Rath veered to a halt as the wind shifted. His nostrils flared, a growl building in his chest.

Unmistakable Orken sweat fouled the air. The sound of frightened murmurs lifted from the boats.

Rath's glare skidded to the prefect. Then to the captain in the next boat. Confusion wrenched their naked faces, their noses blind. The nobles whipped their heads about, stumbling glances wide and fearful. All gaping at him.

They didn't sense the danger. It was his growling that spooked them.

Up ahead, Thrax's head was low, his tail erect with menace. The older wargrex shot Rath an answering glare, his lips pulling back from his fangs as he nodded. I smell them, too.

Thresh and Saska stilled to test the air.

Somewhere out of sight, Serkan's low rumbling chased a pair of squawking ravens into the air. Thrax's son, Jax, was out here, too. More to keep an unobtrusive eye on Serkan than to watch for other predators. The boy was young, yet large enough to deter Serkan's mischief.

Unlike the other wargs, who were human allies, the southerner was here to quench a mordant curiosity. To his kind, humans had always been prey.

The man-eaters of the south.

Rath flicked a look up to the fleeing ravens, sensing Serkan prowling closer. The warning screech of a katrat nearby signaled Jax was on Serkan's heels.

Rath shook his pelt, riled by the strange, agitating hum under his fur. The feeling had beset him all day.

Orken mating rites. The east was infested with their kind.

He curled his lips back from his fangs. It was making everyone twitchy. The wind was rife with strange, carnal scents.

His mane prickled as Serkan moved in the grass behind him. The southerner was giving off a disturbing scent. Something feral and laced with excitement.

A mad bastard.

Rath's glare returned to the far side of the white-capped river. The long grass on that side fluttered suddenly.

He snarled, their stench rousing the hackles on his back. They were too close. Ominous ripples zipped up his flanks.

A strange squawking cackle rent the sudden hush. The orken were playing with them.

One of the women bleated in fright.

The oarsmen in the trailing boat ceased rowing. All eyes fixed on the far bank, tracking the sound. With stealthy force, the river sucked the stalled boat further into the deeper water, toward the orken.

With a thunderous bark, Rath leaped into a sprint. Fire rushed into his limbs as he kept pace with the retreating boat.

Ears flat to his skull, he issued three more sharp barks to call them to shore.

Thrax and the others beckoned the boats with jerking paws.

Hot dread hovered thick in the air.

A sudden male scream erupted.

Rath dug his nails into the ground, his face in a rictus of shock to see a cloud of arrows burst up from the opposite riverbank. The lethal spray arced out over the boats, hurtling down like back hail.

A sense of doom gripped him—he knew what that was. Poison-tipped orken arrows.

Panicked frenzy seized the humans all at once. The men in the last boat shot up from their seats, shouting amidst the fatal thunks of arrow quills embedding in wood and human flesh.

One of the oarsmen flailed, clutching his chest. A thick shaft protruded from between his fingers. Crimson billowed down his white tunic.

Rath stormed into the water, dodging the falling quills.

In the throes of death, the oarsman stumbled back, falling overboard. But Rath galloped for the lead boat.

The girl! He had to get to her! His nose filled with the copper-rich scent of blood as chaos assailed his ears.

The prefect shrilled his commands from the lead boat, shoving the women down under the benches as more lethal quills soared into the air. But his shouts ceased with a jarring wet scream.

A red haze filled Rath's vision, his glare hunting for the brown-haired girl. He couldn't tell if she was under the bench or...

From the bow, the prefect pawed his neck in horror, mouth gaping. His throat gushed with blood, spitted by a thick quill.

Rath reared to a halt, seeing Thrax reach the boat first. The other wargrex roared as a quill struck his cheek. But he seized the boat with mighty claws.

Rath turned about, the red haze waning. More quills sang into the air as he dove for the second boat.

Saska and Thresh raced past him, darting for the last boat. The one he'd been closest to before he'd chased after the girl.

He cursed himself to Hekki as he dove down into the blood-rich water. Still, that gnawing dread bedeviled him. He threw a glance over his shoulder as he surfaced, his wolf overriding all logic. Starved for the sight of her.

