Running with Rogues

CHAPTER 64 - OVERRUN

She acknowledged that with a distracted tilt of her head. It was Liam who thought to ask, "Which packs?"

Mam looked to Uncle Ollie, who reeled them off, easy as anything. "Lowland. Riverside. Pine Forest. And the hired westerners. It seems like it was a very coordinated attack."

Shit. Shit. That was a lot of flockies. Enough to sack a camp while all the raiders were home and then put them to the chase ... which was undoubtedly what was going on now.

But while I was panicking, Liam was pulling his phone out, and he had it ringing in about two seconds flat. He was hiding his worry behind a slightly patchy mask of indifference. "Okay. Let's see if they feel like boasting about it."

Mam gave him a wolfish grin. "If you can get me a current location and - Goddess willing - some numbers, I'll give you my firstborn."

"Hey," I said, but no one was paying me any attention, save for Liam, whose lips twitched upwards for a split second. I hoped he knew she wasn't serious. It was just an expression. Or so I hoped, anyway.

Before I could kick up any more fuss, he was already talking into the phone, his back turned as he went to find somewhere a little quieter. I was left with Rhodri and Hayden on either side of me. I would have gone with him, because I knew how much he hated phone calls, but the Alphas had a habit of hanging up and pleading technical difficulties whenever it was me on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Vincent," he was saying. "Is there something you've forgotten to tell me? ... I know you're busy. That's why I'm ringing. ... Well, maybe my scouts are just better than yours. ... Do you want my fighters or not? Because if you do, you're going to have to watch your manners."

He was soon too far away for me to hear. And the attention of the emergency council turned to a young man who was sat nearby with his back against a tree and his eyes shut tight. It was Turner. And that meant his raiding team was the one under attack and he was trying his damned best to mind-link them.

"Any luck?" Mam asked him.

He shook his head without even opening his eyes. "Not yet. Last I heard, they're still heading north-east."

"I'll warn you again, Turner," she said, rather sharply, "if they keep doing that, they'll run right into us. Tell them to change direction and fast."

"I'm trying," he said indignantly, "but I'm not getting much in the way of replies. Maybe we should start moving. They feel close."

Mam swore quietly. She rubbed at her jaw, scanning us all with sharp, calculating eyes. Her gaze eventually came to rest, as it so often did, on Uncle Rhys.

"You're not too old to scout, are you?" she asked him dryly.

Given that he had already stripped down to his shirt and jeans, it wasn't hard to guess the answer to that question. He gave her a quick grin. "No."

"Good. Go on. Take a couple of the faster runners with you. We're going to err on the side of caution here. Ollie, Fion, get the kids up and into the cars. The rest of you can start pulling tents down."

We were all moving before she had even finished talking. But we didn't get very far. There was a burst of sudden, urgent shouting from nearby, and then wolves were running into the camp. They seemed to be everywhere - more than a dozen at least, slowing amongst the tents from a dead sprint.

There was a horrible second - a really horrible second - during which we were all half panicked and ready to shift as we tried to work out if these new wolves were friends or foes. It wasn't easy to catch a scent, but when they had come to a near stop without taking a chunk out of anyone, I felt safe enough to just stand there and wait.