The Native_A Legacy Series Novella Read online

  Hugo would have been no match for the beast on his own, but with every gash and laceration he sustained, he kept on fighting.

  Geoffrey took only a moment to go to his son’s side and see if he was alright. Apart from a nasty tear in his hind leg, Adam was healing fine and ready to charge in for another round. He let out a low warning growl and turned just in time to see Hugo and the rogue nearing the edge of the cliff that dropped into a valley on the other side from the lake.

  He hurried forward, but it was too late.

  Hugo and the beast, both pairs of fangs and claws fastened into one another, rolled over the cliff. Geoffrey could hear the growls fade to whimpers as they crashed against the many protruding boulders and rocks along the face of the cliff.

  He could only gawk as his brother’s body was torn into by the rogue who still clung to the chance for life. Likewise, Hugo did not give an inch and though he had to be in excruciating pain, he finally got a good hold on his opponent’s throat. A trail of blood followed them downward as they continued to fall and collide against each unforgiving ledge and obstacle in their path.

  When the two werewolves finally came to the bottom, they rolled apart and lay still in the dirt.

  Shaking and breathless, he watched his brother for any movement, any sign that he had survived. He heard no heartbeat other than his own hammering in his chest. A pool of blood inched out around Hugo’s body and Geoffrey finally moved. Faster than he had ever run, he found his way down and around the ridge to come to the base of the cliff. Adam was on his heels, both still in their wolfish forms.

  Completely bypassing the rogue, Geoffrey skidded to a stop by Hugo’s side. His body had been broken. White bone protruded through skin; blood matted his fur in innumerable places. Even his skull looked to be misshapen after its collision with a sharp rock on the way down.

  Hugo stared, his dark eyes unblinking. There was no breath, no heartbeat. Nothing to give him hope. Geoffrey sank down, his paws and underside becoming saturated with the lifeblood of his younger brother. Trembling, he nudged his muzzle against Hugo’s shattered shoulder.

  He didn’t move, didn’t respond in any way.

  Werewolves were not invincible. They were not immortal. After all the packs and alphas they had met in their travels, both Geoffrey and Hugo understood that. They could be killed when driven to the point where their bodies could no longer heal the extensive damage inflicted upon it. But never, in his most terrorizing nightmares, had he thought he would live to see the day when his brother took his last breath.

  Adam padded forward, tail between his legs and ears folded back as if in apology, or asking what he could do to mend this hurt for his father.

  There was nothing the boy could do. Nothing to be done. Geoffrey let out a shrill whine, and then threw back his head to let out a mournful howl that echoed through every canyon, down every valley, and to the top of every mountain for miles and miles around. But just like Adam couldn’t bring back Hugo, the howl served as nothing more than a cry to the heavens for a reprieve from the pain of losing his only brother.

  The rogue werewolf had been killed by the same fall that stole away Hugo’s life. The joy of such a victory over evil could not outweigh the great suffering that fell on Adam’s village and his family. The Diné believed that too much outward expression of their sadness would inadvertently tether that soul to the world it was departing from. Adam could feel the weight of their emotions when they came to report the news.

  He now stood before the burial site, which could barely be distinguished between any other piece of ground in the middle of the dry desert to the far north of the village. The other two men who assisted with the funeral were already making their way back, guiding the horse that was chosen to carry Hugo’s corpse for the modest ceremony. No others were in attendance. Not even Adam’s mother was allowed to come and pay her last respects to her brother-in-law. That was the way of the Diné, and though Hugo wasn’t Diné by blood, he was so by marriage and by honor.

  Geoffrey and Hugo were elected to clean the body and prepare it for burial, the evidence of their task still smeared upon their cheeks in the form of ash to ward off evil spirits. All the while, Geoffrey did not weep. Either he was doing his utmost to adhere to the traditions of the Diné, or he refused to let his grief be known in its fullest extent. Adam though, had noticed a single track of an old tear slicing through the dust and ash upon his skin.

  They stood, side by side, before the grave. Neither saying a word. As was the custom, they weren’t allowed to speak. The whole affair had been conducted in utter silence. Two pairs of green eyes stared out from a sheet of gray, watching the ground as if Hugo were going to rise from it at any moment.

  But he didn’t, and he wouldn’t.

  No matter how long Geoffrey had waited by the body at the base of the cliff, his brother hadn’t healed. Hugo only continued to bleed until there was no blood left in him.

  There was no way to console his father, no words that could impart the kind of comfort he needed in this dark hour. Adam was an only child and did not know the love of a brother like Geoffrey did. He couldn’t relate to such penetrating, heart wrenching grief.

  What he did understand, what his wolf conveyed to him, was that Hugo’s death was not senseless. It was not in vain. He died protecting the Diné and his family, his pack. The battle with the rogue werewolf might have gone on for hours if Hugo hadn’t given his last full measure of devotion.

  And for that, Adam would be forever thankful. If he should ever bear a son, he would name the boy after his great-uncle. It was because of Hugo that Adam had a future, that his people were safe from further torment by the werewolf skinwalker. But did Geoffrey understand that? Could he see the truth through the thick veil of sorrow that descended upon him?

  Their next course of action would not be so simply understood. Adam still had his training to complete, and Geoffrey now had to give such training alone. Though it pained him to think of it, Adam knew it was time to leave his home. His mother was expecting it, and the rest of his friends like Łichíí and Anaba would soon find out that he couldn’t stay anymore. But how soon was that?

