Fugitive by GiGi DeGraham

Author:GiGi DeGraham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary, paranormal, magic/magic users, romance, gay, shifters, genderqueer/genderfluid, asexual, interracial, action/adventure, dark, suspense, tribal politics/spiritual beliefs, off-grid living/isolation, subsistence/hunting, soulmates, rivals to lovers, second chance, graphic violence/tribal warfare, mysterious wolves, soulmates, cross-dressing
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2023-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Only the dead have seen the end of war.

—George Santayana

THE DEAD BELLUM Wolves were another story. Once all the injured Mitchums had been carried home, all arrows were removed from each enemy corpse. Then, their bodies were dragged deep into the cave.

“We need to burn them, Father,” Thomas insisted as he stood next to the Alpha, observing the rows of dead Bellums on the cave floor.

A large cavern dropped deep into the earth. A pit. It was like a deep fault line, this great crack in the world. They still didn’t know what was at the bottom of it. A stone over the edge never landed with a sound. And despite Thomas’s argument, it was to be the burial site of fifty dead Bellum pack Wolves as they were hefted over the edge on Malcolm’s pissed-off order.

“There are just too many to burn or bury,” Malcom had said before giving the command.

The boar fencing was put back in place, and the unsprung traps disengaged as the sprung ones and bodies were removed. All traps were then stored in the exit tunnel of the cave so they would be out of the cabin. But they were there if the pack was ever threatened again. Arrows were retrieved from the ground and out of trees. Pack members who hadn’t been involved in the fighting began to converge. The flags were taken down.

It would take days of endless work to dismantle everything, just as it had to assemble it. The plan was to return all supplies used in the cave back to the packhouse. Everyone worked with an apprehensive feeling of relief but heavy-hearted emotions over their injured and lost. And while no one liked the Bellums, killing Wolves carried with it a heavy burden.

By the time the first sunset approached, it nearly looked as if no battle had ever occurred—other than all the blood everywhere. So much blood had been spilled onto this land that Nature seemed to weep as it began to lightly rain. As though she, too, had the need to wash away this horrible day.

Late in the afternoon the next day, Thomas and Ryan hiked to the gate, removed the signals, checked for tracks to ensure Tristan hadn’t pulled in and then backed out. There were none, but they darted for the woods and tree line at the hum of a helicopter approaching.

“Shift and run to our den until we know,” Thomas said as he shucked his clothes. Ryan did the same, and they quickly rolled them up and stashed them between some rocks. Thomas waited for Ryan to close his eyes, find his Wolf, and shift. Thomas could shift more quickly. It took time to learn to do fast or on the fly. He wanted to stand there and take time to admire what an impressive Wolf his mate was, but they took off running through the woods and into the den away from danger.

Inside the den, they both shifted back. Ryan lay in the entrance tunnel with Thomas over him so they could both watch and listen.

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