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The Blood War

Chapter eleven

“Did you SEE what I did?” Bone cried without looking over to that which he spoke to. He was dreamwalking, standing at the edge of the wolves’ camp and watching the young coywolf as she spoke to two, elegant white wolves. Their words, whatever they were discussing, were slurred and muddled, as they always were when he dreamwalked.

“I did,” came the reply, carried on a patient, soft voice with immense elegance. He sighed, turning his head to look at the white wolf, paws dusted by starlight and mist, that stood behind him, her olive-green eyes full of compassion. “And I know that it wasn’t you who did it. It never is, Bone. You’re a monster at heart, sure. Anyone who has to live forever is. But aren’t we all, truly monsters at heart?”

He looked away again, down at his paws as they scuffed the dirt. “You aren’t, Journey. You are not a monster at heart, because you’re still willing to talk to me after all that I do.”

A cold, wet nose laid over the back of his ear, and he twitched, swiveling his head around to look at her again. “I’ve seen you murder,” she said softly, her tail swishing against her hind legs. “I’ve watched you massacre innocent wolves simply for the temporary taste of blood. But I have also seen your compassion.”She padded over, brushing herself against his currently-intact fur. “Your heart, beneath those layers of pain, and suffering, and death, is active and alive.”

He looked back to the coywolf, shaking her head wearily as she tried to sit back on her haunches, halted by the pain which he had inflicted upon her.

“Do you remember when we met,” Journey said, sitting beside him and watching the pack with a warm glow to her eyes, “and you told me that the world works things out in funny ways? Your name was Bone, and look at you. My name was Journey, and look at the journey I had to take. Do you know the name of this coywolf?”

Bone took a deep, slow breath, breath rattling in is chest. “Her name is Outlander,” Journey went on, her voice gentle. “An outcast to her own pack. She can’t fit in anywhere; not in the coyote pack, and now, not in this wolf pack. Unsure of what to do, but she wants so desperately to find a place where she belongs.

“Like you.” Journey looked back to him, and he met her eyes this time, trying not to wince beneath her words. “You fit in nowhere,” she continued, shaking her head slowly. “But look back at generations of those with The Gift. Did they ever fit in, either? No; because nothing great ever comes from ordinary.”

She leaned forward and put her forehead against his. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, a clamor of thoughts filling his head. “So don’t be ordinary, Bone. Don’t even wish for it. For the longest time, you’ve been the trampled plant beneath the feet of others’ success, hoping that you’ll finally decay and leave the world. But perhaps this is a time for change; an opportunity for new buds to spread.”

Journey pulled away from him, turning and beginning to pad into the forest. She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “So don’t try and decay, Bone.” He blinked slowly, shifting his tail slowly over the dirt.

“Bloom.”

- President Loki

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