The Last Wolf Prince

1 - The Past is My New Present

~~Raya's PoV~~

Four hundred years earlier

The first thing I notice about the past is that it smells different. Everything smells fresher, and the strong pine scent of the forest surrounding me is almost overwhelming.

In my time, our enemies pump silver dust into the air to keep us under control. It gets into our lungs and our blood stream – not enough to kill us, since we heal fast, but enough to stop us from growing too powerful. There's no such thing as a cleansing breath, and all resistance is crushed before it can start.

The fact that the air is clean now must mean the device worked. This has to be a time before the pumps were built, and a rush of adrenaline runs through me. This really is the past, and I really do have a chance to fix it all.

Breathing in again, I try to commit this moment to memory, the way the smell invades my whole body, leaving me invigorated. If I was more poetic, I might say it's the smell of freedom.

There's no siren blaring anymore and no one else nearby. The forest is thicker than it was, and healthier too. As I look around, I realize I'm completely on my own, but instead of being frightened, it's excitement that takes hold of me.

For the first time in my life, I'm safe.

Or so I think, until an arrow flies lazily past my head, missing me by mere inches.

“What the f*ck?” I mutter before spinning around in the direction it came from, looking for the arrow's source. “Don't shoot! I'm unarmed.”

There's a rustle in the bushes ahead of me before a man appears. A werewolf, by the smell of him, though quite a weak-looking one. He looks almost as weak as I do. He's tall and thin, and he almost trips over a tree root as he walks towards me. A couple of arrows slide out of the quiver on his back but he doesn't seem to notice. He's about my age, or maybe slightly younger, with sandy blond hair, only a little darker than my own, and pale blue eyes that look almost watery.

He gives me a curious look as he approaches. “You're not a deer. Or at least, I've never met one that could talk before.”

My eyebrows shoot up at the unexpected words. Is he for real? “No, I'm not. Do I look like a deer to you?”

“Not so much when I get closer.” He squints at me in confusion. “What are you, then?”

I can't stop myself from looking down at my body. Did I somehow transform when I stepped through the portal? It doesn't look like it though, everything is in the same place it always was. My clothes are a bit different from his, but otherwise, we're obviously the same species, which I point out to him now. “I'm a werewolf, the same as you.”

“You don't smell like a wolf.” He sniffs the air as if to prove his point. “At least not one of ours. Are you an enemy?”

He draws an arrow and brings it into his bow, aiming at me even as his arms shake from the effort.

“Put that thing down!” I don't trust him with it for a second. He looks like he has no idea what he's doing. “I'm not an enemy, but I am new here. I could use some help.”

“You sound funny.” I suppose I do to him. My accent is definitely different to his. He does lower the bow, thankfully, and just in time, as the arrow releases into the ground. “Oh, fiddle-faddle. I keep doing that.”

Seriously? I thought I was prepared for anything the past would throw at me, but I didn't expect to be confronted with someone this useless within my first minute here. I was imagining warriors like in all the stories the adults used to tell us about the days when wolves were free. There were alpha wolves who were nearly seven feet tall in their human forms and as wide as three of me.

Were those stories all a lie? How is this man in front of me even out here on his own? I'm surprised he hasn't shot himself in the foot yet.

“May I?” I hold out my hand for the bow, which he hands over to me readily enough, even though he still has no idea who I am or what my intentions are. Luckily for him, I don't want to hurt him. I just want some information, so I try to make myself useful by retrieving the arrow from the ground and loading it properly, showing him exactly what I'm doing. “If you hold it here, you'll have much better control. Give it a try.”

He takes the bow and arrow from me and aims it at me again.

I wince as I leap out of the way. “Not at me! At the tree!”

Obligingly, he does as he's told, letting the arrow go in a surprisingly straight line. “Well, I'll say, you're right! That is better. Thank you, sir.”

Sir? Do I look like a man? My hair is short, I suppose, and my chest is on the flat side, since life in captivity is hard, but it's still a bit of an insult.

Perhaps it's simply because I'm wearing pants, and most women at this time wore skirts. That had crossed my mind before, but my fashion choices were pretty limited. Our captors didn't give us much to work with.

“You're welcome,” I say, not bothering to correct him. It doesn't seem worth the effort. I need to stick to my plan. “Could I bother you for some help in return? I'm looking for the prince's castle.”

He makes a face, scrunching up his nose like he's smelled something foul. “Why would you want to do that? It's boring there.”

I press my lips together to keep from sighing, or maybe laughing. I'm not sure which I want to do, his responses are so unexpected. “Be that as it may, I would still like to go there. Do you know where it is?”

“Of course. I'll be going there soon. You can come with me if you like.”

That's a stroke of luck, and my spirits lift. Maybe he wasn't such a bad person to run into after all. “That's very kind of you. I'm Raya, by the way.”

I hold out my hand and he looks at it curiously before looking back up at me. “Do you need something?”

Don't they shake hands here? I thought that was a very old custom and safe enough, but perhaps I was mistaken, so I offer him an explanation. “Where I come from, we shake hands when we meet someone new. It's a friendly gesture.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” He holds out his own hand and shakes it around in the air. “Like this?”

“Sure.” Why the hell not? It's not worth arguing over, so I shake my own hand too, which makes him smile.

“That's very good, I like that. We shall have to start doing it here.”

“You're welcome to use it.” As he turns to go, though, I realize he still hasn't told me his name. “What do I call you, sir?”

He looks for a moment like he might have forgotten his own name, which at this point wouldn't surprise me, but finally he answers. “Well, different people call me different things, but people I like call me Bertie. Since I like you, you can use that. We'll be Bertie and Rya.”

"Raya," I correct.

"Ryan?"

Once again, I almost laugh, but as peculiar as he is, he's not unkind, and I will need all the allies I can get here, so I simply let it go instead. “Something like that.”

He heads back in the direction he came from and I quickly follow, asking more questions.

“What do other people call you? The people who aren't your friends?”

“Well, my father used to use my full name when he was mad at me, which was a lot. That was before he got sick. Most other people use my title.”

His title? If he was heading to the castle and had a title, maybe he was more important than he looked. Maybe he might even be able to get me an audience with the prince. This was looking better and better. “What is your title?”

“They call me Your High Royalness.”

“What?” I have never heard that title before.

His eyes go wide as he realizes what he just said, and then he snorts with laughter. “Gads, no, I meant Your Royal Highness. It's a mouthful either way, isn't it?”

“Your Royal Highness?” I repeat, starting to get a sinking feeling in my stomach. It can't be... can it? “What is your full name, Bertie?”

“Bertran,” he replies airily, just before he trips over another tree root on the ground and ends up flat on his face. “Ow.”

You've got to be kidding me. This is Prince Bertran, the last hope of all wolfkind? This is the man I'm meant to keep alive?

We're completely doomed.