Chapter III

Maeve (Eve).

7th Sun of the 9th month.

They are the people that are just scarcely managing to cling the economy, on a day to day basis; but they are not the absolute scums of our pack community.

Aldrin Saar is one of the clinging-on kinds, he ran the mead and alehouse to support his mate Anne and his female pup—Yelga. Yelga like most children her age- eight summers old –helps run the family business.

The total sum owed to Alpha- 4 puns.

Raik Oar was the blacksmith to support his mate and four pups. His mate- Kia sometimes served and cooked in Big Den for the Alpha and his guests.

The total sum owed to Alpha- 14 puns.

Opposite him lives Fynn Bror, the pack scavenger, he is responsible for clearing away the packs' filth, but his mate Gale is pup less for she is barren and dry, she helps the widow Vanna who fostered orphans and lame pups captured in raids. Gale loved one orphan of raids more than others- Lauren. Lauren is twelve winters old; I believe he too is fond of her.

The total sum owed to Alpha- 21 puns.

Petri Mons is the Pyre maker of the pack and Unn of the Moon, he carried out the last rights of the dead who had no children of their own, and though he is not poor he is still considered an omega like the rest of them.

The total sum owed to Alpha - 9 puns.

Omegas are nothing but the low ranked wolves of the pack and many times were the direct servants of the alphas.

Hallvor Maris— my father was the head of the omegas, poor and the raid victims that joined the pack. He maintained peace and order among the omegas and looked after them. He received enormous respect from all; he was a literate individual not always keen to be their nominated head. He was the one that looked after the low ranked and their material welfare. He had to present a meticulously illustrated account of expenditure to the alpha every two new moons. To many, his job was lacklustre; he was just someone who kept the records of how much a padlock cost or another bor for the barbed -wire for the fence.

But that's what life is made of, these incremental little things. He taught me all about life and so I record them most meticulously illustrated accounts of life, importantly our lives.

I am Maeve Maris or just Eve- the Pack Scribe.

***

"Eve!"

"Yes, father?"

The stairs creaked and groaned under his stocky built; he climbed up to the garret. Afraid of being caught red-handed Eve quickly pushed the paper under her...

Where could I hide them?

"The market bell rang and you must go, I believe trading the deer might—" he stopped talking. Eve closes her eyes and sighed.

He had seen.

She could almost smell the disappointment roll off him. "What are you doing up here?"

"Father, I – I was just ... help ... record. I was copying records for you. Yes, I was. I swear..." he narrowed his eyes. "- I swear by the Gods!"

"Maybe I shouldn't have taught you writing and it wasn't such a good idea to give you these papers and the quill after all." His eyes wandered around- books, papers and quills and a pot of ink- her hidden treasure- all exposed.

"Father," She moaned. "I love writing. And reading. Wouldn't know what to do with all these things in my head without it."

He had always thought it was silly, shaking his head he said: "Just don't show it to anybody."

"Am I a fool?"

"No..."

"And did I not swear?"

"That you did."

"Then?" She looked him in the eye.

"I just don't want you getting into trouble over it."

"I won't. You shouldn't worry—"

"Father!" "Eve!"

"Yoba." Eve recognized her younger brother's voice. She saw her father's eyes widened at the urgent note of his tone.

My heart sank.

Father turned and climbed down with her following him soon thereafter.

Could it have happened again?
Thump.

"Father—" The hut door slammed open wide. I had just managed to reach the middle room.

"Oh Eve! I cannot bear this pain!" he walked in with staggered steps and just like his withered will, his legs gave way and he fell on his knees, his face hid in his palms, bawling.

The heaviness of the lump didn't allow her to speak further. She lurched forward and down to the ground in front of Yoba.

Hallvor stood away sticking to the wall, not a word uttered— shaking his head; as if refusing could make the grief that courted him now disappear.

"What?" Eve cried, Yoba didn't move just sobbed. "What!" She cried louder shaking him, willing him to speak the ill of this situation.

"Oh, Moon, why do you curse!" father howled. Grabbing his head, Hallvor slid down. "My poor child! Oh, my heart,"

But Eve refused to believe it. How could it happen? Why again?

"Yoba, you must say—"

"Alva, sh-she... I... you must go, you must run now..." He whispered and Eve did. Willing her legs to stand, pulling on a fur cape by the door, clinching on dress pulling them up to her ankles.

Eve ran and ran.

***

The guards did not stop her, she ran in the great hall of Big Den and further back.

Staggering footsteps, pounding heart like thunder. Breath held in anticipation. Maybe if Eve woke up from this nightmare.

