Ch. 12
“Wynorrific”
It is wet. What is wet? Me, I feel wet. Why do I feel wet and sticky? What is that? I feel my eyes flutter. I feel my muscles twitch, and pain rings down my neck, my shoulders, and back. I blink hard and raise my arms to my face. My head starts to pound. I do not think I have passed out this many times in such a short duration, like ever. My body is suffering. Every part of me is screaming. Trying to block the faint light that starts filling my eyes. Everything is so bright, everywhere, compared to the blackness I just came from. Each time light hits my eyes, my head rings. I finally rub my hands against my eyes and images start flooding my brain.
I am on a cot within what looks like a small tent and the entrance must be behind me because light shines along the wall in front of me. Daytime. The sun is up. I hear the faint sound of rain hitting the sides of the tent. Then a face appears before me, upside down as they lean over me.
“Hello, sleepy…” That voice. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up… and it is beginning to look like someone had an eventful night…. Or few days I should say…” The snarky voice fills my soul. A voice that has drilled into me. A voice that has laughed with me. A voice I am so relieved to hear, again.
Her short wine hair falling around her face as it tilts to me. The sides of her head, shaved and swirls of tattoos run alongside the sides of her head, neck, and down her body, dancing around every curve. A smile lays across her face, an expression that does not grace her face often. Usually a distant stare, a cold look. Matching her steel-colored eyes. Only a select few see this side of her. I am glad to be a part of that group, that tiny, small group even if it is not all the time. I feel my lips curl past my teeth, my smile meeting hers. I start trying to move, trying to sit up and pain shoots down my neck to my back and I thud back into the cot. “Princess, quit moving. You are covered in blood, and some of it is yours.” She barks at me, back to her stern self. “Someone call for Gaelira!” she yells toward the entrance of the tent. I wince as she gently places a hand on my shoulder, knowing I would try again to move if she did not. She moves to my side and kneels next to me. “I waited until you were awake to start any healing…because I know you would throw some hateful words if I didn’t. Maybe even hands.”
“Who says I still won’t...” I throw her a sideways glance. “And don’t call me that…” I say in a raspy voice. I need water. I get only a stern look in return. Her gray eyes cutting through my soul.
I hear mumbling behind us, outside of the tent, of course she brought other scouts. I hear clunking of metal against metal, she brought guards too. More so from the command of Mother, I’m guessing. She probably assumed that they would have to drag me back kicking and screaming.
Halfy is next to me, and I did not realize at first. Nyx, I must have been out of it. My cot lays on the ground and Halfy’s paws are pushing into my side as he lays next to me. Like he must be touching me, making sure I kept breathing. My guardian beast. I reach a hand to him and pet the sides of his paws. His ears facing behind him, always listening.
I doubt the mumbles from the others are because of Halfy, even being the fearsome creature he is, he is a common sight within the castle walls, for the scouts and guards to see. There is something else catching their attention, more so than their princess wounded on the ground covered in blood. That is also a common sight, maybe not to this extent though, and its usually not my own blood.
The light shining on the wall in front of me dims, a shadow displayed on the cloth. Devlyn looks up quickly, her eyes narrow ever so slightly, barely noticeable, and then it is gone. She turns to meet the figure and takes a piece of fabric from them, its dripping. I hear what sounds like a bucket hitting the hard earth below, and water. Devlyn then places the fabric on my neck and applies pressure. A small yelp escapes through clenched teeth. A stinging runs across me, down my spine as the fabric touches my skin.
The figure’s feet shift, and I hear the dirt beneath them. I glance past Devlyn to the tent wall, past her firm look that is eyeing the wound I assume is on my neck, down my shoulders and back from my previous encounter. Even though the dragon head in my shifted form was not truly a part of me, it was still this body that filled it.
I noticed the shadow moving across the tent wall. His scent fills the small space, pine, mint, but no longer sweat. The owner of the shadow is what the others are mumbling about. The mortal man, the not vampire now man.
He moves past Devlyn to the corner of the tent that has a small chair, and he sits down, his face peeking behind her shoulders. Faint drops of the rainfall fall from his brows. He is wearing some hand me down scout’s attire. A ragged shirt with a tunic and some dark pants. His hair is no longer disheveled like before and is brushed back, but still hiding his ears. Someone used this time to clean up.
I am surprised he was not locked up by the guards yet. Zanir’s face peeking around Devlyn meeting my own. His eyes flick toward Devlyn and his eyes narrow while they move down her, her body, and then he glances back at me. No flame or light fills his cerulean eyes.
