The Wolves of Witch Pond

Chapter 6: A Broken Curse

Ronan

Ronan watched the sun move through the sky. Never, in all his life, had he seen the sun with his human eyes. One night a month, he could be human, the rest of the time he was a wolf.

When the sun rose, he should have shifted back.

Chuckling to himself, Ronan lamented not seeing the look of shock on that little witch's face when he turned into a wolf right before her eyes.

Laughing hurt.

Groaning, he held his side.

Whatever she'd given him to help with the pain was wearing off. There was a part of him that still couldn't believe he'd let a witch help him.

If she hadn't come along, he never would have healed on his own. The poison would have kept his wounds from closing and it would eventually kill him like a fast-acting flesh-eating virus.

Ronan didn't believe in ancestors or otherworldly beings. Whatever had brought the witch to him, he wasn't going to question. Not when she was the only one who could save him.

By now, Kai had told the rest of the pack that he was dead. Kai was Alpha, and he'd be preparing them for some kind of full-scale assault on the witches.

Ronan had no love for witches, but a war would only hurt the pack more.

He had to get to them, show them that he was still alive and expose Kai's lies.

Grunting and mustering all his strength, Ronan got to his feet. He stumbled forward and grabbed the nearest branch, holding himself up.

Kai had drugged him, stabbed him, and poisoned him, but he was too resilient for that.

One step through the leaves and Ronan's knees gave out.

With a crash, he hit the ground hard. He rolled down a small hill, coming to a stop at the base of a tree. When his body nudged the tree trunk, the tree exploded.

Loud caws and flapping wings surrounded him.

Ronan shielded his face with one arm and swatted at the frenzied crows with the other.

He couldn't try that again.

When he lay still, he could feel the poison in his veins. It was like a cancerous sludge, slowly eating his cells away. He could practically feel the edges of his wounds curling and dying.

Stuck on the ground, he gazed up at the sky. It looked different with his human eyes, yet still so beautiful.

How was he still in his human form? He'd been cursed his whole life.

The witch had said he didn't have a curse mark. Not that he was inclined to believe her. She was from the coven that cursed him in the first place.

The proof was in his current state. He hadn't shifted back to a wolf when the sun rose. His curse was gone.

Was the rest of the pack still cursed?

Ronan tested the mind link.

All he got back was static.

“Right," he muttered to himself. When Kai attacked him, he'd officially been overthrown as Alpha.

Kai was Alpha now and Ronan was exiled from the pack.

A laugh erupted from Ronan's chest. He sat up, clutching his lungs as he kept laughing.

The pain from his stab wounds shot through him like thousands of bee stings, but he kept laughing.

It was so obvious that it was ridiculous.

Ronan's curse was broken because he wasn't cursed, the pack was. Now that he wasn't a pack member…

He shook his head, his laugh still rippling around him. Tears pricked his eyes as he kept laughing.

Who would have thought that getting overthrown as Alpha would actually benefit him?

Ronan sighed and ran his hands down his face.

If he wanted to stop Kai and help his pack, he'd have to overthrow Kai and become Alpha again. He'd have to curse himself.

Footsteps through the dried leaves caught his attention.

Ronan glanced toward the top of the hill and saw the witch.

She wore a crimson cape, a fur-lined hood, and a neutral-colored dress. It wasn't very flattering, concealing most of her figure under folds of fabric, but there was something oddly innocent and appealing about her.

“How did you get down here?" she asked, joining Ronan at the bottom of the hill.

“I thought I'd go for a walk," he grumbled. he tried to sit up but his muscles gave out.

Ronan lay there panting and gasping.

“The poison is spreading quickly," the witch said.

She was already kneeling at his side.

Ronan studied her face. She had tanned skin, naturally dark, and black hair plaited into a braid that went all the way down her back. Whisps of course, wiry hair stuck out from the braid at odd angles.

Her hands were delicate. He'd noticed that when she applied the poultice. Her fingers were long and slender, working quickly to remove the remnants of the healing herbs she'd put on.

