Till the End Chapter 1
TAIRN
Chapter 1 - Brandon
My paws hit the smooth ground in a consistent pattern of whispered thud, thud, thud as I raced through the forest. The whispers came back to me in echoes - my older sister's paws, barely grazing the floor before being thrust forward again in an attempt to get ahead of me. I grinned, and sent Arizona a mental image of me crossing a finish line, wolves all around us howling at my success. I caught only a glimpse of the image she sent back to me before I coughed on dust thrown up by her flying past me, and her tail almost hit me in the face.
Try and keep up, little bro, she sent telepathically.
My legs roared as I stretched them farther, reaching for longer strides, but it was a welcome pain, a feeling I couldn't get as a human. I dodged trees and fallen branches, nearly silent, as I thundered behind her down the worn old path to the Den.
We arrived to a too-quiet atmosphere atypical of the usually bustling hub that was characteristic of the Den, where most of us practically grew up. I returned back to my human form, and the smells in the air immediately softened, but they still burned as they filled my nostrils. The scent of rusty pennies made me uneasy.
Six limp bodies were strewn across the wide field that served as the main ground, halfheartedly dumped like garbage, their eyes still open. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe without tasting the smell. They were covered, but still, faces, swollen eyes, limbs bending at abnormal angles; pictures that had been ingrained into my brain flashed past. I couldn't get it out. The putrid air filled my nostrils and my mouth, coming in too fast. I felt bile creep up my throat and the memories came back vivid. The first time I'd seen a dead body was when I was seven, and I remembered standing there, screaming, for a long time before someone steered me away. I'd had nightmares for weeks.
I reeled and darted behind some bushes, too dizzy to be really conscious of anything. The mini-breakfast I had that morning came up in a rush, nearly missing the upper branches of a berry bush. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, heaving, trying to focus my eyes on a singular berry on a bush where I hadn't vomited, staring at it until it came into clear focus. Panting for breath that didn't make me more nauseous, I glanced back at Arizona, who stood perfectly still as she stared at a body off to the right.
It was a woman. She had already been covered with a white cloth, so all I could see was a hand poking out from underneath, clutching a dark purple purse. My mom had a purse like that; I remembered grabbing it for her before getting into the car to go to a cousin's wedding. That purse could've been my mom's purse. That hand could've been her hand. I felt sick and all of a sudden I wanted to see my mom, I wanted to see she was okay. I knew she was; she was across the clearing, standing with my dad, but I needed to see her. I needed to see she was alive. But I couldn't stop staring. I stared at the purse to see if it would move, or, more likely, to see if the hand moved it. But it stayed there, the purple leather reflecting the sun's rays, interrupted only by the woman's fingers loosely wrapped around it.
"Arizona! Brandon! Brandon!" I finally managed to tear my gaze away from the purse and looked up. Our parents were running toward us, and I got a glimpse of several people walking around, covering more bodies with cloths, before I was wrapped in a hug by my mom.
"You shouldn't see this," my mom whispered to me, holding me tightly by the shoulders as she turned me around, but not before I saw the six members of the Council hovering around one particular body, blocking the view, heads bowed and quietly talking. "Evan," she said, her voice even and smooth, and I held onto the comfort of it in the chaos of everything. "Take the kids home and get them something to eat. They don't need to be here." My dad nodded, and I felt his strong hand on my back as he guided us away from the scene.
Walking back to the car felt more like running as I tried to organize my brain. Things were moving too fast, thoughts were coming from everywhere at once and disappearing before I could understand what I was even thinking. I hadn't felt it until now, but a headache had started to form in the back of my mind, a consistent, even thumping that made me dizzy with every thud of pain. I couldn't think straight, I didn't want to think straight. I'd never seen something like this happen - not at the Den. It was a safe space, it'd always been a safe space, and now, this? It looked more like a battlefield than a sanctuary. I didn't know that woman with the purple purse, or probably any of those people, but it still felt like I'd been attacked. This was personal. These were my people. I didn't know any of them, but that didn't matter. You didn't attack the Tairn and not get caught. Whoever did this, they were cowards. They killed seven of our people, and ran. The thought knocked the breath out of me, made it hard for me to see what was in front of me.
