GELID | ✓

nine

all i want | kodaline

. . . 

It taken me a moment to understand what John had said. To find out the deaths of my parents weren't accidental, but planned was a slap in the face. Some of the elders were concerned about a power struggle with my parents and other senior wolves; thus, my parents were sent out to a suicide mission.

I was livid.

I remained sitting in the chair, internally raging. I asked John to complete the tattoo in one sitting, if he was able, and he agreed. In that time, I began thinking.

Becoming powerful would be my revenge.

Raising through the ranks and becoming as powerful as I possibly could was my best course of action, and I planned on using all of my free time training.

After a couple more hours passed, John finally sat back and rolled his shoulders and head. "I feel as if my fingers are about to fall off," he joked, stretching. "But the beauty of your War Ink makes this pain all worth it."

He explained the procedure of maintaining the tattoo and told me to come to him as soon as possible if the skin around the tattoo got irritated. As wolves, our skin stretched when we shifted, so it was crucial for me to remain in my human form until the tattooed skin healed.

"And no, absolutely no training," he stared at me. "Understand?"

I pursed my lips and nodded, planning on ignoring that bit of advice when I got to the safety of my own cabin.

. . .

I trained until my bones were stiff and until I could not breath. I crouched down on the ground, the injured but slowly healing hand clenching the bark of the tree trunk, the other running through my hair, keeping the strands from plastering on my sweaty neck. I didn't shift into my Wolf; rather, I worked on my human form.

The skin around the tattoo was pulsing and throbbing, just like the skin around my arm, and I slightly regretted ignoring John's advice, but I ignored the petty feelings.

I was a Warrior, I would endure. Inhaling the crisp air deeply, I rolled my shoulders back. Rolling my neck, I lightly jumped on my feet, trying to get the blood flow. Once I had stretched, I turned and began trekking towards the direction of my cabin.

I had barely walked a few feet away from where I initially rested when I heard the howl. Stopping, I tilted my head to the side, quieting my breathing and letting my ears do the listening. The howl called out again, this time, a painful, almost whining screech to it.

I narrowed my eyes when the howling got louder. A slow, lazy, and incessant pain began in my heart, but I ignored it.

That was the howl of a Wolf; panthers did not make noises like that. This territory was Lupus Tribus territory; that means one of our Wolves was in danger.

Knowing I could not shift, I began running towards the sound. My legs burned and my lungs felt like they were going to explode out of my chest, but I hurriedly made my way towards the howl. I was not as fast as Wselfwulf, but I was a Warrior of status. For some reason, my body wanted to run to the source of the howls, to assure myself that the wolf in question was alive.

Making my way through the trees and bushes, I somewhat regretted getting the tattoo at such a time, but the incessant howls made me ignore that tidbit of thinking. It seemed like it took forever, but the moment I broke through the trees, I gasped at what I saw. My heart began hammering, the pain almost unbearable.