A small distance away, the battle continued. Here, I looked around in misery. We’d hoped to decimate their numbers. Instead, they’d succeeded in decimating ours, almost exterminating the Elders, the keepers of knowledge for the werewolves. I glanced around at the Urbat fighters. They didn’t believe in Elders. They didn’t want any group to hold such power over them. Leaders led. If they were not strong enough to do so, they were challenged and replaced with ones who were stronger.
Their emotions drenched the field. I inhaled slowly and deeply, pulling the stagnant mass toward me. For those closest to me, I siphoned their consuming hate, leaving only traces of fanaticism. Several fell to their opponents during their confusion. I felt bloated and tight. Still I inhaled again, pulling more from them, expanding my reach to pull from every Urbat on the field. Something trickled from my nose, eyes, and ears. I kept breathing in, impossibly filling my lungs, and myself, with everything I could.
Something inside me popped, and a flaring pain seared through my stomach. I knew I needed to let go. I gathered everything I held, everything that made me boil and shake with rage, and released it all at once killing the still staggering Urbat where they stood. The few friends who remained staggered as well. Blood ran from their ears as they toppled to the ground. I fell to my knees as they fell. The world surrendered to darkness. The time for Judgement faded.
The dream repeated countless times. I absorbed every sight, thought, and feeling from each prospective before I finally floated to the surface. I now understood the war that had raged, since the beginning of time, between the Urbat and Werewolves.
“Bethi,” Luke demanded near my ear. Then, not so loud, he asked, “Why isn’t she waking up?”
“Go. Away.” My lips didn’t want to move. My mouth tasted like I’d kissed a skunk’s butt, and my stomach hurt. Bad. Still reeling from the graphic dream of death, hate, and pain, I wanted to be left alone. For a long time.
Someone gently touched my head, smoothing a hand over my hair. The touch disappeared a moment before a door opened and closed.
In the silence, I recapped my current life, compared it to past lives, and didn’t like the similarities leading up to the finale. I tried licking my lips and instead moaned.
“Do you need a drink?” a new voice asked.
Opening my eyes, I looked at an unfamiliar face. Wait, no. I blinked at her and remembered. I almost smiled at myself. As if I could forget anything. Winifred. Nana Wini. But I stopped the smile because I didn’t want her to think I was smiling at her. More than ever, I didn’t know who to trust. I needed Hope. I needed to know which of the wolves around me were Urbat and which were Werewolves. Only Hope could tell me that. Knowing the difference between the two wouldn’t determine my trust, but it was a start.
I nodded, and she handed me a glass of water. I drank slowly and grimaced. “Can you help me up? I need a toothbrush.”
She nodded.
Setting the glass aside, I gripped her hand and slowly stood. The gash on my stomach felt hot and tight. It pulled a little. I lifted my shirt and looked at it. Neat little stitches ran along my skin where the cut had been.
“I did the best I could. Luke insisted you did not want to go to the hospital.”
“Too dangerous,” I agreed, moving to my bag and grabbing my toothbrush. The longer I stood, the more I could straighten up. Still, I brushed my teeth, with a slight bend. She stood near watching me closely.
“You really need to change into something clean.”
I spit, rinsed, and turned to face her. Her steady gaze met mine. She seemed kind enough, but I couldn’t trust anyone. “Where’d Luke go?” I doubted he’d actually listened to my muttered “go away.”
She stepped back to let me out of the tiny bathroom. “He went to get the others. They’ve been waiting for you.”
Just then the door to the room flew open. Luke strode in followed closely by another man with short dark hair.
“What happened to my bike?” the newcomer demanded, looking ready to strangle Luke.
Two women followed the man. The first one, olive skinned with dark hair, looked worried and the second one, a short blonde pixie, appeared slightly concerned. A second man followed the group in. I couldn’t see much of his face due to the dark hair hanging in his eyes and a full beard. Still, his lips twitched as if he shared the amusement of the woman he followed.
“Emmitt,” the first woman said, laying a hand on his back. Emmitt stopped his advance and glared at Luke, who ignored them all since his gaze was locked on me. The worry in his eyes told me enough.
“Michelle, he trashed it. It looks like he dumped it,” Emmitt said without turning to look at Michelle. “Jim felt guilty enough that it was stolen. He won’t even look at me now. You owe me an explanation,” he said, pushing Luke’s shoulder.
“Ah, there you are,” I mumbled. “We were just talking about you. You must be Peter Gibbons.” Luke gave me a puzzled look and everyone else ignored me. Obviously, they didn’t get the movie reference and had no idea how much I didn’t care about their drama at the moment.