The Wolf of the Wilds

The Promise

Lena...

Lena.

"Lena! Snap out of it!"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Helena blinked slowly and raised her head to glance at the familiar figure. Riya stood over her in her fully uniformed glory, her face set into a concerned scowl.

"Yes?" Helena asked, registering the fact that enough time had passed for Herra to receive her message. She could vaguely remember a medic treating her earlier, but it felt like it'd been both an age ago and only a second ago.

The other woman just considered her for a moment, the line between her brows deepening further.  "You're a mess. You need to change and sleep," she ordered, turning her nose up a little at the tattered and charred state of her dress. "And burn that dress while you have the chance."

Leaning back against the cold stone wall, Helena rubbed her eyes. They felt dry, tacky and strained.  "I'll have you know I borrowed this dress from a prostitute. She was very nice. It would be a shame to just burn it."

The pishacha just jerked her head and made a small, annoyed noise. "Lena, no matter how long you sit out here, it isn't going to help your mate heal any quicker. At least look after yourself in the meantime."

Helena's expression fell and her eyes slid towards the dimly lit passageway where Adrian had been taken hours before. "If he dies, there's no point."

A hand grabbed her collar and forced her to look up at her angry friend, too tired to fight back. "Don't start that shit!" Riya hissed, teeth glinting and bared. "You are a warrior. People fear and respect the mention of your name. No wolf from some backwater pack is changing that now, so don't talk like that!"

Helena wasn't inspired by the verbal lashing and instead, she reached up and held Riya's hand, meeting her furious gaze with a blank look of her own.

"I'm no warrior, Riya. I'm far worse than that," she whispered. "After all these years, I finally have something to live for that isn't just destruction and guilt. If I loose him...I-" At last, her eyes began to sting and she took an unsteady breath to control herself. "I don't know what I'll do."

Squeezing her hand, Riya sat down beside her. "You'll bring the wrath of the gods down upon the people that hurt him," she said slowly, far more gentle than before. "You will destroy them and you will tear apart all that is good in their lives. You will make them regret ever crossing paths with Helena Aadila Angor and you will be the last thing they see or think of before you extinguish their pitiful existences. That is what you will do."

In her tired, emotionally drained state, Helena ran her thumb across her lip. "Murders sounds good to me right now."

"Before that, you need a rest and a change of clothes. Herra had me bring some things with me. There's also a room you can sleep in not too far away. If anything happens, someone will fetch you."

After casting another longing look towards the hall, Helena gave in with a sign. "Alright, alright," she conceded, pushing herself up. Her bones creaked and complained after the hours of disuse.

Unsurprisingly, as soon as she stripped and crawled into the lumpy bed, she was out like a snuffed candle.

Upon waking an unknowable amount of time later, Helena found a bundle of fresh clothes at the foot of the bed along with a small plate of cold food. It disturbed her a little to know that she'd slept so deeply in such a vulnerable state, but she recognised the formal practicality of the clothes and knew that it was Riya who had left them.
With her healing wounds, her body complained as she dressed. She certainly had a new found respect for women that wore dresses all the time and she couldn't be more thankful for the trousers provided.