??A Howl In The Night??
?She’s mine?
?Chapter 30?
?One’s Dream, Another’s Nightmare?
I have honestly tried to change myself.
It has been difficult, of course. I have been struggling to prevent myself from snapping at my teachers, but the way they chastise me about my lack of progress over the last few days has really gotten on my nerves.
It isn’t like I haven’t been in the garden for countless hours, forcing my restless mind to meditate just like the rude Spier master suggested. It isn’t like I haven’t been poring over the books on basic werewolf etiquette that Lady Miranda had commanded me to read. And most of all, it isn’t like I haven’t participated in the daily assignment of scouring the prophecy that I am supposed to be a crucial part of about a million times. I hate Analysis class the most.
That is the worst. I hate looking for things that just aren’t there.
I’m not really sure what Mr. Vigilance is hoping I will find. He has told me to do everything; from sweeping my thumb over every letter in the original text to sleeping with a copy of the prophecy beneath my head. Supposedly I have been, as the old baldy would say, “blessed with a superior insight that could lead to a greater understanding concerning the details of my mission if applied in the correct manner.” Or something like that. I stopped listening to him after the very first day. For that matter, I stopped listening to pretty much everybody.
So it probably is my fault that I haven’t learned anything of substance since I began these cursed tutoring sessions. I think my teachers aren’t used to a student that just can’t learn and progress, so that’s why they are going crazy. I am sure to them I seem like a normal kid, with nothing to set me apart from anyone else.
But honestly. I did try. I’m still trying.
It is just difficult when Mr. Vigilance is breathing over my neck, his angry face too close for comfort.
“Mona, do you even understand the point of this class? It is not all fun and games, you know.”
I sigh, fingering the rugged parchment upon which is written that awful paragraph that supposedly defines my life. “I never considered this class to be fun and games, Mr. Vigilance.” That much was true. Very true.
“Then have you not been studying the document? Tell me at least one thing that you learned since yesterday.”
He twists around to the front of the table where I sit, glaring at me like a ferocious animal. Admittedly, Mr. Vigilance is rather handsome. Everyone around here pretty much is. I have almost gotten sick of the attractive facial features, the long, glowing hair, and the perfect bodies that surround me daily. It is as if each of us looks like a china doll, living in our own little world that is ethereal to me even now. Mr. Vigilance is probably one of the least handsome werewolves I have seen, with a light gray buzz cut, sharp, pointed looks, and an athletic body. His muscles are nothing compared to some of the frightening Hulk look-a-likes prowling around the premises. I have seen a few that really put the green monster to shame.
It is strange how my perception has changed over these last few days. Comparing men’s muscles with such impartiality and indifference… I must be going crazy. This place is a madhouse.
Mr. Vigilance’s green eyes glow as he joins me in surveying the document, mistaking my boredom for intense concentration.
“What do you see, Chosen One?” He whispers, his voice tinged with barely contained excitement.
“I see paper.” I decide to humor him, holding my hand above the document. At the movement, he nearly jumps up and down, frenzy with anticipation and excitement. “I see…”
“What is it?!” He asks, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. I never imagined that a werewolf could manage to make an unattractive face, but he just proved me wrong.
“I see a ghost,” I hastily choke, scrambling for something enlightening to say. I said the same thing yesterday… and today he will probably not be satisfied. I can tell by the way his eyes slightly dim as he looks straight at me.
“Surely there’s more,” he says, grasping the edges of the table. His knuckles turn white, and cracks start to blossom within the furniture. I look up at him with a pointed glare, and he seems to realize what he is doing. He releases the hold on the table and starts fiddling with his sleeves.
“There is a wolf.” My eyes slip to a close, the exhaustion from the past few nights starting to get to me. For some reason, I have not gotten more than a few hours of frequently interrupted sleep since I decided to go through the stupid Sharuken ritual. Every time I try to rest, I am awakened by the same horrible nightmare. There is no escape. At least not for me.