She had brown eyes that stayed focused on her task, her nose crinkling adorably as she concentrated. She was so petite. Unlike the women he was accustomed to. The women in his pack were athletic, and most of them were tall, too.

Despite himself, Ronan felt a smirk tug at his lips.

She couldn't know the danger she'd put herself in, attempting to help him.

Then again, maybe she did know and just didn't care.

“Will the others come for you?" she asked.

“What?" Ronan arched an eyebrow at her. He'd been so focused on watching her, that he hadn't understood her question.

“The other wolves, will they come for you?"

Ronan shook his head. He propped his head up on his arm so he could see her better while she tended to him. “They probably think I'm dead," he admitted.

Willow nodded. “This is going to sting."

Ronan gritted his teeth as she produced a small vial of blueish liquid.

The witch popped the cork out and slathered some on her fingers. Then she ran them around the edge of his wound.

Ronan gritted his teeth. It was like hot coals being pressed against his skin, searing and burning the nerves raw.

He groaned, then opened his mouth and roared. His voice echoed through the trees, disturbing more birds that took to the skies.

“That's good," the witch said.

“Good?" Ronan barked.

She was wetting her fingers with the antidote again.

“If it didn't hurt so much, the damage would be irreversible. The decay spread too far," she explained.

Ronan nodded and braced himself for the next application.

It seemed like it took forever for her to apply the antidote to each wound.

He was so relieved when it was over, that he didn't even argue when she applied a fresh poultice. He welcomed the numbing effects as they dulled the other pain.

Ronan's eyes crossed a little, stuck somewhere between unbearable pain and blissful numbness.

“You'll need to drink the rest of this," Willow said, dangling the vial in front of his eyes.

“Seriously?" he asked, his eyes snapping back into focus.

“And I'll have to bring you more tomorrow. Fortunately, you'll just have to drink it from now on. That won't be as painful," she explained.

“I thought magical antidotes cured things instantly," Ronan muttered, snatching the vial and sniffing it.

A strong scent of garlic, and other unknown ingredients, filled his nostrils. His stomach turned and he scrunched up his nose.

“You really don't know anything about magic," Willow said, laughing a little.

Ronan rolled his eyes and drank the potion quickly in one gulp. It struck the inside of his throat like acid. It felt like his esophagus was melting, all the way down to his stomach.

He grabbed his throat, hissing, and spitting. For a moment, he thought she'd purposely done something to kill him.

“Y-you…!" he gasped.

“It will pass," she assured. Timidly, she reached a hand out. She touched his shoulder lightly, then pulled away quickly.

Ronan was too focused on his melting stomach to push her off. He felt her hand come in contact with him again and remain.

He didn't pull away or snarl.

A warm, comforting touch was rare in his world. Mostly, he felt fur. Skin on skin was what he craved.

He tried to ignore the fact that he was being comforted by his enemy.

Her touch was gentle and soft but he could feel the power in her fingers. Power that could just as easily destroy him.

“You should be strong enough soon to get back to the cave. Unless you have somewhere else you'd like to stay?" Willow asked.

Ronan sighed and shook his head. “The cave is fine."

“I left a basket of food up there. I wasn't sure… well, I don't know what wolves eat, other than meat. But I brought some bread and cheese and mutton stew," she said.

Ronan's stomach growled as if it had ears of its own. “That will do."

He lay still a few moments longer and then tested his strength. Already, he felt much stronger than he had that morning. He got to his feet and headed back to the cave.

He felt the witch following along, several paces behind.

When he got to the cave, Ronan sat down again, grateful to be off his feet. He sighed and pulled his boots off, wiggling his toes against the cool stone.

“It will take a while for your strength to return. You'll need daily doses of the antidote until your wounds heal fully. I'll bring more tomorrow with some more food."

Ronan glanced at the girl. She was hovering in the mouth of the cave.

“Are you expecting a 'thank you?'" he asked bitterly.

Willow giggled and shook her head. “I'd never expect something so civilized from a beast."

Ronan's jaw dropped as the girl fluttered away on bare feet.

She was far from innocent.