Chapter 2- On the road

[CW- This chapter includes body horror toward the end of the chapter. Please look after yourself while reading.]

It wasn’t even a week later that Peggy was packed and being sent off. In soft but warm traveller's clothes and sturdy boots, Peggy looked out at the entrance to the capital city, Leviathorp. Aurellia handed her the letter and a large backpack full of supplies and some money.

“I’ve given you a silver-tipped sword and some daggers,” Aurellia said. Peggy’s eyes widened as she saw the long blade attached to her bag. She took it off and examined it. She had been taught how to fence with practice swords that were tipped with cork. This… This was a real sword.

“Thank you,” Peggy said gratefully.

“Of course. Be safe,” Aurellia smiled.

“I will,” Peggy nodded eagerly.

She trotted down the cobbled streets, eagerly looking around the city’s stone and brick buildings. She passed through the flower market, resisting the urge to buy anything she didn’t need, and wandering toward the path to the mountains.

As soon as she stepped out of the city, she felt a sinking feeling. The mountains were way off in the distance. This was probably going to take her weeks, and every lazy instinct in her told her to go home and go to bed.

Oh, it was so tempting to follow those instincts...

She grit her teeth and kept walking, knowing if she went home now, she’d be a disgrace.

Worse than that, Aurellia would be disappointed in her.

So, on toward the edge of Albiontё she went.

One mile in, she was already feeling some fatigue.

Two miles in, she sat down on a tree stump. She looked back, expecting the city to look smaller. Instead, she could still hear the flower market from here. Groaning, she got back to her journey.

Four miles in, it started feeling less hellish. Her legs got used to the rhythm of the walk, and her eyes were scanning the countryside. Even though her family ruled over most of these lands, she had never actually been outside to see any of them before.

Ten miles in the city started to look smaller. Her eyes felt strange from having looked at mostly green fields all day. The sky sometimes looked slightly pink.

Fifteen miles in the sun was about to start dipping in the sky.

“I should find somewhere to sleep for the night…” she murmured. While she disliked her lessons, she had retained some survival information. Stay warm, find shelter, find water.

Sixteen miles in, she saw the edge of a forest. The treeline extended deep into the mountains it seemed, and if there were trees like that, there was probably a river somewhere nearby.

“That should do,” she yawned.

Camping isn’t something that royalty is repeatedly taught; it's expected that you'd have a maid or servant to do all this for you, even for those on a different family branch. That may explain why it took Peggy almost an hour to set up her tent. It promptly fell down and took another thirty minutes to right. Eventually, though, she had shelter. Sort of.

Dinner that night? Jerky.

She didn’t trust herself to make a fire in the woods when her tent had almost bested her.

“Maybe I should find an inn tomorrow,” she mumbled to herself as she sat on the floor.

“I think you should,” a voice came. She screamed and took her sword in hand, pointing it toward the source of the voice. Looking down at her was an older man with a thick beard and ragged clothes. His eyes unsettled her. They were pale but had this manic look. Like she was meat, and he was hungry.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I could ask you the same,” he growled slightly, hunching down.

“D- don’t come any closer!” Peggy cried out.

“Aw, what?” the man asked, his head turning at unnatural angles until his forehead was parallel with his chest. “Scared of the big bad wolf?”

He growled, and his bones snapped with sickening cracks. His eyes blazed red as patchy fur erupted across his skin and mangy wolf ears sprouted from his skull. He smelled like blood and turpentine.

“S- stay back!” Peggy cried. The rogue wolf ran at her and swatted her arm, sending the sword flying. Blood spilled from her wrist.

The wolf laughed and lunged forward, his jaws aiming for her neck.

This was it…

This was how Peggy died…

“Look out!” a man shouted, stabbing the rogue wolf through the chest. It let out a loud whimper as the sword pierced its thick skin.

Peggy looked up at her savior. Tall. Blond-haired. Eyes that gleamed in the firelight. No, there was no fire. They just... glowed.

A werewolf.

Who was this?