Ashes To Ashes (Wolf Guard Book 2) (23 page)

Chapter 29

Dark days and darker nights.

Chains that wrapped a muzzle around the wolf.

One thick pole that tethered arms to wood.

Mud that sank a season into skin.

Was this memory or truth?

I tried to remember my last waking moment, the sun that beat its freedom on my itching flesh.

I was supposed to do something, supposed to be somewhere
.

Black chains that wrought a burning fire, like poison that slipped so gently beneath the skin, some innocent criminal on a puppeteers string.

Why was I chained?

The wolf was silent. Muted. Locked down and shut away. No matter how hard I strained, his body would not force its way through mine.

Had he left me?

I didn't want to be alone. I felt weak. Tired. Forgotten.

Water dripped through my hair, a tiny rivulet that ran slowly down my face. An itch that would drive me mad in minutes. I remember that itch. Hated the rain for every drop it sent to the earth, yearned for the sun only until it started to burn, then wished for the rain once more.

My wrists ache
.

Raw from rubbing against those chains, angry red welts from each desperate pull. Torn apart when desperate became frantic, willing to tear my hands off if only it meant I would be free.

Why am I still here?

I'd left this place. I know I had. I had been free. Running miles in a welcoming forest, letting the wolf roam without rope. Able to lift my hands to my face when that rain came pouring down.

The ground was sodden beneath my legs, the trousers I wore too light to keep the frigid cold from seeping through.

What trousers are these?

Had they dressed me while I'd been out?

My chest was bare - no shirt to match the trousers. Perhaps they intended to start on my back today - my legs too scarred to find new places to put their mark. But then, they'd never thought to dress me before, never allowed an ounce of dignity to resurface.

A feeling welled in my stomach. Anger that built in degrees until it became so hot, I could almost taste the ash on my tongue. Anger that would fall swiftly into helplessness and aching debilitation, such impotency it hurt to breathe.

Where is the witch?

I'd dreamt of her since the beginning of time, since I'd been lucid enough to remember. Pretty witch with golden eyes. Raven hair like midnight’s hour and skin as soft as silk. From tiny child to fully grown female I'd watched as she sprouted to bloom, saw every detail that made her until she seemed to bury herself in my soul.

Perhaps she's with these creatures, lurking in the shacks beneath the forests cover, hiding away in the woods they dangled before me like treats to a starving dog.

She was a dream like my dream of freedom - a lie the mind delivers to allow such deceitful escape.

I closed my eyes again, turned the light off so I could sink into dreams once more. Watch the witch I'd seen, meet the beast that was Wolf. Immerse myself in her fictional life, the one my subconscious had written like a play.

Odd that I'd imagined such a story, given a feeder a wolf and made it so pretty. Perhaps my brain was twisting reality, turning these monsters into animal to take the horror away. 

Come back Wolf
.

What had they done to him? He'd never left me before. I couldn't even feel his presence, like raging surf against the bone, a force of furious tide that crashes in challenge at his containment. They'd taken my voice with the beast, left me with only choking, gasping murmurs to whisper at the silence surrounding me. Panic fought fiercely to overtake, suffocate in some water logged drowning. I needed the wolf to breathe.

Footsteps sloshed through sticking mud. A single set that commanded I raise my head. An impossible ask when all my head wanted to do was fall.
I peered up through hair that straggled my face, damp and coarse from the morning's dew, dirt like insects clinging to my scalp. Large boots came into view, black and sturdy that came almost to calf. Shining with only spots of mud as if these boots had only today set a step within this village. Impossible to be so clean with so much dirt clinging to each and every surface. The boots stopped a foot from my own bare feet, pristine next to filth. I followed the trousers upwards, trousers so similar to ones I wore, seeing long legs that proved the man was tall.

Had he given me these trousers? Given me my dignity?

"Morning, lad."

I strained to lift my head just a little, pulling on muscles that ached in frozen position. Panting with exhaustion only to catch just a glimpse of reddish hair, beaming in the early sun as if lit from behind by searing fire. I opened my mouth and heaved out a breath, choking on air that failed to form a word, coughing spit instead of voice.

"It's alright, Lane. Donae have ta talk."

