***Discontinued. Will be rewritten in the future. Do not read, it is full of purple prose you have been warned.***
"I'll make you trust me."
The ghost of a visibly false smile floats across my face.
"You're callow to try."
~~~~~
Eight quiet years a...
Asher's father turns away from the window, his eyes no longer staring at the Blackmoon in awe. He finds my face, an accusing suspicion shooting from his brown irises.
Instinctive alerts jolting awake, I waste no time in distancing myself from the threat, moving back with wide steps. The growl of the beast starts within my chest, loud and primal. A hostile warning that only the densest of idiots would fail to take heed to.
Like clockwork, Asher's own snarl mixes with mine, and his body immediately moves to block the path between the threat and myself.
Over the tense, broad shoulder of my Lifeblood his father's stare is locked onto me, pupils dilated to a width greater than that of the Blackmoon itself.
Through disbelief and shock, he whispers the word that defines my existence. "Impossible..."
And so I run. I run like Hell's on my tail and I have nothing to lose.
Without thought or even consideration, the window becomes my gateway to safety. The glass shatters as my body hurls through it with the strength of a boulder. My skin is slit with the jagged shards, my blood released to flow freely as I feel nothing but passing air.
My feet and hands hit the ground as paws, wasting no time before all four legs are propelling me further into the forest and away from being exposed.
If they find out it would mean eight years of adapting misery rewound for me. If anyone finds out, my death might as well be sealed in stone before my last breath even ceases.
Escaping once was the grace of the Goddess, the impossible luck of a miracle not meant to happen. Escaping twice is pointless to ponder.
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Hours pass, maybe two, maybe three. Hours with no clear intention or reason rather than never being caught by that man. Every minute filled with the fear of being discovered, every second filled with the terror of being followed.
How far had I come? How many miles have I traveled from the Octavian territory? It's all unknown.
A familiar odor slithers up my nose, so putrid in connotative memory that my chest feels as if full of jagged knives and broken glass.
My paws skid to a stop quicker than a heartbeat, claws digging into the damp forest floor like pickaxes.
I brace my legs as if they're made of iron, preparing for the worst, preparing to fight for my life as I have so many times before if that's what it would take.
A voice screams out of rage, the wretched sound like metal to my ears.
"WE HAVE FAILED! ONE OF THOSE MONSTERS STILL LIVES!"
