Lacking Humanity|Half Crescent

Chapter Eight

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Sage grew conscious once more, feeling more groggy than usual, but it hadn't caught her notice how loud the cave had grown. Or that it could leak.
However, it was clear that she was no longer in the cave—Nor near it, in fact.

An aggravated huff escaped her, especially her resurfacing wolf. The pack and coven hadn't dictated her as Alpha, and they were following the trend of what they knew before.

It must be Maeve.

The guttural hiss that rendered her to move in the small puddle that formed around her, gave away one of the many things that they had done. One was striping her of her clothes.
And the other was binding her arms.

It wasn't hard to find the cave, as they probably thought that she'd die in the conditions of the storm. But alas, Sage thrived in it.

What they hoped to end Hera—Turned into the exact treatment she needed.

Yet her vengeance wasn't far from complete. The silver cuffs must have come from one of the witches', but it failed to do much to subdue Sage as she sat forward.

It took all of one fatal swoop of her Lycan strength to rip them apart. Even if throwing them felt like the best course of action, she gripped them tightly. Still wondering what sort of mutation it was that rendered her not be affected by it.

It was simply metal, but by definition, it didn't fault her strength or abilities. The only thing this device had done was cause her anxiety to be spiked, as Sage hardly liked being contained.

She'd make those females learn, especially when she knew for certain that it wasn't directly the witches who acted against her.
It was the wolves.

Sage couldn't recall if it was Remus' words or Blake's, but the politics in the wolf world were dangerous if not understood. And she wasn't up for the game when a Beta or Delta blood was in place of her title.

When she rose further up to her feet, her head leaned back to face up towards the clouds and hummed in recognition of her healing.

"Goddess, give me strength..." She whispered, knowing that it was one of her dad's favorite lines—The both of them. Though in the time of meeting her real father, Hayes' cues and dialect surely influenced apart of Sage's own words of wisdom and understanding.

So as she walked in returning to the cave, her vines came forth and clothed her. It hadn't all been what she expected, the skirt was manly moss over enlarged leaves that surely did not come from the woods.

Or perhaps it did. Her ability to conjure up flowers has been heavily left unmoving as her month in solitude pushed her back in her studies. Hopefully, the witches here would see reason.

It was clear by those closest to the fireplace that it was Maeve's clan. And it saddened Sage to see that Elena was among the few. The others, she hadn't gotten the names or the energy to care.

But that was back in the garage, and now they were free and in a cave.

"Crescere Ignis." The witches certainly knew what that entailed, and thus they shuttered away seconds before the fire grew expectedly large—Or unexpectedly large, depending on the species of the cave.

"Hera!" Clementine called out, and while there was no malice on that end. Sage welcomed the pup with open arms, yet darted her attention to Maeve.

"You're supposed to be dead! You were out there for—"
"I'm a Dowser. Water is my element. So is nature. Your pointy stick won't hurt me. Or silver." Sage said, picking up the child and coming closer to the cave, and the witches all looked at her with a hint of begging in their gaze.
Which she of course nodded along with.