Foreigner On The Periphery Novels & Stories

But as we walked toward the border, Zen remained unusually alert. This wasn’t just a stranger. I could feel it. Whatever waited for us there was connected to something much bigger than a murdered wolf or a disputed pack. And for the first time, I wondered if the person standing at my border wasn’t looking for Zahra because of what she had done. Maybe he was looking for her because of who she was. The thought barely formed as we drove to the outer perimeter. As we got to the border, the warriors stationed there immediately straightened. Some lowered their heads when they saw me.

It was awfully peaceful despite all that. “Enjoying the peace?” A man with a hint of Mexican accent asked me. “Yes.” I nodded. “I'd love to live here.” “Why don't you?” He shrugged, sitting on the chair opposite me. “I work overseas.” I kept my information minimal. If there was one thing grandpa had taught me about being in a foreign country, it's that you don't tell anyone everything about you. “No wonder. You look like a foreigner.” He noted. “Obviously.” I said, indicating my British accent.

" Fury boiled up in me. I hurled my phone aside and wailed. Through the curtain separating my bed, a hand slipped over, pressing a packet of tissues into mine. A timid voice followed, "Don’t cry, miss. Your stomach will only hurt worse." I pulled back the curtain just as the door opened. A man, who appeared travel-worn and was holding takeout, rushed to the bedside of the girl next to me. She frowned, scolding him, "I told you not to come. All that networking must be exhausting. I’m fine. You should rest."

He had probably had a frustrating day, too, negotiating with representatives of the small enclave of humans who lived just within the outer perimeter of Watertight. Unrest was unusual but they were fired up about something and, sooner rather than later, no doubt he would learn what. His wolf, Thom, was more than eager to be unleashed and he eased into the shift allowing his paws to connect with the fresh earth. Jack was just behind, having his back as always. They roamed for a while, keeping well away from the border with the Far Hills pack. Something always called faintly to him from there but he put it down to trickery. Still, the wind ruffling his fur made Liam uneasy and he turned for ho

Hertor was there, as always composed, posture impeccable, gaze sharp. When he stood to speak, the murmur ceased. “There are hostile movements at the border,” he announced, his voice steady. “Raiders. Small groups that are joining dissident packs. In addition, renegades from the Noar who refused the fusion are joining them.” My blood boiled. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to contain the frustration that threatened to spill over. The exhaustion was still in my bones, in the recent scars, in the memory of battles that had not ended as long ago as my body needed.

A chunk of the 70percenters were outcasts who lived on the Fringe Zones, a lot of them were former offworld pioneers who took the modifcations to help them survive the lucrative opportunuties offered to them as colonizers of planets beyond the Solar System. “Don’t tell me you’re getting nervous meeting a few mod freaks?” Leyland asks Sol who was still silent on the matter, “Huh?” She grumbled. “No man, Kinda weird hearing that come from you” At her words, Leyland’s cybernetic arm buzzes, as if it was listening. “A 70Percenter? Iha you know I’m a 30Percenter. Even have an Arbiter’s Certification to prove it” “I’m just messing with you Leyl. So is the drop off somewhere public then?” Leyland c

“I’m sorry, Mill, if I scared you. I just-“ Weston looks up. Everyone has stopped eating, too entranced by the scene unfolding before them, a scene undoubtedly more interesting than cereal. “Maybe we should talk more privately. What do you say?” Just as Millan nods his agreement, Grant enters the dining room, confused, when he takes in the heavy silence reigning. “Uhm, Weston?” Weston closes his eyes in annoyance and opens them again, forcing his gaze towards Grant. “What is it?” “We need you at the South Border. A foreign woman is asking permission to enter our territory.” Weston sighs. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” Grant leaves without another word and Weston looks at Millan apologetically.

Papa mused. “That makes the most sense. This was the third wave since I left the villa this morning. He’s prodding at the different points of our territory.” André nodded in agreement. “He’s got encampments being built ten miles outside your territory along the border,” Persephone stated. I blinked at her announcement, turning to look at her just like everyone else. “What? I’m tracking using satellite images. Icky Iggy can use witches and old-timey shit all he likes but a heat signature is a heat signature.” She looked up from her phone and blinked those green eyes.

Just another voice in the room that wasn't Kain's. I was turning to go and find him when the door opened and Torren walked in himself, his expression already carrying the particular set of his jaw that told me this was not a routine visit. "I was just coming to look for you," I said. "Good." He closed the door behind him. "Then I'll save you the walk. We have a problem." I straightened. "Tell me." "There have been srange movements near the outer territories. My men flagged it early this morning. Wolves they don't recognise, moving through the outer edges of our land." He crossed the room and stopped on the other side of the desk.

I didn't answer any calls, I didn't open the door when Gabby asked me to let her in, and I only made my meals because I thought a little more about the well-being of another innocent person. Today is not such an exciting day. There is silence inside my head, but outside, on the streets, I know that people revolt, that they scream for the rights of foreigners who have never had a voice capable of being heard. It wasn't exactly what Hunter intended, it wasn't his plan, but the way things are going, maybe it's better for me to just watch and wait for total chaos or a miraculous resolution. “Damn well? "Gabby asks, stretching on the chair at the dining table to serve me a glass of juice.