Reaper - Fault Lines

3. Attie

Azraela ran as fast as her tired legs would take her, not daring to look back for fear she would see her father's fierce shadow looming over her, whip in hand. If they caught her she was so dead! She couldn't breathe by time she reached the tree line. Finally allowing herself a glance back toward the encampment, she saw no one. There was a light on in her home, however. They were awake! And they would most definitely know that she was gone.

A hand on her shoulder caused her to scream with fright and she whirled around, pointing her stolen dagger at her attacker.

"Whoa, easy there Scrappy. It's just me." Attie raised both hands in surrender to the blade at his throat. He caught sight of the fresh wound over her eye and his soft smile twisted into a snarl of rage. "Those bastards!" He growled. He considered altering his plan to include going into the Beltane clan and cutting that monster's throat but Azraela's frantic voice snapped him back to the present.

"We have to go, now!" She whimpered.

Atticus needed no further convincing. He grasped the terrified girl's hand and led he through the woods. Azraela managed to keep a good pace despite the weakness she still felt. Every sound caused her to flinch and watch the shadows cautiously. Something was wrong, she just knew it! She readjusted her chain shirt and clutched the dagger in her free hand while she tried to push down the foreboding feeling and concentrate on where her friend was taking her.

As they reached a safer distance from the encampment, they both relaxed a little and Attie slowed his pace. They squinted in the darkness and Azraela dropped back just by a few steps so that her friend couldn't see what she was doing. She summoned as much strength as she had and her fingertip began to glow. Well that was disappointing, but it would do. When she touched it to the wick of the torch it burst into flame and the area around them was finally visible.

"You know, if you're going to try to convince me you lit that torch without magic you should at least remember that matches make sound." Attie murmured. He turned to glance at her with a smirk. "So you're a gifted, huh?"

Azraela's face blanched and she froze for a moment. "Wait.. it doesn't freak you out? Even my father is afraid of my magic." She mumbled. She'd not shown a soul her gift since he had almost killed her as a child when it flared up during one of his tirades.

"Hell no!" Attie exclaimed. "It's one of the things I write about most. And magic isn't all that weird. You're not special." He teased.

"It is in our clan." She whispered. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying not to hurt her as he did so. "They're not your clan anymore, Az. I am." He promised.

While they wandered in the direction of the docks, the talked about anything they could think of.

"So how is the writing coming along?" Azraela asked. Attie sighed, staring off into the distance.

"Uh, not great." He admitted. "My parents think it's foolish. They grounded me last time I was caught writing instead of training."

"Why? I think your stories are great!" She protested. "I guess people just can't accept what they don't understand."

Attie nodded in agreeance. He complained that he also still hadn't found his pen name.

"I mean who is going to read a book signed by someone called Atticus?" He jested.

"I would!" Az exclaimed. "After all, I'd hope to be obtaining the first copy once you're done." She thought about what he might call himself. He'd complained that he wanted something mysterious and compelling. "Hey, what about the White Wolf?" She finally murmured. Attie stopped in his tracks. After a moment of deliberation his lips twitched into a joyful smile. "I like that!" He proclaimed.