Elvi

Footprints In The Sand

Elvi and Arawn stepped roughly sideways as Haydeon knocked into the pair, engulfing them both in a hug. Arawn rested his forehead onto Elvi's, absorbing the love from his best friend and sister. Arawn pulled away gently, to look at his friends. He took in their flushed cheeks, tousled hair and the redness of Elvi’s eyes, she had clearly been crying.

“I thought you were dead” she whimpered, placing her hands on his cheeks, taking in every line of his dirt ridden face.

“They can’t take me out that easily,” he joked, pulling Elvi into a side hug, kissing the top of her head. “What happened? They wouldn’t tell us why we were being released” Arawn said.

“The King found his mate,” Haydeon answered, in a flat voice, eyeing the King across the way.

“And it was a witch?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Gods, the poor girl. Anyone we know?”

“Elvi” called Rowan from across the clearing, interrupting the reunion.

Elvi extricated herself from the hug and turned to find him wearing a blank mask of an expression. She could tell he didn’t appreciate her connection with the man, but was trying to hide it. She sighed, and made her way to him purposefully. “WHAT,” she heard Arawn yell from behind her, clearly just being informed of her situation by her brother. A shuffling sound made her turn around to find Haydeon restraining Arawn. She gave him a weak smile before turning back to the King, closing the final gap.

“Yes?” she asked in annoyance at his interruption.

“We move out in five minutes” he answered in a clipped tone.

“What? They were just released” she said indignantly.

“Yes, and I don’t have all day to wait around for people to finish hugging. I have a kingdom to run.” Elvi narrowed her eyes, not appreciating his tone.

“Some of them have been trapped here for years, you can’t give them a few minutes?”

“They can have a few minutes on the three hour walk home” he answered.

Not meeting her eyes, instead watching Haydeon calm the released man. He didn’t appreciate the familiarity in which he held his mate, nor the contact of his lips given so freely. He walked away from Elvi to his second and third.

“We move out in five. Get them into the wagons” Rowan ordered by way of greeting.

Alarik eyed the King wearily, before bowing and moving away to round up the witches, Llyall moving in the opposite direction to do the same. Rowan watched the groupings break apart and slowly make their way into the wagons. Some of the witches he observed were still in fairly good condition, like the happy lips man, obviously being some of the newer arrivals; others however, were in such a weakened state that they were being aided by others to walk to the wagons, and being lifted inside.

He tried to ignore the jutting bones through the paper thin dirt stained skin, the matted hair and cloudy eyes. He had only been in this prison once before as a young boy, and he had vowed to never return, and to think of it as little as possible. The guards kept the witches in darkness for twenty-three hours a day with minimal food and water, his father had told him, and as a boy of the age of ten, he had been terrified by the thought and the conditions.

Rowan had questioned his father on the necessity of it all, and remembered being backhanded so hard by his father that he had flown into the wall opposite. It had been the one and only time that his father had ever laid a hand on him. He made a vow to himself that day to never question his father’s requirement for the prisons again. Shaking himself out of the memory he moved towards Elvi who was helping an elderly man into the second wagon.

Taking the hand of a middle aged woman, who flinched at his touch, he led her towards the stairs wordlessly. A clicking sound made him turn around rapidly. A member of the press had found their way to the prison and was taking photos of the retreating witches. Releasing the woman’s hand at the top of the stairs, she gave him a nervous smile in thanks and made her way to her seat.

Rowan moved so quickly in front of the man that he jumped backwards with a loud yelp in terror. Grabbing onto the material of the man’s shirt he twisted, yanking him roughly to his face. Rowan let out a rumbling growl, his canine teeth having extended automatically.

“What are you doing here?” The man recoiled.

“The people have a right to know every aspect of this situation, my King. It is my job to document.”

“You have your photos. LEAVE” he bellowed into the man’s face, before thrusting him away unceremoniously.

The man landed heavily onto his back, terror filled eyes staring up at the King. He quickly scrambled to his feet, picking up his camera that had been thrown from his hand in the scuffle and disappeared into the forest. Rowan motioned for Delroy to join him.

“I want you to go find the head guard, and tell him to burn this place to the ground. I don’t want people poking around here. No one needs to know the conditions that the witches were kept in.”

Delroy nodded, moving away silently to find the guard. Rowan watched as the last person was put into the back of the front wagon. Sighing he ran his hands through his hair roughly. When he looked towards the back wagon he found the front seat filled with Haydeon, the witch who was their friend and to his dismay Elvi. He thought that they had made some progress today but now that she had seen where her kind was kept, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were back at square one.

As the wagons began to move the smoke began rolling out of the prison, signifying Delroy had done his job. Rowan made his way towards the second wagon, falling in step with some of the witches who were strong enough to walk. He could hear the trio in the front of the wagon talking animatedly to each other. Jealousy spread through him like a poison. He watched the witches near him shrink as an involuntary growl made its way past his teeth.

“Forgive me” he said, not meeting their eyes.

*

During the resting of the horses, Elvi jumped down from the front of the wagon and made her way towards the water station. She grabbed three cups, filled them with the chilled water and turned to take them to her brother and his best friend. She found her way blocked by Rowan, who was eyeing her like prey.

“Are you going to avoid me for the rest of the journey?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly with lack of use.

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.” Rowan growled in annoyance, rubbing his hand over his face. “Can you really blame me?”

“Look,” he said, grabbing the cups from her hand and putting them on the table beside her. He moved her cautiously away from the line of witches and shifters behind her. “I know that that place was…”

“An abomination” she suggested unhelpfully.

“Yes. It was. My father was a terrifying man…” he started, imploring to her kind nature.

“So you decide to follow in his footsteps” she interrupted, raising her eyebrows.

“It’s not that simple.”

“You’re unbelievable. The second you became King, you had all the power in the worlds to fix things, and you didn’t. You saw the footprints that your father left in the sand and stepped right into them, instead of creating your own. Arawn told me that in the four months he was there, three people died of starvation, and the guards LEFT THEIR BODIES IN THE CELLS TO ROT” she finished hysterically. “They were given no care even in death. Live like a vermin, die like vermin is what the guards would say.” Rowan watched her pain pour from her, unable to say anything in response. “Nothing you say will ever take that back. I have to go.” Elvi stormed off, grabbed her water and handed it to her brother.