Shielding the Beast (discontinued)

Twenty-Two | Sacrifice

A/N:
Another add-in chapter. You know what to do ;)

(I sat here for five minutes trying to figure out which way to put the winkie face and yet it still looks creepy...)

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We walk in silence behind the search party, our fingers intertwined. Asher hasn't said a word, nor have I.

What's there to say?

It's on all of our minds, yet nobody wants or dares to ask it; what part did I play in this carnage?

It's obvious now that my hands aren't clean of blood. After all, who could be innocent when they're the only one found living among a sea of death?

"Alpha!" A voice breaks me out of my thoughts, "Come take a look at this."

Looking up, I realize with a chill where we are. In the same clearing where the Bloodlust started, standing beside the same tree I had landmarked. The same hollow tree.

Asher, hesitantly glancing at me, brings our hands to his lips. He places a kiss on the back of mine, right before reluctantly letting it slip from his grasp.

"I'll be right back." With that he walks away, over towards whatever the others are gathered around. Once spotting the point of interest, a shiver runs down my spine.

They're staring at a tree; a tree capable of sending any creature running from this forest. Giant claw marks are carved deep into the trunk, the wood jagged and the bark splintered.

Using their distraction to my advantage, I make my way to the hollow tree, my heart pounding in my chest. Reaching a hand into the hole in the trunk, my fingers curl around the cool plastic. The bottle is lifted out, unopened and just as I had left it.

"Here little wolf," my father's voice replays its memory in my head, "Whiskey. Drink it."

I clutch the bottle tighter, struggling to push away the painful memories of a life lost.

"Survivors aren't weakened. They're-"

I cut the recollection off before it can finish.

No. Stop remembering.

Shifting my focus to the item gripped in my palm, I shove the whiskey beneath the shirt and tuck it between my arm and side, knowing its time of use is only coming closer.

.

.

.

The hot water is soothing against my skin, hitting my face in endless pin-sized streams. A burst of willpower encourages me to shut off the shower and step out into the cold without a flinch.

After briskly drying off, I find the clothes Asher had lent me and quickly slip a long sleeve shirt over my glistening scars, paranoid of anyone's eyes grazing over them.

Exiting the bathroom and into Asher's bedroom, my feet stop in the doorway to find nothing but darkness staring back at me. Thick curtains are covering the windows, preventing any evidence of daytime from leaking in. The door to the hallway is shut, the only light being what spills from the bathroom behind me to paint my shadow on the floor.