It is so peaceful in the forest clearing, large enough for the caravan to place the wagons at either end, leaving the center open for fires, repairs, and a chance for all to stretch their weary legs. The wind blows gentle through the branches of the towering oaks, flowers blossom with great abundance, birds twitter in the trees. This part of the forest we were told, is the realm of many a rare nymph and pixie, the little magic they posses allows the to create a place of eternal life, and to hide it from all but their favorite mortals.
I have enjoyed these last five days of travel, for every mile we walk is another one that takes us away from the shadow of the Silver City. The journey was harsh in the beginning, and many are still recovering from the colds they acquired do to the three days of cold rain the Cunning Lord summoned. Throughout this expanse of time, both human, cunning folk, and allied shifters have grown used to one another's company. The freed humans, along with my family and friends, are not as timid as they once were. They are able to laugh, to smile, to enjoy the presence of loved ones without fear.
I watch the caravan's activities from my perch on large sloping boulder that has the perfect divot at its top for me to sit cross legged. All the freed humans have since wrapped their neck, wrists, and ankles in bandages rimmed with healing plants and the greenish hue of my mother's salve. The night all had the iron rings removed, Mother began in earnest to prepare as much salve as possible to dress our fellow travelers' wounds.
I as well have seen much tending, the carved etchings on my stomach and abdomen have seen more than a dozen sessions of cleaning, herb plastering, and bandaging. On Mother's orders a new dressing must be wash and prepared with great delicacy to prevent the slightest chance of infection. She has even, to my distaste yet relief, subject me to a three times daily regimen of keeping the paste of herbs moist and plentiful, along with adding in a medicinal oil from the cunning folk to keep the wounded skin soft, thus to keep it from scarring.
Perhaps, with great hope, her attentions will make this reminder of my pain and suffering disappear. Though it can never take away the memories, the fear, the sense of foreboding that haunts me still, for the High Alpha King by now has realized I am gone. He knows I'm free from him, out of his reach, his grasp, his cruel horrid mind, and will want me back.
I steady my thoughts, digging my fingers into the lush moss coating the boulder. The feel of both moss and boulder makes my magic purr within my fingers. The wondrous touch of living plant and ancient earth grounding me, awakening the power I have not touched since the Arena. With it bound by the collar and our journey to this point, I have yet to find the time to assess the damage caused by that warlock's monstrous creation.
My freedom has allowed me to explore the woods with my friends, to snuggle close at night in the arms of my mother and sister. Laughter has once again come back to me, the teasing between me and Orlan blossoming one again, Amira cunning as ever, Ersa our mothering hen, Aloutte and Celeste bending their training to help the blacksmiths craft the requested weapons out of the old slave collars. Then there is Ezra, our solemn, cautious, watchful Ezra besotted by the charms and kind heart of Tanith.
A werewolf that is one of two former servants of our captor, one who is more predictable than the princess who has turned into our savior and a rebel leader. A shadowy outlier who has kept her distance from us all, a choice I have garnered to not be her own, not when she is always accompanied by Aydan Prince of the Dune Pride or the Cunning Lord herself. Beyond the lord's help, I've seen little of our mysterious leader, after two days of catching no glimpse of her gray form I saw it for but a moment when Lisa's children were brought to us last eve.
The children from my vision, stumbled into the clearing in bedraggled nightclothes accompanied by a tall male in even shabbier dress than the Cunning Lord. Lisa was overjoyed, falling to her knees as her children dove into her arms. Mother tried to remain composed but she in turn also burst into tears and greeted her grandchildren with a loving hold.
YOU ARE READING
Forest of Lies
FantasyA thousand years past, the world was run by humankind. But it changed, when countries became embroiled in a war that gave the werewolves the opportunity, to recreate the earth in their own image. Now humans are the lowest on the food chain, little m...