Thrax shoved the foreboat toward shore as the prefect's dead body hit the devouring water. But there was no sign of her.

Rath clawed through the current, forcing himself toward the middle boat, undulating like a mirok.

The last boat, however, spun like a leaf in a whirlpool, far out of reach. The frenzied oarsmen within rowed against the white water to escape the flying missiles. They were going the wrong way!

Rath dove down again, using his hind legs on the rocks below to propel himself up through the water like a dart. He knew he would reach the second boat. He burst up through the torrent, his claws raking the painted gunnels. Inside, the men cowered in the bottom, most of the oars bucked, unmanned. The river had wrenched most of the oars away.

Pain flared in his shoulder as a quill struck.

Fokken orken. His teeth itched to hunt the little shits down.

He shoved the hull with all his might, sending the boat home. Then he porpoised back down to the river bottom and shot up with twice the force to shove the boat again. The edge of an oar knocked his eye, but the pain was nothing. Rage fueled his paws each time he shot up front he river bottom. By the time the boat sailed out of range of the quills, the hull was cracked and taking water.

He gave the boat one last shove, bubbles swarming in his face as another quill punctured his flesh. He roared, heaving the hull onto shore with a final wood-snapping thrust.

Only three men scrambled out of the boat, the rest of them dead. Lifeless grey faces impaled with quills.

Rath flung a look to where Thrax was shoving the foreboat fully onto shore. Relief burst in his chest as the brown-haired girl escaped the boat, in lockstep with the other survivors.

A pained bark sounded behind him. He wrenched his glare to the river where Thresh and Saska were taking fire, swimming back to shore in vain. The river had claimed the last boat. It joggled far out of reach, in the deep merciless current.

Rath belted a roar, enraged to the quick. He might've saved that boat had he not wasted time racing after the lead boat. To save her. His instinct had been to lay paws on the golden-eyed girl. Why?

He shook his head. What good was why? He'd failed the men in the last boat. And he'd barely gotten to the middle boat in time.

Ice sluiced into his veins as he watched the men of the third boat flounder in the river. The vessel juddered and wheeled out of control, oarless. Shrieks erupted as more quills zipped up from the far side.

Thrax drew up beside him, his mane in a furious billow.

Saska and Thresh raced out of the water, their backs riddled with quills.

His fault!

Father and daughter nosed the last of the men away from the riverside.

Rath stood glaring at the flailing boat. One by one, the men succumbed to quills and poison. Only one man made it to the far shore, two quills protruding from his back like strange horns. He scrabbled out of the water on all fours, shouting for help.

Rath squeezed his eyes shut a moment. The man was calling for his own death. But he forced himself to watch what he knew was about to play out.

Two orken suddenly darted out of hiding and lunged for the wounded man, dragging him into the curtain of spear grass. Out of sight, the human's terrible scream was cut short an instant later.

Chest wrenched tight, Rath pulled his lips back from his teeth. Death animated the abandoned vessel, hovering like a cloud of flies. With a fatal lurch, the boat fetched up onto the far shore.

Wargs and Orkenkind had ever been watchful adversaries. Grudging predators forced to share the Outland. Tacit respect for boundaries had kept things peaceful. Until today. This attack was an act of war.

He took a furious step forward, the water rushing up his forelimbs.

But Thrax forestalled him with a mighty shove and a low growl.

Rath turned on the older warg, eyes blazing, their glares colliding.

Thrax shook his head, his wolf brow furrowed with empathy and an answering hunger for blood. But the fire of hate was tempered with steely calm.

Rath gave a curt nod, digging his claws in the mud. He shifted his glare back to the far shore. A sick sense of failure mantled him in disgust. There was nothing he could do in this moment and it choked him with bitter impotence.

Rath lowered his head, listening to the turmoil of the surviving humans cowering in the grass behind him. So loud and fragile. So utterly mortal. And he'd failed them.

Failed his father, too. Something cold and hard wrapped itself around his chest as he thought of facing Raxis.

What good was a wargrex who couldn't even protect a handful of humans?

The deaths of those humans settled like granite on his shoulders as he gave his back to the river. He and Thrax cut through the grass with broad animal strides and joined the others.