Even now, the familiar vision is appearing before my eyes. Dark foliage and towering trees surround my form as I suddenly am transported to a deep forest, with no way back.
I look around, searching for someone. Anyone. However, the only things here to keep me company are the mosquitos, spiders, and other disgusting bugs. For a minute, I observe one of the gigantic arachnids as it weaves a spectacular web a few feet away from my face. Of course, that doesn’t last long.
The emotion of hopelessness constricts my heart, my breathing heavy and forced. I feel lost. Completely alone… and completely helpless.
How am I supposed to take care of myself in such a dark, scary place? I don’t even know if I can start a fire by myself, let alone gather food.
I sit by the trunk of a tree for a short while, exhausted for no reason at all. Against my will, my eyes start to slip to a close, and everything becomes hazy.
No. Not this time.
I snap to attention, fighting the overwhelming fatigue. Shakily standing up, I edge over to the small cluster of bushes in front of me. I don’t know how I knew. But as I plucked a small, purple berry from the bush, I just felt certain that this was exactly what I needed.
I plop one after the other into my mouth, savoring the sweetness for only seconds between bites. For some reason, I cannot stop eating them. My hands keep moving towards my face while filled with berries. They are strange, unfamiliar hands that are withered and worn.
The tiredness comes again, and this time it is impossible to overcome. Sleep caresses my body, weaving his hands across my arms and legs until I am filled with him. Drunken with sleep.
Get up. Keep fighting.
The protest is squelched by Sleep as he captures it between his fingertips, squeezing the words tightly until they cease to exist. Before long, he breathes lightly in my ear, his work completed. He has convinced my consciousness to take a stroll with him, leaving only my body behind.
Somehow this feels so wrong.
I float to my feet, staring at my forsaken body. After a few seconds of silence, I take a step closer to the body. An arm takes mine before I get any closer, and I drown in Sleep’s unwavering gaze. Swiveling me around on my heel, he whispers sweet nothings in my ear that makes me blush and giggle like a senseless preteen. Not even a hint of doubt remains in my mind. He smiles like an angel, sweeping me off into the night with a gracefulness that causes me to never look back.
***
Get up! You are about to miss your chance!
I groan, holding my belly subconsciously as my consciousness starts to return. From a love-filled night, my consciousness is giggling once more and waving at the elusive figure standing a few feet away. She watches him as he walks back into the darkness, obviously forlorn about her time with him being cut short. With a sigh, she comes back to me, releasing me from Sleep’s bindings. My eyes fly open, and a full wave of nausea hits me hard. I choke, the air leaving my lungs. The pain worsens in my stomach and I keel over. What is this madness? What is wrong with me?
The pain doesn’t stop, crippling me until I am only a heap upon the ground. My breathing is strained and heavy, and I am unable to think. I look at my feet, and then around me in a desperate search for water. There seems to be a pond about ten feet from me, but it seems like miles away in my terrible state. Something had to be causing this.
My frantic search for water continues, this state of delirium toying with me until I can hardly stand it. My eyes land upon a small berry which had somehow made its way over to my side. The hunger immediately roars to life, making my stomach ache even more. I m0an in pain as my face grows white.
The berries.
Those awful berries.
I cannot stop myself from retching, and afterwards I stare at the purple junk, splattered across the wretched ground, that had come from my mouth. Carefully I edge away, slowly but surely, in my stunted position. With a fate like this, I might be better off quickly dying from some sort of injury or disease. Looks like I am going to be suffering for a very long time.
This is what happens when I trust my gut. Never… never again.
I feel myself about to throw up again, the nausea building within me. The agony is unrelenting.
Don’t give up. Almost here.
But I forget all that when I hear the footsteps.
My heart stops as not one, not two, but several footsteps troop through the forest. They seem to be coming at an alarmingly fast rate, too fast for me to even comprehend. The blood leaves my brain as before I know it, they are about to either pass me or run over me.
