The Hunter's Wolf

Intuition

Intuition

"Show time's over," Only then Matthew makes himself known, after getting a load of representation of my unruly temper. "Go to your own respective training."

By the order of the second in command, the crowd disassembles and dissipates like ants, back to each of their areas of expertise, and pretending like nothing even happened.

Matthew walks over to me, his steps; although I can feel the disapproval to my actions, because I was carried away by my own anger, they are reposeful and— guess what, totally in control. His baby blue eyes shift from Nick, then to mine in a silent question.

Are you done ?

I keep my mouth shut. The last thing I want to have at the moment is another tension for lashing out to the person who does not partake anything out of line, literally.

Matthew does not say anything either, but his eyes are relentless and his stare pierces into me, right through me. I feel like I'm being exposed. My eyebrows twitch with the awkward atmosphere, trying to break this gazing contest wannabe. He notices the discomfort I feel and his eyes soften for fragment before he opens his mouth to speak.

"Whoa !" We snap our heads to the source of the orotund voice. Philip comes jogging at us, his countenance astonished and completely bewildered by some pointless duel.

"Two and a half seconds !" He exclaims, "This has to be your new record, right ?" He has these eyes frenzy with liveliness, his body jittering with excitement, and it makes me feel even more uncomfortable.

With a shrug, I reply, "I guess."

"Uhuh," he says, "Now I see how they refer you as the society's deadliest weapon."

I blink.

Philip is the kind of man whose choice of words are poorer than his living expenses. I let it slide at most cases, I have a feeling that this syndrome of his is incurable. I simply give him my usual smile, and head to the training area, leaving frozen Philip for Matthew to deal with.

The duel makes me realize one thing.

Everything I do here, be it the good deeds or the bad, people will always see me as a weapon, so they understand me and treat me like I am actually one.

The feeling of being the society's puppet never leaves, and what frightens me most is that I'm learning to embrace it.

Six hours pass uneventfully, and Theo summons me to his office; probably for the lecture as a result for the last hunt. I knock on the thick wooden door twice, before Theo allows me to enter with a sharp 'come in', and I take a step into his office.

Not so surprisingly, Matthew is here too, seated right before the desk, while Theo is facing to the outside through his window, his back on me and his hands behind his back.

"Take a seat, Rose," his deep voice orders. I go with his flow obediently, even though my eyes keep on taking wary glances at Matthew every now and then, paranoid that he had told Theo about the wolves in my closet, which he ignores blatantly despite the obvious.

"When the hunt begins tonight," he spins around as he points out a relieving topic, "I want you to find a place of high altitude for a hide site. Shoot the target within range."

I knit my eyebrows in confusion. "I can engage in the battle," I try to make a point.

He ambles behind his desk, his hand on the table and leans his body forward, "I don't remember permitting you to ask questions, Rose."