Shadows of The Past (4)
882 Words
The forest was alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. The rustle of leaves and the distant howl of wolves made her feel both vulnerable and connected to something greater.
She gripped the cloak wrapped around her shoulders, drawing it closer as the cool night air bit into her skin.
Her body ached as she stepped into the dense woods surrounding the Bloodmoon Pack's territory. Training had ended hours ago, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins wouldn't let her rest. She needed space: to breathe, to think.
Her mind wandered back to Killian. For days, she’d felt his gaze linger during her training. She couldn't decipher his intentions. Was there more to his scrutiny of was he testing her limits?
“Why are you out here alone?”
She spun around, heart racing. Killian stood a few feet away, his figure bathed in moonlight. His dark hair glinted silver under the light, and his sharp eyes pierced through her.
“I needed some air,” she said.
Killian stepped closer, with his commanding presence. "It's dangerous out here, especially for someone like you."
She bristled. “Someone like me? You mean someone who doesn’t belong here?”
He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve proven you’re tougher than you look. But there's more to being safe."
"I can take care of myself."
“Is that what you told your old pack?” his voice was low but his words punched her gut.
Her breath caught, and for a moment, she couldn’t respond. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know more than you think,” he said, his tone softening. “You carry scars you don't show anyone. And trust me, I know what it's like. You're still carrying the weight of their rejection."
The air between them grew heavy. Ava’s fingers curled into fists as she fought the emotions threatening to rise.
“Why do you care?” she asked, in a whispery volume.
"Because I'm yet to trust you. And until I do, I need to know what drives you."
She glared at him, anger and confusion bubbling over. "You're the one who brought me here. If you didn't trust me, then why didn't you just leave me to die?"
He said nothing. The silence was deafening and for a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer.
"I saw potential," it came finally.
She turned away, her chest tightening. She had no idea what she'd expected him to say, but that wasn't it.
"You see me as some project for you to fix," her voice quaked.
"I never said you were," he replied.
She looked back at him, searching his face for any sign of deceit. But his face was a mask she couldn't penetrate.
Without another word, she turned and walked deeper into the woods, needing to put the distance between them.
~
By morning she'd arrived at the training grounds, determined to push last night's memory from her mind. Marcus greeted her with a nod, his approval evident in the way he handed her a heavier staff than before.
“You’re moving up,” he said simply.
The warriors regarded her differently now. The mocking glances were replaced by curious stares and begrudging nods of respect.
As she sparred with one of the younger warriors, a sense of purpose that she'd never felt surge through her. Her movements were sharper, her strikes more precise. She fought to thrive.
But as the day wore on, an unease settled over her. Whispers rippled through the pack, and the tension in the air was palpable.
"What's going on?" she asked Marcus during a break.
He frowned, darkening his usual jovial expression. "Rogue activity near the borders. Killian's taken a patrol out to investigate."
She'd heard stories about rogues, their savagery and of packs torn apart by their attacks. They were enough to inspire fear.
"Shouldn't we prepare?"
"We're always prepared." Marcus said, but the worry in his eyes betrayed him.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the unease grew into full-blown dread. She paced the length of the training grounds, her thoughts racing.
When the howls echoed through the night, every muscle in her body tensed. It wasn’t a howl of celebration or warning— it was a cry of pain.
“They’re back,” Marcus said grimly, his hand going to the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist.
Ava followed him to the edge of the pack’s territory, her heart frenzied. The returning patrol was battered and bloodied, their expressions grim.
Killian was at the front, his shirt torn and stained with blood. His eyes locked on Ava as he approached, his usual composure replaced by something raw and unguarded.
“We have a problem,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of his words.
“What happened?” Marcus asked, his tone urgent.
Killian’s jaw tightened. “The rogues aren’t just attacking. They’re looking for something — or someone.”
Ava’s blood ran cold. She didn't have to ask. It was written all over Killian's face.
The weight of the pack’s stares bore down on her as realization dawned. She was at the center of whatever the rogues wanted and she had no idea why.
- Writer