It is strange, but I seem to sense the quiet footsteps instead of hear them. The ground pounds with their arrival, the birds fly away in a hurry, and the other animals run and hide. They know it too. They know someone, or something, is coming.
I struggle to look up, looking like a chicken in the process. Scanning the area, I hope to catch a glimpse of the mysterious creatures. An image stirs in my mind, an image of these creatures. Somehow, the blurry thought cannot seem to focus. I have forgotten something.
A whoosh occurs to my left, and out of the corner of my eye I see five figures. I blink, and they are gone. Just like that. I still can feel them, their retreating footsteps as they continue on their journey. What a strange sight.
And then it is over.
The pain returns as quickly as it disappeared. I edge towards the tree in order to lean against it, but in my haste forgot about the muddy puddle that was to my right. I gasp as the cold wetness splashes against my arms, and seconds later I realize I am thoroughly soaked in brown water. A feeling of hopelessness enters me and I realize that I am completely helpless. Helpless and ready to die in order to escape the pain.
What are you saying?!
I shake myself mentally. I am not a coward, I think angrily to myself, I am better than this. My body starts to tremble as I place my hands on the ledge next to the puddle. Hopefully I can drag myself out of the shallow water.
The pain, however, is absolutely mind-boggling. Every movement I make amplifies the hurt, and I can’t help but let out a scream. My hands release the ledge and I fall further towards the center of the puddle. I start to cry, the salty tears slipping down my cheeks like a waterfall. It only seems to make the aching worse, but it’s the only thing I can do.
My blood turns cold as a hand appears in my view.
Anger overwhelms me as I survey it, observing the delicate hand with an interest that confuses me. It is only a normal hand, but somehow in my view it has morphed into the hand of an angel. A hand that means everything. I was not afraid of that hand, though maybe of the person… or thing possessing it. It was my deliverer, my savior.
I follow the line of the connecting arm with my eyes, noting the delicate wrist that followed, along with the lean, strong muscles. Definitely masculine.
A strange musk dances towards my nose, and sensuously plays with my senses before leaving me defenseless. A scent I know all too well… or do I? The memories are frayed at the edges, seemingly ruined beyond repair.
I wonder out of curiosity why I am not freaking out right now at the strange apparition of a hand just when I needed one most. Instantly I realize that it must be because my mind has not yet caught up to my overwhelmed senses, mostly because of the fogginess that has settled over my thoughts like a blanket. A little laugh escapes me, a strange, throaty laugh. It was not mine. Or was it…
My eyes reach the man’s body, and I can tell already that he is very attractive. His muscles are not gigantic, but I never desired anything like that in a man, anyway. I like the skinnier, well-balanced men. Of course… not that I care.
It takes me a while to remember his face, my eyes crawling over every part of him. It is like wine for the eyes, so intoxicating and beautiful. But eventually I cannot resist the lure of his smile, a smile I know he is wearing for some strange reason, and reluctantly lift my gaze.
His eyes are like emeralds, sparkling with amusement. His hair is like the ocean, blue as the sea. But I do not dwell on either of those features long.
That one smile instantly brings my mind up to speed.
Subconsciously at the sight of that smile I back away, further into the puddle. He looks so familiar, as if I have known him for a long while. Maybe even forever. I squirm with discomfiture as I notice the amusement that is prevalent at the corners of his too-wide smile. He is laughing at me. This much I can tell.
It seems strange, because as the chuckles are escaping his mouth, I do not hear the pearly sound. What a beautiful sound it must be, I muse, a beautiful laugh to match a beautiful man.
He says some words to me, words that flit by my head without a second glance. I frown and stiffen slightly at the way the reverberations seem to escape me, dancing out of my grasp with ease.
The familiar man stops laughing as he stares down at me, his hand still outstretched. It must be awkward for him to hold out his hand so long. I should probably take it and save him the trouble of keeping it in the air.
