𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

vii. wounded wings.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑬 understand her desire to leave Tabrien. To the betas, she hasn't exactly been subtle about her dislike for the place. Her white wings are enough of an indicator that she belongs elsewhere, but no one seems to treat her any differently than the other wolves. It must be because of her and Morrow's matebond, a matebond that burns so strong yet she refuses to acknowledge.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Twas only last night when Morrow caught her when her wings crippled from terran iron arrows. The memory of him catching her replays in her mind over and over again, and she tries to stop it. Damn her for even indulging in it, but her creature loves to be in Morrow's presence, and Elowen can't deny the gravitational pull the universe gives when the two enter the same room. As she lays on her bed with eyes closed, she can almost feel his open-mouth kisses upon her neck, the nips upon her pointed ear, each hot breath fanning against her skin.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Stop it, she tells herself. Morrow remains a stranger, an enigma she can never be able to figure out. He's caught betwixt a mess of lies and curses, while she's attempting to pick up his scraps and string together the truth. Mates or not, she won't submit to him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Last night was a fluke, and she is determined to correct it.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her thoughts are brutally disrupted by her bedroom door snapping off the hinges. Wood splinters against the floor, exploding shrapnel in all directions. Like lightning, Elowen sits up, clinging the sheet to her chest as she watches an infuriated Ronyn waltz into the room. Behind him, Cordea rambles on as an attempt to calm him down, but Ronyn's blazing hazel orbs tell her that nothing will soothe him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Nothing at all.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn growls heavily, his muscles expanding as if he was beginning to shift into his wolf. "You."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen glances at Cordea, scowling. "What's going on?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But Cordea doesn't answer. It's Ronyn that continues to prowl towards her. "What the hell happened last night?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"How do you know something happened?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Morrow's been awol for the past few hours," Ronyn grits his sharp teeth as he speaks, "so something must've fucking happened, because his scent is all over you. I can smell it from here!"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Can you stop smelling me?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea sets her hand on Ronyn's bicep, rubbing her palm in soothing circles. Ronyn's hazel irises meet the glistening eyes of his beta counterpart, and he dissolves at the touch for just a mere second. The two always seem to irk one another, but it's clear there's a relationship deeper than what they show.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Ronyn," she whispers. "It's clear she doesn't know. Besides, Morrow comes and goes without telling us all the time. What makes this so different?"