Pack of Wolves Maggie Claire (large ebook reader txt) 📖

“Why?” the tiny Iris wails, settling on her father’s lap and opening her book. “Why not now?”

“It’s not safe for us in the city right now,” the man answers as he gently lifts the gift from Iris’s fingers. “Maybe one day, I promise,” he replies, turning to the first page of the story. “Now, let me read to you about another special little girl and her travels into a strange new land….”

The image blurs until Cyrus becomes a silent guest at a dinner with a stranger. His fiery hair and piercing blue eyes enrapture Iris, who only appears to have aged a few months. Her hair has grown a few inches, and she is marginally taller than she was moments ago. Iris hustles up to this man’s side, crawling into his lap immediately after he drops into an open chair at the table. She wraps her arms around his neck, tugging his hair lightly. The red-orange hue mesmerizes the young girl, and she twirls her fingers into the strands as though she’s dancing through the flames. Her actions bring a boisterous laugh from the man. “My Little Bird….” His rough voice hums with amusement. “What story shall I tell you today?”

She loved him, Cyrus thinks with envy. A fire burns in Cyrus’s heart, a fierce longing that he cannot quell as the scene plays out in his mind’s eye. What I wouldn’t give for her to wrap her arms around my neck like that! Or to just sit beside me and hold my hand as we watch the sunset on the porch of our own home. Just to be alone with her, no quarrels, no anger, nothing but love. The fever burns hotter with every laugh that Iris gifts this stranger. His skin boils with sweat every time she smiles brightly at this man’s loving face. Who is he? What does he mean to my Iris? I know she’s a child in this memory, but still—

Cyrus, relax. Suryc lets the memory fade from his mind. The man was her family, and he is now dead to this world. There is no need to feel jealousy over him. This news brings immediate regret to Cyrus, the fire in his veins dousing with his worry that Iris must now be left to grieve his loss.

Suryc begins his memory sharing once more, and this time there is palpable tension between Iris and her mom. “Why is it always like this, Mother? I don’t understand!” The Iris of this memory is very close to Cyrus’s heart. This must have been around the time that I started coming to see her.

It’s the first night you appeared at her window, Cyrus, Suryc explains, his voice gentle as he whispers, she holds this memory very dear.

“I know you’re angry, sweetheart, and I am sorry, but you are not going outside!” Iris’s mother replies, her voice soft, but firm. She was a beautiful woman, completely different from her daughter in looks. Where Iris’s hair is pale as the harvest moon, this woman’s is as dark as the midnight sky. Where Iris’s eyes are now the blue-gray of dawn, her mother’s are deep mahogany.

“What is so scary about the yard? Or the tree line? I mean, I’d still be within sight of the house, and I’m a fast runner,” Iris pleads, her hands on her hips as if she already knows what her mother is going to say.

“No, darling,” her mother replies, an edge of irritation in her voice. “We cannot be outside that long.”

“But why?” Iris shouts, her hands flying over her head with the depth of her annoyance. “I see people outside all the time! What are you not telling me? Why can’t I be—?”

“Enough! Go upstairs to your room right now!” Iris’s mother bellows, pointing to the stairway. “I don’t have to explain anything! You follow my rules because I tell you to! Now go!”

Why did they never let her venture out alone? Cyrus wonders as he watches Iris run up the stairs and flop onto her drab bedspread, sobbing into her pillow. I mean, I understand being protective, but this seems extreme. What was her mother afraid of?

Iris never said outright, so Siri is not sure. She doesn’t think that Iris was ever given a reason, but Siri has her suspicions. Iris’s mother is a Windwalker, and Siri thinks that Iris’s parents were afraid that she had inherited her powers. If she did, she could very easily have been discovered. An untrained Windwalker child can get lost in their strange magic and create such a storm that it damages everything in its path. News of such a story would travel fast. They lived close to the Devil’s Spine, and Iris’s mother feared nothing more than being found in Cassè. It seems that all of this worry was wise, for Iris has indeed inherited her mother’s gift.

The vision speeds up the passing of the hours, and Cyrus watches the sun fade through Iris’s window until the first stars flash to life in the heavens. Iris sniffles as she rises from her bed, moving to sit by her window, staring off into the horizon. Two young boys rush through the field, racing toward the tree line at a breakneck pace. Iris brushes the windowpane forlornly, longing to be running through the tall grasses herself.

Suddenly, the smaller of the two boys turns back and stares directly at her. A tremble of fear melds with excitement in her veins. How desperately she longs for this boy to come closer. She gasps and claws at the window’s lock when she sees him step towards her house. You were a lifeline to Iris when she felt completely alone, Suryc observes as he lets the images fade once more. She will remember how much you meant to her as time passes. Do not lose hope.

This time, the memories that dance in Cyrus’s mind bring more sorrow than comfort. Iris waits by the window for her forest