But instead, I stiffen even further, leaning into the puddle. He frowns and takes a step forward, his foot splashing into the water. My heart beats faster as he lifts his other foot and puts it down in the puddle so that they are both soaked.
I instinctively recoil as he crouches down by my side. Muttering something I can’t understand under his breath, he reaches with both arms towards me. A squeal escapes me. A squeal that I cannot hear.
A new wave of understanding washes over me. I am deaf. I must be.
This revelation shocks me. How can I just discover something like this? What has happened to my memories? Am I going cr@zy?
What is my name?
The question chills me to the bone. I realize… that I don’t know the answer.
The man seems to be forming a word on his lips, a word I cannot hear but can somehow see with the way he is exaggerating it. He seems to be saying the word “please”.
My lip juts out obstinately and I cross my arms against my chest in response. He looks at me and starts to laugh. I can imagine it, the beautiful sounds echoing in my heart. I wish I could experience it for myself.
He hesitantly brings his hands out again after a long, contented silence. With a guarded expression, I allow him to sweep his hands under me. Before I know it, he has pulled me into his arms, picking me up as he steps out of the puddle.
In his comforting embrace, I forget everything.
Except, of course, the pain, which comes like a thief in the night to steal away my happiness. Tears well up in the corner of my eye as it launches an assault against me again.
The man mumbles something that looks like “What’s wrong?”. Subconsciously I clutch at his arm until my aged knuckles turn stark white. He starts walking over to the pond as his eyes scour mine. I gesture to my stomach wildly, hoping he will get the message. Surprisingly, his nose wrinkles in response.
“Time… of the month?” I think he asks, over-exaggerating ever word so I can understand. Color rushes to my cheeks. I am as red as a tomato. Furiously I shake my head.
“S…sorry,” he says slowly, finally looking up. The pond is beautiful and glassy, beckoning to me with its icy fingers. As if he read my mind, he steps into the pond with me. The coldness embraces my skin as he practically dumps me in the water.
I cannot prevent a laugh as the water touches my skin, suddenly overjoyed for no reason at all. The pain retreats again, temporarily, as his smile makes everything just a little bit brighter.
“You… remind… me,” He struggles to say, “of… a… girl.”
A girl! Impatience clouds my mind. What kind of girl? A great friend? A lover?
I try to banish these rebellious things from my mind. These thoughts are only causing trouble for everyone.
He must see the question in my eyes, for he continues on slowly. “She… was… c-covered… in… mud… too.”
I have nothing to say. Nothing I wouldn’t want to say. Only meager feelings of jealousy are left in my heart. I want to say that I desire to keep my guardian angel all to myself. But I can’t.
For that is what he must be. My angel, sent down from Heaven to protect me.
The thought brings a small smile to my lips, which leads to a wider smile on the handsome man’s face. He reaches out, dips his hand in the water, and rubs against my cheek with one, rough thumb. And the strangest thing is, I really want him to do it again. For the moment to never end.
And he does, bringing his other thumb to my other cheek, rubbing his hands against my skin. It burns. It burns like nothing I have ever experienced before.
It takes me a second to realize that he is trying to wash the dirt and grime off of me. A carefully veiled excitement begins to occur in my mind. I want to see how far this goes. The real question is, how far is he willing to go?
Obviously not very far, because within moments his warm arms are around me again, and he is lifting me out of the water. His embrace is so warm, so comforting. I could stay like this forever.
But it doesn’t, and he lays me back beside the tall oak trees. I look at the ground, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
When I look back up, he is ready. “Do… you… believe… in… true… love?”
Interesting question.
I go with the safe answer. “Yes.” It feels weird to know the word passed my mouth even though I was unable to hear it.
“I… don’t.” He gritted his teeth, messing with the bottom of his shirt. His mouth may say one thing, but his eyes tell a different story. I find myself intrigued. Has someone already taught this man what true love is?
A shiver ripples through my body as a blast of cold air brushes against me. He notices instantly, and takes his shirt off. He has a tank top of some kind underneath, but I am still instantly affected. My breathing grows hitched, betraying my interest too the all-too-observant man.
