Silver: An Unholy History of Wolfkind

By K.S. Kuffer

The Moon is dead.
The holy book She left behind is full of mysteries.
The wolves in Her woods long for blood.

Six years have passed since the beast was due to stir. Since then, Erin Teague's pack has labelled him a 'heretic.' He has kept his head down to survive, protected by his stepmother, Theresa. But no secret can stay buried forever.

After a diplomatic mission goes wrong, Erin finds himself facing the ire of Valerie Lessard, the zealous Alpha of a neighbouring pack. Valerie is determined to have Erin sacrificed according to the words of the Unath Imom—the holy book of their kind—which weaves a narrative as disorienting as the forest itself. But Erin has a secret. Six years have passed since he woke up able to read its words, written in a language thought lost to time. Something is horribly wrong with its verses, and Erin is determined to translate it, no matter how many laws he must break.

As the threat of Lessard Pack looms large, Erin flees with his work to the isolated Norwood Pack. There, he comes under the protection of Alpha Marius Gray: a rebellious leader willing to bend the words of the Unath Imom to serve his own purposes. The pair have a shared interest in the inconsistencies of the Unath Imom. However, sinister truths about the Moon Goddess lie not simply within Her recorded word but buried deep within the land itself. The forest thirsts for blood. And within the pines, something dead stirs.

A thrilling tale of punishment, empowerment, and redemption, K.S. Kuffer weaves a dark and twisting narrative in the tradition of gothic horror.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wolves & Woodlands Press
• Release date: Jun 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781738854516

K.S. Kuffer

Kait S. Kuffer is a Canadian novelist and contemporary horror author. She loves mind-bending spaces, strange beasts, and weird fiction. When she is not writing, Kait can be found running Dungeons & Dragons games.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Lessard Pack

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THE MISTS—THE HOME OF THE DEAD—ARE HOSTILE TO ALL LIFE THAT TRIES TO ENTER THEM. YET, DEATH IS A BLESSING COMPARED TO LIVING IN THE WOODS THEY ENCAGE.

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Erin never slept well on the night of the full moon, for there were beasts abound. Care had been taken by his family to ensure the door was bolted shut, and the faded curtains were closed to avoid leering eyes. Yet, moonlight still filtered in, touching the darkest places of every room. The Goddess ensured he was cowering out of fear of Her and not the beasts, as was good and right.

The Teague family were the only ones who shut the curtains to prevent their monster from looking out into the night sky, lest the Moon be offended by the sight of him gazing upon Her.

With the wolves running in the woods, he sat at the kitchen table, removing the poker from its home by the fireplace so it was within reach if he heard scratching at the door. There, he waited until the sky turned pale.

As a result, Erin had not slept the previous night. However, instead of being allowed to go to bed, he was ordered to quickly dress in his finest clothes, for they would be going on a journey. A trip from which he might never return home if all went well. As he and his two brothers were dragged out of their cabin and into the wagon by his stepmother, dazed and exhausted, sleep overcame him. Thus, it was not the motion of the wagon, but the lack thereof, that woke Erin from his momentary rest that morning.

He was crammed with his brother, Isam, in the wagon bed. Squinting in displeasure at the sunlight, there was no stirring from the cabins that huddled together amongst the pines. Their arrival had not been noticed. A finger jabbed into his side. Take it in, this might be your new home.

Erin wanted to protest, but he kept silent, not wanting to give his brother the satisfaction of hearing him hiss in displeasure. His stepmother, Theresa, turned around and sighed. He’s here because of a long shot, nothing more.

Isam huffed at her but made no move to disagree with the statement, and instead changed tactics. You’re being greedy, and he’s going to ruin your chances of getting that non-aggression pact-

Which is why he’ll stay in the wagon, under the bonnet, until we know how Valerie feels about his kind. There was a tone of finality in her voice, and Isam fell silent. Presumably, she had invited Erin because she saw him no differently than her other two males. She simply would not say it to anyone else. Leaving him in the wagon was the best she could do without leaving him at home, and he needed to be grateful that he was finally getting the chance to leave Teague Pack.

Theresa slid down from her place on the spring seat, and Erin unlatched the trunk of the wagon, everyone desperate to stretch their legs. Although he understood Theresa’s reasoning, the sleep-deprived young male could not imagine anything worse than remaining in the wagon in this heat. He was coated in sweat wearing his best clothes, which itched and stuck to his body.

