บททั้งหมดของ Elf To Tame A Werewolf: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

CYRANWe walk on more cautiously than before; even Fareedah doesn't say a word. Her wound has healed completely shut, but there's an air to her now, like she could spring on the person next to her at the slightest inclination.I take the lead, following tracks wholly unfamiliar to me, but Quain points out occasional landmarks. He opted to stay behind me, claiming I'm the one with the arrows and the magic.Presently, the trees are getting closer, the canopy heavier. I know this route; further ahead, and I'd be reliving my first attack. 'Our cottage should just be over the knoll beyond those trees,' I point out. 'There's a shortcut,' Saelyna says, staring at a scanty path to our left. It leads to the road from the glade, straight to our cottage. 'Too easy. And easy is not good,' Quain declares, 'Let's take this path. The forest air is choking me'. 'We need to be fast,' Fareedah says, 'I say we take the shortcut'. Quain curse under his breath but trudges after Saelyna all the same, leavi

SAELYNAI try to find the part of the house that would have been the library, but I can't. I curse under my breath when ash beters my mouth and it's all I can do not to scream. Deep breaths, I remind myself.Then Fareedah sniffs at the air again and my fury switches to an onset of fear. It's the third time she’s done that since we started the search. ‘What is it?’ I ask worriedly, stealing a glance back at Cyran where he stands on alert behind us, his bowstring drawn taut with alert. ‘I think I smell smoke’. Quain kicks at a pile of ash, squinting down at the white dust that descends on him. ‘We’re surrounded by the aftermath of an inferno. I reckon you would smell smoke. You’d have to,’ he says, not unkindly. Fareedah’s nostrils flare a bit, but she doesn’t say anymore; she turns back to the debris, her face hooded as it had been since we left Eldad. ‘Are you alright?’ She smiles wanely. ‘I suppose I am,’ she says quietly. Her gaze turns distant and she adds, ‘I wasn’t close to Sera…

CAIVANMother spoke of a small number of elves as being a stubborn and sometimes, proud people, but Saelyna makes the competition tougher.I kick at a stone, sending it through the forest at breakneck speed. Something is off, and it's not just the smell of decay that signals recent use of xanten.I can't fathom the root of my vexation. I ought not to give a fuck if her village was pillaged and she wanted to stay and get captured or worse. So why do I feel…this way?Because you're human, asshat.I want to laugh at the small voice in my head. If only I'd see myself as "human". Monster, more like, even though the pack would look like they had forgotten. All the more reason to keep in check with this stubborn, half-wit.A turn to the left, and I stumble down a slope into a clearing. Here, the smell of burning flowers and bones is overwhelming. I gag as I push myself to my feet, and hold back from retching when I glance up.The glade is wide, as large as a half of Eldad, and looks to have

CYRANQuain slips off like a hare once we arrive Eldad, while Fareedah lingers with Saelyna for a while. I don't listen to what they say, and I'm to exhausted to wait for her; mentally and physically. The safety and solitude of the hut (if somehow temporary) is what I seek. My heart leaps when I spot him standing there, in front of the hut. Someone had braided his hair back, in long, thick plaits that accentuate the amber-flecked brown eyes. He's wearing a white flannel shirt revealing his muscled torso, and a black leather trouser. An entirely different look. Makes him almost human. And handsomer than the wolf without a left eye. I try hard to keep a passive face, so hard. But when he steps closer with a small smirk on his lips, I let done my guard a notch and I find myself smiling back. 'Hey. Are you alright?' he asks, bending closer to get a proper look at my face, 'You look…pale'. I feel the grin disappear from my face with the flash of fires, the smell of death that had filled

SAELYNA The prophecy, her eyes mean to say, even though she doesn't mention it. She doesn't know how much I know, how much Quain must have told me. The thought that our lives had been a cover, a facade, drains me of emotion, and all I can do is sink into a chair next to me. Veesa's rocking chair, I realize. How many nights had Earmon been here, while she rocked in its wooden seat, talking our future over with her? Argell? Our parents? I open my mouth to speak, but she must have guessed my thoughts, because she shakes her head. 'No. Your parents tried as much as they could to shield you as well as they could from the pains and troubles of the outside world. But then, it became inevitable, once your mother had made that prophecy'. 'Only it was for nothing, right?' I say quietly, 'Xanwed now knows about us'. Her look is sad, almost pitiful, and it makes my temper boil. 'I've always suspected the Nordinger boy; after all, blood runs thick. The usurper is wily, too wily for a deer-genn.