“Take… this…use… it.” He says, and then goes to examine the berry bush. Plucking one berry from the bush, he shows it to me. “Did… you… eat…”
I nod hastily. As he does this, the pain returns once more. I feel myself slumping in agony.
Within a flash, he is by my side. “Just… be… careful… do… not…” He begins, then angrily mutters under his breath. I blink, and when my eyes flutter open, he is gone.
What the cr@p?
But within a second he is back, carrying a small knapsack. My heart practically sighs in relief at his reappearance, now that I know he hasn’t abandoned me.
He fiddles with the drawstrings, opening the bag and silently handing me a bottle of water. I take it eagerly and screw the cap open. He turns his attention away from my animalistic display, lifting a notepad out of the sack. A pen shortly follows.
I pause in my frenzied gulps as he begins to write. Watching him, I notice he has beautiful handwriting. Just like the rest of him. To be expected I guess. Surely a man like him cannot be this perfect. He must have some fault.
Ah, I remind myself carefully, but he is a guardian angel. He was sent for me.
You don’t really believe that, do you?
“Here.” He hands me the notepad, upon which is written the words “HOW TO TREAT YOUR ILLNESS”. Below it is instructions in taking some sort of pill. What is this nonsense?
He smiles at my confusion, and then opens the knapsack again. Carefully he draws out a bottle of pills. “It’s… for… the… berries.”
I frown and reach for the notepad. “How do you have something like this in your knapsack?” I write. He reads and answers my question before I finish my next sentence. “We… prepare… for… everything.” He grins at me and my heart does a funny leap. What is wrong with me?
“Ok,” I say awkwardly, still feeling strange about the sounds leaving my mouth. It seems like I remember a time when this strange lack of hearing was not an issue.
He starts to write in the notepad again. It doesn’t take him very long.
“I have to go. You will be in danger if I take you with me or stay with you any longer. The soldiers are after me. Please understand. I wish I could help more than I already have. Just please, pay attention to the instructions. I really hope I could have talked with you longer.” I read underneath his shoulder, the words upside down. He glances at me and shoves over the note, standing up in the process. The notepad falls from his grasp onto my lap.
He stops as if to pick it up, and then decides not to. He starts to turn away from me, and I strangely feel sad. “You… keep… it.” The man looks over his shoulder with that wonderful grin of his.
“Have… everything.” He throws the knapsack over his shoulder, and then disappears almost immediately. I can sense the footsteps once more.
Good bye.
An eerie calm settles over me. I feel perfectly at peace with the world, satisfied with all it has offered me. Heaven did send me my own guardian angel, after all.
I finger the notepad tentatively. What do I want to write? How will I like to fill these pages before the pain comes back?
Images flash in my head, images that are all blurry. No, that just will not do. I cannot make a picture out of blurry. It simply isn’t possible.
Leafing through the few sketches in the front of the pad for inspiration, I stop on the portrait of a young, pretty girl. For some reason it strikes me, seemingly familiar to my eyes.
Exactly like my guardian angel.
A name whips out of nowhere, stunning me almost like another round of pain. Tears start to fall as the realization hits me. Mona. Mona is my name.
And his? I ask myself.
My memory grows clearer as the moon begins to soar in the wide sky. Xavier. That’s it.
“Xavier,” I whisper softly, tasting the word on my tongue. I have to repeat it once more, treating it like a rare delicacy.
“Xavier… why?” I ask the sky, not caring if my ears don’t pick up the words. Maybe if I was louder, they would.
“Xavier, please don’t leave me!”
Two, strong hands grab my side as I start to shake, clutching the sides of my desk. The world around me blurs, and quickly morphs into a classroom filled with empty desks. I am back in my prison.
“Mona, please calm down,” Mr. Vigilance says softly, “it is fine now. You are back.”
