461- The First Taste of Blood
POV Thalyndra Moonclaw:
The friction against the rough bark caused a mild pain on my skin, scratching it, but nothing that wasn't tolerable. With lupine DNA, I healed far too quickly.
I focused on my movements, just as my father had taught me, imagining the trunk was a Merchant. I punched the tree harder; splinters flew off, cracking upon impact.
I stepped back and placed my hands on my belly, leaning my body forward and breathing heavily. My heart was racing, and sweat trickled down the back of my neck.
I heard a branch snap behind me. I lifted my neck and flared my nostrils, sniffing the air. My fur stood completely on end, and every single muscle in my body went rigid.
I could have been hallucinating, but it was too vivid, too intense to be a mere memory.
For a second, I couldn't move. Alert, confused, and in shock, I sniffed the air a second time, as if I could guarantee that it was, in fact, real. The smell remained there, getting closer and closer.
Woody and pungent.
Slowly, I rotated my hip, moving my body to the side. I gasped, resolute.
A man approached me. He wore strange clothes, out of place for the era we lived in. A very well-pressed white shirt, without a single wrinkle, a black vest with burgundy embroidered flowers, dark pants, and polished shoes. His brown hair was swept back, over his head, every strand aligned. On his pinky finger, the ring indicating which clan he belonged to.
I clenched my teeth so hard that my jaw muscle popped.
"I thought I'd have more trouble finding you, Miss Moonclaw," he murmured, his tone light and lilting.
I inhaled, smelling him, trying to identify him. I didn't recognize him; there was no memory of him in my mind. He hadn't been present at my parents' murder.
I thought they would consider me irrelevant, but apparently, Anton was right. They came after me, they were hunting me, just as they had done with my father. I didn't even have a third of the knowledge he possessed; I couldn't see what use I would be to those wretches.
"As you must surely know, I've come to take you," he announced, gesturing. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way; it's up to you to choose which option you want to follow."
I managed to react, forcing myself back to reality.
After years of running from them, fearing their proximity, living in anonymity, I was standing right before one of the wretches.
Except... I was no longer a child, nor naive and defenseless.
I wouldn't need to run anymore because I had nothing left to lose. I wanted their blood, and I had one right in front of me. I let out a dry, mirthless laugh.
"Why would I believe I'd follow you, you fucking wretch?" I snarled, reaching behind my back and pulling the dagger from its sheath.
He arched a dark eyebrow, spread his legs, and placed one hand on his hip. He sighed, shaking his head.
"They did tell me you'd be stubborn, that you're hard-headed," he snorted. "I came prepared for that, however."
I frowned, confused.
"And who's the one feeding you information about me? Haven't you already gotten everything you wanted? You ruined my life, destroyed my family," I bellowed, my fingers tightening around the dagger's hilt. "But don't worry, I will revel in the blood of every single one of you, you damned, psychotic fucks."
"Didn't your parents teach you any manners?" He looked me up and down with disdain.
I snarled, baring my fangs.
Wasn't it enough that they had killed my parents, did the wretch also have to try to disparage their memory?
"I'll show you just how much manners they taught me," I hissed, and then I lunged at him.
My steps weren't slow; they were agile and silent. I realized I was using my instincts, even though I hadn't resorted to them consciously. It was natural, my wild side reacting to the threat the wretch posed.
Anton was right when he said I didn't know how to handle my lupine DNA. However, it was clear that was changing with each passing day I spent living among more of my own kind.
With a swift movement, I slid the dagger's blade across the skin of his arm, slicing through the white shirt and staining it with the blood that oozed from the wound. He hissed and jumped back, feeling the silver's burn. He looked at me, full of hatred.
"You vile woman!" he shouted.
By the gods, who insulted someone like that? Did he have any notion he was way behind the century we lived in?
I didn't ponder, I didn't waste time. I lunged at him again, but he was faster, dodging the blow.
The Merchant extended his arms, trying to grab me. I stepped to the side, mimicking the movement my father had repeated to me thousands of times, moving out of his reach.
"Your head will roll across Eldoria's ground very soon," I announced, circling him.
My gaze was sharp, my movements calculated, my breathing controlled, as were my heartbeats. I wasn't entirely human; I could feel it.
He rubbed one hand over his shoulder, brushing off invisible dust.
"You fool, you have no idea who you're dealing with." He curled his lips in a grimace. "I'm trying to be cordial, but you're not cooperating with me."
He didn't seem the least bit concerned about me or the fact that I had a dagger in hand, much less that I had managed to wound him. It was as if I were irrelevant, nothing more than a minor inconvenience that would soon be resolved.
The Merchant wasn't afraid of me; he didn't see me as a danger. That was why he was brushing his clothes, more worried about them being wrinkled and dirty.