Even before stepping out of the wagon, the humidity of the summer air hit him. The faint smell of rotting meat hung clearly. The previous night’s kills? A cluster of wooden buildings sat to the right, the core of Lessard Pack. The largest of these buildings was Valerie Lessard’s home. His throat tightened as he looked at the hulking monstrosity of the building, palatial compared to the Teagues’ Pack House. Several other wagons had also been parked here, the quantity of which was an unusual sight.

Valerie was the reason for their visit today. When his family had returned from their run, naked and still half-feral, they brought the news of Lorena Lessard’s passing. She was in her forties and expected to remain a bulwark against her daughter’s ambitions for decades longer. The Moon had willed otherwise, and the story of Valerie’s ascension was already being whispered across the Woodlands. Thus, the Teagues had come to pay their respects.

There was movement by the trunk of the wagon as his brothers began retrieving the offerings they had brought. Erin’s oldest brother, Leander, was giving Isam a pointed look as he showed how easily he could lift the heaviest crates out of the wagon bed.

Valerie had long spoken of her plans to become Alpha-Queen, and the Teagues did not want to be in her warpath. Thus, Theresa was not merely leaving provisions and her self-respect. If Valerie was not a zealot like the rumours said, Theresa would suggest Erin be given to her sister, Faye. Theresa had confidence that he would overcome his affliction within the year and was certain she could persuade Valerie of his impending recovery.

The gesture was nothing more than a platitude, a show of goodwill. This effort would be useless, for the Lessard sisters had become the most eligible unmated females in the Woodlands. Nonetheless, the Teagues needed to prepare for the remote possibility that she would say yes to this suggestion, and thus Erin found himself in the back of the wagon with the other offerings.

Let’s part ways here. Erin can help Isam unpack. Theresa was not content to stand around in the heat, although she cared little how her younger two males might feel about the matter. Erin scowled at her once she turned her back, but as he made a move to help Isam, his brother shot him a disdainful look.

He’s not going anywhere near our things, Mother. Isam moved to block him as if he assumed Erin would be so keen to unload the wagon that he would consider shoving him aside. I’ll do it myself.

Theresa said nothing. Defending him would only cause a fight. Knowing he was not welcome to join Isam, he took a step toward Theresa and Leander. As firstborn, Leander would one day help his mate rule Teague Pack as its Alpha-Male. Thus, his place was with Theresa, shadowing her and learning the game of politics and intrigues. For this reason, he could not be given away to Valerie, although he would be a far more suitable match.

As thirdborn, Erin would normally have a role in the rulership of the pack. Instead, his place was to remain hidden within the Teagues’ house, watching the wolves while his life stagnated along with the rest of the trees, wilting and lifeless under the summer heat, slowly rotting from the inside out.

Taking in his surroundings, Erin looked around in awe. The Lessard town proper was considerably larger than the village his family claimed as theirs, with a cluster of well-maintained log cabins of varying sizes. The town centre included the Pack House, along with a larger building he presumed to be a gathering hall.

No smoke rose from the chimneys, nor were there any outdoor cookhouses. Back home, wolves could not afford to waste provisions for the sake of not suffering a fire in the summer. But none of this explained the faint smell of rot. Did they catch so much meat on their hunts that some was going to waste? Were the offerings other packs had hauled festering in this heat? Still, the undertone of decay spoke to another answer.

They had remained by the wagon when an older male exited the Pack House. Catching sight of his mother, the shadow cast by her bonnet covering her flushed face, a grin of recognition spread across his face. Alpha Theresa, it’s been too long!

Greer! Oh my Goddess! It’s a damn shame what happened to Lorena, isn’t it? The name did little to clarify the male’s identity. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with grey hair and hard brown eyes. Erin could sense his power, and he assumed Greer was a firstborn Alpha-Male. However, there was no mate mark on his neck, which added to Erin’s confusion.

She just couldn’t wait for her mother’s time to wander the Mists. Greer spat at the ground. Erin half-imagined the saliva would simply boil and turn into steam in this heat.

What does Alpha Violetta think of her? She could not be Greer’s mate. A sister or daughter? If only he had been educated in politics like Leander and Isam.

You were right to come, it’s worse than we thought. Greer seemed to sink in on himself. Erin ran a hand through his hair uneasily. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he was glad Greer would think it was only from the heat. At least you have bargaining chips, not that you’ll get anywhere. Whispers say Sophia Norwood is coming down with her firstborn male.

