Stars of Blood

Fourteen 𖤓 Diah

You're weak.

Her voice spat in my head, useless words battering against my skull. I was surprised she hadn't taken over our body yet. Maybe it was because she knew there was nothing she could do. I held her back long enough to get us down here and contained, to stop her from making the situation worse.

I could still feel the young pyuwa's teeth in my neck. It throbbed, burning my skin. And his tears had stung. I knew he didn't want to. He was being controlled.

That was why I held her back. Why I let him drink.

She didn't understand that.

Weak, weak, weak!

She screamed it so loud that I bit back, snarling at the air as if she was another person in front of me. She continued to taunt anyway.

You're so weak you turned us human, our weakest form. How dare you make a fool of us.

"I am no fool," I spat back out loud. "What I did was not foolish. Or weak. What I did was save that boy from humiliation, from torture by his own father."

She scoffed. I think he tortured himself by drinking our blood.

"You know nothing," I said. "What his father would have done to him if we didn't let him drink... it would have been worse. And... you didn't see his eyes."

I did, she drawled. There was pain there. Loss. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't have fought back. You were stupid not to.

I didn't respond.

It took a few minutes but then she said, Can you turn us back into our fox form? I'm cold in skin.

Clenching my jaw, I didn't move a muscle. Right now, if it meant her suffering, I was okay with it. And we didn't even have clothes. We sat there naked in the dark, shoulder still dislocated. It made it hard to move. And the teeth marks on my neck made it hard to even turn my neck. They didn't even give us any tea or medication. No healers came to fix us. And I knew, after what Destrine's father made him do, he wouldn't be down here for a long time. We would be alone until the Clan Leader needed us again.

I didn't even jump when a soldier kicked against the bars of the cell. He unlocked the door and walked in, crouching above me. She fought inside my head, screaming at me to fight him, but I ignored her. I let him grab my chin, making me look at him. He was ugly. He could have been handsome if he stopped snarling like some rabid dog.

"Here," he smirked, dropping the tray of food in his other hand. "A pretty boy like you needs nourishment if you're going to be His Highnesses blood snack."

She still fought me. I still didn't move.

When he dropped my face, my head fell. I let him kick dirt on me. Let him kick dirt onto my food. Let him spill my water.

Why? she begged.

"Because," I said, "sometimes it's better to let them think you are weak."