  The Diné would mourn for Hugo for a few days as laid down in their traditions, but how long did Geoffrey’s culture require him to grieve? A month? Years? A lifetime? It was one thing that Adam never learned from his father, and something that they never thought they would have to discuss.

  Adam picked up the bundle of reeds that had been tied together and looked to his father. All that was left to do was leave this place and destroy their tracks as they went. No trail should be left for the spirit to follow so it could peacefully pass into the afterlife.

  Geoffrey didn’t move as the wind made his golden locks of hair flutter and dance around his face. Only the deep frown and glossiness of his eyes betrayed him and the well of emotions that threatened to burst forth.

  Adam reached out and placed a hand on his father’s shoulder, rousing him from whatever dark thought held him captive. He wouldn’t expect Geoffrey to recover from this tragedy so quickly, but the world would not stop moving because one heart no longer beat in it. It was the natural course of things, even for a werewolf.

  Their eyes met and Geoffrey only nodded his consent to leave. Adam bent down and wiped at his footprints in the sand, gradually backing away toward the village that lay to the far south. When he saw that his father didn’t follow, he paused and looked back up.

  Geoffrey had squatted by the grave and pressed his hand into the disturbed earth, smoothing it down in one last gesture of affection from one brother to the other. He stayed like that for several long seconds before speaking.

  “I want to go home,” he said, voice thick with the misery that ached in his spirit.

  Adam heard, but it took a moment for him to understand. He didn’t mean that he wanted to go back to the village. He wanted to go back to his home country. England.

  “Then we will go home,” Adam declared, refusing
to let grief steal his voice away.

  They locked eyes once more and he knew that Geoffrey grasped his meaning. Adam would go with him, no matter where he went. To the village, to England, to the ends of the earth. They were still a pack and depended upon one another in many ways. No matter how much Adam wanted to stay with his mother and his people, Geoffrey was his alpha, and the only other werewolf who could teach him all he needed to know. The wolf could show him a great deal, but he needed his father’s guidance far more than he ever imagined.

  Geoffrey picked up his own reeds and followed his son’s lead, scratching at the ground to make his tracks disappear. They made their way back to the village, quiet and solemn, as they knew each step they took was a step toward a new life together.

  Afterword

  Dear readers,

  I hope you’ve enjoyed this continuing legacy about Geoffrey and Adam. As readers of the Loup-Garou Series know, this origin story explains a lot about Katey and her special connection with her wolf spirit.

  When I was a teenager, my mother informed me that my grandfather’s grandmother was full-blooded Cherokee. I was thrilled to have such a lineage. Though I don’t subscribe to any benefits of this small percentage of Native American blood in my veins, I’ve always been fascinated by their rich culture and history. I remember researching how to carry on a small conversation in Cherokee and annoying my schoolmates on the play ground.

  The decision to make Adam part Navajo was easy. The legend of the skin walker, was part of my early obsession with werewolves and I knew I wanted to have that piece of mythology tied in with my specially-made paranormal universe. Because of this decision to write his origin story, I knew I had a monumental task ahead when it came to research. Many nights, I stayed up late watching videos on how to pronounce certain Navajo words and learning all I could about their way of life and history before Americans moved west. I swear, I probably muttered some of the words in my sleep. But I feel blessed to know a little more about the tribe and their unique culture. I hope I have done them justice by revealing parts of their lifestyle through this story.

  As the last chapter suggests, this isn’t the end for Geoffrey and Adam. Their story continues in a later novella and it’s my hope that you’ll continue this Legacy journey with me.

  In the meantime, I invite you to check out my social media sites for more updates and sneak peeks into my progress. You can find me at my blog, www.moonstruckwriting.wordpress.com.

  Also, find me on Facebook! I have an author page and fan group page where you can stay tuned into the latest news, get the chance to earn free stuff, and talk all about your favorite books. To subscribe to my email listing, you can follow THIS LINK and sign up.

  Until next time, happy reading!

  - Sheritta Bitikofer

  About the Author

  A paranormal author of eclectic tastes, Sheritta Bitikofer has a passion for storytelling. Her goal with each book is to rebel against shallow intimacy and inspire courage through the power of love and soulful passion. Her biggest thrill comes when she presents love in a genuine light, where the protagonists not only feel a physical attraction to one another, but a deep emotional (and dare we say spiritual?) connection that fuels their relationship forward into something that will endure much longer than the last pages of their novel. A devoted wife and fur-mama to two shelter rescue dogs, Sheritta’s life is never dull. When she’s not writing her next novel, she can be found binge-watching her favorite shows on Netflix, eating chili cheese fries, singing and dancing to a wide genre of music, or painting at a medieval reenactment event.

  Follow her for upcoming novel releases

  www.moonstruckwriting.wordpress.com

  Also by Sheritta Bitikofer

  Escape

  Clouds

  Passions

  Silver Screen

  By The Book

  The Loup-Garou Series

  The Enigma

  Becoming the Enigma

  Beast Within

  Precedence

  The Legacies Series (A Novella Series)

  The Legend

  The Guide

  The Frenchman

  The Prophecy

  The Pirate

  The Native

  The Decimus Trilogy

  The Beast of Verona

  Amber Ashes

  Saving the Beast