Chapter 3 - The Last Lap

Its sides glittered with silver that shined under moonlight. 

One torch fell from a village man's hand and went out. Instinctively, they all knelt and bowed.

The carriage slowly moved forward. Sharp-edged and unmistakable: the mark of the Lycans city of Theartera.

A man dared to lift his head. From one stallion, a rider's pale eyes met his, infinite and cold. Then, the rider's voice, smoothly rose.

"Continue. My lord will bring her in himself."

The carriage rattled past, raising dust.

The kneeling men stayed down until the sound faded. Even then, their limbs shook, sweat dripping despite the cold.

They didn't need to hunt.

The prince himself was in the woods and the girl was already his.

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Aeryl tugged open the tent flap, careful and hopeful for at least a little comfort.

Inside: mildew, rust and darkness. She exhaled, shaky, brushing hair from her damp face.

Just one night. Just enough to rest.

She bent to widen the entrance. Behind her, Myrrh smelled the grass, crunching the last of her treats.

"Hold on, Myrrh. You will have water now."

There was silence but unknown to her, a rider now sat at the clearing's edge on a black stallion.

The lycan prince.

He sat in the saddle, but his eyes burned like coals. Her scent reached him, sweet and maddening. Blood, fear, and something rarer lingering beneath.

His hunger sharpened. His jaw tightened.

Still, he waited, watching her tug at tent ties. Watching her mutter to herself. Watching her hands tremble. Watching her talk to her jumpy dog and check on her donkey every now and then.

It amused him to let her believe she was safe.

Then-

Snap.

His stallion's hoof crushed a branch.

The sound cracked through the clearing like thunder.

Aeryl spun with a scream. Her satchel fell, hands going for the knife at her belt. She yanked it out, both hands shaking around the knife. 

"Who's there?" Her voice cracked.

No reply.

"Who the hell are you?!"

More silence.

Then, the black stallion stepped forward. Same time, the moon slipped out from under the clouds. 

And she saw him.

Tall. Broad. Terrifying.

The prince.

His silver-red eyes gleamed from the distance, piercing straight through her.

Her scream disappeared in her throat. Her blood knew him before her mind did.

"Myrrh!" she sobbed as the dog barked, fur rising. The dog's little body shook, but he stood his ground.

"Come here!" she begged, dropping to one knee, arms out.

Myrrh shifted to her side. 

She scooped him up, clutching him so tightly his claws tangled in her gown. The knife fell from her shaky grip, clattering.

And she ran.

Branches whipped her skin, roots clawed at her skirts. Tears blurred her eyes. She didn't think. She only ran.

Behind her, silence.

The prince hadn't moved. Only kept watching.

He smirked in amusement.

"Run. The chase sweetens the taste." He murmured. 

She ran on and on but when she risked a glance back, the horse was standing alone now.

This was worse and it made Aeryl scream with pure anger and determination.

He was already on foot, moving without sound but she couldn't see him anywhere.

He was a hunter who already owned her.

Her lungs burned, heart hammering, but his presence never left.

She continued to run fast....

Until she ran into something hard.

The impact flung her backwards. She screamed as she fell to the ground.

Her spine stung so hard that she stopped breathing. 

Myrrh tumbled from her arms, the pup disappearing into the dark with a yelp.

"Myrrh!"

She scrambled, hands clawing the ground. Then, she froze.

MYRRH BIT HER TWICE.

She barely felt it. Instead, she was staring up.

Something stood over them, made from shadow but not moving like a hunter or coming close. It just stood there. His very pale face caught the moonlight and his still eyes reflected the moonlight without warmth.

This was not her father’s men.

Not the lycan prince even.

Something else.

The air around him felt wrong. Thin and cold. No scent of iron or roses or heat. Just a quiet pressure that made her skin prickle.

He did not speak or reach for her. He only stared openly.

Her stomach dropped. Not with the panic of being chased earlier, but with a sudden, terrible awareness. As if she had stepped into the way of something that had already known she would come this way.

She raised her fists anyway, terrified.

“Get away from us!” She screamed.

And it disappeared. 

Same time, arms like iron grabbed her from behind, crushing her back against a chest cold as stone.

This time, it was the lycan prince that had caught her.

She twisted and turned, violently. His silver-red eyes glowed down into hers.

Her breath shook, but she stammered in fury.

“W....what do you want from me? Stay back or I’ll kill you!”

At her feet, Myrrh barked wildly, snapping at the prince’s boots.

Then the air shifted.

Myrrh went rigid. His body tightened and his spine bent unnaturally. A high growl came from his throat like he was a beast. 

“What’s going on?” Aeryl gasped.

Myrrh’s head snapped back toward her.

He bit her ankle.

Pain flared sharp and hot. Blood spilled. She cried out and fell to her knees, clutching the wound.

Myrrh recoiled at once, whining, confused, as if he didn’t understand what he’d done.

The prince looked down as Aeryl reached to touch Myrrh, her other hand still holding her bloodied wound.

Something dark crossed his gaze.

“He's gone,” he said calmly.

He lifted one booted leg and pressed it down on Myrrh.

Myrrh’s mewls ended.

“No!”

Aeryl flung herself at the lycan prince, fists slamming into his chest.

“Stop! Stop it!”

He shoved her aside. She fell.

When she looked again, he was holding Myrrh up by the scruff, letting the dog dangle, growl and gnash his teeth.

“Please.” She sobbed. “Put him down. Don’t do this.”

She lunged but the prince’s hand twisted.

Snap.

Silence.

Myrrh became limp.

All Aeryl could hear was a hollow ringing in her ears.

"Myrrh is murdered, the lycan prince killed him." Her head noted.

Something inside her broke free. She screeched and attacked him, nails tearing, teeth sinking into his cloak. She bit down hard, snarling like a wild animal.

He caught her wrists and clasped them behind her back. Pain flared up her arms. His face remained calm.

She fought on. Kicking, biting, spitting, eyes blazing.

His hand lifted and brushed her hair from her face, slow and gentle.