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Authors: Sheryl Nantus
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bad step and break an ankle.”
My own ankle throbbed, reminding me of my first hunt. I’d waited for hours to be found.
“So one of them fell down and broke her ankle,” I said. “She didn’t die.”
Red grunted. “Ever been in a field? Ain’t always as flat and empty as you’d like to think.” He rapped his knuckles on the side of his head and made a popping sound with his mouth. “Hit a rock, stop stop stop.”
“Hit her head?” I was still wandering in a fog. “And she died? But it was an accident.”
In my mind’s eye I saw the two women in the field, Changed and fighting each other. One feints with a punch or maybe a kick, the other steps back and falls over. She hits the ground and her head bounces off a rock. Doesn’t have to be a boulder, could have been as small as a pebble smacking into her temple but it’s enough to do the damage and depending on how far they were away from the farmhouse, too far from immediate medical attention.
She passes out. Her opponent’s yelling, screaming for help and it takes the ambulance too long to arrive and the hospital’s too far away to make a difference. Wrong place, wrong time and now one’s dead.
Red cleared his throat and spat to one side. “’Cuse me.”
“So who died? And why would there be bad blood?” I frowned, trying to put the pieces together from Red’s erratic speech. “It was a challenge, pure and simple. No funny business, no one pulled a gun or a knife. No one broke the rules.”
He put his hand up in the air before letting it drop. “Maureen Middleston. Goes down, doesn’t get up.” He made a walking motion with two fingers. “Now Laura, she breaks her leg racing to the farmhouse to get help. Doesn’t see a dip in the field, bang smash and she’s down. Pulled herself close enough to the others to yell for help. Never healed proper, left her with a limp for the rest of her life. Chandlers say it’s all a bad accident and just straight-up bad luck.”
“And the Middlestons?”
“Family accuses Chandlers of choosing that field on purpose, setting Maureen up to fail. Laura breaking her leg on purpose to make it look like an accident. Only two witnesses—the seconds, standing by to watch what happens. One from each family and each backing their version of the story. One says Middleston’s guilty, other says Chandler’s at fault.”
“That’s insane.” I drained the last few bitter drops from my cup. “No one could have seen that happening.”
“Which is why the Grand Council ignored the Chandlers’ complaint and demand for a reckoning. Challenge was fairly offered and fought,” Red said. He overturned his mug and watched the last bit of tea dribble onto the ground. “But you know how family is. We never forget.” He waved the mug around. “We all heard about it. Good gossip ’bout bad luck. Stuff like that travels fast.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, taking in the information. It wasn’t really relevant to finding the two kids, not as far as I knew. But it was more than I had an hour ago and that was progress. Of sorts.
The feud was barely a generation old. Didn’t make it less important for those involved and I could imagine Mary Chandler and Jake Middleston becoming enraged that the grandchildren of the original warriors running off together. It must have seemed like the ultimate betrayal for their mothers.
“What about the men? Their mates? What did they do?” I asked.
Red tapped his cup against a nearby log, shaking out the last of the tea. “They raised their kids to hate each other. The widower Middleston had no brothers, couldn’t risk leaving his kids alone if anything happened to him so he just talked a good brawl. Old man Chandler, he had one sister who moved to another Pride to get away from the entire situation so he was alone as well with his daughters.” He smacked his lips. “They talk to friends and soon people’s choosing sides. A few fights, some challenges over drinks and now
My own ankle throbbed, reminding me of my first hunt. I’d waited for hours to be found.
“So one of them fell down and broke her ankle,” I said. “She didn’t die.”
Red grunted. “Ever been in a field? Ain’t always as flat and empty as you’d like to think.” He rapped his knuckles on the side of his head and made a popping sound with his mouth. “Hit a rock, stop stop stop.”
“Hit her head?” I was still wandering in a fog. “And she died? But it was an accident.”
In my mind’s eye I saw the two women in the field, Changed and fighting each other. One feints with a punch or maybe a kick, the other steps back and falls over. She hits the ground and her head bounces off a rock. Doesn’t have to be a boulder, could have been as small as a pebble smacking into her temple but it’s enough to do the damage and depending on how far they were away from the farmhouse, too far from immediate medical attention.
She passes out. Her opponent’s yelling, screaming for help and it takes the ambulance too long to arrive and the hospital’s too far away to make a difference. Wrong place, wrong time and now one’s dead.
Red cleared his throat and spat to one side. “’Cuse me.”
“So who died? And why would there be bad blood?” I frowned, trying to put the pieces together from Red’s erratic speech. “It was a challenge, pure and simple. No funny business, no one pulled a gun or a knife. No one broke the rules.”
He put his hand up in the air before letting it drop. “Maureen Middleston. Goes down, doesn’t get up.” He made a walking motion with two fingers. “Now Laura, she breaks her leg racing to the farmhouse to get help. Doesn’t see a dip in the field, bang smash and she’s down. Pulled herself close enough to the others to yell for help. Never healed proper, left her with a limp for the rest of her life. Chandlers say it’s all a bad accident and just straight-up bad luck.”
“And the Middlestons?”
“Family accuses Chandlers of choosing that field on purpose, setting Maureen up to fail. Laura breaking her leg on purpose to make it look like an accident. Only two witnesses—the seconds, standing by to watch what happens. One from each family and each backing their version of the story. One says Middleston’s guilty, other says Chandler’s at fault.”
“That’s insane.” I drained the last few bitter drops from my cup. “No one could have seen that happening.”
“Which is why the Grand Council ignored the Chandlers’ complaint and demand for a reckoning. Challenge was fairly offered and fought,” Red said. He overturned his mug and watched the last bit of tea dribble onto the ground. “But you know how family is. We never forget.” He waved the mug around. “We all heard about it. Good gossip ’bout bad luck. Stuff like that travels fast.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, taking in the information. It wasn’t really relevant to finding the two kids, not as far as I knew. But it was more than I had an hour ago and that was progress. Of sorts.
The feud was barely a generation old. Didn’t make it less important for those involved and I could imagine Mary Chandler and Jake Middleston becoming enraged that the grandchildren of the original warriors running off together. It must have seemed like the ultimate betrayal for their mothers.
“What about the men? Their mates? What did they do?” I asked.
Red tapped his cup against a nearby log, shaking out the last of the tea. “They raised their kids to hate each other. The widower Middleston had no brothers, couldn’t risk leaving his kids alone if anything happened to him so he just talked a good brawl. Old man Chandler, he had one sister who moved to another Pride to get away from the entire situation so he was alone as well with his daughters.” He smacked his lips. “They talk to friends and soon people’s choosing sides. A few fights, some challenges over drinks and now
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