The Weaver's Source

Chapter 56

I ran as fast as I could as I followed the scent of Grigore, charging through thick muddy puddles and turning the hem of my dress black with dirt. It guided me further and further away from the town until I was nearing the few houses that sat on the borders of the forest. Pale orange rays of the dying sun cast long gloomy shadows over the fields and made my magic twitter in warning.

Night was on its way. The dog would soon become real and solid. Lillith would be waiting, prepared to take her own life in hopes I could guide the Dog away to the far distant mountains where Leopold waited. But I wouldn't be doing as she asked. Instead I was going to stop her. I was going to stop her and make sure that dog wouldn't see tomorrow night. But to do that I needed Grigore. Without him and without my magic within him, I was going to fail this task. Lillith was going to die.

My legs ached horribly, my skin prickled with the cold that swamped me. Every step I took sent shudders of pain through them as my feet slammed against the mud covered rocks and twigs. Pushing onwards, I soon found Grigore working just within the forest's border. He was lighting the last brazier he had built on his own. Any workers he had coaxed into helping him and fled to the town long ago, determined to live another night. I was so glad to see his shape, to smell him, and hope nearly choked me.

Grigore looked up sharply after sensing and hearing my approach. Faintly I realised that I was in for one of the toughest fights in my life. He walked towards me in a manner that screamed he was going to shout at me, to demand why I was out at dusk. He wasn't going to like my answer, I knew it.

But all his words remained in his throat when I drew close to him. My face was pale and washed with tears and my white eyes were frantic with fear. While I knew he wanted to shout at me, I could feel it bubbling about him, tinged with fear for my safety, he realised I was distressed. I had come to him for a reason.

I stood before him, wringing my hands. Now I was with Grigore, staring up at his hard scarred face, I felt my despair grow and my panic thicken. My determination wavered.

Grigore reached out and pulled me closer, wrapping a strong arm about my shoulders in a vain attempt to warm me. I vaguely realised I was cold because I had no cloak. I'd forgotten about it in my rush.

"Why are you out here, Lyra? You're meant to be at Lillith's." He asked stiffly. He was struggling not to snap.

"She's gone." I blurted out.

He looked taken aback and some of the rage lifted from his face. "Gone?"

"She's gone to go face the dog."

Alarm was now the only expression he had, irritated and dark. "That's suicide." He stated.

"She knows." I choked. "She's going to kill herself. She wants me to guide the dog away from the town and to Leopold." My throat burned as I tried desperately to stop myself from crying any more. "You have to stop her, Grigore."

His body stiffened a little and his eyes dulled. "I'll get her back, don't worry." He said firmly. "If I'm fast, I should be able to get her to safety before the dog forms its body. I don't particularly want to face it right now, not when I'm so low on magic."

I hesitated only briefly. For a moment, the fear of him rejecting me yet again took over until I remember I wasn't doing this for me. I wanted to protect Lillith and kill that dog but I could only do that through Grigore.

"I can fix that. I can give you more." I mumbled. "I can help you kill it."

Grigore let go of my shoulders and took a step back, becoming defensive and angry quite rapidly. His expression had reverted back to his scowl and his muscles stiffened.