I didn't realize we were home until my dad actually pushed me through the door, and the entrance lit up. It immediately hit me how clean, and white, my house was. All the walls were white, the staircase, all the doors, the marble counters. Small scrapes on the wall were so noticeable, and all of them stood out to me now, bringing back a tsunami of memories. The long scratch on the wall opposite the kitchen: me having accidentally dragged my baseball bat along it when I was younger as I went to tell my dad I was ready for practice. The splotches of paint, each one a slightly different color than all the others, on the bathroom door: Dad testing out different colors for all the doors to bring some change in the house, but wasn't able to finish because Mom went into labor with me. The three-inch hole in the ceiling next to the chandelier: where the chandelier was originally supposed to go when the house was built, but the first people who moved in decided they didn't like it and changed it.
The brightness of the room and the light colors was such a contrast to the mix of blood and grass, it was blinding. My eyes struggled to focus, and my head spun with thoughts I didn't want to think about. All I saw were flashes of different colors. I felt nauseous.
"I'm going to lie down," I said, and started slowly climbing up the stairs.
-
I lied down in my bed and closed my eyes. My mouth still tasted like puke and my stomach was in tight knots. My mind was still racing, so I tried to calm it down.
Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. Once my breathing had returned to normal, about a minute later, I tried to think.
Who would do this?
I recalled all the history I knew about us - what happened in the wars, our allies and enemies, hoping that something would jump out at me. There was nothing that I could see. Alliances had changed quiet drastically in the last war, but none of the newly formed relationships had shown signs of trouble. There wasn't anything I was aware that we had done in the recent past that would upset the balance of any of the alliances. This was an attack out of the blue.
But why?
I was coming up with motives as to why anyone would want to harm us when a realization hit me like a truck. In all the times in history the Tairn had been attacked - there wasn't a single time when we hadn't responded. This wasn't over.
The realization made my heart pick up speed, and I had to stop and calm it down again as the most horrible thoughts crept into my mind.
War?
No, no. I shook my head. Six dead was bad - it was really bad - and whoever was responsible would pay, but it wouldn't end in war. War only meant more bloodshed. That was not the Tairn's goal. But no matter how I reassured myself that there was a solution to all of this, my brain kept jumping to worst-case scenarios. Full blown war. National scale. Thousands dead. The pounding in my head got louder the more I thought, and finally it was too much to bear. I closed my eyes, taking Dad's advice, welcoming the cold darkness that blocked out any noise.
-
Dad shook me awake, and I opened my eyes.
"I left the macaroni on the table. Try to eat some. I have to go. They're going to need some help controlling the chaos with everything that just happened. You guys going to be okay?" I nodded, and slowly sat up.
I handed him the cloth back as I looked around, trying to see if I would get dizzy. Nope. I looked over at the stack of books on my desk, hoping that reading something would get my mind off all the horrible stuff that just happened. Death was one thing, but what I saw, that was just -
"They murdered them," I said. Dad looked at me, shock coloring his face.
"The Council's going to take care of this," he said reassuringly.
"Are they?" We had all been entrusted to the Council's care, but they couldn't foresee or stop this, why would they be able to stop another one from happening?
"Of course, Brandon. Don't worry about it." I didn't believe him. Six dead people was something to worry about. I tried to change the subject, just wanting him to leave so I could stop thinking about it.
"Where's Arizona?"
"Arizona's sleeping too," Dad said, glancing toward the bedroom door. Thankfully, he got the hint, and said, "I have to go, but I have my cell on me. Is that okay?" I nodded, waiting for him to leave so I could distract myself. "Okay, well goodnight." I didn't hear him close the door, and I didn't care.