Tears are running down my face in rivers. He is right. I am safe.
Yet I cannot stop the tears from flowing.
“What did you see?” he asks, and the chills start to race down my back. I really did see Xavier. He is alive, and running from me.
I wanted to ask him why. I wanted to beg him to stay. But I never had the chance. And now he is gone forever.
I have had this dream countless times, but never before has it gone so far. The last time it happened was yesterday in bed, and ended right after I went to sleep. It is as if I finally unlocked the true story, and it scares me immensely.
“I saw a massive Shifter attack,” I choke out a lie, “they stormed the cities, too many for us to count. They all came back and multiplied, revived by some strange force. We could not handle them. Every one of us died.” I try to speak evenly, but I end up squeaking out every other word. A half-lie, of course. I had a vision like that the other day.
Mr. Vigilance raises a slender, perfect eyebrow. “Is that everything? Do you feel like this is some sort of premonition? Does this apply to the prophecy in any way?”
Oh… right, right. I forgot. This is Analysis class.
“Uh, no sir.” I finger the edges of the paper. “What do you think?”
He puffs up like some big elephant. I have given him the chance to talk, and he knows it. “Well… maybe…” He edges over to the chalkboard as he thinks.
Great. What have I gotten into?
***
An hour later, I struggle out of that class, nearly exhausted. That man has the ability to suck the life out of me, leaving absolutely nothing left. He droned on for at least thirty minutes without stopping about the possible meanings of my dream. Well, this time I brought it upon myself. I should be ashamed.
Now to get out of my etiquette class.
I edge over to the room where Lady Miranda was tending to some papers cluttered across her desk. “Excuse me, Lady Miranda?” I ask, making my voice as sickly sweet as I possibly can. She seems to be nicer when I talk this way.
“Mona? Is that you?” She looks up, her features spell-binding. Her emerald eyes contrast with flawless ivory skin and dark red lips, along with a swan-like neck and a graceful body. To me, she is like an icy goddess.
“Yes, Lady Miranda.” I curtsy clumsily, and I think I see amusement tug at the corner of her closed mouth. “I am feeling rather unwell today, and would like to use the bathroom. May I?”
She stares at me evenly. I begin to feel squirm, traces of red reaching my cheeks.
“I suppose so.” She throws her hands up like it couldn’t be helped. That was one thing about Lady Miranda. She was a drama queen. “But only-“
“Thanks!” I say eagerly, and then zoom off without a second thought. I know I will be reprimanded later, but I don’t care at all. It is worth everything to be free, if only for a couple of moments.
I hope Lady Miranda doesn’t notice that I didn’t turn to the left in order to go to the bathroom.
I exit the premises, swinging a door open so that I am standing in the backyard. Searching my mind for the place I had seen before, I wrinkle my nose in order to catch a scent. Any scent.
There are so many out here: daffodils, lilacs, frogs, and other creatures. But I know what I am looking for. When the hint of the right aroma reaches me, I grab on to it and never let go.
“Chosen One?” A voice calls in the distance. I mutter angrily under my breath. Move, Mona, move!
I run to the edge of the tall walls and jump as high as I can. Using my hands, I grab onto a small ledge, which I used to propel myself over. I have practiced this many times since I found the strange irregularity days ago. It serves as my ticket out, if need be. Although of course, it wouldn’t really free me from the prison, but I can temporarily get away. As long as the guards don’t see me.
Starting to hear shouts from far away, I try not to focus on it too much. I must hold on to that faded scent. It carries me farther in the forest, deeper than I previously thought.
I hope I don’t get lost.
I finally reach the familiar clearing, where the pond is only a few feet away. My eyes scan over the muddy pond, the deathly berries, and finally, the figure bundled against the tree.
The woman’s face is worn and weary, with many wrinkles upon her face. I can tell she used to be very pretty. She has a heart-shaped face and a slightly pointy nose.
