The Werewolf's Prisoner

Chapter 1: Lost"This is a disaster," Imra murmurs, wiping the sweat from her brow. she looks down at her hands and sees the smeared blood. It makes her stomach twist, bile rising to her throat even though she thinks she should've gotten better at seeing blood by now. She wipes again, using the sleeve of her tunic. A small smudge of blood smears the white cloth. There's no pain and Jane hasn't started panicking yet, so she's probably okay. "Can we stop a moment, Jane? I'm exhausted," she asks. She looks the part too, sweat dripping from her chin. Jane does not look any better. She takes off her headscarf for a moment to rub the sensation back into her fluffy bunny ears and Imra quickly looks away, not used to ears being in full view. Her own are hidden beneath a headscarf. All the royal members of the family have to hide their ears, which, in their case, is just her and her brother. Imra has brown, round-tipped ears with black fur lining the edges. They're not as impressive as her brother's lion ears, but it's not like anyone other than family can see them. Her tail, like Jane's has to be kept hidden, though she fails at that sometimes and letting her black tassel show beneath her long dress as she flicks it left and right. It is dangerous for others to see what she is, especially when they're outside of the kingdom. The fact that she is a lion is enough to give away her identity. They're not only out of the castle now, they're out of their kingdom and they have no idea where they are. "We can't, Lady Imra," she reasons. "We need to get to shelter before anyone finds us." Imra nods in understanding and wraps her cloak tighter around herself, wishing she was anywhere but here. They are both shifters but are different in many ways. Jane is light haired and short but stout in body, whereas Imra is brunette and petite, soft in all the ways that suggests she's never lifted a sword in her life. Indeed, she's never had to. That's why she has Jane, who is trained in swordplay and is her protector in and out of the castle. She's a better warrior than any of the men in their convoy, proving herself worthy with the simple fact that she's the only one standing. "Would you like me to carry that for you?" Jane asks, gesturing to the leather pack she has been hugging to her chest tightly. "It's alright," Imra murmurs. It holds all her medical supplies. Her brother had thought to send a healer with her, but she told him that she is good enough a healer to not need backup. Her fingers are still trembling from how little she can do to help the men in their camp. Nothing short of magic can bring back the dead, but they don't touch that. Their Oracle is the only magical being they have in the kingdom and even that is pushing it. The cost that come with magic spells isn't worth it. "Are you alright, my lady?" Jane asks. She nods again even though she wants to shake her head. She wishes this was a dream. She glances at her rabbit companion and stands up taller. She shouldn't be complaining. Jane is probably exhausted from the battle earlier. She also still insists on carrying the bulk of their possessions, which isn't much. They couldn't risk it. Jane just grabbed some soldier's rations and clothes before hightailing out of the camp with Imra in tow. Imra managed to get away with her own leather satchel only because she never lets it leave her side. The smell of blood and ash clings to both of them even though they've discarded their clothing and changed into the soldier's tunic and pants earlier, knowing that it wouldn't do either of them any good to look like they've just escaped an attack. Someone might be tempted to finish the job. Not for the first time, Imra wishes she was as strong as her friend. Jane is all hard muscles despite her smaller stature, whereas Imra is all soft flesh on bones. Imra is the princess of the Royal House of Ferals and Jane is her friend, a common foot soldier who should not have been in their party in the first place. Neither of them should be making this journey at all. