The Reaver Chronicles: Raziel (Book 1)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

On the way back my mind was racing. I couldn't keep it quiet even if I had tried. On top of my insistent guilt over Eric's death, I was also thinking about my Demon... We passed an old abandoned wishing well in the forest, and I couldn't help but remember the first experience I ever had with him.

I was 9 years old. I was living with my mother in a small, cozy cottage just on the edge of the Obsidian pack. It was close to where I currently live now. We weren't part of a pack back then though, it was just us. Me and her. Thinking back, it was a little strange that we didn't live in a pack, being Wolves and all.

I never knew my father and my mother never bothered to bring him up. I figured if she never did I wouldn't either. He was a forgotten staple in our household, but I preferred it that way. My mother always used to say that we were strong and didn't need anyone to protect us. I always believed her. Honestly, what I wouldn't give to be able to hear her words of wisdom again, even just one more time...

I snapped from my memory long enough to see that we were not close to home yet. So, I allowed myself to get lost in my memories again. She always told me I was forbidden to go to the well.

She said it was too far away from our cottage, and to go alone would surely mean death. I never felt unsafe a day in my life as a child, but she insisted that we were never truly safe. Not out here. She'd always say we weren't safe living outside of a pack to begin with, but would never approach any pack to try and join. It never made sense to me.

She always used to say that we'd be fine around the house, but there were many creatures lurking in the forest. Most of which wouldn't hesitate to kill me. I believed her, even though I had never personally seen another soul around here. Creature or not. I couldn't help my curiosity though, and would always try to sneak away to the well... Unsuccessfully, I might add.

My mother was around 5 foot 5 and had long blonde hair to the middle of her back. Her facial features were soft and alluring, which matched her personality. She was always kind hearted, willing to help anyone who ever needed it. Always the first to offer her services. She had an athletic build, as most Wolves do, and the most beautiful platinum silver eyes I had ever seen.

They were even prettier than my own. I swear though, those silver eyes were like hawk eyes, because she caught me every single time I tried to sneak off to the well, and made me come back to the safety of our home. One time I somehow managed to escape her watch. I cried out in surprise when I reached the well, alone, and realized that she hadn't caught me.

I stood there in awe, admiring the scene before me. The wishing well was absolutely beautiful up close. Stunning large, multicolored, stones made up the main shaft of the well. Complete with a dark stained wooden arch, harnessing a single rope and a matching stained bucket which could be lowered down into the well.

It looked as if the elements had never touched it. I could smell the clear, crisp, stream not far away which fed the well. I knew that the water flowing in the stream was a light turquoise blue, so it would make sense that the water in the well would be the same color. But I had to know for sure. Turquoise was my favorite color, and the well was my favorite place, even though this was my first real visit to it alone. I walked over to the well and peered down inside.

I was leaning over the edge to try and get a better look and see if my theory was right, when I slipped and fell down into the well. I felt my head go under the cool water and I held my breath. I opened my eyes underwater to realize it, in fact, was turquoise as I had thought. I smiled and surfaced soon after.

I knew how to swim so I wasn't in any danger of drowning, at least not right away. In fact, I knew a lot of things, including how to defend myself. My mother never let me be unprepared for anything. I can't recall a time when we weren't training or learning something new. She overcompensated in that fact a little. At least I used to think so, back then.