Now would be the best time.

The distance between her and the back chambers of Alpha – looked daunting. Death stalked it. Pushing the curtains aside the heaviness set anew.

Why had this come to pass?

Beside Alva stood Anne padding her dry. Vanna-the foster lady stood on the other side; bloody hands in the big wooden basin slowly turning the water sinfully red. A low warning growl, Eve looked up at Alva. Two omegas, Gale and Kia: wiping the blood of her calf, inner thigh and hands and she would growl at them as if they had offended her.

Alva, resting her back against the headrest of the huge four-poster bed; she stared ahead with no trace of tears in her dead-set ocean blue eyes. White fur under her turned red, as well as her underdress, hair matted and dishevelled contrary to her usual tricksy braid and attire.

"Alva..." its Eve's low voice that raised hackles on Alva. Eve's received with a growl and ensuing displeasure. Alva didn't look up at Eve. That doesn't stop Eve from taking another step in the chamber or to reciprocate a growl deep in her chest. Everyone who hadn't acknowledged Eve earlier now stopped to gaze at her.

"Second Beta Alva." She corrected her approach. She was again welcomed with snarls.

Snarls meeting snarls as Eve took a defensive stance, Alva hadn't ordered Eve's submission yet. But Alva's wolf had descended as did her fangs, fingernails giving way to claws. Eve tried to be calm as Alva loses herself to her Wild.

Tense anticipation in the sea of reciprocated snarls.

Eve held still; the smell of blood rots in her nose so much so she couldn't bear it any longer. So much blood.

"Why did you not retire to the Cave of Life?" Eve's questions caused a shift in the centre attention. They all soon direct harsh gazes at her, they judge her.

They are judging her competency of becoming a mother.

Verdict: Incompetent.

Only when a gush of blood rushes out, Eve reached out to her younger sibling, whom she had nursed close to her heart, kept her warm on all those chilly nights. Climbing on the bed, Eve slightly pushed Kia and Gale silently asking them to let go and leave. Soon the other women follow.

Alva shook in pain as she twisted and curved her spine in violent agony; Eve held her. Kissing on her temple, as her nest bled out of her. A future that never that would see the moon. Soon she crumbled in Eve's arms, her claws shredded Eve's arm.

I believe I could only feel a grain of her pain.

One of Eve's hands splayed out on Alva's lower abdomen feeling each contraction of muscle that are spitting, pumping out the future. Another gush of blood washes out the remnants of the nest which had taken her three months to build.

Resting her chin on Alva's head, Eve curled into Alva's body, holding her. Rapid and dense her breath clings to the chilly air.

"My body is still birthing, but nothing is to show. The little life that was there left my body days ago." Alva's words hitting my ears, piercing Eve's heart, a dull aching.

Ocean eyes regard Eve in the dim-lit room, wondering if Eve were judging her too. Inspecting carefully, exhaling out when her eyes can't fall on anything out of ordinary.

"My body is still bleeding like a slaughterhouse..."

"Why did you not retire to the Cave of Life?" Eve asked again.

"I mourn the ever-lingering loss as I imagine a what-if face."

"Where is Alpha?"

"Even if no tears are cried, my body still weeps of life."

"Where is Apollyon?"

A sour growl echo.

"Alpha went hunting for a newer, softer, better pelt."

For the pup, the future that couldn't be.

Fatality, that was yet to come. The whole pack will feel his wrath.

"Can you forgive me?" Alva asked in the softest whisper, the fire flickers beside them. Dogging her pleading eyes, Eve look at everything but her.

"Hmmm Maeve, will you? Will anyone?"

She cares for Eve's answer.

Her spine straight, shoulder pulled back, eyes never wavering from Eve. Alva pulls in a deep breath, her chest rising and holding that air in. She prepared for the hard-hitting blow, which Alva believed she will receive as she will form the other den-mates. Her verdict was incompetent.

When she realizes that Eve avoided her, only then does her blinking quickens to prevent tears and she looks away. She will have to bare not only this but much worst for what has happened. She will have to fight with teeth and claws, but the fight would not be fair, they will whisper behind her back, trying to kill her from behind, from inside. To win the lost respect and the respect she will lose as the words get out, she will have to emerge bloody.

Eve looked at her, but the ocean eyes burn in the fire ahead.

Eve wished to ask her: Why did you not retire to the Cave of Life? The Moon would have aided the pup, he would be alive today.

"Yes, I will Alva. I am your sister. I always will."

Words exhale out, long and slow.

"We should get you clean ."