The Wolf of the Wilds

The Offering

The chilling air bit at her exposed skin like a starved animal with razors for teeth. She'd taken refuge in a shadow, watching as the building emptied. The audience spilt out onto the streets, hollering and singing like a large band of drunken baboons. Whilst to most she appeared to be waiting for the Montis to return, in reality she was stalling.

Around her neck, her knife weighed down on her like a chain or a thick length of rope. The scrap of paper in her hand burnt like red hot metal. Siduri had pressed the note into her hand earlier that night, but it wasn't until she'd left the ring that she'd looked at what it was. An address. A short message.

'A parting gesture to an amusing entertainer. I never did like Rodian; he's the brutish sort and his performances were always lacklustre. Be sure to look after that head of yours.

-S.'

Helena closed her eyes, her brows pulled close together. A pain still echoed through her skull, drumming up a throbbing tune every time she moved too vigorously.

Perhaps it was the pain she was currently in, or perhaps it felt too much like a ritual sacrifice, but the thought of murder left a bitter taste in her mouth. The ring campion couldn't live, she knew that much. If the blade went missing, he would kick up a fuss and there was the risk that the news could make its way back to Neron. Ciro had been witness to the tournament so it wouldn't take too much deduction to link her presence to the disappearance of the blade.

"The blade is more important," she murmured, hand reaching for the place it would've sat. Her hip felt bare without the blade's weight. A reminder of her failure to protect it.

She looked up to see several figures approaching. It didn't take her more than a second to identify them as the Montis. Felix was at the front, a frown on his face.

"Are you okay, Lena?" he asked as soon as he was within earshot. His voice was better suited to the bustling interior of the stands, sending a small stab through her skull.

She raised a finger and pressed it to her lips. "Speak softly. My ears aren't my friends at the moment. I'm alright apart from a mild concussion. I have more errands to run tonight, but I'll be fine soon enough."

Felix immediately looked even more concerned and he hurried closer, looking her up and down for further signs of injury. His lips were pulled taught.

"Don't you think you should see a physician? Concussions can be dangerous," he said, having dropped his voice to a reasonable loudness.

"All they'll tell me is that I have a mild concussion and to go easy the next couple of days. This matter concerns the thing I told you of the other day. My injuries can wait until the matter is resolved," she explained, her eyes flicking back and forth as she read Felix's expression.

He seemed to still, his hand searching for a loose thread to tug at. "Lena. I-"

"Tough luck on the last round Helena! You got absolutely thrashed!" Edgard decided to make himself known, walking alongside a rather disgruntled Adrian and a cheerful looking Petrine.

When Helena restrained a flinch, Felix turned around to look at Ed. "Shh! Indoor voices, Alpha Edgard, please. Lena has a headache."

Edgard looked rather affronted by the smaller man's sudden outburst, but upon glancing to Helena and meeting her stare, he immediately reconsidered his impulse to talk down to the omega. There were some things he didn't want to mess with, and angering Helena was akin to smothering himself in honey whilst naked and kicking a beehive.

"Ah. Well tough luck anyway. The campion was a big guy; you can't win every battle," he said, waving a hand to dispel the subtle tension between them.