Chapter 7
1125 Words
~ANORA~
The man stared long and hard at his bleeding shoulder, a mixture of disbelief and disappointment etched across his face. His gaze returned to me followed by a shake of his head.
"It is nothing to worry about."
My face twisted into a doubtful frown.
"I assure you this is nothing," he said again.
There was no doubt that he would heal, but by the moon goddess, something was amiss about this man. Despite his seemingly powerful appearance, his injury history was questionable. First was the scars I saw on his body. Then the wound which should have healed by now.
Balancing the deer over his shoulder, he strode past me, avoiding my gaze. He set it down and started a fire immediately. Then he set to work, cutting the deer open and washing the inside with the water from the large stone jar. Some parts of the skin he put aside. Possibly to be smoked later for his journey.
As I watched him, I couldn't help but feel useless with him doing the meal preparation.
My culinary skills were exquisite as testified by the visitors that came to my home back in the Ravenstone pack. No matter how much Guila had tried to downplay it, even she had to succumb to the sweetness of my meals.
"At least you are good at something," she had said one night after the visitors had left and I had taken the dishes to wash. Then with her nose raised high, she had left me in the kitchen with the mountain of dishes as my company.
I glanced at the sky, exhaling deeply. What would it benefit me to think about a place I did not even belong? None of the pack members had even shown an ounce of concern to look for me. No one had tried to follow me to the woods. It was clear to even the blind that I was no longer wanted there.
A pity it took ten years for me to realize a fact that had stared at me straight in the eye like a reflection in a mirror.
The scent of fresh roasted meat embraced my nose and brought my attention back to the cave. The preparation of the meat was complete with the man adding a strange ointment to parts of it.
Once again, my stomach announced my hunger with a loud growl and I clutched it, hoping he wouldn't hear. However, he looked at me.
"I believe your stomach has been patient enough." He cut out a part of the meat and placed it on a clean flat stone, offering it to me. He reached into his bag and retrieved some berries placing them alongside the meat.
Hunger took over critical thinking and I grabbed the meat only to be burned at my fingers. Wincing, I pulled my hand away, blowing at it.
"Well, that is to be expected," the man said, shaking his head slightly, a spell of amusement flashing in his eyes for a tiny moment. "You did not think the meat will cool because it will make it's way into your stomach, did you?"
A small glare was sent his way, despite my temptation to laugh at his second statement. I reached for the meat and tore a small piece of it, blowing it gently before having a taste. Savoring it, a hum of bliss made its way out of my lips, loud enough for him to hear.
"It is good, is it not?" He watched me in interest.
I nodded, reaching for a berry and eating it.
He took a bite of meat, a frown on his face.
"It is a day since we met and we have yet to be acquainted on a formal term," he said. "But should our paths cross again, I would appreciate it if I was familiar with your name. What is it?"
My lips parted in excitement and then the cruel reminder hit me once again. A strong grip of sadness clutched at my heart as I pointed to my throat and shook my head. The man's eyes widened in astonishment.
"This is beyond trauma," he half exclaimed. "You truly cannot speak?"
I nodded slowly, lowering my gaze to my knotted fingers.
"Where you...where you born like that?" His lowered voice brought my gaze to him.
I scratched my cheek gently with a finger, my lips tightening. Then my shoulders raised in a shrug.
"It is quite unfortunate," he spoke in a tone that was not condescending.
Rather, there was a touch of genuine sadness intertwined with pity within.
A frown stretched my lips. As much as I was appreciative of his empathy, the tone of pity did not bring much comfort to me.
I spotted a stick nearby and picked it up, then began to write on the soil. His gaze followed my strokes until I finished writing a word.
'Anora.'
"Anora," he repeated out loud. "That is quite a unique name. I have never heard of such."
I smiled for a moment until he asked the next question.
"What pack do you come from?"
Frowning, my hold on the stick tightened as I wrote again.
'Ravenstone Pack.'
"Ah." He nodded slowly, although his face was unreadable.
I wrote on the soil again
'What is your name?'
"My name is Darius," he spoke, his chest rising in pride.
And then a shadow of sadness fell upon his face. "I was the Alpha of the Blackridge pack."
Was? A frown graced my face and I wrote on the soil.
'Did something happen to your pack?'
His jaw hardened, a scene I had not witnessed in seemingly forever. His eyes reflected a fire of rage.
"Someone, not something." His voice was almost a dangerous whisper.
And it sent a message of reality to me. I wrote on the soil once again.
'You are a rogue.'
He glanced at the words, and his lips tightened as if they were an abomination.
"Yes." He looked up at me. "And that is the reason why I thread my path alone. The person responsible is still out there lurking in the shadows. And I must bring him to justice."
I glanced down at my hands, a heavy weight of sadness falling on to my soul.
"You seem like a good person, Anora," he spoke. "I hope your journey would bring you much joy to soothe the pain that you nurse."
I glanced up to meet his gaze, but my attention shifted to his shoulder and a gasp departed my lips.
"What is it?" He stiffened, eyes alert.
I pointed to his shoulder where the blood slowly flowed.
Contrary to his words and aligning with my earlier fears, the wound had still not healed.
- Writer
