Alpha of Smoke

Just Don’t Die

*Isabella*

The bell on the door rings above me as I push through the opening to the general store, dragging Robert and Alice along. Normally, they’d want to come in here. Ma gave me two dimes to buy them licorice, but they’re so worked up about what we’re missing at the meeting, it takes the scent of sweets wafting from the front counter to remind them that they actually get a treat. “Go on,” I tell them, giving them a little shove. “Go pick out somethin’ that’ll last you.”

Both of them take off running, nearly toppling a display of jars of lard on top of a barrel. I swear under my breath, but they make it through without causing a disaster. Shaking my head, I follow them to the front counter where Mrs. Nancy Williams greets them with a chuckle. She’s better natured than most or else she’d have ‘em both by the ear.

Her husband, Mr. Bernard Williams, isn’t so nice. Thankfully, he’s busy. I hear his voice across the store and step around the lard display to see him standing over by where he keeps his weapons, talking to some other customers.

Talking to those men I seen earlier.

I catch a stuttering breath and consider fleeing back the way I came, abandoning my siblings and quietly slipping out the door to stand on the sidewalk. But then, when those men leave, they’ll see me, so I may as well stand here.

Besides, the one I’d seen earlier, with the jet black hair adorned with feathers, has already turned to catch my eye. I quickly look away but think I hear him chuckle under his breath. He’s so far away, it could’ve been something else, but as I glide through the store, approaching the counter, I think I feel his black eyes following me.

“You sure you ain’t rogues now?” Mr. Williams is asking, and I can tell by the pointed way he words it that he’s asked before.

“No, but they’re out there.” The rich timber of the man’s voice has my head turning back in that direction. Sure enough, it’s him who’s answered. All four of them look alike, like maybe they’re brothers or cousins or something, but he is by far the most handsome, and he speaks with authority. “Probably a hundred miles out, but they’ll continue to push this way as more settlers come through their lands. They’re angry.”

“Well, they can just be angry,” Mr. Williams says. “We got new people comin’ in here all the time, crowdin’ us. It is what it is.”

I shake my head. The rogues have no right to that land, but the packs, like the one these men are from, do have a claim. Settlers moving in and saying it belongs to them now ain’t the same as someone taking what’s always been theirs.

“You’ll have rogues close soon enough,” the handsome man says, his tone confident. “Just give it time.”

“Ah, fiddle faddle.” Mr. Williams blows him off. “Now, let me get those knives for you. I like these skins. You folks bring a high quality item to trade.”

As he disappears in the back, the man I’ve been staring at turns to look at me again. I bite down on my bottom lip and try to look away, but his dark eyes won’t let me. My brother and sister are still giving Mrs. Williams a hard time about what kinda candy they want anyway. I may as well do some reconnaissance.

I saunter in his direction, and he steps away from his friends, meeting me near the lard display. It don’t smell the best, but he does. The scent of freedom wafts off him, reminding me of endless starry skies and waves of grain blowin’ in the wind.

“Unega.” He reaches up and takes the ends of a few strands of my long white-blonde hair between his fingers before letting it go.

My forehead crinkles as I stare at him, wondering why he did that. It’s strange to just touch a person’s hair. I’ve heard of people out west gettin’ scalped. I take a step back. “What does that mean?”

“It means white,” he tells me. “Maybe you are more like agali. Sunshine.”

I take a deep breath, trying to form a coherent thought. Up close, he’s even more handsome than I’d thought. His strong nose is perfectly symmetrical, his cheekbones so high they frame his dark eyes, and his chin and jawline are so smooth, I’m thinkin’ of doin’ a little fingering myself.

I manage to swallow back my emotions. “Well, around here, people call me Isabella,” I manage to say.

“I am Akecheta, but your people call me Chet.”

All I can do for a few moments is blink. Akecheta. I like that. It’s strong, like him. I wonder what it means.

I don’t ask.

“What pack are you from?” I ask him, managing to jut my chin up, like I’m somehow important, too.

“We are from Shaconage pack. You?”

“This one.” He raises an eyebrow. There are several packs crammed into a tight space here, compared to what he’s used to, but mine is the most predominant. “Crimson pack.”

One of his friends says something to him in their native tongue, and they all chuckle. Chet turns to look at him, smirking, but when he answers with words I don’t yet know, they stop laughing. He turns back to me. “Alpha Beck is not a good leader. He stole the title. Are you his daughter?”

My mouth falls open as I shake my head. “No. My pa’s Arthur Mackenzie. You probably ain’t never heard of him, but he’s kinda important in these parts.”

Chet nods, but his eyes take on a strange expression, and I have to wonder what he’s thinkin’. He ain’t gonna tell me, though. “You heard us talking about the rogues and are scared?”

I shake my head. “I ain’t scared of nothin’.” Again, I stick up my chin like I mean it, and he cracks a smile. “It’s just… we’re headed west tomorrow, and I thought maybe you’d have some information.”

When I say I ain’t scared of nothin’ he gets that amused expression on his face again, like he thinks it’s cute a little girl like me can talk so big. Which is kind of what I was goin’ for, but with the rest of my sentence, it fades. “You’re going west? With your family?” I nod. He shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea, Unega. It’s very dangerous.”

Part of me wants to correct him and remind him of my name, but I don’t. I like the way his words roll off his tongue, the way he claims me in a small way when he gives me a new name. “Well, we’re goin’ whether I like it or you like it or anyone likes it or not. You know what it’s like out there. Besides the obvious–don’t drink dirty water, and look out for snakes–what do we need to do?” I could list off the dangers Major Sanders made Ginny repeat to the crowd, but I don’t.

Mr. Williams is back, talking to Chet’s friends again. He glances in that direction but must decide to let them handle it as he takes a step closer to me. The scent of his breath reminds me of a cool mountain spring as it caresses my cheek. “Take your own game. There won’t be enough out there. You have wagons?” I shake my head, and his eyes widen. “No?”

“They wanna go on foot,” I explain.

He shakes his head. “Not safe. You have to remember, there are human tribes out there alongside our packs. They greatly outnumber us, as they do in these parts.”

My head rocks back and forth. “One of ‘em killed my cousin last night. That’s why we’re goin’.”

“You will smell them, but even shifting won’t protect your young.” His eyes flicker to my brother and sister before they return to my face. “Take wagons. You have a guide?”

“I guess. He don’t seem to know much since he don’t wanna take wagons.”

He shakes his head again. “Your family may be better off going alone.”

I take a breath and let it out. “So you’re sayin’ we should do what the humans do when they go west?”

“Yes, only unlike the humans, you should not die.”

I want to laugh, but I realize he’s not joking.

“I’m tryin’ to figure out how to pull that off.”

His friends are done talking to Mr. Williams. They are sliding knives and other weapons into their pockets. I don’t see any guns, but I’ve heard there are wolf packs that fight with guns out there, and some of them use fire, too. Just like human tribes.

“Be on your guard at all times. Danger is everywhere. Your chances of making it are not good, Unega. Where are you going?” I can see genuine concern in his eyes.

“Wyoming.”

“Far.” He takes a deep breath. One of his friends says something to him, and he nods. “Take items to trade. Don’t take heavy furniture. Only necessities. Lots of food. Ways to boil water. Don’t touch anyone who looks sick.”

I nod along with all of his directions, and as he steps into the group that is headed toward the door, I find myself leaning toward him. I want more wisdom from him–but then, I also just want more of him.

The last thing he says to me before he steps outside onto the dusty walkway echoes his best piece of advice. “Stay alive.”

I nod, thinkin’ I can at least manage that.

Boy, was I wrong.