She is scrunched up in the fetal position, her face bent in pain. I see the knapsack off to the side, the discarded water bottle, and the full bottle of pills. Oh, I see. She hasn’t been following the instructions.
There is dried up blood around the area, almost as if she was coughing it up earlier. It doesn’t look like she has any outward injuries.
“Okay, lady, let’s get you out of here.” I hoist her up in my arms slowly, and she is surprisingly light. Her eyes flutter open, and in that time I see piercing blue eyes stare straight into my soul. I am struck by the hopelessness I see within them, and then the fierce determination.
With a ferocity that is hard for even me to detect, she wraps her arms around my neck and begins to squeeze. Surprisingly, it hurts really bad for a lady who has barely any strength left.
“Please,” I emphasize, choking under her hold, “release… me… here… to… help.”
She studies my lips, trying to read the words that fell off my tongue. Her eyes narrow in suspicion, but reason takes over and she loosens her grip slightly. I gasp for air.
Looking around her, she reaches for the notepad, which was lying on the ground. I bent down and picked it up, handing it to her with interest. She flips through the pages as I begin the walk back, as if searching for something.
I hear a murmur, almost like a strange warble, coming from the lady as she finds the picture she is looking for. “You,” she mouths silently, pointing to the portrait of me on the back of one page. My eyes crinkle with laughter.
“Me,” I nod, and then start to run as fast as I can with the bundle in my arms. I am surprised that she weighs so little to me, but maybe it is the result of that strength training I have been forced to participate in. I am always the weakest one there, but maybe even I have improved.
Her eyes widen as I go into full speed, and subconsciously she clutches at my shirt. I have to get back as quickly as I can before the guards race after me and catch a whiff of Xavier’s scent. I cannot let them get that far into the forest.
A strange thought occurs to me. I could have left the lady and raced in Xavier’s direction. I could have caught his scent. Maybe even catch up with him.
Why didn’t I?
Well, I suppose it’s worth it anyway, I think to myself. At least I get to save someone out of my stupidity. And really, that’s probably what I would have done anyway if I had thought of this plan earlier. My presence with Xavier would have endangered him more than if I leave him alone. Disheartening as it is, it is still cold, hard reality.
And there is also the fact that he was the one that ran from me in the first place.
A strange squeezing in my chest brings me back to the present. I had barely realized that we have reached the wall until now. Crap, I forgot.
How am I going to get over this wall now? It isn’t like I can throw her over.
“What is that in your arms, Mona? What have you been doing?” A figure comes from the side of the walls, probably where the gate is. I gasp, nearly dropping the woman. I didn’t expect anyone to be out here.
But of course, it is Lady Miranda who decides to follow me outside the gates. Her eyebrows are arched in the air and her tone is full of fury. “What happened to going to the bathroom?”
I am going to die.
Instead of responding to her, I gently try to place the woman’s feet on the ground. A guard comes around the other side in curiosity, and I quickly gesture for him to come over. He looks at me and the lady in confusion.
“Can you take care of this lady? She ate some poisonous berries… they were red, and small, and-“
“Metaberries?” he asks suddenly. He seems like he knows what he is talking about.
“Uh… yeah. Sure. Metaberries.”
“I will take care of her, Chosen One.” The guard reaches out an arm to hold the woman up. She doesn’t protest, allowing him to support her weight. It seems like she can walk, though awkwardly. At the moment she must not be in dire pain.
“Please see that she gets a job in Headquarters!” I call after him urgently. He lifts up one hand in parting, and then they disappear around the side of the walls. It is then that I notice that the notepad, once more, is on the ground. The pages are flipped to a picture I have never seen before. Tears well up as I see the fine lines, the bright eyes and smooth skin. Xavier. She had drawn Xavier.
“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Lady Miranda huffs, by my side in seconds. Using her arm, she firmly guides me over to the gateway. My few minutes of freedom are over.
All the while, I clutch the notepad close to my chest. Somehow I am unable to keep the tears from falling.
This is going to be a long week.
***
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