The Wolf of the Wilds

The Chase

With their bellies full and appetites sated, their party seemed to relax a little. Helena was glad, even though she didn't voice it, and she flanked the group to keep an eye on their backs and to glare at the people they passed. Cruor's darkened streets and bustling pedestrian areas made it difficult to separate friend from foe. Any number of the creatures near them could be following their party and she would be none the wiser.

The streets were quite busy at this hour and Helena had a feeling that the shifts were switching, commuters filling the narrow, darkened city passageways.

As they turned the corner onto the main street, the dry, acrid smell of fire wafted through. Freezing, Helena looked around with her brows pulled together. Adrian noticed her hesitation and hung back.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Helena could feel the frantic pounding of her heart, but nodded nonetheless. "Er- yes. I'm okay," she murmured, dismissing the smell with a shake of the head.

Adrian rubbed her arm, and they caught up with the rest of the group with a short jog.

It was only when the smell grew stronger and stronger that the dread returned. Her mate touched her back. "Do you smell ash?" he asked.

Helena, panic gripping her chest, clutched Adrian's sleeve. "Yes- I can..."

A commotion from the other end of the street cut their murmured conversation short. People were shoving and pushing towards them. Running? No, fleeing?

"Fire! Fire!" The cry came from the opposite end of the street, turning from a single voice into the roar of panicking pedestrians.

People ran and barged, jostling into their party like the lashing waves of a stormy sea. Helena found herself lost and confused as she was shoved ruthlessly into a lap post, but warm fingers found her hand. Adrian pulled her towards him, pressing close to avoid the raucous crowd.

"Adrian! Where are the others?" she called, having to raise her voice to make herself heard over the panic.

Using his height, Adrian frantically looked around. "I don't know. I can't see any of them. They must've gotten separated from us."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Of all the times for this to happen.

Wait-

She stopped dead in her tracks, a niggling suspicion causing Helena grit her teeth. "Adrian. Get your knife," she hissed.

"Why? What's going on?" he replied, fishing said blade out of his pouch. Helena firmly guided him down the street, looking left and right with a venomous glare.

"I don't think it's a coincidence that a fire has begun so close to the Montis's hotel," she explained, pausing in a porchway to gather their bearings.

"What?" he replied, "do you mean that its some kind of a trap?" Adrain held her arm and looked around. "Then what do we do?"

Helena furrowed her brow, pulling on a pair of leather gloves and unbuckling the top of the silver blade's sheath. She needed to be ready. "We need to keep moving and find somewhere to lie low. The assassins are probably following us and will try to isolate us further."

Quick to understand, Adrian nodded. Together, they rejoined the crowd, walking fast and with their heads bowed. The chaos was quite unlike anything Helena had experienced in years, almost like a riptide, pressing in from all sides and threatening to pull her away from shore.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her shoulder. Whipping around, Helena found an older woman clinging to her sleeve. "Please, Miss, I've twisted my ankle. Can you help me to my home? It's not too far away," she said in a hoarse, crudely accented voice.