOLF POV
Randolf could tell what happened to him during the ambush and who the aggressor was. His only issue now was being too weak to do anything about it. He was so weak that he was trapped in his wolf form. He had survived the trap those filthy Lycans had set for him and his men upon their arrival, just barely. Revenge still burned within him like a white hot ember.
He had been lying down behind the barn in hiding when he caught a whiff of that big brutes filthy smell of his Lycan blood. He instinctually followed his nose and it led him to her. The Lily about to be deflowered against her will by a man who had just tried to murder him. It was as if fate itself had aligned this for Randolf. He justified it believing that he had done everyone a service by ripping out the savage's neck.
Even the girl seemed grateful. Randolf had followed here here, having no choice. He was less than pleased that sh called her male friend to examine him. Though, he had helped tremendously. The downfall was that he knew there was a real wolf on Canis Island.
It was only a matter of time before he told someone about what had occurred here. Would they believe the young man, who was obviously in love with his new companion?
She was turning out to be more helpful than he had initially thought. He couldn't help but feel like she could see past his wolf form and truly see him. Her heart was pure. She was gently petting him now. He was trying to resist falling prey to sleep.
He wanted to stay awake and keep guard, but the girl's hands felt wonderful on his sore muscles. She was so kind for a human who appeared to be down on her luck. Even though she didn' seem, to notice and if she did, she appeared unbothered by it. Randolf knew very few women Loux Garoux or human, who would dwell in this meager shack the girl called home. Sylvie was all alone in the world, of that he was certain.
He wasn't sure why he felt it so strongly. He just knew. That realization made Randolf very protective of Sylvie. He chalked it up to as hs wolf survival instincts. She was his safe haven.
Randolf looked on as Sylvie whimpered and cried in her sleep. By the sound of her accelerated heartbeat, she was having a nightmare. Whatever had happened to her before their fates intertwined seemed to follow her, even in her sleep. Randolf knew after the third day of being missing they would declare him dead.
His father would believe the lie, and possibly retaliate. Either way, Randolf had come to this godforsaken island to negotiate. Neogotiations had gone sour and now he had to kill all of the Lycans who took part in the uprising of Canis Island before it got worse. He didn't have a lot of time. The Lycan uprising was moving faster than he had anticipated. They executed their plans in silence and were concise.
Randolf had killed one. He was too injured to do anything else now. His best bet was to lay low with the innocent girl and heal. She needed him and he needed her. He licked her face and tasted the fear in her sweat.
She awoke with a start. Her eyes widened and adjusted as her mouth made a tiny O-shape as she she yawned and stretched her legs and arms. It was mid-day. Sylvie had barely slept a wink last few nights. She had to change the wolf's bandages, as well as find him something to eat. The wolf was true to his nature and stayed awake all night and slept like a log during the day.
He needed her assistance when getting off of the porch. He was not a light animal. Underneath that beautiful black coat of fur was solid muscle. It was a serious struggle for Sylvie. She had dozed off when she saw the sun coming up and was surprised to feel the animal licking her awake.
She had been having a nightmare. Sylvie dreamed she was back at WIld Cats. This time, Ms. Bouvier and her mother dragged her by both arms into the saloon. Instead of Amaruq starting the fire, she saw her mother holding a dark bottle with a cloth hanging out of it. She was smiling.
Sylvie was begging her to let her go. Madame Bouvier slapped her hard across her face. Sylvie fell to the ground. Her mother, still grinning like a maniac, stood over her holding the Maltov cocktail. Sylvie let out a scream and wole up to the wolf licking her face.
She was grateful it had. She had felt so terrified and hopeless feeling that was too familiar to her.
That feeling seemed to cloud her life's decisions. The wolf's yellow eyes stared at her, as if he was trying to tell her something.
"Where did you come from?" She asked, and gently scratched the animal under his chin. He seemed to really enjoy that gesture. Sylvie stood up then, and walked over to the screen door. She could tell by the position of the Sun in the sky that it was midday.
Sylvie silently cursed herself. She had yet to gather more firewood and catch ther meal for the night. She only had a few more hours before sundown.
She let out a heavy sigh, "Not much of day is left, but I think we can manage." She spoke aloud, more to herself than her furry companion.
He stood up on all fours then and tentatively walked over to her. She knew his wound was yet to heal, and was in no condition to be walking. She admired how he didn't want to leave her side. She couldn't deny the animal's request. She hoped they would be able to accomplish the tasks they needed to for the night.
It had stopped raining, leaving the forest cold and wet.
Sylvie couldn't sleep in the cold tonight. She put her satchelstra across her chest, and opened the door. The wolf exited first and Sylvie followed behind. She assisted the wolf once more down the four wooden porch steps. They began their trek. Sylvie's reservations about the wolf and his injury hindering their progress began to dissipate.
Along the way Sylvie found small twigs that had been sheltered from the rain by the large tree branches, and were dry enough to use. She took out her small pocket knife and made quick work of collecting as many dry twigs as she could.