Saska, Thresh, and Jax were herding the frightened humans into a huddle as Thrax and Rath moved into view. From a cool distance, Serkan observed them all with a face of obsidian boredom.

Rath's gaze locked on one of the women. The one his eyes, unbidden, kept searching out.

Say-lix.

She was unharmed, though unsteady on her feet. Still reeking of marula fruit. A knot loosened in his brow as he studied her. His relief was both unexpected and disturbing.

Sensing his glare, she glanced up. Golden eyes locked with his.

Say-lix. A Wargish name to match her wolf eyes.

"What were those things!"

Rath cut his eyes to the blond female who'd spoken. The haughty one with the cunning eyes. Lee-lah, was it? The eyes weren't cunning now. She reeked of terror.

"Orken," the boy answered, his face pallid. This one they called Wren. Like a bird. He was delicate like a bird, too. They were all pallid, these milky-faced nobles. All bright plumage and shrill voices. Wolf Eyes a little less so.

Wolf Eyes hugged herself. "Why did they attack?" She glanced at the bird boy.

"They're...more aggressive in rutting season," he chirped, still shaking. The boy was right. Orken rutting season all but permeated the air. Human captives would defray steep bride prices, no doubt.

Rath shifted his glare back to the sister. She smelled like paper and ink. Beneath that, a fresh note of honey and mint.

He caught himself and blew out her scent with a harsh sound. Shaking his head, he grimaced as though it'd burned his nostrils. No, not honey—the sweet fetor of sweat and terror, just like the rest of them. She was nothing special.

Outside of their iron wall, humans were vulnerable. Especially these ones who'd foregone wearing their protective nixrath.

They'd rid all of East Gate of the noxious silver when he'd lived among them. But the Iron Girdle itself was alloyed with nixrath. Ten years he'd lived with that dull throb in his skull. And it'd left him with a permanent scowl and a tetchy demeanor. Or had it been Aurelia who'd done that?

Even thinking that name fouled his mood all the more.

Muscles twitching, he regarded the survivors. Nine alive—most of which were pampered prey.

"What do we do now?" said Leelah.

Rath shot a pointed look at the ambassador.

The man was gulping from his waterskin with shaking hands. A waterskin that stank of wine.

Would these people retreat back behind their wall or proceed despite the attack? He hoped the former.

The ambassador lowered the waterskin, his throat bobbing erratically. "We...we continue to Esk, of course. We all knew the risks in venturing beyond the wall."

The captain's brows clashed. "And what of our dead?"

Rath's ear flicked toward the nearby sated roar of the river, glutted on human flesh. The dead were beyond caring.

"There's nothing we can do for them now," said the ambassador. "I'm sorry about your uncle, lad. Bradoc was a good man."

The captain fell silent, his jaw tight.

The ambassador stowed his smuggled wine and smoothed back ruffled hair. "The master mason is dead, too. We'll have to send for a replacement." He mopped his brow with his sleeve. "The price of glory is never cheap. We came to build a bridge. And a bridge we shall build. Let the lives last not be for naught."

Humans and their empty words.

Rath briefly met Thrax's telling look before turning back to the ambassador. This was a peacock who'd have grieved his waterskin far more had he lost that instead of the master mason and the prefect.

The rotund man from the second boat looked ripe to faint. "Do we proceed by boat?" he asked, quivering extravagantly beside the other blonde girl. The one with the thorny name who was either a wife or a daughter. Maybe both—one never knew with these humans.

The ambassador licked his lips, reaching for the wine again. He blinked up at Rath. "Har Kan?"

Rath shook out his pelt, hoping to dislodge the quills. Their bite was louder than his own fokken thoughts. Laced with poison, no doubt. Orken shite-gobblers! He would tear into the next one he saw.

"Har Kan? Have you...something to add?"

Rath darted a glare to where the other wargrex stood, eyeing the ambassador. They couldn't use the river anymore. They'd be in range of the quills again. Rath clenched his fangs, loath to acknowledge the only recourse.

Thrax jerked his snout around, gesturing.

I know, Rath grunted reluctantly.

All were dead except seven nobles, one oarsman, and the captain. And every one of them would have to be carried to Esk. Lest the human pace more than double their time en route.

