Rejected Mate and Following Fate

“Maybe we can speed between goal posts?” I point out, meaning from perch to perch where the crows are, we could hyper
speed then wait on them to move, and go again. Which is exactly what we do the second we see them land further on and move
to go. Racing to the next set of trees in the blink of an eye and the birds move again, in a game of follow me.
“I hope to god this is not some crazy idea and we’re not just following some random flock of ravens who are just trying to get
away. I mean we’re kinda just assuming.” Meadow quips in and I giggle out of pure nervousness and frustration and also doubt.
Maybe she’s right and were insanely following birds that have nothing to do with this. We just assumed, given Sierra’s text and
then their freakish behavior that we should, and who knows, maybe their curiosity has them come to us, but mistrust pushes
them to move further away when we get too close.
We hyper speed to the next set of trees that are further into overgrown landscape, light failing us, as they land on and do this
four more times, covering a fair bit of distance in the shortest time. They maybe can’t speed like we can, but by air they can
cover further ground than a normal human can walk, in a third of the time. So were making progress and we seem to be heading
into denser wood and more of a forestry sort of weird space that’s neither green and luscious or sandy and rocky, but
somewhere in between. It’s like a drying up, almost dead wood but dense enough to seem like it’s not. Eerie, something haunting
about it as shadow’s lengthen across the ground and noises of night creatures start to come out subtly around us. We move fast,
ignore the building anxiety that soon it will be pitch black and hope we are heading somewhere less rural, that maybe there’s a
house at the end of this trail.
“This place is weird” I point out when we stop again and wait for the birds to move, kicking away dead tumbleweed that’s grazing
my ankle and taking note of the terrain that’s way too abundant in plants for the desert like soil beneath us. It’s almost mystical in
itself that something seeming so dry and arid can have so much vegetation.
“I get creepy vibes too.” Carmen admits in a low voice, seemingly aware that we’re not alone out here in the wilderness as
multiple eyes start to shine from distant brush. Large and small animals taking note of our alien presence and peeking because
they can obviously tell we’re not just wandering human. Animals tend to avoid the scent of wolves at a very large distance in this
outer world.
We move again as soon as the birds settle once more, this stop and start game that’s becoming tiring the farther we plod on. We
have come off the path a few trees back and now seem to be wading through wasteland of some sort with no sign of houses,
manmade light, or roads in the front where we’re heading. Just dead trees blocking our view and lots of rocks for as far as the
eye can see.

“I’ve got no signal on the cell either.” Carmen sighs, aggravated, and hands Meadow back her cell she had brought from the
truck. “So, we can’t even check with Sierra if we’re heading the right way.” She adds with a furrowed brow and a stern
expression making my last traces of hope fizzle out, like being drained of the last ounces of energy.
“God dammit” Meadows chirps in and slides it into her pocket after checking for herself. Muttering under her breath about cursed
witches and damned nightfall, which only serves to make my hackles rise and my skin goosebump all over as the sun edge
further down towards the horizon and the air turns cooler for lack of it.
I look up at the sky at the last dregs of fading light and back at the birds and really start to wonder at the likelihood of vampires
being out here in this nothing space by chance if darkness comes fully before we get anywhere. It’s looking likely and even
though we have nocturnal vision, I would rather have found a safe haven before they can come lurking out from their holes and
crevices to walk the world. I know with my gifts it’s harder for vampires to really take us down and I know Meadow can hold her
own, possibly Carmen too, although I haven’t witnessed it yet, I would rather not have to fight and battle for survival if we don’t
have to.
Three more tree stops, and we can’t see the truck behind us anymore at all as its so far away and obscured by the trees and
rocks we have passed. This seems to be taking us much further than any location Sierra sent and I’m starting to wonder if this is
even right. My gut telling me that we shouldn’t be so trusting, and maybe we shouldn’t keep trying to push forward without an
end in sight.
“We should turn back. I don’t like this, and I don’t see an end to where we’re going.” It’s Meadow, verbalizing my exact thoughts,
sounding pensive, looking overly alert, and I guess she too is feeling it. Picking up on the empty air, the cold aura of this place,
and the suspicion of foreign eyes watching us from all angles. It’s hard to defend when out in the open like this and we have no
tactical advantage, especially with only three of us. I turn to her with a stiff expression, my stomach sinking at the thought of
coming this far only to now give in. I know it’s what I wanted, what my instincts are screaming at me, but my heart is telling me
it’s not the right thing to do. I want Colton home, sooner, not later, and waiting another night seems like an endless eternity. I
open my mouth to try and talk this out and am rendered mute as a stranger’s husky brogue echoes around us clearly.
“Well, that would be a shame, seeing as you only just got here.” A female voice startles us from somewhere to the left, sounding
almost smug, definitely confident, and so clear and loud it rings through as if spoken right at our ears. We can’t see anyone at all,
and we all turn instinctually, claws ripping out and teeth baring as we crowd together back-to-back to make one fierce bubble of
wolf aggression. Leaning down, poised and ready to turn as eyes glow with intention and every red alert signal explodes inside
my body.

