The Last Harmon [Complete]

Chapter 33

After hours of still and sleepy silence, Milasia makes an announcement. She rises from the log with a dramatic stretch and yawns out her words.

"This is seriously boring the crap out of me," she mutters. "I'm going for a walk back to camp to search for something to drink. Might be a while."

"Alright," I say. "Take your time, I got things covered here."

She doesn't respond, she just walks away. I sit sideways on the log, my legs astride the wood. I don't blame her for giving up, Sam picked the wrong Slayer to sit and do nothing all night. I imagine she probably protested it to the best of her ability like always, but resisting an order from Sam is like being branded by a hot iron on your back.

I listen to the wind for a while. It's enjoyable the way it whistles around the rim of my ears and carries the tune along the branches of the swaying trees. And then, all of a sudden, my heart begins pounding as my nose picks up a scent of something impossible. I smell him like a dog would smell out meat, and I feel him as though his blood is running through me.

I stand up, checking the camp to make sure Milasia isn't returning, and then I follow the scent through the trees. A tingling begins in my chest that radiates all over my body as I edge closer and closer towards unknown danger.

Through the small clearing of trees, I hear a familiar incantation. Someone is chanting. Not just someone, but a boy. A young boy. I rest myself against a tree as the boy crouches on the ground, his hand reaching out in front him, his voice becoming more desperate with every chant of his spell.

"Please!" the boy cries. "Please come to me. Please, mother!"

He recites the same spell. It's an old incantation, and one that I screamed over and over again when I lost my mother. Unfortunately for both of us, our mothers are just a little too much out of reach.

I decide to step out, mainly because his cries are breaking my heart. The moment he hears me, his head snaps up and he's on his feet, treading backwards in fear.

"I-I'm sorry," the boy says in a panic. "I wasn't doing anything I promise! Please don't kill me. I'm sorry."

I walk closer towards him and he falls to his knees, rocking back and forth in tears.

"Please don't kill me, I don't want to die. Please. I'll never do it again. I promise I'll never do it again."

The boy can't be older than nine or ten, and already he's terrified of being caught out for being something he can't control.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I whisper. "What's your name?"

"David," he says, his eyes pinched closed. "You aren't going to kill me?"

"No, David, I'm not. It's okay, you can stand up."

Very slowly, the boy gets to his feet. He wipes the tears from his cheek and he gently takes his hood down. His face is pale, tainted with grief and loss. His red cheeks are wet and sticky and his brown hair is long enough to blow against the wind.

"H-how did you find me?" he asks. "I can always sense them."

"You have a tracker gift?"

He nods.

"I'm new to the camp," I say. "You haven't placed your tracker upon me yet." I move towards him unexpectedly and he doesn't know how to take that. He stiffens as I forcefully roll up his sleeves and examine his wrists. "Interesting."

"I was never branded," he says.

"You were raised outside of a coven. How?"

"My m-mother hid me from them. She said they were dangerous, that the Elders were dangerous. They found her and killed her, I hid nearby and the Slayers found me and brought me here. You're going to tell them, aren't you? They're going to kill me."