I run my index finger across my throat and stick out my tongue and then shoot him a cold look. I can feel someone else’s eyes on me. I feel her stare cutting through me once again, daggers. Colder than any look I could manage. Devlyn is watching me, like she watches everything. Our eyes meet.
“Making new friends?” She whispers. Always aware of possible snooping ears. Halfy’s ears flick to the entrance of the tent, twitching.
I scoff. Zanir returns the noise. I personally would not go that far. Someone who can provide us with some information about vampires, or that there is more than one vampiric clan in the forest. Possibly has even more information, about what is going on within that said forest, even why the creatures of the forest are changing, while being a smart-ass prick. Who, I got stuck with after he threatened to eat me and then I took all his powers. You know the normal stuff. I blink twice casually at Devlyn. Our code for later. I will tell her everything, well maybe not everything, but I have so much to tell her.
“Given that Halfy hadn’t dragged him into the lake, or left pieces of him for us to find.” She glances at me, and I know she also assumed since I did not also tear him to pieces. She continues, “I assumed him to be harmless…” Devlyn starts wiping an area around my neck.
The fabric is trying its hardest to absorb all the redness that stained my skin. Images start to flood my brain. Of the Samca being dragged by Halfy into the lake. The Samca’s memories of screaming children, that boy… then the vision of the Samca screaming as I ripped out its throat. The Balaur’s blood raining down over me from where its head once sat. The Balaur’s roar under the water, the bubbles rising to the surface. The taste of the buck’s flesh against my fangs. The feeling of the buck’s neck snapping. My head begins to throb. I had a long night is an understatement.
She notices me wince and moves the fabric to a different spot. “Although when we arrived, seeing you covered in blood, and some strange…” She pauses, and she looks in my eyes, searching, and as if she is already figuring it out, or at least figured out the basics.
She is one of the select few who knows of my powers, all my powers. Devlyn is Mother’s right hand, her second, leader of the scouts, her most trusted, but she is also my friend… I doubt she figured out that he was in fact a 300-year-old vampire that can control shadows and who knows what else, and then I happened to take all of those away and make him mortal. We are only putting up with each other because I plan to make him tell us all his juicy secrets for his powers back. She continues, “man next to you…Iamys shot before we got close though…”
Zanir now standing behind Devlyn, his face shining from the light from the tent entrance.
I can see the deep gash across his neck as he says, “He has good aim.” He reaches down towards us, and Devlyn removes the fabric from my face, hands it to him, and he proceeds behind us to the bucket I assume. I hear the water moving against the sides of the metal container. “Harmless? Hmm…mostly…thanks to your Princess.” I hear the tone, the slight fluctuation of the word Princess.
Regrets mortal vampire man? I hate the word, Princess. All that is implied with that single word. I am more than just a Princess. I can shift into anything within my mind, control the fire, ice, and wind in my soul, unleash a beast of true power, more than just a princess…
Devlyn’s eyes linger on Zanir, studying, and then move towards me again, her eyes wider than before, she knew, but dare not speak it. I blink twice again and narrow my eyes, later, I promise, and yes harmless… currently.
“And because he can climb and Halfy cannot…” I wheeze through my teeth, Halfy also grumbles, and I can hear Zanir faintly scoff as he continues to rinse the fabric in the bucket. Devlyn is now searching my face. I nod at her slightly. I have much to tell her, but not now.
“Lady Mihaela.” A woman says behind us. She quickly moves past Zanir, almost pressing herself against the tent walls and into our view and bows before me.
Not a normal looking woman. Her ears are pointed at the tips. She is taller than most of us within the clan. Her edges crisp. She has long flowing red hair and bright green eyes. Her pale skin glows even with the faint light in the tent. She is wearing a satchel with many pockets, and herbs, leaves, and twigs attached to it. Gaelira.
Once living on the high fae island, within the light borders of Naflary. Her reason for leaving is not something many know, or why she chose to come to Adros at that. Mother is welcoming to most kinds and is always looking for healers to tend to her scouts and guards when needed. Gaelira, being high fae, mean she has some powers that many don’t have. She has the power of healing, more than your average tunic or salve. She swiftly stands kneeling next to Devlyn and looks me up and down. Assessing the damage.
“Is there anything you need?” Devlyn asks.
“Mihaela usually heals quickly on her own, but this may require some…” She pauses glancing at Zanir. Unsure about what to say but continues, “Bandaging and stronger healing salves. I will need to gather supplies from the other healers.” Gaelira says and then looks toward Devlyn who simply nods. Gaelira smiles slightly and bows her head and walks behind us out of view through the tent entrance.
The voices of the scouts and guards behind us seem to increase in volume, something is stirring.
“Sounds like you brought friends…” I wince pushing myself upward to a sitting position on the cot.