No, he would fain lower himself for a human if it meant a brisk return instead of a human crawl.

Serkan couldn't be trusted, though, not that he'd deign to play the mule. Serkan didn't speak Wraisian, either. He was a sly spectator only.

Rath regarded the larger warg with a curt flick of his eyes. Serkan's coat was similar to Thrax's, but wiry and longer. The southerner was watching the girl, Leelah, with a fixed look. A hungry look, diluted with curiosity. Although which hunger it was hard to say.

Rath snorted, shaking his head. The mad old dog would no doubt carry that one without quarrel. Where to was another matter.

Having made his decision, Rath loosened his limbs, letting the change ripple through his bones and sinews. A few of the quills dislodged as his ligaments popped and his muscles convulsed.

He ignored the shocked noises and human whimpering.

Within moments, he shifted into half-fettle. In this form, he was something between human and warg. Still armed with fangs and claws, yet capable of speaking. But he was more vulnerable like this, so his words were clipped as he bit out his orders in unpracticed Wrasian.

Wary eyes blinked and flared as they assimilated his words.

Finally, the ambassador spoke. "You...you wish us to...ride?" The man looked Serkan up and down. Then Thresh with his surly face, docked tail, and fierce scars. "But...we've no saddles!"

Rath answered through tight fangs. "Do we look like horses to you, Ambassador?" He turned toward Thresh and said, in Wargish, "Run ahead and scout for danger."

Thresh quirked his heavy brows in acknowledgment before pulling out the last quill from his daughter's shoulder.

Wasting no more time, Rath began shifting back into his wolf skin again. As before, he ignored the sounds of alarm. His bones jerked and his fur thickened into a sturdy, stretching pelt.

By the time Rath was on all fours again, Jax, Saska, and Thrax had lowered themselves for the humans to climb up.

Fokken saddles. He snuffed irritably.

Serkan stood by, head cocked. His eyes narrowed in cunning as he, too, slumped to the ground.

Rath eyed him with suspicion.

The Ambassador, meanwhile, inched toward Saska, assessing her as the least threatening. The boy, Ren, followed his father.

Wise choice. Saska was the most human of them all.

The man murmured polite nothings as Saska sniffed his dangling waterskin.

Jax, young as he was, was almost as large as his father, Thrax. After Saska, his was least threatening demeanor.

Seeing the ambassador and Ren settle onto Saska's back, the red-faced noble with the barrel torso dragged his daughter—probably his daughter—over toward Jax.

Warily, the captain, the oarsman, and the man with a satchel of rolled maps approached Serkan.

But the southerner, despite aping the other wargs as though he, too, might carry them on his back, snapped his jaws at them instead. The large warg grinned as they leaped out of reach of his long fangs, yelping.

Saska shot Serkan a baleful look. Thrax growled a warning that Serkan acknowledged with a yawn.

Thrax gestured to the frightened men, arcing his snout as before. He bade them climb onto his back.

The men looked to Rath for reassurance and he nodded. As they shuffled toward Thrax, Rath's gaze shifted to the golden-eyed girl. She inched shyly closer, the blonde, Leelah, trailing her.

A disconcerting hum raced beneath his skin as she neared. Just as it'd done when she'd approached him earlier, before the attack. Finally, she drew up beside him and his mane flared with awareness.

"What about our trappings?" The ambassador gasped, pointing to where the boats were jibbing.

Rath looked up to see the river snatch the foreboat away. High as he now was on Saska's back, the ambassador could see over the tall grass. "No!" he cried. "My ledger! The wine!" The ambassador shot a pleading look at Rath. "Our gifts to the pack!"

Rath shook his head. Wargs weren't their godsdamned packhorses. No exceptions. Especially not for wine that tasted like troll piss. He would know, he'd lived among them long enough to detest their piddling wine.

"My dresses!" The girl on Jax's back sobbed as she watched the boats retreat.

Saylix watched her father with a sinking look. What had she left on the boat to look so crestfallen?

He hunkered down for her to get on, his brow quirking with challenge. The undertone of mint and honey flooded his senses.

"Me first," said Leelah, pushing past little Wolf Eyes. "I'll ride up front, I'm High Lady after all."

