Beware Of The Dog

Chapter Six: Reunion

If she could stay away, she would.

If she could run away, she would.

Avon's heart beats in her ears as her legs become heavy, huffing with every step she took. She would stay away. She would run away. Yet she does not, knowing full and well that Mica, her best friend, would become the next target. The bottom of the chain. His defiant attitude and his lack of fear is almost like poison in his blood. The collar shackling their pheromones is just as dehabilitating as living as a prisoner. A prisoner in their own pack, which should be their blood, their bones, and their entirety of their being. No one would be willing to support Mica if she weren't there. She knew that she has to be there, if she wanted him to be happy. She has to be there, if she wanted him to be alive.

Her feet came to a stop as she took a moment to breathe, her hands on her knees as she watched her sweat drip to the grass. Derrik's scent became more apparent against her own, her eyes finding their way to the bandages on her arms. "I have to get rid of his scent." Quickly ripping off the plasters on her skin and throwing it to the ground. Even bringing it near the pack house was dangerous enough; Tristan's sense of smell is incredibly sensitive. Any traces of outsiders would immediately alarm him and the other pack members. Avon was incredibly lucky that it was just after midday, when everyone was at school. It gave her enough time to rub her clothes against the grass of their territory, and bury the bandages. Hopefully it was deep enough to mask the scent enough, though it wouldn't be strange to find scents of rouges in their territory every now and again.

Scrambling to her feet, she continued run until she was just in front of the back door. Glancing over, she examined the poorly-covered window that Tristan had burst through not long ago. The bright blue tarp shook loudly against the wind, causing even Avon to find it annoying. She knew she was going to be in serious trouble when the pack returns to school, but the fear was overcome by the desire to see Mica. Turning the doorknob, she briskly stepped into the messy house and took a deep breath. "Who's there?" A voice echoed through the house, from the kitchen. Avon immediately knew who it was, and quickly rushed over to see Mica covered in bruises and lacerations. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the sling cascading over his shoulder, holding his left arm. Mica looked over at Avon, recognizing her from her scent.

"Avie!" He cried out, almost in tears. He dropped the plate into the sink, immediately rushing over and pulling her into a tight embrace. "Oh my god, Avie...! I'm so, so glad you're okay." Avon held him close, taking in the sweet scent of her best friend. "I'm sorry." She muffled, pulling away from his hug. Placing his right hand on her cheek, Mica quickly looked over her body. "God... look at your wounds, Avie..." The sadness was evident in his voice, almost as if he shared the pain that she had felt during the time. Avon held his hand on her face, her fingers intertwining with his. "Mica, what about your wounds? You look worse than I do."

The pain in her body was no more than a dull pain, with the recurring sharp shock of her pulled muscles and stinging of her cuts. Mica, on the other hand, looked completely battered and bruised. "I just sprained my arm when that whore kicked me across the damned kitchen." Mica smiled. "I got these bruises from the fight in the kitchen and when I tried to get Tristan off of you. Nothing happened after you left." Avon was shocked to hear that. "Really? Why?" She asked, Mica pulling his hand back and sticking it in his pocket.

"Everyone was in a riot, after Tristan jumped through the window. Some people tried to chase after him, but got stopped by Jessica. She told 'em to stay out of their business and all. And then people were just wondering how to clean up after him, and others were worried about eating. There were also some who were confused over what happened." Mica laughed, leaning on a counter. Relief settled into Avon's chest as she was hoping that no further damage was done to him after she left. "No one ate breakfast today, either. Tristan just told me to clean up and shit, but what the fuck does he think I can do with this arm?!" Mica lifted his slinged arm, feeling relieved as well. "I'll help you. Let me shower first." Avon gave Mica a kind smile, which he returned. "Thanks, Avie."

"Tristan is your WHAT?!"

Glass shattered on the floor as a plate slipped from Mica's fingertips, whose face was contorted in disdain. "Mica!" Avon cried, rushing for the broom and the dustpan. "No, Avie, hold on." Mica pressed his fingertips to his forehead, then pressed the bridge of his nose. "Do you mind running that by me one more time?" Avon, frustrated as she swept the shards into a pile, couldn't help but frown along with him.

"No."

Mica threw his right hand in the air and fell over the counter dramatically. A pained groan came from his mouth as if Avon's revelation had stabbed him in the chest. "God, Avie! What the actual fuck, Avie?! Why did it have to be him?! He's not even cute!" Avon paused in the midst of brushing the shards into the pan and snapped at Mica. "That is not the point, Mica." Sitting back upright and continuing to wipe the counters, Mica whined. "I know, Avie. But why did it have to be him? God!" Mica continued to throw his fit as she cleaned, throwing the glass shards into the trash. Avon constantly thought that to herself as well. Was this karma? Or some kind of bullshit devine retribution?

After finding out that Tristan was her mate, her entire world felt as if it was going to shatter. His words from that night were visibly laced with poison, his malice clearly evident. The intoxicating scent from him still lingered in her mind as she still felt his hot touch against her skin. It was as if they were a puzzle piece that had fit perfectly together, yet painted a disgustingly horrid picture. Her heart still tore from the bitter rejection, yet she swallowed it down, along with her other emotions.