Page 17 of Moon Claimed
She alone knew what really happened that day.
People had a sad habit of dying before answering my questions, but I had to handle this matter delicately. She was our marshal and part of the head team. Pascal held power in our tribe.
Being new around here, I couldn’t risk alienating her.
“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” I hummed. That was exactly the mentality that nearly lost us Sandstone. When one side held a grid for decades, they got lax. Sascha included.
I could figure this out. I just had to think outside the box and do some digging on how the Luthers were communicating.
Boom.
The final cannon blasted through the sky.
“Can’t say I’m sorry that’s over.” I blew out a breath.
She arched a brow. “Not the greatest morale booster.”
Agreed. Still… “It was important for me to see that.” Maybe we could have won Timber and had the choice of grid again, plus the extra income too. That path didn’t help us long-term when we had to come up against Water to win.
For most of the last ten years, the two sides had fought nearly exclusively over Timber. Something had to change.
Pascal slipped her tablet into a waterproof sleeve. “I go with the Luther marshal to check the final tally now. I’ll meet you back on shore.”
I heard the approaching boat. “Okay. See you soon.”
Clipping on my binoculars, I zipped my jacket against the slight chill in the air now that summer was leaving the valley. Only the tiniest sliver of the moon was visible in the night sky, and the sight gave me cheer. The wolves would stick to their lands for the next four or five days during the new moon.
Roderick said they were always a bit sluggish the following week. Hopefully they’d be thrown off their game.
Gripping the ladder, I started down, vision buckling and warping.
Note to self: take vertigo meds before Water next time.
I closed my eyes, blocking out the water below, and felt for the next rung.
Bang.
The observation tower shook, and I gasped, my foot slipping from the rung. I clung to the ladder with both hands and scrambled for a foot hold.
Bang!
The tower tilted. I had no chance.
Fingers slipping, I screamed, hurtling for the surface.
Cool water closed over me as I catapulted down. Bubbles erupted, and I twisted to get my bearings. A male Luther appeared before me, and I shouted in surprise, bubbles erupting again.
I relaxed. He couldn’t touch me. The game was over.
He’d be penalised.
Kicking for the surface, I was stopped by a grip on my ankle. I glared downward, trying to see the Luther through the low light and flurry of white water.
Lashing out, I tried to swim for air, but his hold was unshakeable.
Not this again.
He couldn’t actually intend to drown me. Yet suddenly, the penalty of losing a grid didn’t seem like much protection.