Hunting Wolfe

In the shadows

In the quiet moments before dawn, I creep from my room to the Lido Deck. The night had filled my mind with too many thoughts, robbing me of sleep. Hoping a walk would tire them out, I seek some semblance of rest. But instead, I find myself mesmerized by the view. The deck sprawls out before me, two pools glistening like gems, deck chairs tossed about as if by a playful breeze. A handful of early birds are already lounging, some watching the swimmers, others connecting the dots of constellations or engrossed in the dance of images on the massive 3D screen overhead.

Voices quietly call, one to another, as if they are afraid to awaken the sleepers. The first smells of breakfast are starting to waft in; eggs, fresh breads, fried meats of many different kinds. The pools, bathed in soft light, are just bright enough to compete with the celestial tapestry above, yet not so bright as to obscure it. Standing there, it feels as if the stars are within arm's reach, ready to be plucked from the heavens. As the day starts to get later, the lights by the pools will get brighter, like mini artificial suns, before dimming back down again to simulate nightfall. This is the time of day that nocturnal races are out, finishing up their "day" and getting ready to sleep again. I watch the activity with a smile on my face, just happy to be alive; the idea that someone wants me dead nipping at the back of my mind like a dog gnawing a bone.

Suddenly, a prickly feeling shoots down my spine, as the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I'm being watched. But by who and why? I whip my head from side to side, looking, but no one seems to be paying me any attention. I look behind me and see no one there, either. "Get a grip." I whisper to myself, but the feeling of an unseen eye refuses to go away.

And then I spot them, a couple of people in hooded cloaks. One of them is probably Caydon. Guess he can't sleep either. I start walking in his direction. "Caydon?" I call out continuing in their direction. It is him, right? Of course it is, who else would be wearing a hood? But there's two of them, who is he with? Why are they just standing there, staring? Feeling confident in my conclusion that at least one of the individuals is Caydon, I wind my way through the deck chairs and past a family talking and laughing. I'm not halfway to them, when I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder. It's not heavy enough to be Aceon, so I whip around to face whoever it is. Caydon? How can he be here? I thought he was over there. "But how? I thought..."

"That's not me, Rayanna." Caydon says. "Just back away, slowly. You do not want to tangle with them."

"Who are they?" I whisper. The hooded men walk towards us, and fear starts to crush my lungs. The dim light dances on their hooded faces, making identification impossible.

"More of the Prophets." He says, slowly lowering his hood. He steps into the dim light cast by a nearby light pole and holds up his tattooed hand. The air grows heavy as recognition dawns on the faces of the men; they retreat with a mix of caution and respect, fear embroidering what I can make out of their features.

"Where did they go?" I ask, surprised by their quick disappearance. And feeling relief as the weight of fear slowly starts to lift.

"Hopefully back to wherever they come from." He says, raising his hood back. "Come on, let's get you back to your room."

"Were they here to kill me?" I ask, as I turn and head back through one of the dining halls. The scent of breakfast cooking is stronger in here, causing my mouth to fill with saliva, where earlier the smell was light and teasing.

"Judging by the way they backed off when they realized who I was, I would say yes." Caydon walks so close to me that his hand occasionally brushes against mine, sending small sparks of electricity shooting up my arm. As soon as we reach the elevator, Caydon presses the call button. We wait in silence for a moment, before the doors open up with a ding, and he follows me into the car.