Chapter Four- Outsiders With Laws Being Tested
The howl ripped through the forest without warning.
It wasn't long or proud like the calls Ava had grown up hearing. It didn't rise and fall. It didn't echo with strength.
It broke.
A sharp, jagged sound, cut short like something had torn it out of the wolf's chest.
Ava felt it before she understood it. Her body went cold, heart slamming hard enough to hurt. Beside her, Charlotte stiffened, her hand slipping from Ava's shoulder.
"That wasn't" Charlotte started, then stopped.
Another sound followed. Not a howl this time. A low, panicked growl, answered by several others deeper in the forest.
The tribe erupted.
Lanterns swung wildly as people rushed from shelters. Wolves rose from where they had been resting, massive bodies unfolding with sudden violence. Some snarled, hackles raised. Others pressed close to their human kin, eyes burning, ears pinned back.
Ava's chest tightened. She turned in a slow circle, trying to find the source, trying to ground herself, but the forest felt wrong now. Too close. Too quiet between sounds.
"Western line," someone shouted. "That came from the western traps."
Charlotte grabbed Ava's wrist. "We have to go back. Now."
They ran.
The path blurred beneath Ava's feet. Roots snagged her boots, branches clawed at her arms and hair. Her breath burned in her throat, lungs aching as the night swallowed them whole. The forest that had always felt like protection now felt like teeth closing in.
They burst into the main clearing just as movement exploded from the trees opposite them.
Riders.
Three of them emerged at full speed, wolves thundering beneath them, paws tearing through dirt and leaf litter. The wolves were huge even by the tribe's standards, sides heaving, foam streaking their jaws. One limped badly, blood darkening its hind leg.
The rider atop that wolf was barely holding on.
"Traps!" he shouted, voice raw. "The traps have been sprung!"
The clearing went dead silent.
"Not ours," another rider added quickly, swinging down from his mount. His hands were shaking, knuckles scraped raw where he'd gripped the reins woven into the wolf's fur. "They didn't know the paths."
A murmur spread like sickness.
Outsiders.
Ava's stomach twisted.
"How many?" an elder demanded.
"Four," the first rider said. "Three caught. One didn't make it."
At his signal, two others dragged something forward between them.
It was a wolf.
Smaller than the tribe's cursed kin, fur mottled brown and black, body twisted wrong where the traps had snapped shut. Blood soaked the ground beneath it, dark and glossy in lantern light. Its eyes were open, glassy and empty.
A low sound rose from the wolves in the clearing. Not anger. Grief.
Ava swallowed hard, her throat tight. She'd seen death before. Accidents. Illness. Even the sacrifice earlier that night. But this felt different.
This wolf hadn't belonged here.
"They were starving," one rider said quietly. "Bones showing. They crossed too far."
"Another tribe," someone whispered. "Too close."
Charlotte's grip tightened on Ava's wrist. Ava could feel the tension running through her sister's body, sharp and controlled.
The elders were already moving, gathering together near the roots of the great tree. Their faces were unreadable, shadows carving deep lines into them.
Ava noticed it then.
The way they looked at each other before speaking.
Like this wasn't a surprise.
"What about the others?" an elder asked.
"Alive," the rider said. "Injured. Terrified. They haven't shifted. They don't know what they walked into."
That made it worse.
People began arguing in low, urgent voices.
"If they crossed our lines"
"They'll bring hunters."
"We can't let them leave."
"They didn't mean to"
Ava's head was spinning. She searched the crowd for Liam and found him pushing through toward her, his face pale but determined.
"Are you alright?" he asked, hands coming up to steady her.
She nodded, though she wasn't sure it was true. "What does this mean?"
Liam glanced toward the elders. "It means trouble. But they'll handle it. They always do."
A horn sounded. Short. Commanding.
The clearing quieted.
The eldest among them stepped forward. "Bring the wounded to the outer ring. Guarded. No decisions are made tonight."
Relief flickered through the crowd, fragile and uncertain.
Then his gaze shifted.
"Charlotte."
Charlotte straightened instantly.
"Come," he said. "We will need your voice."
Ava's heart dropped.
Charlotte hesitated, just for a breath, then squeezed Ava's hand. "Stay here," she said softly. "I'll be back."
Ava watched her sister walk toward the elders, lantern light catching in her hair, and for the first time since the howl, something else settled in Ava's chest.
Not fear.
Unease.
Because the forest was still watching.
And whatever had crossed into their land tonight had already changed something that could not be put back.
Ava stayed where Charlotte had left her, even when every part of her wanted to follow.