Greer nodded toward the Teague brothers, and Theresa gave him a tight smile. He was being polite, nothing more. Well, Clarice Gray isn’t bringing hers or even visiting because of an improbability, so let’s see if Valerie is receptive to an offer from us.

She’s Goddess-damned delusional! Greer shook his head.

We’ll eat well on the way home, at least. Theresa forced herself to laugh, but her eyes remained cold.

Not so well, given that you have three males with you. Greer laughed, keen on breaking the tension. He then focused his attention on Erin. You never told me you and Cyrillus had a pup.

Erin looked away, keenly interested in the pattern the wagon wheels had worn into the dirt. Theresa had never gone through a heat. She was unmarked until the death of Erin’s birth mother, before claiming Cyrillus—her sister’s mate—at once.

You’ve never met Erin before. Everyone recognized his name. Greer stepped backwards in disgust before composing himself. This is Marcus Greer, father of Alpha-Female Violetta.

Pleased to meet you. Erin was not pleased to meet him.

By the holy name of Naom, how does your pack get by? Greer turned to Theresa, and Erin did not believe his feigned concern for a moment. Hunting enough food for the winter is already difficult, but caring for an invalid who can’t shift and provide for himself? My heart goes out to you.

Bastard. Theresa gave him a tight-lipped smile. It’s no different than providing for an elderly wolf who can’t shift.

I need to go. Violetta wanted me to ready the horses. But Goddess bless, you’re a kinder soul than I’d be in your place. Greer seized onto the first excuse he could think of to leave, hurrying off before Theresa could bid him farewell. The moment he was out of earshot, she turned to Erin.

Stay in the wagon and keep your head down. Theresa pointed towards the wagon bed. Her tone was harsh, but behind the mask was concern for his well-being. The encounter with Greer had rattled her. If he’s right, we can say goodbye to that non-aggression pact.

I told you we shouldn’t have brought him. Isam climbed the stairs of the Pack House’s porch, and Erin frowned at him.

Theresa wheeled around. The next funeral won’t be for one of my males!

If Erin were not equally worried, he would have been touched by the statement. As much as she tried to pretend otherwise, she cared about him. He could not begrudge her for being unable to show it most of the time.

She turned away, ushering Leander towards the Pack House while Isam sulked after them. The truth sat heavy in his stomach. If he were left at Teague Pack, Cyrillus would kill him. His brother was ignoring this reality. Would Isam mind if he was killed?

Leander turned to Erin. Sit near the back, get some fresh air-

He was cut off as Isam shut the door, but Erin appreciated the sentiment. Leander was painfully shy, and Theresa was worried about his future.

Erin laid at the back of the wagon. Would he soon melt through the cracks of the boards and into the soil? Why had Valerie chosen the hottest day of the summer to execute her coup?

Worse, the Teagues were not bringing waterskins as part of their gifts. Surely, he could leave and sit nearby in the shade of trees? No, he would never hear the end of it if he disobeyed Theresa. Maybe he could sit under the wagon? No, that was dangerous with the horses still hitched.

Thump. Erin’s head jerked upwards at the faint but audible noise. It was not Greer readying his wagon, it sounded far more distant. He relaxed after a moment, trying to make himself comfortable. A knot in one of the boards pressed uncomfortably against his back, and on either side of him were the boxes with their offerings. Furthermore, it would be hotter further in the wagon.

Then, he heard it again. It was rhythmic and soft enough that he had not noticed it during his conversation with his family. Every few seconds, he heard it again, followed occasionally by a minute or two of silence before it resumed.

He spent another ten minutes in the wagon, considering Theresa’s order. He could be slaughtered by some zealot who recognized his true nature if he left. Worse, how long would Valerie make Theresa wait? What if she returned to find him missing?

The air under the bonnet had become stifling, and Erin reluctantly slipped out of the wagon. He would investigate and return before anyone noticed either his presence or absence. With only an estimate of where the sound was coming from, he decided to do a lap of the core buildings, hoping to stumble across it.

He found his way to a clearing in the woods on the opposite side of the Pack House. The bushes lining the perimeter of this area were dense. A soft bed of reddish-brown needles lined the floor, spongey underfoot. No light passed through the trees, making the clearing cool and comfortable.

A female with curly black hair and a round, menacing face was throwing knives at a target, which sat on a wooden stand. The target faced away from the Pack House, although it mattered little, for she did not struggle to hit the centre. Should he walk away before she noticed him? However, their eyes met.