—
I woke up feeling a bit more refreshed, and the headache had subsided. I stepped into the shower to clear my thoughts, letting the warm water run over me as I stood under the showerhead. I felt better just standing there. My thoughts came more clearly now, and I let out a relieved breath. No more panic. Now I could really think.
There is a solution to all of this, I told myself as I stepped out and crept back to my room. I changed into an old t-shirt and some comfy jeans, and started to climb downstairs just as Mom called up for dinner.
It was casserole, and we ate it in silence, all of us too tired and troubled to talk. Arizona broke the ice with a sharp crack.
"What do we do now?"
Mom choked on a bite of chicken, and carefully picked up her glass, her hand shaking, and swallowed a few gulps of red wine before answering. "We're not talking about this," she said sternly.
I looked over at Arizona, and there was a bright fire in her eyes. She was hurt by what happened, angry about it too; she wasn't going to back down. On that note, neither was I. We were Tairn too; we had a right to know. Just because it was a delicate subject didn't mean they could keep us shut out.
"What happened?" I demanded more than asked. "Tell us."
Mom sighed; she knew what she was up against, and she knew she would lose. "I don't know. We don't know right now, guys. We found them late this morning, so we still don't know anything. But I promise, we'll tell you as soon as we learn something. Can we just please have a peaceful dinner now?" I could see lines of worry around her eyes, and bags underneath. The stress was getting to her. I wasn't going to get any answers out of her if I ticked her off, just a one way ticket to my room, so I backed down a bit.
"Was it an ambush?" I asked, softer this time. No one answered me; an uneasy silence filled the void instead. "We need to know how this happened if we're going to do anything about it," I continued, a bit more urgent. "Who would do this? Why? What do they want? How are we supposed to respond? Are we going to respond? Are we retaliating with violence? What is happening?" Once I started, I couldn't stop. It all came out, all these worrying thoughts I had been thinking all day blurted out.
I hesitated to ask the last question, more scared of the answer than anything. I'd grown up in a time of peace for the Tairn. I'd seen death, but never anything like this, and a cold stone feeling in my gut told me I was going to be seeing a lot more of it.
"Are we safe?" I asked, voice almost a whisper. I was more scared for the Pack than for myself. Attacks against myself, I could take. It was part of my training to take them. Assess the situation, control it, take care of it, keep the others safe. Lessons branded into my mind since I was little. But I couldn't assess the situation if no one told me anything.
"Say something," I pleaded. The silence was earsplitting, and it was more than I could take. That's it. The silence was enough. I was done.
"Say something!" I exclaimed, standing up and throwing my chair back in the process. "We are under attack, we might be going to war, and all you can do is sit there! Why am I the only one reacting to this?!" I screamed, furious now. My parents said nothing. I looked at Arizona. "Aren't you pissed?!"
"I am," she said, eyes burning with passion. Her voice was low and thick, a menacing sound that cut through the thick air. "I'm ready to tear whoever did this limb from limb. They'll pay for what they did." There was an intense, sick feeling of satisfaction in what she said. I felt her fury, as strong as my own, and found disappointment and disbelief when I saw my parents just sitting there, deadpan.
"Tell me what to do! Tell us what we can do!" I was pleading now. I was angry, and I wanted to help, I wanted to protect my Pack, protect my people. They were innocent, they didn't deserve this. I had thought my parents wanted the same; I had expected them to respond with the same ferocity. Tragedies were supposed to awaken the warriors in us, unite us as one single army; they only seemed to be breaking my parents. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" I screamed.
"Brandon." Dad's voice was stern and unforgiving. "Go to your room. This behavior is unacceptable." I stared him down, daring him to say more. Something was better than nothing. "Now," was all he said. I turned and stormed off, fury now radiating off me. How could they just sit there?! I heard Arizona's voice scream something, and my dad threaten her. Footsteps behind me, and I turned my head to see Arizona following me.
At least somebody in this house is still sane, I sent to her, and she offered me a quick smile before looking pissed again.
Let's find out what happened, she said.
