Cursed

Chapter 16: The Den

It was the early hours of the morning, when birds were still asleep and the sun was waking from its slumber. Jason, my unusual savior, was talking to a tall girl with hair as golden as the royal jewels and eyes as green as spring leaves. With hushed voices, their conversation bounced from one to another, like ping-pong. First it was Jason, whose face looked more troubled and tired than it had been during the night, his expressions kept switching between frustrated and soft. Then there was the woman, not much older than myself, whose perfectly fine features constantly pressed together in a pained frown every time her eyes flicked my way. It was only Jason's hand rubbing along her arm that made her lose focus on me. For a second, her tension dissolved. 

The more I observed both of them, the more I asked myself what the nature of their relationship was. The woman's eyes remained entirely too long on Jason, and Jason clearly seemed comfortable around her as well. But it was the distance between them that made me doubt.

They were standing in the looming shadow of the most magnificent wooden treehouse I had ever seen. Big strong pillars held the whole establishment up, and between the pillars benches and tables were surrounding the old, mighty trunk. And a trunk it was, it was the biggest I had ever seen. It needed ten of me to simply even get to the other side of it. It radiated strength and age. It made me wonder who these people were. The treehouse itself was mostly hidden by the leaves and branches of the tree, and only part of the first floor was visible. It was magnificent.

"Are you serious?" The sharp voice of the blonde echoed over the open space that stretched between the house and the growing river. Her hands were rubbing the side of her face, again her face scrunched together. Jason took her tiny hands, letting them disappear in his.

"Don't mind Heather." The sand-papery voice made me jump up from the cut-off tree trunk I had been sitting on ever since we arrived. Jason had told me to stay, and because I didn't have any other place to go, I had listened. Now I regretted my decision, as I was once again on my ass in the mud.

An old lady, dressed in colorful clothing with a white apron above them, smiled down at me. With a bit of a limp, she moved next to me and sat down on the bench. She stretched her hand out, I ignored it. When I sat back down on my previous spot, her hand fell down on my knee. My shoulders tensed and I found it hard not to shake it off. My good hand was already clenching my knife in between my fingers, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Ever since the night of your making, the world has been different. Heather is a strong witch, but she's still growing into the prime of her powers. It is natural for her to feel a bit off balance in these trying times." The woman looked sideways at me, a genuine smile transformed from her dried lips. My lips pressed together into a line, but I quickly looked away, back at the witch, Heather, who was walking away in the direction of the treehouse ladder. Her head was shaking and her hand was back at rubbing her temple and ear. Jason simply followed her with his gaze, he looked worried, before he turned back to me, his worry not dissipating.

"Jason is the alpha here."

"Isn't he a bit young to be an alpha?" I wondered aloud. My eyes remained on his brown ones. They did look old and mature, when you paid attention. Like they had already seen too much of the world.

The woman hummed. "Unfortunately yes, but there is not much we can do about that I'm afraid."

The hand on my knee moved away, which made me instantly relax.

"Let me take a look at your wounds, dear." She spoke gently, her hand asking for consent. My eyes finally let go of Jason's brown ones and fell onto the dark gray of my companion. They sparkled with life, which was in contradiction with her irises, where color seemed to have drained away over the years.