Beloved Beast

Chapter Thirty-Six

It had been a dreadfully long and cold night; steeped in darkness and frost, carting icy breaths from her lungs, forcing her toes to curl in her boots. It urged Elle to burrow closely at her sister's side for warmth and comfort, but any time she thought to inch nearer to Esme she felt the heavy, watchful eyes of her captors.

Terror was an acidic taste at the back of her raw throat, a slew of disarming thoughts and feelings battering her wounded mind.

They'd been given small rations of dried meat and gritty water to stave off the hunger in their bellies, but Elle hungered for something else – something far more precious ... their freedom.

What little sustenance they'd been given threatened to resurface with every passing hour that cemented their undecided fate, and she was beginning to lose hope that rescue was forthcoming. As time dragged on, she started to question whether or not anyone was actually looking for them.

The sickening sensation whirling in her belly intensified. It had been hours since they'd been taken, surely someone had noticed their absence by now.

She crammed her frozen fingers in the nook of her frayed cloak, seeking warmth from the cold, frigid air; yearning for the familiar crutch of wood that always grounded her, that had steered her through countless moments of fear, indecision, and uncomfortable plights. Always giving her some semblance of fortitude and solace. But she had dropped her staff when they'd been taken, and now she had nothing to rely on but a timid spine and fragile airs.

Whatever shred of optimism she had was quickly crumbling beneath the weight of their definitive doom. It would be a welcoming respite to close her eyes and ease into a gentle slumber, oh how she longed to sleep, but the dull pain and the constant tension worming its way through her anxious body made it virtually impossible.

As she glanced between Esme and Abby, she was surprised to find them both slumped forward in a similar fashion, fast asleep, having succumbed to their own fatigue.

Her eyes drooped heavily in response but she was quick to straighten, blinking away the lethargy that edged in.

Sleep provided a false sense of armor, tucking one safely away from the horrors that awaited them on the other side of wakefulness. With their abductors looming nearby, geared to strike at any given moment, she dared not rest lest something would happen.

Her airs may be rattled and her spine shaky at best, but they would not catch her unaware. Whatever the outcome, no matter the events the full moon may engender, she would endure it head-on. She had to believe that they would survive, that someone was coming for them.

When the early hours of dawn finally bloomed beyond the mouth of the cave, Elle watched with quiet fascination as sunlight trickled past the monochrome trees, bridging wide across solid terrain littered with all manner of forestry peelings, bathing the world in brightness once more.

Every time her eyes perceived the natural light, her heart filled with those feelings of wonder and appreciation, for it was no less breathtaking than when she first espied it. Despite their grave circumstances, she could still commemorate the blinding world on all sides of her. Could even passably admire the rock, hollow chambers that presently housed them. In fact, she was certain her face would always bear a perpetual expression of awe and gratitude for what was visibly bestowed to her.

Nonetheless, it did not minimize her terror or the gravity of their situation.

A disgruntled groan drew her attention to a far corner of the cave. There, braced against a large boulder, Solomon tempered his aggression with the contents of a leather satchel, his heavy-hooded eyes sweeping frequently in her direction.