A Flight of Ravens by John Conroe (thriller books to read TXT) 📗

with purpose, yet without hurry.  At the edge of the city, they continued on and he was forced to wait for a clear moment to dart from rooftop to forest before catching up to them.  The boy’s chatter carried clearly in the cold winter air and thus he was able to track them even when he couldn’t see them, calming his anxiety.

They moved out into a vast field, one that stirred memories deep inside him.  He had been here before—many, many times before.  It covered many spans in each direction, numbers he couldn’t fully process anymore.  Several sets of wooden stands had been constructed on the edges of the field, their wood scarred from age and weather, yet still showing plenty of signs of ongoing care and maintenance. The boy and the women headed for one of these structures, one currently basking in a rare winter sun that was warm enough to have melted frost and snow from the seating, leaving just damp wood.

His woman spread her blankets out on the plank seating while the other one helped the boy set down his heavy burden, which he excitedly opened, proudly unlatching its clever lid.  Something about the very nature of that handmade basket tickled at his memories, tugging at foggy remembrances from before.

The boy brought out a small porcelain pot and gleefully opened the top, holding it up for a deep sniff.  Even spans away, he could smell bacon, beans, onion, and a spicy sauce that captured his complete attention.

“Put that down, Welton,” his mother scolded although her voice held amusement rather than any tone of anger.  “Lay it all out first and remember, we have to wait for your brother.”

“It just smells so good, Momma,” the young one said, reluctantly setting the pot down and returning the top.  The woman pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from the basket. It smelled of still-warm bread, followed by a big block of cheese, a wax cloth bag of dried and jerked venison, a crock of fresh-churned butter that smelled of chives, a small sack of apples, and two jugs, one of wine, the other water. His woman just sat and held her heavy stomach, looking tired.

His senses tracked everything around him, so he heard the tramp of footsteps a long time before the women and boy did.  Two men, downwind and unscentable, as of yet.  Presently they came into view, one man younger yet almost as big as the other, and his features were much the same as the boy by the woman’s side.  The other man was older but not old, instead clearly in his prime, and he was instantly recognizable as alpha.

“There they are,” the boy alerted the women.

“Yes, Welton, right on time, and we haven’t even sliced the bread and meat yet,” his woman said.

“Never you mind, Sissa. We have it under control,” the other woman said.

The boy turned and focused on using his belt knife to prepare the food, all while the two men approached at an unhurried pace.

“Thank you for delivering him to us, Savid,” the woman said, her voice warm and friendly.

“A very small price to pay for a sample of your famous cooking, Treena, and yours too, Sissa,” the alpha said.  Sissa—that name again, a word that fired his nerves and made him shuffle his heavy feet.

“You honestly think this will work?” the Sissa asked.

“It already has,” the alpha responded.

“He’s here?” she asked, her body tensing, her head turning to look at the forest that surrounded much of the field.

“Of course.  Did you think he would leave you? Ever?” the alpha asked.

They were speaking of him, he knew that, yet neither had looked his way and even if they did, he was instinctively confident of his cover among the pine boughs.

“How could I know?” she asked, frustrated.

“Doubts are normal and expected,” the alpha said. “This is uncharted terrain.  But you know him, as do I.”

“But are you certain?  Can you Feel him?” the Sissa asked.

“Yup.  He’s watching. Actually, I would say that he’s probably on overwatch.  Had Brent and I been two other men, approaching you, Treena, and Welton out here where no one is around, you’d likely have seen him already—as would they.”

“What if that had happened? What if some innocent person came along?” she asked.

“No one is coming.  We’ve seen to that.  No one will come near these fields till we’re done here,” the alpha said. “Don’t worry. He’s drawn to you, Sissa. He’ll always be drawn to you.  Now I suggest that we just settle back and relax and see if we can get him to approach.”

The older boy snorted.  “You just want to dig into Mom’s famous beans.”

The alpha chuckled, the young boy laughed, and the Sissa smiled even as her eyes looked around the forest, passing right over his hiding place. The other woman smiled too as she spooned out beans into wooden bowls.

The two boys sat on either side of the Sissa and the other woman. The alpha sat to the side of the oldest lad while the women both slathered butter on bread. His eyes had locked onto the food, his stomach growling, when he felt eyes on him.  A glance at the alpha found him locking gazes, triggering more memories, remembrances from this very place, this very field.

“Welton, why don’t you move between Brent and your mom,” the alpha said, moving farther down the wooden seating to make room.  The boy obeyed, as he should, reshuffling to be next to his brother.  The Sissa was watching the alpha, her body tense. The movement had left her side open.

“It’s fine.  Just set out a bowl and some bread for Ash too, right next to you, Sissa,” the alpha said.  She did as he suggested, without hesitation and without smelling of fear—anxiety, but not fear.

“What do you think, Ash?” the alpha asked, looking right at his hiding spot, speaking directly to him.  “You know you’ve been missing Sissa’s bread, and I’ve heard you reminisce about your sister-in-law’s delicious beans too