30 Their suffering
It had been two days since Rose's escape.
The locked carriage, long in length, obviously a magical artifact made using soul energy like the collar about their necks was the vehicle used to ferry the werewolves.
Beside them and behind them were hunters mounted on horses, following steadily.
Amidst the relentless deluge, the carriages rumbled along the rutted path, creaking and groaning under the strain. The stench of wet fur mingled with the metallic tang of blood in the air, a sickening perfume that permeated the atmosphere.
The rain, like a thousand icy needles, lashed at the werewolves' exposed skin, sending shivers through their tortured bodies. Each drop felt like a cruel reminder of their captivity, a reminder of the freedom they once knew and the hell they now inhabited.
Cherry, once-lustrous skin now matted and stained with mud and blood, huddled with the others, her big brothers, Gray and Dan.
Her trembling form pressed against the cold, unforgiving metal of the carriage. However, Gray would always bring her close to feel his warmth. This was the only comfort she felt in this unforgiven condition.
Cherry's keen senses, once a source of pride, now only amplified the horrors around her. The pained whimpers and anguished cries of her fellow werewolves echoed in her ears, a symphony of suffering that played on a loop, etching itself into her very soul.
Of course, there was also the cursing image of her mother staring her in the eyes before taking her own life, drowning in her own blood.
At another side, a once-mighty Beta, elder Tam. His fur a patchwork of wounds and grime, lay crumpled in a corner, his powerful limbs shackled and bound.
The hunters had delighted in breaking him, in stripping away his dominance and reducing him to a mere shell of his former self. Deep gashes marred his once-proud face, his eyes, once fierce and commanding, now dulled with resignation.
In another corner, a she-wolf, her belly swollen with pups, whimpered in pain. The hunters, devoid of any humanity, had shown no mercy even to the unborn.
Her desperate cries of agony mingled with the pitiful mewling of her offspring, who had not yet drawn breath but were condemned to a life of misery from the moment of conception.
The air was thick with the acrid scent of fear and despair, a tangible presence that clawed at the throats of the captives.
The hunters, their faces twisted into masks of sadistic pleasure, had reveled in the suffering they inflicted.
With every jolt of the carriage, the werewolves were jostled, their wounds reopening, fresh blood mingling with rainwater and mud. The chains that bound them dug into their flesh, the metal biting into their skin with every movement.
Cherry, her innocent eyes now clouded with the horrors she had witnessed, clung tightly to Gray, her older brother and the last vestige of safety in this nightmare. Gray put a trembling arm around his sister, his own heart heavy with the weight of their shared misery.
There was also Dan. The injuries he suffered were not allowed to heal because of the collar around his neck. His suffering was even worse.
To sustain his strength, Gray had been giving him blood along the way, dripping it into his mouth at different intervals whenever he thought maybe Dan was about to give up the ghost.
Amidst the cacophony of suffering, the hunters found new ways to torment their captives.
Silver-tipped whips slashed through the air, leaving trails of searing pain in their wake. The crack of bone mingled with the howls of agony as the hunters, drunk on power, reveled in their brutality.
The she-wolf with pups, her eyes wide with terror, was a prime target. The hunters, devoid of any empathy, had torn her offspring from her very womb, the helpless cries of the newborns drowned out by the storm.
Gray and Cherry, though spared the worst of the physical torment because of Andrew's value for them, were not exempt from the psychological horrors.
They watched, their hearts broke, as their fellow werewolves endured unimaginable pain.
The rain, a relentless accomplice to the hunters' cruelty, washed away the werewolves' blood, leaving only traces of the brutality etched into their skin.
The once-vibrant hues of their coats were now obscured by a sickly blend of dirt, gore, and rainwater.
As the carriages trudged on through the night, the cries of the tormented werewolves merged with the howling wind, creating a haunting melody that seemed to echo the very lament of their souls.
The rain, unyielding in its assault, seemed to weep for them, its tears mingling with the blood that stained the earth. The very world, once a realm of beauty and wonder, had become a nightmarish landscape, a stage for the hunters' sadistic games.
In the midst of this nightmare, Gray clung to the tattered shreds of unyielding resolve. He had been through worse in his former life but for the others, it was not good.
The rain, like a baptism of suffering, washed away their old selves, leaving behind creatures molded by pain and despair.
The carriages continued their macabre procession through the rain and mud, each passing moment a testament to the endurance of the supernatural spirit.
With the suffering they endured, it was only natural that some would die along the way. And of course, they did.
Gray calculated that one of the many reasons for their suffering was because of Rose's escape but that was just a speculation he wanted to believe in.
A part of him still clung to the idea that human beings were inherently good and supernaturals were in the wrong.
But at the same time, evidence was before his eyes and pain evidence in his heart.
Although much pain and suffering had occurred these two days, Gray had used it as an opportunity to explore his new found power.
After all, he was a very knowledgeable man, and the bloodline ability he had was definitely not normal....
