Divinity. Mortality. War.
Silva, Queen of Wolves, Lady of the True Woods, seeks her only friend Etan, who, along with other deities of the Council of Divinity, has gone missing for reasons unknown. Her search traps her on a world where the wolves ha...
Thalaea was knocked to her side by a large, angry Minae. Something hit her hard on the head and her vision went fuzzy; desperately she tried to crawl away but her attacker straddled her waist, pinning her in place.
"Bitch," he growled at her, and she didn't need his scent in her nostrils to know it was Kaz the hunter.
She felt some of her old bravado come back, though she could barely see and her head hurt something fierce. She looked up at him and bared her teeth. "That's Alpha Bitch to you," she said. She caught movement to her side, but couldn't figure out what it was quickly enough to block the punch. She tasted blood — her own, this time.
His hands were on her throat, then, and he was choking the life from her. Thalaea gasped for breath but none came. In desperation, she flailed her arms around. Her hand came in contact with cold wood and metal; without thinking she grabbed it and swung upwards as hard as she could.
The shovel connected with Kaz's head and knocked him off her. He cried out in pain. Thalaea rolled away from him quickly and got up on her knees. Her head ached and she could barely breathe. Kaz was on his side, at her feet, clutching his head in pain. When he saw she was standing, he reached for her legs to pull her down. She whacked his hands away with the shovel; it made a satisfying clang against his fingers.
"Bitch!" he said, again, and she started to wonder if he knew any other word.
"Get the hell out of Enendoa's garden, you useless excuse for a man," she breathed, and staggered away, towards the house. Something warm was trickling down her face, and it took her a minute to realize her nose was bleeding. Her face would be bruised in the morning.
Suppose that'll be a battle scar–
She didn't finish the thought. Kaz had tackled her to the ground and was pummelling whatever part of her he could reach.
Thalaea jabbed her elbow back with a considerable amount of force and got lucky: it connected with some part of Kaz and he stopped pummelling long enough for her to throw him off her. She crawled away, back towards the shovel she'd dropped. This time instead of standing she rolled around to face him; he was already coming after her again.
With a savage growl she swung the shovel at his face. It connected hard and he went sailing back, landing on the first plant in the row she'd worked on for hours.
Kaz didn't move. Thalaea sat for a moment, trying to calm her breathing. She was wrong earlier when she'd thought everything hurt. Now that she'd been in a physical brawl — now everything hurt.
Groaning, she made herself get to her feet, and walked over to the unconscious hunter.
No. Not unconscious, she realized, looking at his still chest and open, glassy eyes.
Dead.
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Panic flooded Thalaea.
She'd murdered someone. Someone with connections. Someone that two others had seen her threaten and bite earlier that day.
She looked at her shovel. There was blood on the metal. The entire garden was a map of their fight; of the twenty plants she'd replanted, only fifteen were unharmed. Bootprints marked where they'd scuffled and fought. Blood was on the ground.
There was no way she could get out of this.
She was a newcomer to town. She had strange powers and was a wolf-lover.
Kaz was a beloved hunter. He had connections. She had no idea what those connections were but Enendoa had assured her of them.
What was the punishment in Min for murder? Life imprisonment, or execution?
It didn't matter either way. She was as good as dead, for the second time today.
She cursed aloud, in Wolf. No time to lament what couldn't be changed. Time to roll up her sleeves and be practical.
The gate at the back of the yard swung open from where Kaz had knocked his way through it. Hooking her arms under the dead man's armpits, she began to drag him towards the forest.
It took her an hour to drag him a suitable distance into the woods and cover up his body with boughs from nearby conifers. There was no way she could make sure his body wasn't found anytime soon; she only hoped this would delay the authorities — whoever they were — enough.
She really should have learned more about this country, she lamented as she packed her rucksack with all her belongings. If she knew more about what rights she had under the law, maybe she wouldn't have to pack up and run away.
Maybe. Unlikely.
With all the things from her room packed up, she walked downstairs as quietly as possible, though Enendoa still snored on, deep in sleep.
Oh gods. Enendoa.
When the hunter's body was found, suspicion would fall to the witch. She would be completely unprepared.
Thalaea couldn't let that happen to her mentor. In the front room she scrabbled around for a blank piece of paper and sat down at the desk to pen a note.
Enendoa,
Forgive my hasty flight. Kaz the hunter attacked me while I was planting tonight, and I ended up killing him in self-defense. The body is in the woods. I didn't know what else to do; I don't want you to be blamed for my actions.
Thank you for everything you've done for me. I'm sorry to leave like this, but it's probably best if I never show my face in Min again.
-Thalaea
She looked at the letter critically. It would have to do. She didn't have much time. Hastily she salted the ink and brought the letter into the kitchen, where she sat it under the butter dish.
She was still wearing the spare coat of Enendoa's, but she didn't think the woman would begrudge her taking it — it was far too big for the shorter woman anyway. It fit Thalaea's considerable height perfectly.
Into her rucksack she put the two loaves of bread that had been baked earlier that day, as well as some dried jerky. The rucksack was fairly full after that. She added some of the herbs that she'd learned the use of to the top, just in case. She hoped she had enough supplies.
Even if she didn't, there was nothing she could do.
When she got outside, she picked up her shovel and tied it to the top of her rucksack. Blood on it or not, murder weapon or not, it was her shovel, and it could come in useful.
Swinging her pack's straps over her shoulders and settling it comfortably against her back, Thalaea walked out of the garden and into the forest, never once looking back on her old life.