“Who are you? Who said that?” I call out harshly, my voice laced with a growl as my heart hammers through my chest like a ward
rum and a rustle of some nearby bushes alerts us to a dark figure slowly walking into the clearing. We three seem to shift into an
almost crawl pose, so ready to fight and take down our intruder, hackles rising, blood pumping and unified in both awareness,
alert aggression, and yet heavy wariness.
She steps into view, although shrouded in shadow but I can still make out that she’s wearing a long black cloak, hood up which is
oversized and seems to frame her head in a sinister way. Her entire face and body is concealed in both fabric and shadow and
she stops just within vision to look at us from her bold position, no hint of fear at all. The largest of the ravens flies over and lands
on her outstretched hand which appears when it gets close, showing a smooth almost youthful skin as it appears from under
dark cloth and a slender wrist adorned with bangles and vintage jewelry. In the darkness her skin is so pale it almost glows like a
beacon and we gawp at her in both apprehension and surprise. I figure we all had ideas on what a three-thousand-year-old witch
would look like and so far this isn’t it.
“Why, aren’t the lass you’ve been looking for? So why are you planning on toddling away?” her accent is thick, sing songy, and
foreign. I guess Scottish, if that’s where Sierra said she was from. It sounds a little rustic, yet warm and she has a pleasing voice
to listen to that pulls you in and intrigues. No hint of any kind of American twang at all and yet she peaks clearly in an almost
teasing and clear way.
“Are you Leyanne Cruden?” Meadow queries, even though we both know this can’t be anyone else. Lurking out here with these
birds, wearing a stereotypical witch’s cloak and showing face as the moon hits its highest point. She’s definitely spooky and my
nerves twang so tight I reckon it won’t take much to snap them fully.
“Depends who’s asking? Depends on what they want?” she laughs, a low almost husky and seductive sound, like rolling waves,
that echoes around us eerily and the hint of bold confidence and lack of fear completely unnerves me. She doesn’t seem to care
that three highly aggressive wolves are homed in defense and she is the target.
“I’m Alora Santo, Sierra Santo sent us to find you because we need your help.” I relax my stance and turn my claws and teeth
away, nudging Meadow and Carmen to do the same in a show that we’re not here to harm her. Only Carmen obeys with a sigh
and straightens up beside me, while Meds stays in protector mode, sticking to me like glue. I can feel the vibrations from her as
she growls under her breath and refuses to relent.
“I know...... there’s not much that goes on around here that I don’t know about. My birds have very good ears. So, welcome,
Miss Alora Santo.” She smiles, showing whitest teeth in the hints of her pale face, just barely visible from the shade of her hood
and yet it still makes my unsure of her. Every cell in my body is in alert still, stiff and bristled all over because something in me
doesn’t want to trust this stranger yet.

