Episode 2
1572 Words
Fates Intertwined
Kael's POV
Tonight the woodland seemed remarkably quiet, as though the ground itself were breathing. The air felt tense, and the way the trees seemed to lean in listening and waiting. Although I have gone on many patrols, something about this one felt different. Something was approaching, something I could not exactly identify.
With keen senses, every muscle in my body coiled and ready to strike, I moved stealthily among the woods. It was my responsibility as Alpha of the Bloodfang Pack to guard our land and safeguard the welfare of my people. Since I was a young child, I have been taught this; I have been shaped to be a fighter, a leader. And I had embraced the challenge, assuming the mantle far earlier than anybody had anticipated. But obligation had a way of hardening a man and transforming him into something he couldn't even identify.
A faraway sound—a faint while carried on the breeze—cut off my ideas. I stopped to really pay attention. It came from the borders, the restricted area separating our property from Moonridge Clan territory. The sound got louder, more urgent, and I identified it as the voice of a woman.
I sprang into a sprint without thinking, my heart thumping with an inexplicable intensity. Knowing these areas better than anyone, I soon found myself at the source of the cries. My eyes widened when I saw a gathering of wolves—rogues by the scent of them—circling a dead man. Fighting for her life, a bruised and bleeding woman.
Silver Claw, Aria.
Her name kept coming back to me, together with the memories of our brief, tense meeting in the glade. I should not give a damn. She was the enemy after all. But something more basic, something primordial, rose within me at the sight of her—broken and vulnerable but still fighting to survive.
I didn't think so. I responded.
I growled fiercely and flung myself at the rogues, ripping into them with an intensity that startled even me. The conflict was short and merciless. Years of battle had sharpened my training, which then kicked in and in a few moments the rogues lay dead or dying at my feet.
I glanced at Aria, crushed on the ground, her breath laboring in ragged gasps. Her face was damaged, her clothes ripped, but she still had a fire in her eyes—a resolve to survive that set something deep inside me motion. Uncertain of anything, I knelt next to her and hovered my hand over her shoulder, not sure whether to touch her.
"You're safe now," I said, sounding less than I meant. "It's past."
Her eyes sprung open, staring at me with a mix of incredulity and terror. She said, "Kael," in a weak but confused whisper. Why... Why did you save me?
For her, I lacked an answer. Hell, I could not even respond for myself. Leaving her and allowing the wolves to complete what they began would have made logical sense. But the idea of her dying and of her brightness being extinguished set me almost in revolt. I was not one to discount my instincts either.
I sidestepped her query and responded, "You're hurt." Would you be able to stand?
She tried, but her legs gave out under her; I grabbed her before she touched the ground. The encounter was electric, jolt-like for my whole body. Though I had handled many fighters, men and women alike, none had ever made me feel like my entire universe had suddenly changed.
I grabbed her up without saying and cradled her against my chest. Her body was delicate in my hold, she was lighter than I had anticipated. Still, there was a strength in her that defied her diminutive stature and piqued my interest more than I would have wanted to acknowledge.
Though the words tasted sour on my tongue, I told you to get back to your bag. Returning her to Moonridge, to her people, made me uncomfortable and unable to relax.
"No," she said, her head resting on my shoulder. "They... won't assist me." I'm a misfit.
Her words hung in the air, weighted with her solitude. I understood what it felt like to be alone, to bear leadership responsibilities, to have nobody to turn to. And in that instant I sensed something of me reflected in her—a mirror of my own suffering and conflict.
Then where? My voice softer now, gentler, I asked.
Her eyes danced with doubt. "There is a cabin." far off the road I visited there once before, needing a break.
I nodded, my determination growing stiffer. Should she have no one else, I would see her safe. That was a risky choice, one with repercussions well beyond anything I could have imagined. But I made this choice with my whole heart—a heart that, for the first time in a very long time, was guiding me down an unexpected road.
The night appeared to shut in about us as I carried her across the forest, the shadows darkening and more repressive. Still, I persisted, my hold on her tight with every stride. Her pulse against my chest was a consistent cadence that kept me anchored, attentive.
We arrived at the cabin just as the first dawn light started to slink across the horizon. Hidden among an old tree forest was a little, primitive construction. Aria lay on the bed, her body slack with weariness. Her breathing had become shallow, and her features showed clearly the suffering.
You need rest, I murmured, sounding as if I were commanding.
She avoided arguing; her eyelids already drifted closed. But her hand sprang out, grabbing mine with unexpected force as she started to fade into sleep.
She said, "Kael," her voice almost audible. "Why? Why did you save me?"
Her eyes closed and she entered a deep sleep, the query hanging in the air unmet. Her hand still in mine, I stood there for a long time while my mind flew. I had no response for her; all I had was a gnawing sensation that whatever had motivated me to save her was hardly finished.
I drew a chair near the bed and sank down. Not now, nor could I abandon her. Not when something about the whole circumstances felt so... inappropriate. Everything pointed to something more deadly than either of our packs could understand—the rogues, the attack, the way my heart had jumped when she cried out.
And as I watched her sleep, her chest rising and falling with every breath, I knew that my highly regulated, precisely planned world was about to be turned upside down in ways I could not possibly start to conceive.
I turned to look outside the cabin at gentle rustling. I moved silently to the door and stood fast. My palm floated over the handle, muscles stiffening as I listened. There it was once more: a sound, faint yet clear, like footfall striving for silence but unable.
With a rapid motion, I opened the door prepared to meet whatever was outside. But instead of an enemy, Lyra Blackthorn was standing at the brink of the trees, her face one of frigid wrath. Her golden hair shone in early morning light, a sharp contrast to the wrath in her eyes.
"Kael," she said, her voice as pointed as a razor. What the devil are you doing?
I left slamming the door behind me to keep Aria out of Lyra's sight. Lyra, this is not of concern to you.
Her lips curved to a sour smirk, her eyes narrowed. "Isn't it?" You vanish in the middle of the night and then reappear here—of all the places—with a Moonridge outcast. Tell me this isn't my concern, please.
My teeth clenched as the weight of my choices descended on me. Lyra was my wife, named if not really in heart. Nothing more; our marriage had been a political arrangement. She was still the daughter of the head Lycan Council member, hence her wrath should not be taken lightly.
I remarked, in a low voice, "You don't understand." "This goes beyond what you know.".
"then explain it to me," she said, approaching closely and her eyes flickering with hardly restrained anger. "Explain why you are jeopardizing everything for a woman who means nothing to you."
Though I urged myself to remain cool, the remarks wounded me. Lyra, more than simply a woman. Something more than our packs, bigger than us is happening here.
Lyra looked at the cabin door, her face unreadable. And you believe she is the key? You find this Aria Silverclaw valuable despite the risk?
I do, I said, the words exiting my mouth before I could stop them. Though I couldn't totally grasp it myself, that was the truth.
We stood there silently for a minute, the strain between us sparking like a live wire. Lyra exhaled at last, her resentment vanishing into something quite like surrender.
"Whatever game you're playing, Kael, be careful," she said, her voice gentle but filled with warning. "The council will not welcome this kind of diversion. Nor will I.
She turned and vanished into the woods with that, leaving me b
y myself with her ideas and the weight of what I had just done. She was correct, as I knew.
- Writer
