5 Chapter 5: Returning (2)
After a walk for a while, Sascha paused, her exhaustion digging her claws into his seized mind. She looked back, the forest a blur in the background.
"Far enough." She decided and with a grimace sat down on the side of the path. With a shrug, Sascha discarded the cloak. She placed the piece on her lap so she could study it carefully. Instantly the cold made her clench her teeth. Her clothes hung in tatters from her body and while it was better than going naked, the truth did nothing to mitigate the piercing chill of dawn.
She breathed, and cold white smoke billowed from her lips.
She studied the mantle carefully. Slender, pale fingers outlined the work on the inside of the leather lining. The Sigil flashed with remnants of residual mana when they came into contact. Sascha traced the arcs and lines of the meticulous tracing with the tip of one finger. She deciphered the words of the spell with ease. It was a cloak of concealment, the Sigil traced on the inner lining of her, a Sigil of shadow and darkness.
The cloak must be from the monster.
"Charming, kind monster." She scoffed and more disturbed than she allowed herself to admit, she Sascha stood up abruptly. Her body protested, clearly reminding him of the abuse she subjected him to during the evening and most of the night. The blood ran hot for a few seconds and her cheeks and ears burned.
Was she blushing? she?
"Damn you, Sascha." She patted her cheeks and groaned under her breath. She wrapped the cloak tightly against her body and took one last look at the forest before setting off again.
Sascha reflected throughout the journey. With a calmer mind than the day before, she considered everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours, analyzing the events from different angles. She couldn't be sure, not a hundred percent, but she believed she sensed why James had betrayed her.
She would confirm it for herself, because if there was one thing she hated it was not knowing. Although that didn't change anything. Sascha would not forgive a betrayal, regardless of her reasons behind it.
She reached the top of a promontory and scanned the rooftops of Arden's huts in the distance. The village slept in the silver moonlight. Sascha stopped and for a second she watched the tracing of the network of trails within the limits of the town, to the stone fences delimiting each plot of cultivated land and family houses. If she tried hard, she even she could see the central plaza from where she was standing.
Not only had she thought of James on the way, but the monster had also filled her thoughts with disturbing intensity.
"I survived a monster, now let's survive humans." Keeping quiet about what happened was the only way she had to protect herself from things that happened to monster whores. She trembled once. She sucked in a slow, calming breath and registered the scent permeating her mantle.
Musky, wild, male, wolf.
She steadfastly ignored the scent and descended, following the network of trails by heart to the plaza. She wouldn't go to the farm, no damn way she would. She would return, of course. Only not now, not when her dress was a shattered piece and her entire body smelled of sex and man.
A small pang of satisfaction filled her, who knew? She did have a vengeful bone in her body after all.
She eye for an eye, treason for treason.
Even if she was the only one to know.
She stopped at the door of the Apothecary. She held the door handle closed and let a wisp of mana enter the device. The mechanism clicked and the door unlocked for her. She cracked the door open and peered inside.
There was light inside. Leaning against the carved wooden counter, a mana lamp illuminated the Apothecary's sales area. Light flashed, glinting off the glass cabinets where ampoules of elixirs and containers of medicinal pills were displayed for sale.
She couldn't see the sides, but as far as she could see everything was clear. With a sigh, she opened the door wide, and… the brass bell rang with her usual signature sound. She jumped in surprise and entered with a virulent curse muttered.
"Who's there?"
Sascha closed her eyes tightly and cursed harder in her heart, just as she hoped the old apothecary had been waiting for her.
For once, can't things go the way I want?
"It's me." Sheamus rose and in two strides reached her. The old man was tall and thin as a reed and just as strong and flexible. His age-white hair hung wildly down to his shoulders. Her apothecary robe was a mess squeezed over her body, certainly thanks to her falling asleep on the couch while he waited for her. The old man rubbed his coppery eyes, dispersing the dream.
Please don't ask me anything. Please do not do it. I don't want to lie to you, not you. He prayed fervently inside her enduring the scrutiny of her teacher's concerned gaze.
"Are you okay?" Sascha looked up in surprise, although she shouldn't. She knew better than anyone that the Old Man was not in the habit of going where he was not required.
"Yes." She admitted herself after careful consideration. Her wolf hadn't done him any real harm and except for the first few moments he took her in, he'd been careful. If she didn't know better he would have thought he was worried about hurting her.
"Do you want to talk about it?" She shook her head. The Old Man sighed, his expression was exasperated and he seemed to say "I imagined it" but when he spoke, all he said was.
"Okay then. Take a bath, change, and try to rest. Tomorrow will be a bloody long day. "
Oh. Sascha imagined it would be. she was counting on it. The fire of her anger flared softly inside her, like an elixir synthesized simmering for hours, her blood boiling calmly in her veins.
She thought she knew what happened, but that doesn't put out the fire inside her. On the contrary, she exacerbated it.
Her stomach growled, diverting her attention to something else. For the first time since she woke up, she realized that she was starving. No, not hungry, she was starving.
"There is food in the pantry. Take that shower and I'll bring it to you. "
She nodded silently and disappeared into the back of the Apothecary. She went through the workshop and into the back rooms, where her apprentice cubicle and her bathroom were. There was another bathroom on the second floor, but that was for Sheamus' personal use.
She pulled clean clothes from the chest at the foot of her single bed. She looked around the room. The cubicle was a two-by-two-meter drawer and there was only room for a single bed, a wooden chest, and a tiny wooden desk. She had never needed to use the piece. She supposed that had changed and she thanked the Spirits that she would not stay on the proverbial street.
She climbed the stairs to the second floor thirty minutes later with fresh skin, clean clothes, and more tired than she was before. If it weren't for the hole in the bottom of her stomach demanding food, he would certainly do without her.
Her stomach growled, once again, wordlessly telling her not to think about it.
She finished climbing the last steps. The staircase was between the workshop and the sales area and led to the living room of the Old Man's apartment.
The room was spartan, with only the bare minimum and books everywhere. Twice a week, her Sascha would come and give the Old Man's apartment a thorough cleaning.
Her stomach growled louder. Luckily, the Old Man had kept her word, and although he was nowhere - which she thanked profusely - the promised plate of food was right where she expected. On the wooden table at the foot of the windows. She stopped at the table and still standing, she fell into the bowl full of bread, cheese, and rabbit stew as if she hadn't eaten in three days. She devoured the food in quick, efficient bites, a few minutes later she was finished, her stomach swollen and full.
With a satisfied sigh, she drank the juice from the glass and carried everything to the apartment kitchen. She died of sleep she crawled to her cubicle on the first floor and fell exhausted on her narrow straw mattress.
The next time she opened her eyes, a beam of light came through the window, illuminating the bedroom. But it was not the clarity of a new day that woke her. No, it was the sound of two men arguing.
