I couldn't save him
Atalanta
Dammit, dammit, dammit! So much blood, so many lives were lost, so much pain, so many broken bonds. So many families have lost their loved ones.
Walking through the battlefield, I can smell and feel all that. And so much more. The coppery smell of blood is so potent that I feel like vomiting. The death lingers everywhere and casts an eerie silence on the area. I can literally smell the death when I walk past wolves that aren't dead yet but are on the thin edge before it. I can see many corpses littering the once green and calm forest and meadows. Some are friends but, luckily, many more are foes.
If only we had arrived sooner than we did . . .
'I can read your thoughts, dear. We got here as fast as possible and you know it,' my other half reminds me in my head.
Well, sure she is right. My lycan Diana is always right. She can fit in with the saying that both mothers and teachers are always right. Obviously, she isn't my mother. My mother is at home with my father and siblings. But Diana is like my personal teacher. She teaches me the rules and laws of our world. The rules that aren't taught by the lecturers and professors in schools. Here, I said it. I'm a lycan, not a mere werewolf. And it has its benefits as well as drawbacks. But that is a story for another time and I need to focus because I've come here on a mission.
Suddenly, I hear laboured breathing and a gurgling sound. I hurry to the source of the sounds and find a man barely holding onto his life. As if he was sure that something more needed to be done before he dies. I kneel to his side. He is a mess. His naked body is bloody, bruised, torn and bitten in. There isn't a place on him that would be unhurt. His blue eyes are clouded over and his black hair is slick with blood. I feel so sorry for him. However, I know that he has put up one hell of a fight.
I close my eyes and concentrate on his life energy and injuries. He is strong. His mind is strong and his wolf is as well. Diana can feel him trying to heal the damaged body but the wolf's strength isn't enough and the human is slowly slipping away.
I could save him though. Like I have saved dozens of other wolves. But my father has forbidden me to bring home any more strays. It's not like my pack has almost the same amount of turned Lycans and born Lycans every year thanks to me going through the battlefield after attacks like this one, collecting those who are strong enough to survive being turned.
You see, this is the myth that has been going on for centuries. That if bitten by a werewolf, you automatically become one yourself. That is such a bullsh*t. I don't know who started spreading these lies but, actually, I should be thankful to them. Thanks to this disinformation, my race can survive unnoticed by others. Other races, werewolves, witches, vampires or even humans, think that we are another pack of wolves living under the protection of the Royal Pack. In reality, the Royal Pack are the lycans who, for common wolves, are only a royal line of werewolves with enhanced powers thanks to Moon Goddess. Therefore, we only pretend to be the Silent Heights Pack. So that's that.
And if you're bitten by a wolf, nothing happens to you. The wound can only get infected if not treated properly. It's different with Lycans. We are the ones who can transmit their "curse" on other species. But we don't do it much because not everyone can handle a Lycan. I mean, humans are generally the weakest species and they can handle a beast only if they are mated to another lycan thanks to the mate bond. Otherwise, they go insane and kill themselves one way or another. Witches and vampires have a 50/50 chance of survival but these hybrids are lethal to others. Not even the bravest of lycans turn these species, more so because Moon Goddess never allows these interspecies bonds.
Wolves, like the one in front of me, are the easiest to turn because they already possess a beast and they are used to the mindlink, mate bond, well, everything that is common for lycans as well. I can see the struggle of the man. He knows he won't last but he fights his imminent fate. That's why I have chosen him. He is looking at me, studying me. I know he is trying to decide if I'm here to finish him off or if I want to help.
"Hi," I say. "I want to help you. I can help you."
I can hear a gurgle of a laugh escaping his throat. The internal injuries and the punctured lung are taking their toll on him. "Don't . . . believe . . . you," he whisper-coughs.
"I'm a friend," I try to pressure him into acceptance. "I can save you."
"Can't . . ." The word slips past his lips as a faint whisper but I can hear him. Advanced hearing and all. Then he adds, "You . . . lying."
His breaths are coming out short, his body isn't getting enough oxygen. I can feel that his wolf is panicky because he doesn't know what to save first when everything is gradually shutting down.
"Pledge your loyalty to me and I can heal all your wounds." I am desperate. I can't help him without his consent. Otherwise, it will make the transition to lycan unstable.
"No," he breathes. "Not . . . me."
"Excuse me?" I ask.
The man is choking on his blood but still tries to communicate with me. I can feel his mind prodding mine and I allow him to mindlink me. Good thing I am a lycan. I can mindlink all high-ranking werewolves.
"I can hear you. Speak," I command faintly in the mindlink. I know that every passing second the chance of turning him successfully diminishes exponentially but I have to try and persuade him to choose the right thing.
"How? You don't belong to my pack," is the first thing that he says.
I smile and let Diana show her eyes in mine. The man gasps and coughs out blood. He recognises me instantly thanks to my lycan having golden eyes. "Your Majesty," he says with deep respect.
"Yeah, yeah, now, who are you and why do you refuse my gift?" I demand straight to the point. We are running on borrowed time here.
"My . . . My name is Merdok," he says weakly. I can feel that he won't last long. If he doesn't hurry up, he'll die on me!
Merdok's voice trembles in pain and exhaustion as he continues with many pauses as if to inhale: "You have to . . . save Jo-a-hn . . . please. Not . . .me."
I can't understand the name properly, it sounds like Joanne to me and I keep it in mind to ask later on.
Merdok continues: "There's a . . . safe room . . . in my home. Find and . . . save . . . Jo-a-hn."
"OK, OK," I calm him down, "I will find the room and save Joanne."
"Thank . . you," he says with a smile as he breathes out his final breath.
I can see his eyes go glassy and stay open, and his chest stops moving. I can smell when his sphincters stop working and he starts to get that ashen colour, first to his face and then to the rest of his body. You would think that with the years of witnessing death firsthand, one can get used to it. Huge news. You can't get used to it. It is always different.
I hang my head low in shame and send a silent prayer to the Moon Goddess so that his soul and wolf can enter the afterlife. I close his eyes, drawing a half-moon on his forehead with his blood. He won't be forgotten. I have promised myself that.
And this is how father's Beta Thaumas finds me: kneeling in Merdok's blood, tears in my eyes, barely holding myself together. I couldn't save Merdok. It was my fault. Thaumas needs only one look and he knows everything. He hugs me from behind and pulls me away, cradling me in his embrace.
"Shh," he tries to calm me. "He is in a better place now, Atalanta."
A naughty angry sob escapes me as I reply: "I was late. I couldn't save him."
Thaumas doesn't say anything and holds me close to his chest. After a few minutes, I am all composed and ready to return to the pack we arrived to help. I get up and help Thaumas up as well. I start walking in the direction of the packhouse with Thaumas in tow.
"What do we do now?" he asks me.
"There is something I have promised to him before he died. I will carry out the promise before we leave," I inform him without further explanation. I want to see who that Joanne is.