Ch. 12
“Wynorrific”
It is wet. What is wet? Me, I feel wet. Why do I feel wet and sticky? What is that? I feel my eyes flutter. I feel my muscles twitch, and pain rings down my neck, my shoulders, and back. I blink hard and raise my arms to my face. My head starts to pound. I do not think I have passed out this many times in such a short duration, like ever. My body is suffering. Every part of me is screaming. Trying to block the faint light that starts filling my eyes. Everything is so bright, everywhere, compared to the blackness I just came from. Each time light hits my eyes, my head rings. I finally rub my hands against my eyes and images start flooding my brain.
I am on a cot within what looks like a small tent and the entrance must be behind me because light shines along the wall in front of me. Daytime. The sun is up. I hear the faint sound of rain hitting the sides of the tent. Then a face appears before me, upside down as they lean over me.
“Hello, sleepy…” That voice. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up… and it is beginning to look like someone had an eventful night…. Or few days I should say…” The snarky voice fills my soul. A voice that has drilled into me. A voice that has laughed with me. A voice I am so relieved to hear, again.
Her short wine hair falling around her face as it tilts to me. The sides of her head, shaved and swirls of tattoos run alongside the sides of her head, neck, and down her body, dancing around every curve. A smile lays across her face, an expression that does not grace her face often. Usually a distant stare, a cold look. Matching her steel-colored eyes. Only a select few see this side of her. I am glad to be a part of that group, that tiny, small group even if it is not all the time. I feel my lips curl past my teeth, my smile meeting hers. I start trying to move, trying to sit up and pain shoots down my neck to my back and I thud back into the cot. “Princess, quit moving. You are covered in blood, and some of it is yours.” She barks at me, back to her stern self. “Someone call for Gaelira!” she yells toward the entrance of the tent. I wince as she gently places a hand on my shoulder, knowing I would try again to move if she did not. She moves to my side and kneels next to me. “I waited until you were awake to start any healing…because I know you would throw some hateful words if I didn’t. Maybe even hands.”
“Who says I still won’t...” I throw her a sideways glance. “And don’t call me that…” I say in a raspy voice. I need water. I get only a stern look in return. Her gray eyes cutting through my soul.
I hear mumbling behind us, outside of the tent, of course she brought other scouts. I hear clunking of metal against metal, she brought guards too. More so from the command of Mother, I’m guessing. She probably assumed that they would have to drag me back kicking and screaming.
Halfy is next to me, and I did not realize at first. Nyx, I must have been out of it. My cot lays on the ground and Halfy’s paws are pushing into my side as he lays next to me. Like he must be touching me, making sure I kept breathing. My guardian beast. I reach a hand to him and pet the sides of his paws. His ears facing behind him, always listening.
I doubt the mumbles from the others are because of Halfy, even being the fearsome creature he is, he is a common sight within the castle walls, for the scouts and guards to see. There is something else catching their attention, more so than their princess wounded on the ground covered in blood. That is also a common sight, maybe not to this extent though, and its usually not my own blood.
The light shining on the wall in front of me dims, a shadow displayed on the cloth. Devlyn looks up quickly, her eyes narrow ever so slightly, barely noticeable, and then it is gone. She turns to meet the figure and takes a piece of fabric from them, its dripping. I hear what sounds like a bucket hitting the hard earth below, and water. Devlyn then places the fabric on my neck and applies pressure. A small yelp escapes through clenched teeth. A stinging runs across me, down my spine as the fabric touches my skin.
The figure’s feet shift, and I hear the dirt beneath them. I glance past Devlyn to the tent wall, past her firm look that is eyeing the wound I assume is on my neck, down my shoulders and back from my previous encounter. Even though the dragon head in my shifted form was not truly a part of me, it was still this body that filled it.
I noticed the shadow moving across the tent wall. His scent fills the small space, pine, mint, but no longer sweat. The owner of the shadow is what the others are mumbling about. The mortal man, the not vampire now man.
He moves past Devlyn to the corner of the tent that has a small chair, and he sits down, his face peeking behind her shoulders. Faint drops of the rainfall fall from his brows. He is wearing some hand me down scout’s attire. A ragged shirt with a tunic and some dark pants. His hair is no longer disheveled like before and is brushed back, but still hiding his ears. Someone used this time to clean up.
I am surprised he was not locked up by the guards yet. Zanir’s face peeking around Devlyn meeting my own. His eyes flick toward Devlyn and his eyes narrow while they move down her, her body, and then he glances back at me. No flame or light fills his cerulean eyes.