The clearing shifted slowly, like a wounded animal trying to settle. Lanterns were moved. Wolves were guided back into tighter circles. Children were pulled closer to parents. No one spoke loudly anymore. Even the fire seemed to burn lower, as if it understood something was wrong.
At the edge of the clearing, near the darker trees, the wounded outsiders were brought in.
Ava couldn't see them clearly at first. Only shapes. Human shapes, slumped and shaking, guarded by riders and wolves that stood like living walls. When one of the lanterns was raised higher, the light revealed thin faces, hollow eyes, torn clothes stained with blood and dirt.
They looked young.
Not children, but not elders either. Just people. Tired. Afraid.
One of them cried out softly when a wolf shifted its weight, pressing too close. The sound made Ava's stomach turn. That fear she knew it. She had felt it before, years ago, before she understood what the tribe really was.
"They don't look like hunters," someone murmured.
"No," another voice replied. "Which makes it worse."
Ava moved closer to Liam without realizing it. He noticed, his arm brushing hers, steady and warm.
"They're starving," Ava whispered. "Can't you see?"
Liam's jaw tightened. "Starving people still talk. Starving people still warn others."
That hurt more than she expected.
Near the roots of the great tree, the elders formed a circle. Charlotte stood among them now, her posture straight, her face calm but pale. She looked older there. Less like Ava's twin and more like someone shaped by the weight of listening.
Ava tried to read the elders' expressions, but they were practiced at this. Years of leading a cursed people had taught them how to hide fear behind patience.
One elder spoke first. "They crossed our boundary."
"They didn't know," another replied. "Ignorance does not erase consequence."
A third elder leaned heavily on his staff. "If we let them go, they will speak of us. If not in words, then in memory. Hunters read trails better than stories."
Charlotte finally spoke. "If we kill them, their blood will speak louder."
Silence followed that.
Ava's heart thudded. She had never heard Charlotte speak to the elders like that before. Not sharply. Not with challenge.
An elder turned to her. "Mercy has cost us before."
"And cruelty has too," Charlotte said. "You taught us that."
The argument unfolded slowly, carefully, like a blade being drawn inch by inch.
Some elders feared war. Others feared exposure. One spoke of the old agreements unwritten rules between tribes, lines drawn long before Ava was born. Another mentioned that hunters had been seen closer to the outer forests this season, their traps more clever, their numbers growing.
Ava caught fragments of words drifting toward her.
Migration. Scarcity. Eclipse.
Her fingers curled into her palms.
One of the outsiders lifted his head suddenly, eyes finding the elders' circle. He opened his mouth to speak, then froze when a wolf growled low beside him. He shrank back, shoulders folding inward.
"They are terrified," Ava said without meaning to.
Several heads turned toward her.
Liam stiffened. "Ava"
An elder studied her. "And fear makes people dangerous."
Ava flushed, heat crawling up her neck. She lowered her gaze, anger and shame tangling tight in her chest.
The elders decided nothing.
Not yet.
"They will remain under guard," the chief said at last. "At the outer ring. At dawn, we decide."
Dawn.
The word landed heavy.
Guards moved in, guiding the outsiders away. One of them stumbled, catching himself on the arm of another. A rider swore under his breath and steadied them, his wolf pressing close, eyes never leaving the wounded group.
As the clearing began to loosen again, people spoke in whispers. Nothing felt settled. Every conversation stopped too quickly, eyes flicking toward the trees, toward the elders, toward the sky.
Ava finally turned away, her legs trembling with the effort of standing still for so long.
Liam followed her without a word.
They walked toward the smaller path that curved away from the clearing, toward the quieter part of the forest where the river could be heard faintly through the trees. The night air was colder now, damp and sharp against Ava's skin.
"I know that look," Liam said gently after a while.
She didn't answer.
"You think they're wrong," he continued. "The elders. About all of this."
Ava shook her head slowly. "I think they're scared."
"They have reason to be."
"So do the outsiders."
Liam stopped walking. Ava turned back to him, frustration flashing in her eyes.
"You can't save everyone," he said. "You know that."
"I know," she replied. "But I don't know when we decided not to try."
Liam's expression softened. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "This tribe is all we have. All we've ever had. They've kept us alive."
"I know that too," Ava whispered.
He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "Then trust them. Please."
She wanted to. Gods, she wanted to so badly it hurt.
But somewhere deep inside her, something shifted, quiet and uneasy.
Because trust, she was starting to realize, was not the same as truth.
They stood there in silence, the river whispering unseen, the forest breathing around them.
Behind them, in the heart of the tribe, the elders continued to speak in low voices.
And at the far edge of the territory, beneath the tangled roots and hidden traps, something else listened.
Something patient.