#2 Shelter Thy Enemy

Aldrich

I gape at the apparition lying on the pallet of hay in my hut, unable, unwilling to believe my eyes. I move closer, making as little noise as I can in order to get a better look. My feet feel heavy, leaden, as I inch forward. If she indeed is who I think she is, it’ll mean a world of trouble for me and the pack. More trouble than we can handle at the moment. 

First rays of sunlight illuminate the inside of this hut, which is my secret safe place. I come here when it all gets too much, when I need an escape. Nobody is aware of its existence. Well, nobody was, I think with a grimace. 

I’m now standing only a couple of feet away from her. She’s lying on her side, her face turned away from me. 

It is her. There’s no mistaking her identity, not with the unique color of her hair. It is tied in a single, disheveled braid and falls down her back. The very end of it sinuously curves around her slender waist. It is silver, and even shines like the metal when polished to perfection. 

I swallow as I close my eyes and rub a hand over them, as if the very action might turn her into somebody else, anybody else when I open them again. But of course, nothing changes. 

It is Princess Avalea Starr. I resist the urge to swear out loud. Not only is it our heir-apparent, but she’s in a terrible state. Her naked feet, her exposed calves, the skin of her arms underneath the tattered sleeves of her gown are peppered with several cuts and scrapes. The nightgown, ruined beyond redemption, is streaked with blood and dirt. I wonder how she slept through the cold night without freezing to death. Maybe she used magic. My mouth twists into a bitter smile at that thought. 

The need to worry about mundane things such as warmth and shelter and gnawing hunger are for lesser beings like me and my pack. The Venusian Witches, the highest amongst all Altairian inhabitants, certainly aren’t bothered by such trifling things. 

For as long as any of us can remember, the lack of magic of my kind has been used to create a divide between us and all the other higher classes of beings residing in the magical kingdom of Altair. Us Werewolves are on the lowest rung. If there were humans living in Altair, we would be lower than them as well. Humans might not possess magic, but they don’t carry a curse either.

What is Princess Avalea doing here? Most Venusian Witches wouldn’t even be caught dead in this hut. At that, my heart skips several beats. What if she is dead? My hands and feet go cold as I inch forward until I’m touching the edge of the pallet. I bend over close to her face to check if she’s breathing. 

And that’s when she turns around and opens her eyes. Her eyes, the color of spun gold, are wide and filled with terror. Her mouth opens into a silent scream as she scoots away from me until her back hits the wall. 

Her reaction to me is nothing unexpected. I’m used to being treated with a varying mixture of horror, terror and pity by most of the higher classes, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like somebody has twisted a knife in my gut. 

She is shivering; from fright or from the cold, I cannot say. When I was observing her from up close before she woke up, I thought I saw goosebumps erupting on her skin. So she isn’t unaffected by the elements as I previously thought. I back away from her slowly, untying the laces of my leather jacket.

She shrinks away even farther, her eyes wildly roaming around the hut, possibly looking for something to defend herself with, or looking for a means of escape.

My mouth compresses into a thin line, but I stop untying my jacket and hold both my hands up, palms facing outwards in the universal gesture of surrender.

“I’m not going to harm you.”

It doesn’t seem like she believes me. 

She’s hugging her knees to her chest now, peeking at me over the tops of her knees. Her eyes have the same expression as that of a cornered prey. She’s shaking like a leaf, and this time, it’s purely from fear. I can smell it.

It’s strange that she isn’t lashing out her magic at me, but I’m grateful for it. I have no defense against magic, and if I go back to my pack with magic-inflicted wounds, there’ll be a barrage of questions I’m in no mood to answer. The rift between Werewolves and the magical folk is wider than ever at the moment.

“I’m going to take my jacket off and give it to you. Seems like you need it more than I do.”

Her head snaps up and her mouth falls open. Taking advantage of her momentary shock, I quickly remove my jacket and toss it to her. She looks at me, then the jacket, then back again at me, but doesn’t touch the jacket. I run a hand through my hair in frustration.

“Fine. Suit yourself. I don’t know how you ended up here, but surely you know you can’t be here? I’ll get you a change of clothes and some food, and you can be on your way.”

She’s still silent, studying me carefully. She looks at me for the longest time before the wariness and fear in her eyes mostly melts away, leaving only a hint. 

“You’re not…” she begins, but then thinks better of it and simply shakes her head.

“You can’t be here,” I repeat. 

More silence. 

“How did you get hurt?”

“It’s… not important.”

Her answers are frustrating, but I shouldn’t have expected any forthrightness. She belongs to the ruling elite, and I’m worse than a stable hand.

I survey her injuries, but none of them seem life-threatening. Minor scrapes and bruises. For my kind, injuries such as these are a matter of routine. And we don’t even have magic to heal ourselves. It’s true that we heal faster than our human ancestors, but we cannot simply make our hurts and illnesses disappear like the higher classes can. 

“Why don’t you heal yourself? I can guide you as far as the forest’s edge.”

She bites her lower lip and looks away. 

“Well?” I prompt.

“I… I’ll find my way.”

I shrug nonchalantly, but I feel a stab of anger. How deep the prejudice must run for her to refuse every offer of help from me, even when she’s in dire need of it. Or at least, I think she needs my help. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she can magic her way to wherever she needs to be. I realize there’s a big flaw in my reasoning. If she could magic her way out, she wouldn’t be here in the first place, and that too, in the state she is in right now. It doesn’t take a genius to guess that she’s lived through an ordeal. 

“Fine. Leave as soon as you can. We all know what happened the last time they found a Venusian Witch in the company of a Werewolf.”

Bile rises up my throat at the memory, and bitterness has crept into my voice. Her eyes widen in fear again. I sigh, forcing myself to assume an impassive expression. I’m sick of the other beings looking at me, at my kind, with fear and mistrust.

“Look, all I meant was I want no more trouble for my pack. But you can stay until you feel well enough to travel. I’ll get some food and a change of clothes. I have little, and what I get might not be to your standards, but I’ll do my best.”

To my utter horror, her eyes fill with tears and she hugs her knees even closer to her body.

“No, don’t do that,” I say, shifting from one foot to the other, reaching my hand toward her before withdrawing it when she merely places her head on her knees and begins to sob. I’m uncomfortable and out of my depth. What in the buggering hell do I do now? 

“I’m sorry.”

She only cries harder.

“I’ll get the food and clothes.”

I’m out of the hut before she can respond, shifting into my wolf form, running as fast as I can. I head straight for the ghetto where my clan is allowed to live. 

Not live, exist. Merely exist. 

My tunic and breeches are ripped to bits as my body changes from a man’s to that of a beast, but I can’t worry about that now. It would have taken me twice as long to reach the ghetto in my human form, and the sooner I feed her, give her a change of clothes and send her on her way, the better it will be for everybody concerned.

With every fiber of my being, I’m hoping that when I go back, I don’t find her there. And yet… I’m intrigued. What is she doing here? How was she injured? And maybe I was imagining it, but why did it seem like she doesn’t want to go back to the palace any time soon?