... The rays of sunlight shone through the closed windows, beaming over the tired eyes of the Hound, as the young lady woke up first in their bed – a small cozy room of a tavern.
They found this place before the day had ended; After they had bought most of what they needed:
Equipments, tools, food and medicines – as well as their indulgences.
The crumbs of pastries left on the table, and the ashes of burnt leaves were still very much present.
The young lady found herself warmly held in the Hound's arms, under the blankets, as the air was still fresh and cold. Her tail was instinctively wrapped around his waist, seeking for that comfort.
She could see the Hound's saggy, heavy, purple bags hanging underneath his resting eyes – she always wondered what he had gone through to appear like that.
He always had these tired eyes, even when they first met.
Always so tired. Always so grumpy. Always so empty, as if he detested the world around them – she doesn't blame him. But without it, she wouldn't be here with him in the first place.
She could still remember that first encounter:
A small little child, taken away from her home after she saw her infantile world burned in front of her eyes. She could still remember candidly that cherry scene playing in front of her, where her parents bled under the blade of those knights in shining armors.
Then, she was taken away. Into a land so foreign. Into a world she did not belong to. She always felt as if the sun itself was drying her tears to mock her, to blind her, to scorch her, and burn her.
And it was only when she was thrown into those dungeon, to be gutted like a lamb – a sacrifice to a Goddess she despised – did she finally felt a hint of comfort:
The comforting thought that soon it was going to end.
Yet, when she had surrendered, after begging to her God, after begging to any God, after begging for any kind of mercy but ultimately resigned – that midnight bleakness appeared into her view.
He roared into the room of the dungeon like a monstrous storm, asking not a single question or wasting an instance to talk – he just swung his blade, and blood sprayed everywhere like a fountain erupting.
Terrifying, sure.
But when she saw his eyes, she fell enamored.
A shadow of complete darkness, holding two nebulas of amethyst color – it looked so familiar to her, so soothing and reassuring.
It reminded her of that summer night when the sky was completely bleak – not even the moon appeared to exist. And yet, she could see them so clearly, those two eyes of black, with streaks of deep purple, looking back at her in the distance.
And this stranger's eyes, reminded her of that estranged night.
She wanted a better look; She wanted that feeling of home again—
Pat pat pat pat pat pat pat pat pa-
—The big puppy got startled, and fell backward.
The young lady still chuckles at times, remembering his reaction. She was sure he wasn't bothered by anything, yet he fell so clumsily onto his rear—
Dum-my~
—She teased him in her mind, as she started gently rubbing the soft eyebags of the Hound.
He was, and always will be, that scary big wolf in everyone's eyes. But to her, he was nothing more than what, who, and where she belonged – she loved everything about him.
YOU ARE READING
Howlless
General Fiction... World, a simple word. One that contains so much: So much diversity, thoughts, ideals, dreams, stories - each needing books after books, just to touch its bare surface. And yet, there is no protagonist of this single world. Everyone's the protago...
