Among The Wolves

Food

I closed my eyes and sat there, allowing my thoughts to fade to nothing… and still ended up thinking about the man… Zeta Hem’Lar. Crazy as it was, that he was still alive. 

Soon enough, I found myself drifting off.

“Good evening, Omega Kek'Eeta.”

What’s this? I opened my eyes. It was the man, Zeta Hem’Lar. What are you doing? Why are you in my room?. Ok, look, I know that I don’t have written ownership to this eight by ten space but I have entitlement to privacy.

The man was sitting somewhat casually, but still very much alert. He wore a calm, reassuring look in his eyes. “How are you doing?” I noticed that he had a deep accent. Same as every other werewolf I met. It made me wonder if they spoke another language.

My arms were suddenly curled around my torso, legs up against my chest, and my mind spinning. Play it cool, Kejyta. 

It took a few long seconds of eyeballing the man before I realized he was waiting for me to answer him. I looked away, this man looked so reassuring and calm with his graying hair combed back and lathered with some styling glue, but my brain will have none of it. I thought to myself, Social interaction to my brain is like the red light district to a priest.

I let out an audible breath. For trying to make an accomplishment, I was making myself a fool. Play it cool. What do I even say? I do not know Wos’Theon culture or how to address people. I could easily do something taboo. It probably wouldn't take much for me to end up like those boys. This is going to be so hard. I need to observe, learn, analyze and repeat.

“That’s alright, you must be very hungry, you’ve been out here for a long time,” He looked out of the cell to the same man that stood guard last time. The man slapped his left hand to his right shoulder and walked away. Ahh, that must be their form of saluting just like we stomp our left foot and bow our heads. “I hope you’re feeling OK, you took quite a hit from that recruit.”

I mentally rolled my eyes. Please don’t remind me of Bratir. That kid is still gonna die by my hand. By the way, I don’t need food. I am just fine. As if reading my thoughts my tumtum growled. Fine, that was a lie but you don’t know that. 

I tried to think of something to say but words failed me. I resorted to nodding my response.  I looked at the Eta walking down the hallway. I wonder why on earth most of the werewolves are in people form? I thought they were stronger the wolf way. Thinking about the furry monsters made me shudder. I shouldn't complain. 

Zeta Hem’Lar must have seen me shudder. "Are you very cold?"

I timidly looked down and shook my head. 

"If you are, you can let me know, I will be sure to get you a blanket."

I nodded.

The following awkward silence had me scratching the back of my neck and picking at my dirty socks. They would never be white again, even with bleach. 

"Kek'Eeta."

The unusual pronunciation of my name had me looking up at the werewolf. 

"I want to remember to thank you for what you did back at the border."

The warmth in my heart from those words quickly faded. I looked off to the side. I just remembered my every chance of returning home dissolving like snow in the summer, steam vaporizing in the atmosphere, and sparks fleeting from the fire until they die. 

Looking back at him a seed of anger suddenly sprouted, So… am I supposed to thank YOU for my current predicament? To thank YOU for murdering those kids? I bit my lip when I remembered my papa's stern eyes when I would get upset. “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger…”