I didn’t expect someone to find my favourite hiding place! The female waved and flashed him a toothy grin. What happened last night is bullshit, isn’t it?

I-I’m not from Lessard Pack.

Obviously not. Erin kicked himself for the statement. Seeing his hesitation, she offered him a knife. Do you want to try?

No one allowed him near silver. I’ve never thrown before.

You won’t be throwing when you have a perfectly good sparring partner. The female grinned keenly at him.

I’m Erin, with an ‘E.’

Name’s Gemma. She nodded to the knife she held, undeterred by his inexperience. "Well, Erin-with-an-E, you’ll need to be careful. A wound from a Nimfel doesn’t heal easily."

Erin took the blade and tested its weight. Gemma thankfully did not ask him to elaborate on why he had the female spelling of his name. Nimfel?

It’s Wolvish for ‘silver knife,’ she air-quoted the phrase before continuing, not a creative name, but it’s practical.

Erin bit back embarrassment. Yet again, his incomplete education and seclusion in the Pack House were leaving him fumbling. Undeterred, Gemma began discussing combat techniques, such as holding the blade and proper stance. He could not to touch the blade, even accidentally. His absence of a response would raise suspicion. A normal wolf would drop the knife in agony.

Don’t expect to be perfect, we’re having fun. Gemma’s stance changed as she prepared for Erin to make a move toward her. This was yet another skill he would surely fail. He lunged for her, and Gemma blocked the strike. His throat tightened as he waited for her to laugh. Instead, she gave him a reassuring smile, explaining what he had done wrong.

His next few strikes were no better. Sparing with her had been a mistake. Lunging was not working, for she was faster and more experienced. Instead, he stepped back and let her swing at him. Rather than blocking her strike, he dodged her attack and jabbed his knife forward. Gemma side-stepped away from his knife, but she laughed in amusement.

If I was untrained, you would’ve hit me. Erin was unaccustomed to hearing compliments. He did not know how to respond.

You’re serious? He was tired of being the weakest one in the Teague family. His brothers could push him around, although only Isam used his strength to bully him. He doubted his brother would mock him again if he cut him with a Nimfel blade. If Erin could even hit him.

Your small frame makes you quick. Wolves are also unaccustomed to fighting against silver. The threat of pain will be enough for most to think twice. Erin’s mind was running circles, taking in what she told him. Gemma was unaware that she had given him a chance at survival.

What in the name of the Mists are you doing? Get back in the damn wagon! Erin’s blood ran cold. It had scarcely felt like more than ten minutes. He was not good at much, but keeping track of time was a talent of his, and yet he had lost count.

Turning around, Theresa was pale as a sheet as she marched over to them. She grabbed Erin by his collar, yanking him in the direction of the Pack House like a poorly behaved pup, evidently not noticing the knife he still held. Erin stumbled along behind her before she let go, striding ahead furiously. She had trusted him to come along and behave, and he had proven her wrong.

Standing by the wagon, Leander looked pained, while Isam was smirking, knowing Erin would be made to skin the carcasses of last night’s hunt as punishment for his foolishness.

Once Theresa arrived at the wagon, preparing to shove Erin inside, the door to the Pack House flung open. A carrot-haired female bolted out from the entrance. Valerie Lessard.

Wait, Alpha Theresa! Don’t worry about leaving a gift, your support is enough! In fact, I’ll have my wolves send some things to your pack-

She took stock of the Teague brothers, all three of them now in sight. The smile on the Alpha’s face had not faltered as she stepped toward Theresa. You brought your monster to my pack?

That was when Erin ruined Theresa’s day.

Chapter 2

Monster

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SHIFTING, THE SIGN OF MY BLESSING, OCCURS DURING A WOLF’S TEEN-AGED YEARS. USUALLY.

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Watching Valerie approach, Erin froze in panic. He clutched the silver knife in his hand, the blade heavier than before. It had become his only line of defence. But defence against what? What would she do to him, to his family?

Erin’s heart fell to his stomach. To Valerie, he was a cockroach she would crush under her shoe. A fly to be swatted. A maggot who crawled out of the apple she intended to eat. He had ruined everything. Their family would be chewed up, spat out, and sent away with nothing to show for their visit. No, worse than nothing.

Alpha Valerie, Erin whispered, not meeting her eyes. He gripped the side of the wagon to keep himself from collapsing in terror. Regardless of her intent, she would snap his neck in a heartbeat if he dared look at her.

