Walk . Talk . Think
Another night of tossing and turning. In the depths of her mind, all she saw were the golden eyes of her past, strong hands, black fur. A silent murmur in the back of her skull. "I kept my word, didn't I, baby?" Had he? Had he really? It had been so long ago that she couldn't even remember the moments surrounding the touch of the beast, the monstrosity that carried a Lykoi tag. He was no Lykoi. He was nothing, not anymore. Dead. Cold. Rotted away in the remnants time, in the remnants of her salvaged youth. So long ago, and yet so haunting.
Talitha woke in a subtle sweat, delicate fingers grasping the worn fabric of the Halifax blanket as her breath eased itself into a calmer state. Always with nightmares, leaving her superficially ill and wishing she could turn back the clock. Turn it back and stay far from the place where Haku Soul had found her. Far from the place where she had been captured by Andrezej. If only she had stayed with Faolin and Ezekiel when Gabriel had sent them away.
No. She was proud of returning, even if her father had been angry. She wanted to be there, with him, she wanted to prove herself. But had it been worth it? Was serving Inferni really worth the pain it had caused her? If she had simply stayed put, would it have really mattered? A melancholy settled on her shoulders as the answer came into clear view: No. It wouldn't have mattered. But she wanted it to, so badly. She wanted to believe she had been right in leaving the safety of her mother's side to return to the pack. In truth, it had only caused hurt.
She couldn't stay in the room any longer. The despair hung like a thick fog around her, and she couldn't breath. In slow movements, she stood, and in slow steps she left the room itself. Down the stairs, through the hall, out the front of the structure that many called home. The cool air of winter caught in her lungs, causing them to ache in the most pleasant of ways. No light guided her eyes as they scanned the surrounding lands; it was strange for her to be awake at such a late hour, but she had her reasons. And when she awoke, upset and alone, she always returned to the same place. The Forest of Nod lay so near the the manor, providing a haven to the morose de le Poer child. That was what she wished to be in that moment, a child. She wasn't. It was time to grow up, as all children did, and leave the past in the past.
Each step led her closer to the digust resting in her stomach. Deeper, into the depths of the trees, lay a darkness that she could only hope to erase. The border to the territory. The border that marked off where the wolves would have to rest. But there were wolves within. She knew there were, even if it wasn't so much a real one. Blood was blood. Filth was filth. And the beasts had worked their way into her home through use of reproduction. Her crimson eyes, Massacre eyes, gazed solemnly at her hands. Coyote hands. Coyote blood. She wasn't what she wanted to be, but she could only aspire to be rid of the vile birthright offered to her, hidden beneath the more pleasing genetics of Kaena Lykoi.
But Gabriel had bestowed a vile disease in his children.
She screamed, a shrill shriek of rage that was followed by a furious attempt to pummel a tree. She only suceeded in hurting herself, of course, as it didn't lessen the anger that bubbled under her surface. Her perfect, wonderful, handsome father. Tainted just like the rest of them. But it wasn't his fault, no, and he shouldn't be punished by his daughter's prejudice, not for something that was so easy to blame on her grandmother.
Silently, she sat in the snow, tapping her slim fingers against her chest, against the marring scar that rested there. She had missed her home, so badly that it resembled pain to think of it, and now that she was back it was a wonder. A wonder she could stay. Perhaps she'd simply need to get used to it, she mused, gazing into the shadows of the night with the eyes of her mother as she waited for an audience. Someone would come. Someone had to have heard her.
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