Rose's Thorns: The Wolf's Prophecy

24

Orion had been sifting through books ever since Rose had left with the huge, burly, tattooed guard. But all he had gained from the books was a headache. "Stupid" (slam) "Damned" (slam)"Words" (slam). Turns out, repeatedly hitting your head on a hardback copy of "Tobias's Animals and the Pride Within Them" wouldn't help his headache go away. Who knew? How did he even learn to read? His father damn sure didn't teach him, and his mother... Well. She didn't have the chance. At this point, Orion didn't care. Thinking alone made his head hurt, but thinking of his past? That hurt more than his head. It hurt his soul. He looked up at the raftered ceiling and shook the hair out of his eyes. This was just dumb. He had begun searching for something, and then he'd gotten lost in the ridiculously long names of books he'd never want to read, even if his life depended on it. Let alone in his free time. He squinted his eyes as he began to make out little signs above the shelves full of old books. Signs.Signs that told you the name of each section of the library.Here he was looking for the royal bloodline and each ruler before the Meadow's king, and he had been in the "Animal and plant life" section. Of course. Why wouldn't he have been completely off target? After long hours of reshelving all the books he had gotten out in his attempt to find an answer to his questions, he gave up trying to read any more words. He painfully got up and made his way to Rose's room. Shock fully woke him up as he realized how late it was. The moon was high in the sky as he walked through the corridors, and he hurried on quicker, hoping to not run into any guards on his way. While tiptoeing through the moonlit halls, his mind became heavy with disappointment over his failed library search. He had wanted to find anything about the history of the Meadow Kingdoms' royal lineage. Maybe an ancestry chart of sorts? Every kingdom he had ever come through, he knew at least the heads of the territory. And besides, The note that the old woman at the pub had told him to go to the beginning of the story. He didn't even know he had questions that needed answers, but he figured, the best place to look for the beginning of stories was the place that had all the endings as well. He sighed deeply and watched as his shadow grew and shrank away on the walls. The ring that Flying Wolf had given him weighed his pocket down, and when he took it out, the cool metal glinted in the moonlight. It was exactly the same. Nothing special had happened to the swirling red jewel to lead him through the old woman's cryptic message. He slipped the ring back into his chest pocket and continued. He noticed that the closer he got to Rose's room, the more he came across patches of cat brier across the walls and near the ground. Its strong tendril-like vines had some of the sharpest cat claw thorns. Purple flowers bloomed here and there as if to put a band-aid over a bullet hole. "Yes, I know I could've accidentally scratched out someone's eyes with my thorns, but clearly I didn't, because you can see the flowers." It was beautiful, but at the same time, it worried Orion, because if Rose had meant to cover the walls in Ivy, it would have been graceful. She would have created something dangerously beautiful, purposefully sharpening each thorn, with equal opportunities for you to be shredded to ribbons on each side of the hall. Here, it seemed that Rose had done her best to shut out the world or lock herself in. The closer he got to her door, the larger the thorns, the thicker the vines. The hall seemed to stretch on forever, and the other doors that led to the rest of the bedrooms seemed to get further from Rose's bedroom door. When he finally reached it, he pressed his ear to the cold wood, trying to keep as quiet as he could. Suddenly a white-hot pain raced across his chest and he bit his lip to keep from yelping in agony. He tore at his coat, where the heat had come from, and threw it to the ground. He pulled back his shirt, and on the right side of his chest, there was a small burn mark, the size of a skipping stone. The redness of his flesh cooled in moments, and upon closer inspection, the burn began to take the form of a particular flower... A red rose, scorched into his skin. He shook his head in disbelief, no longer in pain. He searched his mind for any reasonable excuse, hoping that maybe he was just tired. Maybe this was a dream, maybe he was actually in the hidden room above Rose's four-poster, sleeping soundly. He sighed and bent to pick up his coat, feeling the heaviness of the ring again, and checked to make sure his pocket didn't have a hole in it. Oddly, there was no sign of a burn, and when he took out the ring, it was cool to the touch. The silver band weighed heavily, and he fought the urge to let it fall back onto his coat. Flipping it over, he hissed in alarm as he saw, to his amazement, cloudy words drift to the surface of the red stone. "ENTRY" What the h-Entry?Suddenly a scene flashed behind his eyes and realization smacked him like a ton of bricks. Smokey rooms cracked fingernails and a folded-up note... He scooped down and picked up his jacket once more, ruffling the pockets until he finally retrieved the yellow wad of paper from inside the depths of one. He opened it up quickly, squinting at the low light."A gift to Rose, to work as a guide through the troubling times." Orion drew a deep breath and held the ring back up to eye level. Its cool silver looked demeaning and scary in the dark, and the red jewel was once again a deep red shine. There were no longer smoky words on the surface. It still weighed an abnormal amount, however, but the feeling of uncertainty weighed even more. Could he really give this ring to Rose? What if it was dangerous? What if it was being tracked or worse, what if it was cursed? The weight of the silver in his hand grew as his nervousness grew, and he shook his head and stuffed the ring back in his pocket. His shirt scratched against the burn mark on his chest, reminding him of its profound existence. The thought that this could be a trap weighed heavily on his chest, but a small voice in the back room of his mind told him otherwise. Before he could change his purposeful thoughts, he opened the door.