Claiming the mind-bound human bride

Chapter2

Valeska Auden's

I couldn't shake the fear in my gut.

I dropped into the wet ferns, cold mud soaking through my pants. I covered my mouth and held my breath.

Gero was down there.

A metal clink came from the darkness. Then something heavy dragged across the ground.

Someone was trying hard not to cry out.

I started crawling down the slope. My boots slipped in the loose dirt. Thorns scratched my jaw and cut my palms, but I kept going.

Whenever my fingers caught the silver thread, I wrapped it around my thumb and pulled it free from the bushes, making sure I didn't leave any behind.

Then the sky opened up.

Heavy rain poured down the hillside, turning the dirt into a muddy slide.

“No,” I breathed.

I blinked against the rain, but the silver thread disappeared beneath the moving mud.

I threw myself forward and slid on my stomach. My fingers caught exposed roots as I tried to slow myself before reaching the edge of the cliff.

My hands shook as I held on to the wet wood.

Fifteen years ago, the militia had fought and bled against these same stones. I still remembered my mother whispering in the dark.

She talked about Lady Feodora, the advisors, and the old guilds names an apothecary's wife was never supposed to know.

Then one night, she went to the border stone and never came back.

The next morning, my father locked her wooden boxes with iron padlocks. He left her remaining cloaks hanging on the wall and pulled me away from the ridge whenever I looked toward it.

Deep voices carried through the rain. They were low and rough.

I stayed beneath the tree roots and listened.

The silver thread ended at the stone archway. It was tied around a rusty iron ring set deep into the stone.

The village elders had chained the heavy wooden doors shut ten years ago.

Now the iron padlock lay broken in the mud.

I leaned closer.

The broken edges were bright and clean, with fresh chisel marks across the metal.

Someone had broken it recently.

I pressed my back against the wet stone wall and looked at the door. It was open by an inch.

I held my breath and reached for the wood. I pushed it open just enough to slip inside.

It was completely dark.

The air smelled of wet dirt and old iron.

Then I caught another smell.

Fresh lamp oil.

I dropped to one knee and ran my hand over the dirt near the entrance. My fingers hit something hard and cold.

Gero's tin lantern.

The glass was cracked, and the metal handle was bent to one side. The metal was twisted where someone had pulled it.

Right beside it, a fresh footprint was pressed deep into the wet clay.

I ran my thumb around the edge of the heel.

It wasn't a shifter's bare foot, and it wasn't Gero's heavy, limping boot mark either.

The pattern looked familiar.

I had seen it many times on the village guards' boots. The small hobnails along the soles left the same marks.

I stared at the print.

Why was a guard's boot down here, at a mine that had been sealed for years?

Had someone from the militia come here before me? Or had a human brought Gero down here?

A crunch of gravel came from outside.

I froze.

I backed out of the mine and pulled the door shut behind me.

Then I squeezed into the hollow beneath a shelf of tree roots.

Two large shapes moved across the clearing.

They wore clothes like men, but their boots stayed steady on the wet rocks. They moved quietly, their bodies bending and twisting in ways I had never seen a human move.

“Smells like wet iron and rot down here,” the deeper voice growled.

“We should've just broken the kid's neck at the boundary fence.”

“The Alpha wants him inside the mountain,” the other one snapped. “Keep moving. Hartwig wants no tracks left before the watch rotates.”

I pressed myself deeper under the roots.

Rain ran down my face and soaked through my clothes. I stayed there until their footsteps faded.

My fingers were stiff from the cold.

A human apprentice being dragged into the forbidden mines. Hartwig changing the border patrol schedule.

I waited until the ravine was quiet before crawling back into the open.

I looked toward the ruined oak tree.

The marks on the bark. The silver thread caught in the briars. Gero being taken at the exact time the watch changed.

I pulled the small leather journal from inside my tunic and turned my back to the wind. My fingers shook as I held the charcoal stub.

I drew the ravine, the distance to the border stone, and the broken mine entrance.

The elders had to see what I had found before they decided what happened to Gero.

I shoved the journal back into my shirt and took a slow step into the brush.

Snap.

A dry twig broke under my boot.

The forest went quiet.

A low growl came from the granite shelf above me.

I looked up.

A wolf stood five feet above me.

It was as big as a carriage horse. Rain soaked its black coat and ran down its face.

Its yellow eyes stayed fixed on mine.

Then it pulled back its lips.

Long fangs showed through the wet fur around its mouth. Thick saliva hung from them.