Riding the Entire Pack (BBW Werewolf Shifter Steamy Menage Romance) by Willow Wilde
Authors: Willow Wilde
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RIDING THE ENTIRE PACK
A s my feet continued ever onward between the trees, I knew that I was wandering towards my death.
I could hear the rustle between the leaves; the forest itself seemed to watch me pass. It quietly whistled now, singing me to my demise as my bare feet repeatedly struck the lush grass. As desperately as I could, I staved off every fearful thought, every last doubt that I was perhaps doing the wrong thing by descending so heavily into the woods.
Nobody ever came this far out. There were tales of hideous things out in these depths – wicked gnashing creatures that slipped from limb to limb, ancient gnarled trees that reached down to scoop up unsuspecting travelers, even beautiful sirens who whispered convincing lies in the ears of passersby and luring them to their horrible deaths.
I did everything I could to ignore all of these tales and more as I pressed onward. If I was going to survive, I needed to pass out of the woods and maybe find my way back home.
But as I walked, I couldn’t help but think back to the events that had stranded me out here in the first place.
~
My caravan had been traveling into the north. We were eager to join a traveling band of merchants, crossing the country on an expedition towards Viao Calmnus – the Circus of Coin. It was an annual meeting of world-famous merchants, opening their stock at a tremendous gathering in the Capitol. The entire rally was always as big as a town as the nearby cities were completely overwhelmed with the processions of distant lords and ladies. Sometimes, even higher royalty came to the Viao Calmnus, walking among the people in disguise or with troupes of bodyguards.
Just landing an invitation to open a booth was a distinct honor; it just so happened that my opportunist uncle Stefan received one. Rallying a number of friends and family up, myself included, he made the preparations and formed a caravan to head deep towards the north.
Unfortunately, heavy storms had deterred us during our journey, and we were forced to bide our time for nearly a week. Eager to make up for the lost days, he chose a new path – jutting straight through the forbidden forests. I had pressed my uncle to find another way. He didn’t listen to superstition and was determined to take the trail straight through the heart, a trail just wide enough to see us through.
But the forest was forbidden for a reason, and I was the only one to make it out of the ensuing carnage alive.
The hideous fiends descended upon us in the middle of the night – I awoke to the sounds of screams, ripping flesh, and wailing, inhuman voices. I hid beneath my blankets in my wagon as the world was torn apart above me, and only when silence filled the air for at least an hour did I dare to move even an inch.
The darkness was all encompassing. I stumbled out of my hiding spot, gathering up what little I could carry in the ways of food, snatching a canteen of water at the very last moment. I could only work by the slight moonlight that peered down from the forest canopy – my nimble fingers crept over corpses and I repeatedly kneeled in warm blood.
Finally, I disappeared away from the wreckage of the caravan, eager to put distance between myself and whatever had happened there. I knew that sunrise was on the horizon, and I wanted to never see what had happened there with my own eyes.
~
I walked for two days, keeping close to the trail in case any rational human creature happened across my path. At my eighteen years of age, I had not been taught even the most basic navigational skills, and I knew not how far it was out of the woods. What I did know was how long we had been in them – at least a day by wagon. My uncle had made it sound as if we wouldn’t be within them long, and I wondered if I could walk far enough to take me back out of them, or at least out of the heart.
But as I continued to stumble along the trail,
A s my feet continued ever onward between the trees, I knew that I was wandering towards my death.
I could hear the rustle between the leaves; the forest itself seemed to watch me pass. It quietly whistled now, singing me to my demise as my bare feet repeatedly struck the lush grass. As desperately as I could, I staved off every fearful thought, every last doubt that I was perhaps doing the wrong thing by descending so heavily into the woods.
Nobody ever came this far out. There were tales of hideous things out in these depths – wicked gnashing creatures that slipped from limb to limb, ancient gnarled trees that reached down to scoop up unsuspecting travelers, even beautiful sirens who whispered convincing lies in the ears of passersby and luring them to their horrible deaths.
I did everything I could to ignore all of these tales and more as I pressed onward. If I was going to survive, I needed to pass out of the woods and maybe find my way back home.
But as I walked, I couldn’t help but think back to the events that had stranded me out here in the first place.
~
My caravan had been traveling into the north. We were eager to join a traveling band of merchants, crossing the country on an expedition towards Viao Calmnus – the Circus of Coin. It was an annual meeting of world-famous merchants, opening their stock at a tremendous gathering in the Capitol. The entire rally was always as big as a town as the nearby cities were completely overwhelmed with the processions of distant lords and ladies. Sometimes, even higher royalty came to the Viao Calmnus, walking among the people in disguise or with troupes of bodyguards.
Just landing an invitation to open a booth was a distinct honor; it just so happened that my opportunist uncle Stefan received one. Rallying a number of friends and family up, myself included, he made the preparations and formed a caravan to head deep towards the north.
Unfortunately, heavy storms had deterred us during our journey, and we were forced to bide our time for nearly a week. Eager to make up for the lost days, he chose a new path – jutting straight through the forbidden forests. I had pressed my uncle to find another way. He didn’t listen to superstition and was determined to take the trail straight through the heart, a trail just wide enough to see us through.
But the forest was forbidden for a reason, and I was the only one to make it out of the ensuing carnage alive.
The hideous fiends descended upon us in the middle of the night – I awoke to the sounds of screams, ripping flesh, and wailing, inhuman voices. I hid beneath my blankets in my wagon as the world was torn apart above me, and only when silence filled the air for at least an hour did I dare to move even an inch.
The darkness was all encompassing. I stumbled out of my hiding spot, gathering up what little I could carry in the ways of food, snatching a canteen of water at the very last moment. I could only work by the slight moonlight that peered down from the forest canopy – my nimble fingers crept over corpses and I repeatedly kneeled in warm blood.
Finally, I disappeared away from the wreckage of the caravan, eager to put distance between myself and whatever had happened there. I knew that sunrise was on the horizon, and I wanted to never see what had happened there with my own eyes.
~
I walked for two days, keeping close to the trail in case any rational human creature happened across my path. At my eighteen years of age, I had not been taught even the most basic navigational skills, and I knew not how far it was out of the woods. What I did know was how long we had been in them – at least a day by wagon. My uncle had made it sound as if we wouldn’t be within them long, and I wondered if I could walk far enough to take me back out of them, or at least out of the heart.
But as I continued to stumble along the trail,
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