Chapter 44 Caged bird
Chapter 44 Caged bird
Elara's POV
The other two men immediately moved forward. One grabbed Connor's shoulder while the other tried to circle behind him to reach me.
"Run, Elara!" Connor called, but there was nowhere to go. The alley was too narrow, and they blocked both exits.
I cowered behind Connor as he faced the three men. His shoulders were tense, his stance wide as he prepared to fight while keeping me protected. I could sense his concern—three against one while trying to shield me put him at a serious disadvantage.
The tallest one—Throne—lunged first with a meaty fist aimed at Connor's face. Connor ducked the swing and delivered a sharp jab to the man's ribs. The crunch of knuckles against bone echoed in the narrow space. The second attacker came from the left with a wild haymaker. Connor blocked his arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing a pained yelp from the man's lips.
The third man circled around, pulling a small knife from his belt. Connor noticed too late, distracted by the other two. The blade sliced across his forearm as he raised it defensively.
"Connor!" I screamed, seeing the blood bloom across his sleeve.
I stared intently at the attacker with the knife, unwilling to see Connor hurt further. Something stirred within me—a flicker of energy responding to my fear and anger. Without thinking, I focused all my attention on the man, willing him away from Connor.
A sudden gust of wind, far too powerful for the windless alley, slammed the knife-wielding attacker against the brick wall. The man's eyes widened in shock as his weapon clattered to the ground.
Connor used the distraction to his advantage. He delivered a powerful elbow strike to the second man's temple, sending him stumbling back. Then he spun to face Throne, who now looked genuinely afraid.
"What the hell was that?" Throne muttered, staring at me with wide eyes.
Connor didn't waste the opportunity. He struck Throne with three rapid punches—jaw, stomach, throat. The big man dropped to his knees, gasping for air.
Within moments, all three were on the ground, groaning and holding various injured body parts. Connor stood protectively in front of me, his breathing heavy, blood dripping from his cut arm.
"Touch my wife again," Connor snarled, "and you'll lose the hands you did it with."
The men scrambled to their feet, terror in their eyes as they glanced between Connor and me. As they staggered away, Throne's angry mutter drifted back to me: "Damn it! That old bastard never mentioned the woman had supernatural powers. We should demand more money from him!"
Connor pressed a handkerchief against his bleeding arm, his expression shifting from confusion to something more calculating. "I'm sorry about that," he said once they were gone. His eyes studied me with the sharp assessment of a hunter tracking unusual prints. "Are you alright?"
I nodded, my heart still racing. "Who were they? And... what just happened?"
"Nobody important. Just be careful around them—especially the large one, Throne. He works at the smithy, and he's got a mean streak when drinking." Connor's jaw tightened. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Elara."
He glanced at his bandaged arm, then back to me, his gaze more searching than before. "As for what happened... that wind wasn't natural. Not the first unusual thing either. Just like with the fireplace yesterday."
I stared at my hands, feeling a lingering warmth in my fingertips. "It must have been coincidence. Wind... wind just happens sometimes."
Connor didn't respond immediately, but I could feel his eyes on me, quiet and thoughtful. As a hunter, he was trained to connect subtle clues, and I worried I'd given him too many.
"Let me tend to your arm properly," I said, eager to change the subject. I tore a strip from my underskirt and wrapped it around his wound. The cut wasn't deep, but the sight of his blood stirred something protective inside me.
As the afternoon progressed, Connor led me to the village outskirts, pointing out hunting trails and gathering spots. When we reached the eastern edge, he stopped abruptly.
"This forest is off-limits," he said, his tone serious. "Especially to you."
The dense trees called to me in an inexplicable way, and I found myself leaning toward them. "Why?"
"There's something in there called Wendigo—a creature that stalks the deepest parts of the forest. It hunts alone, attacking wounded animals or solitary hunters. It's incredibly aggressive and cunning." His hand tightened on mine. "Promise me you won't go in there alone. Ever."
"I promise," I said, though the forest's pull disturbed me with its familiarity.
---
When we returned home, we found Garret sitting at our table, his hunting gear muddy and his quiver empty. His face bore an unusual tension.
"No luck hunting today?" Connor asked, hanging up his coat.
Garret shook his head, taking a long drink from his flask. "Saw a Wendigo." His eyes flickered to me. "Had to abandon the hunt and run. Barely made it out."
"You saw one?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity. "What did it look like?"
"Larger than a wolf," Garret said grimly. "Strange eyes that glow in the dark..." He shuddered slightly. "Makes no sound when it moves. Hunters who've survived encounters say it can appear and vanish like a ghost." He tapped his flask. "Consider yourself fortunate you've never encountered one."
Despite his warnings, I found myself more intrigued than frightened. Something about his description stirred memories I couldn't quite grasp.
---
That evening, Garret joined us for dinner, bringing wine and asking about my impressions of the village.
"Everyone was kind," I said, omitting the alley incident.
"Except those drunks by Miller's storage," Connor added, jaw tightening. "Throne and his friends."
Garret's eyes flashed with something unreadable. "They gave you trouble?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle," Connor replied, his hand finding mine under the table. "Though Elara helped in an... unusual way."
Garret's gaze shifted to me, too sharp and interested. "Oh? How so?"
"Just a lucky gust of wind," I said quietly, uncomfortable with the attention.
"Good man," Garret nodded approvingly, returning his focus to Connor. "A husband must protect what's his."
After dinner, I excused myself to wash the dishes, but remained close enough to the back door to overhear Garret speaking quietly to Connor outside.
"Those men today—that was arranged," Garret's voice drifted through. "They were just paid to put on a show, not to actually hurt anyone."
"You arranged that?" Connor sounded angry. "Those men terrified her!"
"It was necessary..." Garret continued, his voice dropping.
I moved closer to the window, straining to hear.
"...the payment was enough for them to behave properly..."
"...only meant to let you show your courage to her..."
"...Throne wasn't supposed to pull a knife, that wasn't part of the plan..."
Suddenly, Garret fell silent. Then, too loudly: "Beautiful night for a walk, isn't it? The full moon always brings out the best in young couples."
I jumped back from the window, heart racing. Had he known I was listening?
The back door opened, and Connor stepped in, followed by Garret. The older man's eyes met mine with unsettling perception.
"I was just telling Connor that you two should enjoy the moonlight," Garret said smoothly. "I'll clean up here before heading home. Go on now."
Feeling caught, I couldn't refuse. Connor took my hand, and we stepped outside into the night.
The full moon hung low and bright, bathing the world in silver. As we walked along the edge of the village, Connor's fingers entwined with mine, the cool night breeze caressed my face and ruffled my hair. An unexpected sensation washed over me—a wild freedom that made my heart race. The moonlight seemed to call to something deep within me, awakening instincts I didn't understand.
I inhaled deeply, surprised by how sharply I could detect scents on the wind—pine needles, distant smoke, the musky tang of forest animals. My body felt light, energized, as if I could run for miles without tiring.
"Are you cold?" Connor asked, noticing my sudden stillness.
"No," I whispered, staring at the moon. "I feel... alive."
The distant howl of a wolf echoed from the forbidden forest. Instead of fear, I felt a pull—an inexplicable yearning to answer that call.
Connor watched me with growing curiosity as I closed my eyes, letting the moonlight wash over my face. "You look different in the moonlight," he said softly. "Almost like... someone else."
I opened my eyes and met his gaze. For a moment, I felt the truth hovering between us—that I was indeed someone else, someone neither of us truly knew.
When we finally returned home, Garret was gone, but the questions his whispered conversation had raised remained. Who was I really? And what powers lay dormant within me, waiting to be rediscovered?