The King's Prey (Unedited Edition)

Chapter 16 : Look to the Stars

Shlimazl • [shli-mah-zuhl]
Someone who is always unlucky.

🖤

~+~

I'm too distracted by the overwhelming amount of shock—too preoccupied with how beautifully cruel Samuel's wolf form is—that I fail to realize my body being slammed against a nearby tree, the wolf who has a hold of me keeping a firm grip on my leg as all of the air I had finally managed to get into my lungs is knocked out a second later.

I cry out, gasping for air as it feels as though my ribs have shattered and my head splinters into an indescribable pain. Everything turns inaudible shortly after, as my body involuntarily tries to curl into itself—tries to escape the torturous torment.

Every movement turns blurry in my line of sight, every sound becomes muffled or silenced as the only thing I feel is my body continuing its drag across the frozen landscape, the wolf's teeth sinking further into my muscles. I have the urge to claw at the snow—to want to fight back—but there's nothing left within me to do so.

In comparison to when my body had hit the tree just a few seconds ago, now it's nothing but numbness—sweet and sensational calmness that overtakes my thoughts. It's relieving to not think, to not feel the way my body lights up every time I'm dragged over a rock or I dip into a shallow hole that's molded itself into the ground.

I don't know how long it is until those teeth are removed from my leg, how long it takes for the pulling on my skin to finally cease as I lay limply in that snow barren land. The trees above me sway with the change in direction of the flurrying snow. Small, frozen pieces of them crossing my vision before vanishing forever.

In and out. In and out.

My chest rises and falls slowly with every passing second. Not frantically, but with ease. They're short for the deeper I try to inhale the more my chest hurts, a tinge of pain shooting through my body. The starry night above reveals the glowing balls of gas that speckle the twilight sky; they're nothing short of absolutely breathtaking.

Breathtaking.

Take in breaths, Anastasia.

I try, I really try, but it becomes harder and harder the more I lay there—the more I gaze up at those beautiful bulbs of brightness.

Somewhere off in the distance, I hear something that sounds like flesh and skin being ripped to pieces, and even further off are the echoes of howls and growls and barks. If it wasn't for my lack of mobility—for the lack of basic energy remaining in my body—I would hurl and ruin this porcelain snow I'm laying on. But I keep the bile down despite how strongly it stings my throat.

I know if I look at where the noises are coming from, the vomit will surely come up. And besides, I can't even muster the strength to lift my fingers so how am I supposed to find the strength to turn my head?

I become oblivious to the battle that continues only a few dozen feet away. I become oblivious to my existence, too, the shock subsiding as the peace takes over. Tranquility—just a blank mind that's admiring the soft twinkling stars above.

A memory flashes, briefly but immensely in my mind. Max and I on the roof of my manor one night about a year ago while my parents were out and busy with diplomatic duties. We were staring up at the glittering lights and appreciating their authenticity.

"Stars have got to be one of the most brilliant gifts Mother Nature gave us," he had said to me. I had given him a look, one that judged if he was level-headed, as he explained further, "My mother always made me wish on them as a child, made me hope for a better future for our family. I had asked why she didn't like her life as is, given that your family had been very generous to us then, and she simply asked me why I wouldn't want to strive for a greater future for myself, why I wouldn't want to search the ends of the earth for every last ounce of my dreams."