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess," Imra says softly, hugging the bag tighter to her chest. "No," Jane says, rolling her shoulders to shift the weight of the baggage on her back. "You should not have been in this party in the first place," she adds, echoing Imra's thoughts so perfectly that Imra startles in shock. "I have to be here," she says. "You should've been safe at home," she argues. Jane stumbles a little and sighs. "I think I may need to sit for a moment," she admits. "Okay," Imra says, stopping and squatting down in the shadow of a tree before lowering the leather satchel to the ground beside her. The bulkier woman collapses on the soft grass, not even bothering to unload her baggage or shift somewhere that is not directly under sunlight. "I am here to protect you, Lady Imra. Though I wish I had done a better job of it," she says, glancing at the small cut above her eye. It will not scar, being as shallow as it is, but the throb of pain annoys her enough to flinch occasionally when she forgets and scratches at it. "I would be dead if not for you," she says honestly. It is true. If Jane had not thrown herself between her and the attacker, she would be missing an eye and her life instead of just a single cut above her brow. Jane waves her hand like it's not a big deal and she does this all the time. "Help me check if there's anyone on our tail," Jane says suddenly. She presses her ear close to the earth and listens while Imra does the same above-land, ears peeking from beneath her shawl as she listens for company. When she doesn't hear anything, she curls her top lip up and bares her teeth a little, using her sensory organs on the roof of her mouth to taste the smells in the air. "I don't smell anything," Imra says after a moment. "I don't hear anything either," Jane sighs. She closes her eyes and rests for a while, tension leaving her body gradually as she allows herself to relax. If there is no one following them, that means the rest of their camp are probably all dead, succumbing to their wounds. She grimaces, wondering if she's done the right thing by running away. Perhaps if she'd stayed to help- "If we had stayed, we would be dead too," Jane says, reading her mind yet again. She is practical and logical, whereas Imra tends to think with her heart. "Were you awake when it happened?" Imra asks. She shakes her head. They were attacked in the morning, when most of their convoy were asleep. Every time she closes her eyes, it is as though she is transported back in her tent and she remember the smell of blood that woke her. By the time she is fully awake, it is too late. Imra isn't a fighter by any means. She has never been trained before and has never been faced with something as terrifying as a sword being swung her way, the attacker trying to slice her head clean off. She freezes completely, standing still even as the sharp edge of the sword glances on her skin. The pain jolts her back to her senses and she scrambles out of the way fast enough that it does not cause any lasting damage. It was then that Jane leapt into her camp and struck the attacker down without batting an eye. Later, after they've journeyed further away from the dead, running as fast as their feet can carry them, Jane tells her that their attackers were disguised as allies, knights from the Wolf Kingdom to show them the rest of the way there. They attacked when the men have sat down to eat, weapons out of reach. "Not everyone is happy about the peace-talk between the Wolf Kingdom and ours." This is why they had journeyed with a convoy instead of merely sending a messenger, why they sent their beloved princess instead of an emissary. Their kingdoms have been at war for centuries. A cease-fire is an enormous change for the better, one that Imra is glad to be a part of. Was glad to be a part of. Her brother, the King, had not been happy to send her, but there is no other choice. Their Oracle has seen it in their future, seen that if she is not the one who is not sent for the journey, a bigger threat would come, and there would be more deaths to their kingdom and those around them. "We need to head back to the castle, let my brother know that the Wolf Kingdom isn't the people who've attacked us." "We're closer to Wolf Kingdom than we are to home," Jane reasons without opening her eyes. She must've been working on sheer adrenaline all this while, and now that the danger is not so eminent, she is completely spent. "How would we know who to trust?" she whispers. The Oracle had pulled her aside after her brother gave the orders to send her on the mission. 'Trust no one,' she had said. Her visions are never clear enough for her to give specific advice and she hides some of the things she knows in order to keep the future from changing too much, but the advice makes Imra shiver in fear. Can she trust Jane to keep her safe? She shakes her head and chides herself for even questioning her friend's loyalty. She would've been dead if not for her. "We trust no one," Jane says abruptly, causing her to stare at her friend in silent awe. Perhaps the rabbit shifter has some Oracle blood in her as well. She's reading her mind so fluently. Jane sits up so suddenly that her shawl falls from her head, her ears perking high in the air. "We pretend to be Wolflanders." Imra's eyes are as side as saucers. "We can't pretend to be Wolflanders." "Why not?" "You know why!" she gasps. "Ears like yours and mine, they