Often Hushed

Chapter Eleven (Part 2)

HEY AGAIN GUYS!

Sorry I only did the first part. Geez I need to raise my game. Alright, here's the second third of the chapter!

Oh, also, my friend @MeghanLuvs is working on a fabulous story called Fading! It would mean a lot to the both of us if you went on over there and checked it out- she's planning on updating once again once she hits 10k! Please help her reach that goal!!

One final thing... Thank you @theraag for the cover for another story I'm writing currently!

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My first few steps are shakier than I expect them to be, and I almost tumble down face-first.

Pins jab up my legs from my bloodless feet. My hand finds support against the closest tree, keeping me up. Dust rises in clouds after my feet disturb the earth.

I cough as the particles of dirt scratch my sensitive nose and then growl. After my lungs settle and my legs still their quaking, I feel confident enough to start up again.

The first step makes me wobble. The second is strong, and I am hopeful. After that I take off without a glance behind me, lightly jogging. The pins go away and a warm numbness sets in.

The air takes on a chill about five minutes later, and I'm still following the sun steadily.

Leafless sticks crunch under my feet and a well-trod path is beginning to form in front of me. Maybe this is a path that they take to patrol their territory, or maybe it's just a heavily used deer path.

My breaths are quiet and they're the only noises around me. Birds are silent and I can't pick up any rustling. I ignore any disturbances in the underbrush far away. At this point I'm just praying that the people or the creatures who left a message on my skin are long gone.

I roll the phrase "ch'ul ix" around in my mind as I continue. Why would anyone want to call me holy woman? Who were they trying to warn? How could they force me out of my Wolf form, and how did they know how to use antimony as a poison?

Also, how did the mysterious Asian Wolf I'd met earlier know what ch'ul ix even meant?

I mumble to myself as I jog, trying to think of answers.

"Maybe they're just nuts," I say. "Maybe a tattoo just fucking means nothing!"

It's a stupid excuse, I know. And I can't help but think that there is no way that they'd take the time to burn silver and antimony into the skin of my torso without reason. One can only hope, right?

I continue to complain under my breath as I take a look up at the sky. The sun is almost slanted beyond the line of the trees. I stop and study the field of view, and apparently I'm so caught up in the colors staining the sky that I just about ignore the figure dropping to the ground a few trees ahead of me.

When they take a step towards me, I jump. A familiar scent wafts through the air timidly.

"Moondrunk?" I ask cautiously as the figure stops.

At first glance the dark, slanted oriental eyes are the same as they had been before. Then I realize that they're not.

Something that I can't quite put my finger on is different this round. Maybe he's matured, or maybe the look on his creased face contains more youth than it did in our last visit. Either way, the age in his ruddy cheeks is not the same as it had been less than twenty minutes ago when I last laid my eyes on him.

Not only that, but he's wearing different clothes. His feet are bare this time, and dirty jeans threaded with rips and tears hang from his hips. His tan shoulders are draped with a crusty brown shirt that might've been advertising a band when the print was more visible. Only some illegible, roughly cut cursive font remains on the worn shirt.

His sleeves are rolled up and holes riddle the thin stitching along his sides. Some parts are stained with a darker shade and I'm too nervous to ask.

An appraising chuckle raises from the familiar stranger's mouth. "Hello Vanessa," he says smoothly in a voice that I almost recognize. "Wow, it's been so long hasn't it?"

"Why'd you come back around, Moondrunk?"

He frowns as if he's offended before a maniacal grin splits his face. "Just wanted to check in. Help out a little."

Moondrunk tosses me a flannel button-up shirt that I do not question. I throw it over my body the second I catch it. Some of the lingonberry juice crusts off as the fabric rubs against it but the wetter pools begin to soak into the shirt.

I am unconcerned- it isn't an injury that is ailing me.

"Why have you changed so much?" I blurt.

I go red and find another item to place my eyes on when his cheeks balloon and he starts guffawing at me. My lip curls into a snarl. "Moondrunk," I warn him lowly.

He shrugs me off and quiets.

"It seems you don't remember me," he frowns. A bitter taste suddenly rises from the back of my throat as wariness etches lines into my face and growls in my stomach.

"Wha-?" I begin but he cuts me off.

"I'm not exactly the same me that talked to you ten minutes ago, love," he smiles.

~~~

So sorry for every delay.