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Waning Unity

Chapter Eight

“Please …”

Fraser’s voice came out as a pitiful hoarse whine. He was refusing to lift his head; he was refusing to move at all, Lume noticed. She looked at him a moment and tilted her head to the side. “Are you broken?” She asked, watching his ragged breaths. She knew most wolves were fragile things, always breaking bones and bruising themselves. The trail of snapped branches lying around them was evidence that the frail little wolf had taken quite a fall, and he was clearly in pain.

He ignored her question and shut his eyes again. “Please, have mercy.”

Mercy? What would she have to show mercy for? “You aren’t in danger,” she responded, raising her brow though she knew he was no longer looking at her.

“So what … you came to save me, not tear out my throat?”

“Wouldn’t it have made more sense to let you hang in that tree and starve if I was content with your death?”

There was silence save for a choir of locusts chirping to one another in the dark of night. Fraser opened his eyes again, looking directly at her. “You said you weren’t here to protect me. Why come back? Why do the exact opposite of what you said?” There was panic creeping into his voice. She couldn’t tell exactly what he thought of her, but she was certain her coat had returned back to its ethereal white tone. What was he so afraid of?

She remained silent, unable to answer the question. Why had she come back? Was it the voice perhaps, calling her back to the surface and dragging her from the bottom of the pit, pulling her back to the light?

He waited for a response, and then saw he would receive none, so he stared start ahead at some brush in the distance.

“Harrier … Boa … did you …” he trailed off. “Are they dead?” He asked with a frightened finality.

Again, Lume was silent. In truth, she hadn’t stayed to see the final result of her dangerous influence, but she knew few wolves escaped the hysteria she caused with their lives intact. Still, there was always the chance of survivors.

Fraser waited once again for a response that would not come. Then, he raised his head, straining against the pain clearly raking its claws through his body. “Won’t you tell me anything?! You made them turn on each other … you made them turn on me!”

At the shock of such anger from the normally timid little wolf, Lume continued to stare at him in the silence, not denying the accusation. “So,” Fraser muttered lowering his head. “It really was you.” His ears dropped with his tone, no longer angry, but deeply saddened. She could see the threat of tears on his eyes as he slowly dropped his head back onto the rock, and she

knew she had wounded him somehow.

Despite his obvious pain and fright, Fraser was clearly not one to give up. He was a survivor, and he was blatantly optimistic.

Perhaps things had gone sour with Harrier and Boa, but that didn’t mean the end of his little quest, that Lume was sure of.

She waited, waited for him to send her away, tell her she was dangerous, something like she had faced in the past, but he said nothing, just kept staring ahead.

Besides his quest, there was something else about her that intrigued him. She had noticed an inquisitive nature about him, an intense curiosity. Maybe it was the intrigue of Lume’s very existence, the mystery of what she was. To be honest, she wouldn’t have minded knowing herself.

The locusts continued to sing and she waited until Fraser’s eyes drooped with sleep before padding off and returning with a jackal dangling from her jaws, dropping it in front of the injured wolf. He would need time to recover, both physically and mentally, from this encounter. She didn’t mind the wait; she had time.

~CL1

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