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18 - Duty

Torryn

We hunt before sunrise.

Aragon's voice echoed in his head like a constant mantra. If the decision lay solely on him, he would have hunted the damn thing now. Whatever it was, Sallow or Rogue, he wanted it dead. His fingers rubbed on his jaw feeling the subtle ache of his canines. He craved for blood like it was water. He hissed and bit down against his teeth.

The end of the Reaping marked the beginning of Spring Solstice. His body hardened every joint locked and stiff. He eased his shoulders in attempts to shrug off his meeting with the alphas.

How he could have let this happen?

A rogue running through his woods had already been a grave threat to his people. But, a Sallow. He flinched clenching his hands until they were pale and cold. He could not stomach such carelessness. The beast could have taken down any of his men, even devoured one of the cubs.

Snow was in those woods. The taste of wine made his lips bitter as his insides began to spill bile his throat. The sensation made him dizzy. His hands wiped cold sweat from his forehead. It was only then that he felt his hand tremble.

He couldn't bear the thought of her in such danger. He clutched the trembling limb and fought back the thought.

A low growl heaved against his chest as he walked into the hallway to the armory. The scent of iron and creeping rust had this effect on him. The years of coming in and out of this room felt like second nature. There was a pattern to this. He told himself. The routine was almost comforting.

Torryn's hand unbuttoned his tunic as the pale fabric landed on the floor. He reached for a set of daggers and began to balance one on his hand. Although, he was used to battle in his wolf form, a few weapons can serve him good right before he shifts.

He balanced a blade in his hand and once he found the perfect one, he threw the sharpened metal against a wooden target. The blade was too heavy. His force was too subtle. He missed the central target. Just as he hissed, a metal arrow landed on the red 'X' where his dagger should have been.

Torryn smiled as he smelled her.

"These arrows are heavy," Snow said, just as she emerged behind him.

Torryn could not help but grin. He desperately suppressed the childish smile, but to no avail. His chest became light. Whatever heaviness it possessed a while ago, now vanished. The gums that ached at the base of his canines eased. Snow knew how to tame the beast in him.

"Who taught you that?" He asked.

"My father," She replied, drawing another arrow to the target.

He walked towards her, balancing another dagger on his palm. The sharp tip stood on his bare skin. Her eyes widened at what he's doing. She unstrung the arrow from her metal bow and rested her hands beside her legs. The green of her eyes was near a shade of blue as she glared at him. Her pupils widened in irritation. He stared back, raising his eyebrows to tease her.

Snow looked like a child. On the contrary, she still is.

Nevertheless, being near her gave him the comfort he has never felt before. He desired her, but no longer lusted for her body like he used to. Snow wasn't just skin and bones. She was more than a vessel. Torryn realized it, the more he knew her. He grew undeniably drawn to her. The more Snow revealed herself, the more he wanted her near.