171- Mud, Smoke, and the Cage
POV Elowen Grimwald:
The street music that reached my ears, faint and bouncy, didn’t match that moment at all.
I yanked my black low-heeled mules off my feet and begged, in my mind, for my creature to lend me enough strength to run at full capacity.
I didn’t look back for a final goodbye.
My feet barely touched the ground as I ran, driven by a desperation that cut me from the inside out.
I could feel the brutality of flight against my skin, because every grazing impact against the tree trunks was a promise of fresh wounds being stitched into what already hurt.
If I slowed down to dodge the trees, I might be inviting death to dance.
The math was easy.
A few scrapes—or my mortal remains in some random hole. Maybe not even that; they might not bury me and let the animals eat.
I didn’t stop for a single millisecond, not even when a strand of my hair snagged on a branch and I felt it being ripped painfully from the root, like a hard whip crack across my scalp.
I just ran, with what little strength I had left.
My lungs burned from the scarce breath, and my head throbbed from how much attention and focus I poured into my escape.
For about ten minutes—minutes that hit me like an eternity—I ran at cannonball speed, until my legs threatened to give out.
They couldn’t betray me like that.
Not now, please… not now.
A sob of relief mingled with the threat of tears when I spotted the small wooden bridge I used to cross to get home—if I could even call that place home.
Unable to hold it in, I broke into tears.
I was betrayed by the adrenaline, which seemed to drain out of me the moment I realized I’d managed to get away.
I tried to climb the small wooden deck to enter the abandoned cabin, and all I managed to do was slip and fall face-first into the fresh mud.
I tried to keep my vision long enough to crawl to the door, but the darkness shoved itself into my irises. In the desperate struggle to keep my eyes open, I understood I was losing.
With my last flicker of consciousness, I begged for my creature to finally emerge and save us, even ahead of time.
But…
I didn’t stay conscious long enough to find out its answer.
(...)
POV Aldren Valmorin:
In the darkness, the almost oppressive silence was broken by an authoritative, youthful voice:
“Aldren! Quick, grab the pup!” The voice was familiar, but at the same time distant, as if it came from a forgotten memory.
I turned to face the source of the voice and saw a young man. His eyes shone with an urgency that left no room for doubt. Without hesitating, I ran toward the pup he was pointing at—fragile and defenseless.
“You need to hide him. Now!” he continued.
A rush to do what I’d been told struck me. There was no time for hesitation. I ran through the forest, branches and leaves trying to hold me back, as if nature itself wanted to delay my mission.
I reached a small cave hidden by dense shrubs. I sheltered the pup there, making sure he was safe and protected.
“Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
I returned to the village with the same urgency, but as I drew near, something was terribly wrong. The air was saturated with the smell of smoke, and an intense heat began to close in around me.
I recoiled when I saw the flames devouring everything before me. The huts were in ruins, destroyed by the fire spreading like a plague. Bodies and wreckage were strewn everywhere, the life that had existed there reduced to ash.
“Aldren!” The young man’s voice echoed again, but this time it sounded more like a lament, a belated warning.
...
I was torn from yet another of my inexplicable nightmares by the urgent voice of a guard, bearing news that stirred my blood and left me thirsty for justice.
The spy who had disturbed my peace and caused the death of two of mine was locked in my basement cage.
All credit and honor to Kehin Maliko.
A hundred years from now, I intended to be proud to hand him my position as leader of the pack. A brother-friend, and the most agile member of the wolfpack. Not only did he scent out the spy—he also brought her in unconscious, without causing any commotion in the village.
Watching her unconscious in my cage awakened conflicting storms in my mind and body; fury mixed with an intense curiosity.
Before me lay a small, fragile figure, whose soft features didn’t look like they could threaten even an ant. Who would attribute such courage and audacity to someone with that appearance?
By irony, I stored my deadliest essences in my smallest vials.
And the insignificant little thing had invaded unauthorized lands.
Driven by the craving for immediate answers, I entered the iron prison where she slept and bent down, scenting every centimeter of her existence, searching for her hidden truths.
The metallic scent of blood became negligible when mixed with her natural essence. The girl smelled of roses, jasmine, and black pepper—notes that defied logic, persisting despite the layers of fresh mud covering her skin.
My beast immediately identified that she still hadn’t gone through her first transformation. I’d wager the pup had just come of age.
After delivering her, Kehin left briefly to check on his grandmother and would return so we could discuss the prisoner. I went upstairs and waited for him on the first floor of my house.