VEUX

Fifty Five

June 19?

The Goddess released Saoirse at once.

Jumping upright from her cursed slumber, Saoirse recalled the nightmare as she was forced to stare into the Eye of the Moon. Conscious the entire time, one singular thought penetrated Saoirse's mind as she was supposed to be asleep.

That bitch poisoned me!

Brown orbs swept across the fields before her, searching for Mutesi. A blockade of whisky white hair intervened before Saoirse could approach, snarl evident across her lips as she was unaware of hazel eyes watching.

"Let'ta go." Emaline's blue eyes stared at her through the woman, glacier orbs so cold they froze Saoirse in her spot.

"She poisoned me." Her lip trembled as she fought to reign in her alpha-wolf; it's pride had been wounded.

"She let'ya live t'tha mornin'," The elderly wolf reminded her. "Don take tha' f'r grant'd."

Saoirse silenced herself in frustration, nails pricking into her own palms as she clenched her fists. There was no other feeling like tipping over the edge, the threat of her wolf overthrowing Saoirse's boundaries and slashing Mutesi's skin.

Discretely, Saoirse winced as a migraine like pain picked in her skull. All of her focus and concentration had gone into staying in control.

Trees. Sun. Ground.

Saoirse's heartbeat wildly out of sync. By the look in the sister-wolves eyes, she was on the brink of hyperventilating.

Earth. Water. Air.

"Sarsha! This way," Olive-skinned and dark haired Journey summoned as she stood tall behind the other sister-wolves. "Plenty'a work to do, prisoner."

Journey rolled her spear around her wrist, black tip sparkling beneath rays of the morning sunlight. Saoirse studied it closer as she approached, observing the thick staff that could break under her grip. She reminded herself to open her fists, feeling the summer breeze between her healed palms.

"I need to eat," Saoirse met her greenish gaze warily, cautious of the twirling spear.

Journey barely flinched, striking the wooden shaft out to Saoirse like a third limb. The blade kissed Saoirse bare back and she hasted forwards. "Don't care. Ya'l hav'ta wake up earli'a if ya wanna hunt."

Saoirse glared at the she-wolf who had watched her be poisoned last night. She hissed unexpectedly as blood drew on the back of her bicep, spear moving swiftly around Journey's wrist.

There's a reason the brothers, in numbers, never dared to attack these sister-wolves.

"Ya still got lass nights meal ta clean up." She lead Saoirse down a path of beaten down grass blades, every step with the spear poking her spine.

By the smell, Saoirse knew what they were approaching. By the hoard of flies buzzing overhead, she was thankful she had yet to hunt.

"Try going for a smaller kill next time," the mousy-haired Cobra spoke up and startled Saoirse. "But whatever you do, never go for a moose."

" 'Spesh not a bull," Journey chimed in. "Not a cow eithah!"

—

By mid afternoon, Saoirse's nerves had calmed with the distraction of tanning, but the stress had eventually done a number on her body. She escaped silently to the river and back a few times, splashing the blood trails from her legs every so often.