That accent seemed so familiar. A deep voice that rose and tilted, made words sound so much more elegant than they should be. He came closer. So close I could feel the heat of his body cutting through the wind that drifted slowly but chillingly around me. A canteen dangled across my vision, water splashing against the sides, the sound like heaven in this place I called hell. I strained against those chains once more, adamant I'd get this water he had, hysteria creeping along my nerves that he'd leave and take the bottle with him. I'd die to get what he offered.

"Here."

He opened the cap and hovered the bottle above my face, tipping it slowly when I opened my mouth and begged with wide eyes for him to let that liquid drop. Water that doused a blistering coal, turned flame to smoke and devoured that heat until I gasped and spluttered in greed. He took the canteen away, took it out of sight so that I struggled against my imprisonment to chase the hand that held it.

"You can have it again it a minute, lad. Get your breath back first."

He dropped to hover on the balls of his feet, knees bent so he was almost at eye level, enough so I didn't have to strain to look up at him. His face was pale but stained by the sun, roughness that came only from harsh conditions, a weather beaten face that I'm sure would mirror my own. I gaped as I tried once more to force my voice to work, to ask questions of this man that had given me so much. I couldn't hide the distress that overcame when I failed with only a grunt.

He tsked at the huffing click that puffed out on a breath of air, seemed disappointed with my inability to talk. "Have ta do something about that, won't we?"

I nodded, even though I was nothing but confused about his question.

He smiled at me, full and beaming as if I'd done something he approved of. I found myself oddly satisfied that I had pleased the water giver so much.

"Ya know me, lad? Know who I am ta you?"

I considered nodding again but changed my mind at the seriousness in his eyes, decided truth might ensure he'd stay and talk to me. I shook my head to his widening grin.

"Why, I'm your brother, Lane. Going ta get those chains off you. You want that, right?"

I nodded frantically. I wanted that more than I wanted to live. Wanted to feel the wind as my feet rushed on endless grass, an unrestricted privilege, like a storm after endless desert.

I have a brother.

Free.

I struggled with those chains again, rattling the links so he'd see how much I needed them off.

He nodded while gazing softly at me. "Not long now, lad. Need ta find tha key first." He looked around at the silent village, not even a bird that squawked its call for early spring. "Have ta get someone ta undo them, can't touch them myself."

I could understand that, I didn't want them touching me either. He tipped the water towards my face again and I drank while letting it drip across my cheeks, washing a little of that dirt away and the itch that settled so deep I wanted to claw the flesh from my bones.

More footsteps sounded from the cover of trees, lighter in the mud and more carefully placed. A body that weighed a tenth of what the man in front of me did. I snapped my eyes to the sound, rustling leaves that rushed a crinkling dance around tiny feet. Hard packed mud that softened to soil, and then watery, sticky slush the closer they got to the open air. My muscles tensed in my shoulders, fighting the urge to bruise my skin against the solid links. The man would protect me.

He was my brother.

"Ach, donae worry. She's here for me, I wanted you ta meet my woman." He grinned in excitement, showing off his female to his family.

I attempted to smile in return but it felt wrong on my face, a little too stretched across scoured skin. Wild when it should have been civilised, a human that had regressed to beast. Funny, that even without the wolf, I became an animal.

"Here she is, lad. Awful bonnie isn't she?"

Graceful steps slowly walked a wandering line, picking out the perfect place to land each foot, avoiding the dirt that shifted and pulled like sand. A long skirt swished around her feet, dancing to music I wished I could hear. The man growled beside me, jumping up to his full height, that wide smile never once leaving his face.

I missed growling. I wondered if he knew where the wolf had gone.

"There you are, mo gradh."

A giggle flittered around like tiny wings of fluttering birds. A gentle tone. Female. A soft sound I hadn't heard for so long.

My love.

How could I know this word and not remember my family. I so desperately wanted to ask if I had more people waiting for me, if I wasn't as forgotten as this place made me feel. I grunted again, frustrated with my own throat that worked to push the words from my mouth but fell in defeat at every strive to do so.

"Ah, come meet my brother, Doll."

I felt like I needed to look at her face, struggled within my own head to do just that. But I only faced that sour inadequacy like a never ending train of failure.

"Why isn't he looking at me, Duncan?" Soft words, quiet, such a timid tone it seemed almost whispered.