I run my index finger across my throat and stick out my tongue and then shoot him a cold look. I can feel someone else’s eyes on me. I feel her stare cutting through me once again, daggers. Colder than any look I could manage. Devlyn is watching me, like she watches everything. Our eyes meet.
“Making new friends?” She whispers. Always aware of possible snooping ears. Halfy’s ears flick to the entrance of the tent, twitching.
I scoff. Zanir returns the noise. I personally would not go that far. Someone who can provide us with some information about vampires, or that there is more than one vampiric clan in the forest. Possibly has even more information, about what is going on within that said forest, even why the creatures of the forest are changing, while being a smart-ass prick. Who, I got stuck with after he threatened to eat me and then I took all his powers. You know the normal stuff. I blink twice casually at Devlyn. Our code for later. I will tell her everything, well maybe not everything, but I have so much to tell her.
“Given that Halfy hadn’t dragged him into the lake, or left pieces of him for us to find.” She glances at me, and I know she also assumed since I did not also tear him to pieces. She continues, “I assumed him to be harmless…” Devlyn starts wiping an area around my neck.
The fabric is trying its hardest to absorb all the redness that stained my skin. Images start to flood my brain. Of the Samca being dragged by Halfy into the lake. The Samca’s memories of screaming children, that boy… then the vision of the Samca screaming as I ripped out its throat. The Balaur’s blood raining down over me from where its head once sat. The Balaur’s roar under the water, the bubbles rising to the surface. The taste of the buck’s flesh against my fangs. The feeling of the buck’s neck snapping. My head begins to throb. I had a long night is an understatement.
She notices me wince and moves the fabric to a different spot. “Although when we arrived, seeing you covered in blood, and some strange…” She pauses, and she looks in my eyes, searching, and as if she is already figuring it out, or at least figured out the basics.
She is one of the select few who knows of my powers, all my powers. Devlyn is Mother’s right hand, her second, leader of the scouts, her most trusted, but she is also my friend… I doubt she figured out that he was in fact a 300-year-old vampire that can control shadows and who knows what else, and then I happened to take all of those away and make him mortal. We are only putting up with each other because I plan to make him tell us all his juicy secrets for his powers back. She continues, “man next to you…Iamys shot before we got close though…”
Zanir now standing behind Devlyn, his face shining from the light from the tent entrance.
I can see the deep gash across his neck as he says, “He has good aim.” He reaches down towards us, and Devlyn removes the fabric from my face, hands it to him, and he proceeds behind us to the bucket I assume. I hear the water moving against the sides of the metal container. “Harmless? Hmm…mostly…thanks to your Princess.” I hear the tone, the slight fluctuation of the word Princess.
Regrets mortal vampire man? I hate the word, Princess. All that is implied with that single word. I am more than just a Princess. I can shift into anything within my mind, control the fire, ice, and wind in my soul, unleash a beast of true power, more than just a princess…
Devlyn’s eyes linger on Zanir, studying, and then move towards me again, her eyes wider than before, she knew, but dare not speak it. I blink twice again and narrow my eyes, later, I promise, and yes harmless… currently.
“And because he can climb and Halfy cannot…” I wheeze through my teeth, Halfy also grumbles, and I can hear Zanir faintly scoff as he continues to rinse the fabric in the bucket. Devlyn is now searching my face. I nod at her slightly. I have much to tell her, but not now.
“Lady Mihaela.” A woman says behind us. She quickly moves past Zanir, almost pressing herself against the tent walls and into our view and bows before me.
Not a normal looking woman. Her ears are pointed at the tips. She is taller than most of us within the clan. Her edges crisp. She has long flowing red hair and bright green eyes. Her pale skin glows even with the faint light in the tent. She is wearing a satchel with many pockets, and herbs, leaves, and twigs attached to it. Gaelira.
Once living on the high fae island, within the light borders of Naflary. Her reason for leaving is not something many know, or why she chose to come to Adros at that. Mother is welcoming to most kinds and is always looking for healers to tend to her scouts and guards when needed. Gaelira, being high fae, mean she has some powers that many don’t have. She has the power of healing, more than your average tunic or salve. She swiftly stands kneeling next to Devlyn and looks me up and down. Assessing the damage.
“Is there anything you need?” Devlyn asks.
“Mihaela usually heals quickly on her own, but this may require some…” She pauses glancing at Zanir. Unsure about what to say but continues, “Bandaging and stronger healing salves. I will need to gather supplies from the other healers.” Gaelira says and then looks toward Devlyn who simply nods. Gaelira smiles slightly and bows her head and walks behind us out of view through the tent entrance.
The voices of the scouts and guards behind us seem to increase in volume, something is stirring.
“Sounds like you brought friends…” I wince pushing myself upward to a sitting position on the cot.
