El-Dad

SAELYNA

Waking up to seeing Caivan watching me is one thing. Waking up to the wolven that attacked us is another. 

I don't give a gasp of surprise this time. I kick out with my foot and hit him in the groin, making him yelp in pain. He mutters a curse and actually growls at me before Cyran interferes. 'Step away from her', he says. I see his face contort with amusement before he snatches the knife out of Cyran's hand in a flash. 'You two are absolute fuckers, do you know?' he snaps, one hand on his stomach. Then he hands the knife back to Cyran. 'Good morning', he mutters. 'What are you doing here?' I snap. 'It's kind of my home, so…' 'You attacked us', Cyran fires. 'I admit I get carried away…', he starts, but I don't let him finish. 'You dumped us in a storage hut'. He looks at me, his grey eyes running over my face in one studying arc. 'I'm sorry', he says at last, 'I was being…' He purses his lips, but completes the word, '...stupid'. Then he adds, 'I did carry you in though. I didn't drop you like cargo, heh'. I think he means it as a joke, but it doesn't click. 

'I'm Ronn', he says, 'And it's eleven crows past first rise, already. Breakfast is ready'. Cyran looks at me then back at Ronn. 'She's not fit to walk around, can't you see?' He's quite right, my rib still aches and my right arm is starting to tingle. But I'm positive a shower and a walk will do some good. 'It's okay, Cyran', I say, 'I need a bath anyway'. 'Let's get to it, then', Ronn says and walks out briskly. 

'He doesn't want to be here', I tell Cyran once I'm sure he's out of earshot. 'Mm hmm', he agrees, 'Come on. Let's get you out of these clothes'. 

CYRAN

It's almost as if we are personalities of sorts, the way they treat us. Like we weren't kidnapped and brought here without will. It smells wrong to me, but maybe I'm just paranoid. 

Breakfast of oatmeal was brought in to us by the same girls that came last night. They giggled as they had done on their way out yesterday, and Saelyna had smirked at me again. After breakfast, Veesa came in to check her wounds and her vitals, but wouldn't talk about how she knows us. Saelyna insisted on a bath though, and Veesa obliged her with one. 

It's been half an hour, but I'm on edge again. I wonder why I can't stand being far from Saelyna for a long while. It had worked when I went hunting the day before yesterday…"And look where that got you". 

I'm standing in front of the creek, close to the bath house. Veesa says it's hers, and no one else uses it, but I'm not so sure. That wolven had come in to use it. Or had he? What if he was looking for an opportunity to take me out, but realized he couldn't do it in her bath house? They certainly seem scared of her for some reason. 

The thought makes me self-conscious, so I survey the trees on the other side of the brook and around me. Everything is normal, and normal as a forest can be…

There's a brown form by the oak tree directly in front of me, in a crouching position, stalking quietly toward me. I pull out my hunting knife and am about to throw it…'Easy there, fellow. You and that knife seem pretty close. But it's a bit too eager, don't you think?' I blink. There's no one by the tree; I must have been hallucinating. I straighten up, tucking away my knife. 'What is this place?' I ask Ronn, 'And why did you bring us here?' He shrugs. 'None of my business. I'm just doing the will of the Alpha'. His face is blank, but a muscle tics in his jaw and he places his hands behind his back, staring straight ahead. Though he tries to hide it, I know he'd rather be anywhere else than playing host to the elvish twins. 

He chuckles when I point this out and I realize how human he looks when he shows emotion. Otherwise, he's as lupine as a wolven can be. 'You're correct, elf', he says, 'But then, I have little say, don't I?' He sounds bitter now, like he has been holding back his complaint for an incredibly long time. 'Well, why don't you prove your worth? Make a name for yourself?' I ask. He regards me with grey-blue eyes that are now stony with observation. 'Interesting suggestion, elf. But not easy to accomplish. Especially not in a pack'. 'Not in a pack? Or not with Caivan?' 

I'm being bold, too bold, perhaps, but I still can't get the image of Caivan choking him like a child out of my head, the fright and anger in Ron’s eyes. If everyone fears Veesa, I wonder how they feel about Caivan. ‘I’ll be waiting by the healing hall. Be quick about your business', Ronn says briskly and walks away. I look back at the woods, and I suddenly wish he were still here. 

SAELYNA

Arguing with Veesa is like pouring water on a rock. She insists I wear a skirt, and a loose shirt as well before Ronn takes me to the Alpha. It's too casual, too free, unrestricted. She won't let me wear my trouser though, or give me another one. So I'm stuck with looking like the rest of the girls in the pack, and probably, like an idiot. 

Cyran and Ronn are waiting outside Veesa's hut when I come out. Ron’s expression doesn't change, but Cyran grins at me. 'Look at you. Like a little princess'. I punch him in the arm and he guffaws freely. It's been a while since I've seen him laugh like that, so I let him. 'You look…great', Ronn says blankly. I raise a brow at him. 'It fits you', he adds hurriedly, 'In a good way. Not like a princess..' He purses his lips for a moment, then twirls on his heels and gestures for us to follow him. 'I think he likes you', Cyran whispers and I punch him again, harder than before and this time he yaps in pain. That someone like Ronn would actually like someone is nigh impossible, but I don't dwell on the thought. 

We pass several huts on the way, all on either side of us, and all made of detachable wood. I don't see a person younger than thirteen, nor any men but the girls seem to be the most of their number. They smile at Cyran as they walk by with pails or sheaves of grain or little baskets of clothes. 

Ronn doesn't elicit the same reaction, though. It's as if he's some kind of public enemy. 'He had a fight with Caivan yesterday while you were out. Well, not a fight, more of a beating, really', Cyran whispers to me. 'Your stories don't tell you that wolvens can hear over long distances?' Ronn says, his voice surprisingly calm. 'Who are you to the pack?' I call back. He doesn't answer for a while. 'A stray wolf, I guess', he says eventually. Cyran and I exchange glances; he's weirder than we thought. 

He points at a hut that's made of actual clay and not detachable wood like the rest. 'Stay clear of those', he tells us, 'That's where the real, non-stray wolves are. They don't apologize after they bite…there usually isn't anyone to apologize to, anyway'. Sure enough, I hear guttural growls from within as we pass by, and I make a mental note not to enter these parts alone. 

We stop in front of a large building made of bricks and bamboo sticks. Ronn steps aside and gestures toward the door. 'The alpha is waiting', he says.