I squint at the crows and recall her words, casting a glance at Meadow, not entirely sure what she means about birds and ears
and certain we never once mentioned her around these damned birds. I think she’s maybe a little bit insane, or else she’s
making she knows more than she does.
“So, if you know why we’re here, then I guess we shouldn’t beat around the bush and ask if you will help.” It feels kind of rude to
just invade her territory and blurt it out, but it’s put me completely off kilter having her seem to know who we are and so smug
about it. She’s not exactly welcoming and so far, she seems to like indirect answers and word play. It doesn’t really signal a
friendly soul.
“It’s getting late.” She points out, ignoring my question completely, in fact acting like I haven’t spoken, and instead looks to the
sky with a sigh. I still can’t make out anything about her features other than she seems to have a youthfulness to her. It’s hard to
put a finger on it, more than seeing her hand, but I get the vibes she is not that much older than Sierra physically. Mid-thirties at
most. I’ve heard all about witches using anti-aging seduction, masking appearances to lure, and means to pull in innocents to
trust them...or was that sirens? I forget. The books down under the house have so many supernatural species and I don’t recall
which sometimes, or what ones we should never be drawn in by. Either way, her presence is giving me the heeby jeebies.
“Not to be rude but, we are aware, and we don’t like being out after dark, so if you could, you know, get to the point. You know
who we are, what we want and hence.... we really need an answer.” Carmen comes right out with it in that haughty bitchy tone of
hers, no warmth, only dry boredom and superiority, and for once it doesn’t annoy me. I mean its rude as hell, and I admire her
total lack of fear around this witch, but she does have a point. I don’t want to be standing out here like this for the rest of the
night. This witch has no concept of how dangerous it could be for us, or the fact, we do still need sleep and food before dawn.
“The jilted lover.... So full of anger and attitude. It’s like you’re a very full sponge, who has sooked up all the toxins in the world. A
little squeeze and it all comes squirting out in the most unattractive way.” She chuckles, that same girly, yet not young, sound that
washes over us and the crow seems to cackle in response along with her. An evil vibrating noise that grates on my nerves. I
swear it laughs at us. It’s that same little window tapping asshole from earlier and I mentally add her devious mini sidekick to my
kill list should this turn bloody.
Carmen on the other hand falls silent and glares at her with a great level of mistrust, eyes gleaming orange in the dark, full on
hostility leaching out from every pore, given she does seem to know a hell of a lot. I’m certain we never said anything of the sort
near her birds at all about carmen being Colton’s ex or my being the reason he left her.
“How do you know so much about us, and don’t say your birds hears us. Because that’s bullshit as we haven’t said a thing about
her love life since we got here!” Meadow is the one with the hostile tone now, biting in, full on mama bear mode initiated as she

steps in front of me and seems to grow taller. I can feel her unease and suspicion all around me, tainting the air and feeding my
worry. She doesn’t like this witch and she certainly doesn’t think we’re safe with her.
“Did I say it was these specific birds? You’ve come far my wee pets; you look like you need somewhere to sit and maybe a hot
drink to calm that unwise rise of attitude. Know who you’re talking to and learn when to be silent!” The tone loses that almost
friendly air and that superior edge and biting tone change the atmosphere completely. It’s an icy statement that makes Carmen
sound like an amateur in terms of scolding and there’s a hint of power and superiority that can only come from someone knowing
their skillset trumps yours. She slides back her hood as she steps fully out from her space, releasing her raven to fly back to his
perch, the rising moon glowing somehow brighter at her command and we’re faced with a woman who looks no older than her
late twenties at most.
She’s pretty in a wholesome sort of a way visually, yet shrouded in maturity, underlying darkness, and wisdom, that gives her an
older presence. Not outstanding, unearthly, stunning beauty, but she has definite attractiveness and a natural unmade up face
with zero lines or wrinkles. She’s seductive, yet somehow looks pure, untainted by the world and has a fire in her eyes that
suggests she’s a warrior at heart. She has a likeability, a sense of calm and control that makes you feel like you need this woman
to tell you what to do next. A born queen, under her dark robes and almost Celtic style, flowing layers of longs skirts, boho attire,
which has a mix of era’s in one outfit. She looks exactly how I thought a witch should look, if she was eternally young and
beautiful.
Not bad at all for a three-thousand-year-old who has probably seen and interacted in more wars than we can imagine. It’s not her
looks that pull you completely in though, it’s her aura. There’s an atmosphere around her, of great power, crackling energy, pure
clear oxygen fizzing up the tempo, and the steady unruffled gaze as she locks eyes on me completely throw me off. Dark,
almond shaped almost catlike eyes that have a hint of exotic beauty about them. Deep and endless and way darker than
Colton’s brown eyes. She’s terrifying. Like the kind of woman who would kiss you on the lips before driving a steak right through
your heart and smiling sweetly as she did so. She’s utterly intimidating.
“Look, we’re sorry. It’s been a long journey and a lot of stress. We don’t mean to be rude; we just weren’t sure if we could trust
you. Or if you are her...Leyanne Cruden! You still haven’t confirmed!” I try for the smoothing over and calming things approach,
my mediation skills as Luna, but she throws her head back and laughs heartily. Like she just heard the funniest joke of the year
and isn’t shy about expressing her amusement.
“You come looking for me and yet I’m the one that’s not to be trusted, oh pet.... You really are a bit backwards. Who else would I
be?” It’s a chuckle, as she regains composure, wipes a tear form the corner of her eye and shakes her robes around her to
rearrange them back to neatness. I’m starting to think this one is a bit insane.