would think us slaves!" "Better slaves than dead," she argues. Imra shakes her head again. They can't tell anyone that they're Feralanders, or that she's Royalty. It would be the surest way to her demise. Trust no one. "In Wolf Kingdom, only slaves and commoners of the lowest caste have ears and tails. We won't be able to hide what we are," she hisses. "I'm a lioness. No one's seen my ears except for when I'm in full shift," she says with a hint of panic. Jane rests a calming hand on her arm. "Desperate times calls for desperate measures, my lady," Jane says apologetically. "Perhaps it will not come to that," she murmurs, "but if it does, we need to have our stories straight." Right. She straights her back and stands straight, fully in her element again. She's a princess. It won't do to panic. "You're right," she says. Her fingers tremble as she begins to undo the clip on her neck, loosening the cloth until she can tug it back. The feeling of wind brushing over her ears is wonderfully cooling. She lets out a sigh of relief as her ears perk up and brushes the fur in place with both hands, resisting the urge to purr in pleasure as she rubs the back of the ear, where fur disappears into human hair. It feels good to not have to wrap them up. Jane is smiling. "Those look kind of like bear's ears." She huffs and manages a weak smile. She feels naked without the shawl, and Jane is the first person who's not her brother to have seen her without it. "Bears have short tails," she says softly. "That will be my cover then," she declares. Her tail would give her away too quickly. She needs to keep her identity hidden. Most lion prides have links to royal blood, if not in their kingdoms, then in other lands as well. Their animal are proud and fearsome creatures, if trained correctly. It is unfortunate she prefers to heal rather than harm, though her brother encourages her interest without judgement. She can be a ferocious predator if she chooses to be. "We are commoners, making our way to Feral Kingdom when bandits attacked us," Jane says. "I'm a healer," Imra adds easily. "We lived in the woods, close to the borders and decided to make the move recently. I hired you as my bodyguard. That would explain why you're armed." Jane nods in agreement. Already, she is retrieving her hand knife from the inside of her boot to carve away the Feral Emblems from her shield and sword. Imra does the same with the insignia on her sleeves, deliberately cutting at the steams so that it is not too obvious. "Should we change our names?" she asks. "I am Jane Hare," she answers with a smirk. "And you are Imra Ursus." Imra can't help but smile a little. It is no uncommon for animal shifters in Wolf Kingdom to adopt their animal forms into their last names. "Imra Ursus," she says to herself. "I am a healer in the outskirts of Wolf Kingdom, making my way to Feral Kingdom in order to start a practice there. I hired you, Jane Hare, a hunter and mercenary, in order to keep me safe, but we are attacked by bandits on the way," she recites. "It's a decent story," Jane says. "We will stick with it until you are able to send word to your brother that you have survived the attack. Your brother will send his men to collect you then." She nods in agreement, worry gnawing in the back of her mind that her brother would not know about her being missing, or that it would not be as easy as it sounds to have soldiers from Feral Kingdom come for her. Still, Wolf Kingdom is expecting them. Perhaps it would not be too difficult to hide until the time is right, and they can find out more about the situation of their peace-talk in the meantime. One of the reasons why her brother had been so opposed to sending her on the mission is because while the ruling party in Wolf Kingdom are werewolves, they do not keep their animal as close to the surface as they do. Only commoners and slaves need to keep their animal features in open, their ears and tails a mark of shame instead of pride. He's afraid she will be discriminated against when she's there. She wasn't as worried, knowing that their kingdom is stronger and more powerful with more allies than theirs. The Wolflanders wouldn't risk it. Couldn't. Evidently, someone from Wolf Kingdom had been so against the idea of peace that they would attack her convoy. She hopes that news of her being part of the group had not gotten out. It would make it easier for her to blend in with the rest of the Wolflanders once they're there and leave afterwards. They have been travelling for five days before their camp is attacked, which means two more days on foot to the border of Wolf Kingdom. She shivers despite the heat of the sun and glances at her companion, who has fallen asleep in the shade. They will make it. They had to.