"Not yet," muttered Wolf Eyes." But she's spoken too low for the others to hear.

Rath tensed a bicep, lifting the blonde with his paw.

She clambered up Rath's flank, her boot knocking one of the quills. It instantly recalled him to the sting. His lip jerked up in annoyance.

The hum amplified as Salix reached up her hand, bruised with ink stains. But instead of climbing up, she closed her fingers around the quill lodged in his flesh. With a sharp tug, she wrenched it out. And then another.

He rolled his shoulder, looking her over anew. His blood thundered hot beneath his skin.

She had large, doe eyes the color of molten rock. Paradoxical eyes, timid yet wolf-sharp. The blue veins under her skin spoke of long hours indoors. It was a captivating face, her bones elegant, her mouth hinting at quiet secrets. Not sultry and nubile like the would-be empress seated on his back.

As Wolf Eyes met his gaze again, she swallowed. Deep red swooped into her cheeks and she dropped her eyes, flinging the quills to the ground. Then she placed one hand flat against his fur and lifted her boot to the paw he held out.

His nostrils flared. Tingling shot down through to his claws, riling his fur with shock. His fangs lengthened. The skin under his mane rippled and his body swelled.

Stunned, he jerked away, shaking his head to clear the strange buzz filling his brain.

Salix stumbled back, her face white. Confusion creased her brow.

"He doesn't want you on his back," Leelah blurted. "You shouldn't go about pulling arrows out without asking first."

Rath's ears flattened in irritation. He growled his dissent.

Again, Salix took a step back.

Leelah sighed. "Well this isn't a good start to your vocation, is it, Lixie?"

In an instant, Thrax was beside Wolf Eyes, lowering his belly flush to the ground.

Rath watched the captain's hand close around her waist, hoisting her up into his lap. His fangs ground together and his claws flexed, digging into the ground.

Thrax studied Rath with a fierce look. Rath glared back, still edgy.

Jax and Saska shot both wargrexes wary looks.

Thresh shook his head, grunting, and loped off to scout ahead. His chopped tail wagged like a middle finger as he disappeared into the grass.

Rath's ears fell back. He forced down a growl.

Thrax reared up from the ground as though the weight of four was nothing to him. He shot Rath another hard look before stalking off.

The hum in Rath's blood receded as he watched the wargrex lope off with his burden of four. Piecemeal, his fangs stopped aching in his skull. Yet somehow he felt bereft. What had she done to him?

And now Thrax was giving him the same watchful looks he saved for Serkan's ilk.

Rath pushed up off the ground, fangs clamped in disgust. He didn't care what Thrax or the others thought of him. He didn't need anyone's approval. Not Thrax's. Not his father's. Certainly not some tender little human girl with a quivering lower lip.

From atop the other wargrex, galloping away, her golden eyes filled with tears and she turned away.

He ground his fangs together with a careless shrug. It was better this way. She was a distraction that'd cost him. Men were dead because she was somehow in his blood.

Which meant...

No! No. It meant nothing.

He shook his mane out and ignored the way Leelah's soft thighs clamped him. He'd smelled her distinct arousal when he'd shifted into half-fettle. That was partly the marula's effect. It aroused humans. Maybe he would alleviate some of his own frustration between these eager thighs when they reached Esk. She smelled oh so willing. He would test that later once the marula was out of her blood.

With each league they covered, his mood darkened. A dire suspicion had taken root and knotted in his chest. But Rath refused to acknowledge it.

Wolf Eyes was not his mate. It was orken poisoning, and the deaths of all those men affecting him. It was all that...and nothing more.

The hours passed and his disquiet grew louder, his chest tighter.

Not his mate. Not his mate. Not his mate.

The gods couldn't be that cruel.

Once they got to Esk, he'd waste no time proving it. 

Oh lookie...another sneaky "artwork". If I ever did include graphics in my published works, I'd commission a real artist. Though the AI graphics are fun for Wattpad, I believe in supporting REAL artists.

Alrighty. Let's get real. Thoughts about Rath? And Salix? Fire away, don't worry you won't offend me. Be honest. I got thick skin, my bishes.