“Truth be told, you can’t trust me... you can’t really trust anyone. Everyone has a line that they’ll cross for the right persuasions,
even my kind. No one is every truly trustworthy, even your sisters here.” She smirks, rolling her r’s in her sing song accent,
hearty scots, and walks a step forward to close the gap between us and it takes all my will power not to step away. She’s
suffocating with just a foot forward, that energy eating me alive and I realize it’s my ability to feel others that’s causing it. I can
sense, taste, feel, her brimming power and incomparable amounts of magic within her possession. Like she carries a constant
death fence of electricity around her at all times. It makes Sierra seem human in comparison.
I want to venomously defend my Meadow and maybe even Carmen too, but sense tells me to be quiet and ignore her insults
concerning my being able to trust my pack sisters. This witch seems to like word play, and maybe mind games, and I definitely
do not trust her. I have never met anyone like her before.
“I would die for her. So you can eat that and choke on it, Chica.” Meadow loses her cool, spitting venom, obviously offended
enough to not stay quiet as her pride is bruised and I grasp her hand to quiet her, and groan at her words. Flinching inwardly that
this witch just told us to heed her and here Meds is, poking the bear.
“Want to prove it? I mean, I’m willing, and we do have a nice quiet night for it.” Leyanne chuckles again, that hearty, brash,
mocking laugh, throwing back her cloak over her shoulders to reveal a sculpted upper bodice of her dress, sort of romantic and
flouncy around the neckline, with jewelry that give her a completely earth momma vibe that’s not entirely weird. I kind of dig it but
it’s definitely something that would stand out in the human world, unless sit was some sort of cottage gore convention. Even
without the huge black cloak with an extra pointed long tail on her hood. The girl likes to look the part of what she is, I guess.
“Are we wasting our time? Should we just leave?” I blurt out in frustration at how this is going and step in front of Meadow again,
reinforcing my position as leader, hoping to god we can just turn and go and find another way if this isn’t it. My mate is back
there, he needs me to figure this out, and I don’t want to waste hours of my life on someone pointless who just wants to spur my
girls into fighting.
“So quick to give in, wee one. Not much Luna quality in that. Do I scare you? Are you intimidated?” She whispers it in a mock
tone, smug and winking as a smile haunts her full lips. No sense of her being rattled by us at all and I wonder just how powerful
she is to stand up to three glaring femmes and not give an actual crap about consequences. She turns her back on us, throwing
us a gleeful look over her shoulder and gestures with a tilt of her head. “Follow me, if you’re brave enough, and I guess you’ll see
if I was worth the journey. Don’t dawdle.... it’s dark, you know?” She sniggers with her last sarcastic words, and seems to sway
off with a steady walk, looking like she owns this land and is walking a red carpet, rather than a dirty sandy scrub with nothing
around.

She doesn’t wait on any kind of response at all, so sure of herself and our need of her, and walks off into the darkening wood to
seemingly disappear. We hesitate, all three standing firm and throwing glances to one another, expressions ashen, faces pale,
before Meadow shoves me forward to follow.