Tributes

Chapter Seven

Paul was lost. The corridor was long and cold with a sharp wind blowing through it. He hadn't seen anyone while hunting out a way to escape which was lucky for him so far. Every moment in the castle was another moment he could get caught and taken back to the god's harem. 

The dark and angry god with a faint trace of thunder in his wake. Paul bit his lip to stop a whimper building up at the thought of the powerful god. His scarred face and white eye. His sharp teeth and wild hair. The feeling of power and anger that surrounded his every movement and the feeling from inside of Paul of feeling tiny next to him. Who had promised not to hurt him but had bitten his hand and struck one of his other whores. Paul's hand was still throbbing, as was his mind at the truth of the matter. The wolf god was enormous and if he tried to do anything to Paul, he would destroy him. 

He shivered, pulling his clothes closer wishing he had a cloak. A foreign scent washed over from him the clothes. They weren't his. Somehow that made the situation scarier. They were good quality things and when the wind wasn't blowing around him, they were warm. Was the Wolf God being truthful when he promised not to hurt Paul? Or was he powerful enough to keep even his temporary toys well looked after?

Paul shook his head and looked around, trying to figure out where the window was. He needed to work out how to escape like his father had told him too. His father had told him to remain hidden and that someone, as damaged as him, was unworthy of the God's attention. Even if the Wolf God had meant his words, it would only be a matter of time before the God realised this fact. His father was going to be furious with him for not escaping sooner. Paul swallowed sharply, jogging down the corridor.

What was scarier? The fate he knew? The fate he didn't?

He had already gotten people in trouble. He would be punished for that eventually. Or rather people had tried to help him and got what happened if you tried to help things that were worthless and unsavable. Pain and suffering. The flame-haired woman who had bravely yelled at the wolf god, not understand it was the God's right to do anything to Paul. Anything.

The slap had seemed to echo in the room, closely followed by another door slamming. The God had left, likely not wanting to destroy his toys too quickly. They weren't completely disposable.  The woman had seemed hurt by the God's action. She was new to being a slave, Paul suspected. His father had made sure he was well trained. Slaves had no rights, no feelings or desires. As unworthy as Paul was, he understood this simple fact of life. 

His father had ordered him to remain hidden. The words echoed in Paul's head as he dreaded the punishment which would be awaiting him when he got home. He had tried to follow his father's orders. He had stayed well out of sight, hiding in the cellar in one of his better hiding places. But a hound had found him! Hounds were giant dogs which hunted whatever or whoever the supreme god was looking for. From other gods, to apparently people who were not presenting themselves as requested to the God's hands.

Teeth had bitten through his rags and forced him up and out for the whole village to see. The people looking at him in disgust as he was pushed forward to a being who had every right never to see the likes of Paul. He was so pretty, almost sparkling with magic. Paul was different to the rest of the village but this creature wore his defining features with pride. Long blue hair flowing down his side and well-tailored clothes. Paul had felt more like dirt than normal as the eyes of this stunning being looked him over.