Chapter 8 CHAPTER 8
The sun had been cruel all day. It beat down on Cindy’s back until her skin burned, and every step sent sharp pain through her blistered feet. Dust clung to her legs, her hair was tangled with twigs and dry leaves, and her throat felt raw from thirst. She had been walking since morning, leaving the pack house behind her, yet she still felt as if she carried its weight on her shoulders.
Cars passed now and then on the long road, the rush of engines stirring up grit that stung her eyes. Each time, Cindy raised her arm, desperate, hoping one would stop. Not one slowed. Drivers only glanced at her, then pressed harder on their gas. She caught her reflection in a shop window once as she dragged herself along - her braid had fallen apart, her face was hollow, dirt smudged across her cheek. She looked like a beggar, a runaway, someone people would avoid.
By the time she saw the first lights of town, the sky was already heavy with night. Streetlamps flickered weakly, and the shops had long since closed. Her stomach cramped with hunger, and her legs shook beneath her. She hadn’t eaten since the festival, and that felt like a lifetime ago.
She wandered aimlessly, hoping for something - a scrap, a coin, a bit of kindness. But the town was quiet. A couple staggered out of a tavern, laughing drunkenly, but they didn’t spare her a glance. She thought about asking, but shame kept her silent.
At last she found herself near a narrow alley beside a small café. The back door swung open sometimes, letting out wafts of roasted meat and baked bread that made her mouth water painfully. Cindy crouched near the shadows by a garbage bin, hugging her knees to her chest. Maybe, if she waited, someone would bring out leftovers and toss them. She would take anything. Even crumbs.
Her head sagged against her knees, heavy with exhaustion. That was when the café’s back door opened with a squeak, and light spilled into the alley. A young girl stepped out, wearing a black apron, carrying a tray with scraps. She looked even younger than Cindy, maybe sixteen or seventeen, her thin arms straining under the weight.
Cindy’s heart leapt. Food. She could almost cry with relief.
But then shadows moved. Two men stumbled out from the street, weaving drunkenly. Their laughter was coarse, their steps unsteady, but their eyes locked onto the girl with a predatory gleam.
“Pretty thing, out here all alone,” one slurred.
Before the girl could react, he grabbed her arm. The tray crashed to the ground, food scattering across the dirty cobbles. The second man clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her scream. She kicked, but he shoved her against the wall, his other hand fumbling with her apron ties.
Cindy froze. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst. She shrank back into the shadows, curling against the bin. Don’t move. Don’t let them see you. If they did, they would drag her out too.
The girl’s muffled sobs cut into the night.
And then, Lisa’s voice came, low and sharp inside her mind.
Will you let her be torn apart while you hide?
Cindy squeezed her eyes shut. What can I do? I can’t fight them. I’m nothing.
No. You are not nothing. I told you - we are stronger together. Let me out. Let me help her.
I’m too weak, Cindy whispered inside herself. I can’t even stand straight.
Leave it to me.
The words carried iron.
Cindy’s hands trembled as she pushed herself up. Her legs felt like sticks ready to snap, but she forced them forward. One step. Another.
“Leave her alone,” she said, her voice shaking.
The men turned. Their eyes raked over her - oversize dress, tangled hair, dirt-streaked face. They burst out laughing.
“Look at this one,” the first jeered. “Another stray. You lost, girl?”
“Go back to your hole before we give you something to cry about,” the second sneered, still pinning the young waiter against the wall.
“I said, let her go,” Cindy tried again, though fear clawed her throat.
They laughed harder. “And if we don’t? What will you do?” The one nearest her took a step forward, his breath sour with ale.
Inside her, Lisa growled.
Let me out. Trust me.
Can you handle them? Cindy asked, panic fluttering.
Yes. Together, we can make them crawl.
The drunk lunged closer, reaching as if to shove her aside. Cindy’s body jolted - heat ripped through her veins, her vision blurred. A growl tore from her chest, deep and primal, shocking even her own ears.
Her eyes burned, and when the man looked into them, he stumbled back. They glowed - golden, wild, not human. Her fingers curled like claws, her teeth bared.
“W-what the hell…?” His face drained white. He staggered, tripped over the spilled food, and hit the ground hard.
The second man saw it too. His grip on the girl loosened as terror replaced drunken bravado. “Demon,” he gasped, dragging his friend up. They scrambled, stumbling over each other, before bolting down the alley into the dark, their footsteps pounding away.
Silence fell, broken only by the girl’s ragged sobs.
Cindy blinked hard, her breath shuddering. The heat faded, her bones settling back, the glow dimming from her eyes. She was herself again. Just Cindy. Small, dirty, trembling.
The waiter slid down the wall, clutching her apron to her chest, tears streaking her face. She looked shattered, fragile. Cindy knelt slowly, reaching out her hand.
“It’s okay,” Cindy whispered, her voice soft, almost pleading. “They’re gone. You’re safe.”
But when the girl lifted her head and met Cindy’s gaze, fear flickered in her eyes. She had seen it - the change, the monstrous glow, the inhuman growl.
“No…” she whimpered, shrinking back. When Cindy’s hand came closer, the girl flinched violently, pushing herself away along the wall. “Stay away… please…”
The rejection stung worse than hunger, worse than blisters, worse than the slap of Mrs. Hale’s hand. Cindy froze, her arm hovering helpless in the air.
For a long moment she stayed like that, her heart breaking silently, until she lowered her hand and stepped back.