What monster? He’s a pup! Gemma demanded. She must have followed as he was dragged to the wagon.

Gemma dear, you’re confused! Valerie stepped towards the Teagues. That thing is no pup, and it has managed to charm you.

She was right, in a way. Erin had misled Gemma about his identity. She would not have wanted to interact with him otherwise. Already, she had begun backing away.

By the name of Lahon, don’t come any closer! Erin shouted, even though it was obvious he had stepped backwards.

Look how it threatens me unprovoked! Valerie paused as though she was in thought. Why would you insult me and Lessard Pack this way, Theresa? Did you intend to have it harm the members of my pack?

Theresa’s face was pinched as the conversation turned back to her. No, it’s nothing like that, you see-

Then if this was a mere lapse of judgment, I’m sure we can come to a resolution that pleases all parties, Valerie told her sweetly, but a smirk played on the corners of her mouth.

The sun beat down on him with renewed force. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, the world seeming to sway. However, he had learned something valuable: she liked to talk.

I can send a wagon with more goods, along with a dozen of our most beautiful males, if such a gift would please you? Theresa stammered, and Erin’s stomach twisted. Teague Pack could not afford to give such a generous gift. He would never hear the end of it once they got home. Theresa had trusted him. He had broken that trust, and for what? A sound he had heard in the distance.

I’m glad Teague Pack is so prosperous that you can offer me such a lavish gift, which I’ll accept, Valerie bowed her head in gratitude. However, I’ve heard no mention on your part about allowing Lessard Pack to remove the danger you imposed on us.

Val, what about our other guests! Another female had appeared at the threshold and was tugging on Valerie’s arm, trying to lead her away from him. Faye Lessard. Shrugging off her grasp, Valerie stepped onto the porch.

Honey, don’t worry, I won’t deal with it here, Valerie reassured her sister. His kind are to be slaughtered on a new moon. The Goddess demands we bring it to the Temple, to do it properly...

Valerie trailed off as she saw everyone’s horrified faces. There was a flash of panic in her eyes, quickly pushed away. She had overstepped. Erin’s stomach churned, the smell of rot invading his lungs again as he focused on his breathing in the hopes of calming himself. No one ever dared to say such a thing aloud. No, this could not be what she had been leading the discussion toward.

You have some goddess-damned nerve! Theresa was beside herself in anger. I’m not killing him because of a myth!

I know it’s hard to hear, I really do, but we must cleanse these woods of this abomination, Valerie continued. We’d be damning ourselves to wander the Mists forever otherwise.

He’s my nephew, do you expect me to toss him aside over the far-fetched potential of what he might be?

No, it was your nephew. I can tell you’re a good female, a good mother. You know what you’re saying is untrue. Valerie smiled at Theresa encouragingly.

His mother’s time came early; he’ll shift eventually.

It’s what, nineteen springs old? Are you listening to yourself?

Twenty-one winters. The words hung in the air as the noose around Erin’s neck wound tighter. Valerie’s eyes fell heavily on him not upon the mention of his age, but at the mention of ‘winters.’

Then there’s no doubt it’s an Eclipse Wolf, is there? Valerie spoke slowly as if Theresa were a small child. The blood drained from his face. He had been horrified she had insinuated it before, but to say it aloud! The air around him was closing in from all sides.

He can’t shift, that’s it! Nothing else is wrong with him.

You’ll be handing it over to us today, but you either do it willingly, or I summon our warriors to take care of the matter.

Your warriors won’t be going anywhere near my family!

I’m trying to protect you from it, and yourself. You don’t want to see my warriors at Teague Pack, do you? We can’t have it posing a danger to everyone.

You want to start a war over this? Theresa’s voice wavered.

Of course not, honey, and not a single drop of blood needs to be shed, Valerie continued. You have two healthy males, and I know how badly you must want grandpups?

Suddenly, a pair of hands seized his shoulders. Turning backwards, he stared in open-mouthed shock at Theresa, who was not relinquishing her grasp on him, even as he dug his heels into the dried ground. Seeing he was about to protest, Theresa scowled at him. I can’t have my pack killed for you.

Theresa shoved him forward, and he was so shaken that the push knocked him off balance. He stumbled, inhaling more putrid, dusty air. Another offering for Lessard Pack.

She was right: no one wolf was worth starting a war over. It was the right choice, the only choice for someone in her position. The pack would turn against her if she asked them to defend her unshifting nephew against the Lessards. Besides, he had