VEUX

Fifty Three

June 17

Saoirse didn't notice the dull ringing in her head for long after the fact as it had always been there. She felt dizzy; like throwing up. Moving her stiff arms, she found herself strung from above by red twine.

Saoirse tilted her head back in frustration, feeling the greasy matte of her spiralling hair press against her burning limbs The very tips of her toes barely brushed the ground. She inhaled, catching no scents. One drum of a beating heart pounded through her ears, yet she knew there was not one she wolf in front of her. At least a dozen, if not more, syncing their hearts in unison.

She screamed at the top of her lungs as she stood hopelessly still, tormented by frustration.

They will not show you mercy.

A saddened cry rasped from her dry throat next as she tilted her forehead down.

Saoirse had always known that the fear would come. That the bravery would wear away, and she would be left to their mercy.

A quiet hiccup passed her lips as she blinked at the ground, head spinning as sunlight reflected from every blade of neon green grass. Shades of white light pierced into her retinas and made tears escape from her watery eyes. Even her usual dull brown skin hummed with amber hues, caked in the earth's clay and her dried blood.

Surrounding her, Saoirse heard the whispers of several other she-wolves.

"Lookie who's awake."

"She looks like the breeder."

"Break that rope and I'll break your fucking neck," a woman's voice too close for comfort made Saoirse straighten up.

Her words caused Saoirse's fingers to still where they had gotten ahold of the twine knotted across her wrists.

"You done screamin'?" Saoirse felt breath at her proximity.

"The fuck she shout for?" A further voice hissed, drifting into Saoirse's ears. "No one's gonna hear her."

"She's scared."

"I bet she'll piss herself."

Hearing well returned, Saoirse shifted her attention to focus on her visuals. Her predator's bare feet stood shoulder width apart to her right, head turning with a spinning vision. Dark skin, rich with melanin, sculpted over well rounded calves. Leg hair was combed together beneath days of dirt, toenails that ripped without caution nauseated Saoirse.

The feet of the human wolf.

No desire for beauty, for standards. She stood in the presence of the wild. The third scariest thing about the she-wolf in front of Saoirse was her choice of attire. Only when a subtle breeze blew did she hear the chimes of teeth colliding. Vest-like armor plates made from rows of pulled molars were weaved together, necklaces of strictly canines dipped low on her chest.

"Answer me when I question you."

"Yes," Saoirse whispered as loudly as she could in her parched throat.

The second scariest thing about the she-wolf in front of Saoirse was the silver slash across her right eye. The lid was stuck half open, a milky blue orb static in the background with a broken pupil. Saoirse was terrified by the scar; the Goddess healed all wounds over time.

"Who sent you?" The surrounding chatter dissipated as the leader gained their attention.

"N-no one sent me," Saoirse fought to speak over the torture of her body being stretched apart.