Thorn (Werewolf) ✔

Chapter Fifty

I pack the rest of my belongings into a bag and I swing it over my shoulder. Thorn doesn't have that many things, just a few clothes and his books—and of course, his weapons. We both take one last look at it. From the log above the burned-out fire that we shared so meals on, to the trail that leads down to the lake where I spent many mornings gathering my scattered thoughts. We left the quilt on the ground as a mark of our night together, it is the last thing that I save in my mind before we turn and head back to the mountain.

I discuss my plan with him on the way and he seems to be in agreement. It beats spending the next few days thrashing through the ocean.

Everyone is awake and ready to go when we return. They are waiting for us. I give them the best details that I can of where to go but they just seem confused. Madison and Crasuel intervene and offer to take them there to wait for us. Thorn takes my bag from me and throws it at Pal, instructing him to keep it safe, though it was more of a threat.

Now there's just one thing left to do. Thorn and I head in the opposite direction to the group and we walk along the road that leads into the town. I forced him to leave the weapons behind because I know that he'd be tempted to use them and I want to do this my own way.

This is the first time that Thorn has seen a human town since the new world order, I don't think he was prepared for it. There's hardly anyone around and the ones that are look miserable and exhausted. We walk through a set of fruit stalls and the low-born women with damp hair and torn rags are gazing into the air half-asleep.

"What's wrong with everyone?" he says.

"Low-borns aren't allowed to interact with each other in public," I say. "The only days that they're allowed is on Saturday and Sunday."

"I don't understand. So they can't speak to us?"

"Only if it's a quick exchange regarding the produce that they're selling or if a high-born asks them questions."

"This isn't the humanity that I fought to save." His gaze lingers on a line of homeless men that are having an altercation with a palace soldier about begging. "Why are they silenced?"

"Because the war almost destroyed the world," I say. "And the civil war in this country almost destroyed us. Silencing them curbs aggression. I guess it was the only way to ensure that we lived in peace."

"I don't believe that. There are ways to ensure peace without asserting control."

"Welcome to the real humanity," I mumble.

The other side of town is like entering a different universe. There is merely one gate that separates us and all I have to do is type in a code. The gate opens for us and I see the low-borns glaring at us with confusion because we do not look like high-borns.

This side of town is the place I hate the most. My hand curls into a fist as I lay my eyes on the beautiful, pampered groups of girls that are out shopping in their uniquely designed gowns. I hated everything about it and I hate it even more now that I'm an outsider. The strips of businesses are attractive, with sparkling windows and outdoor seating areas.

Thorn is uncomfortable too. They must look alien to him. The men wear sharp and air-brushed suits and most of them carry briefcases. They are always walking like they are in a rush to be somewhere. Some of them drive cars, a luxury prohibited just for them, and many cars slow down as they pass us, the awe-struck high-borns staring at us with their mouths open until they almost crash.

"How did they get in?" I hear a girl say.

"Did they break in? Should I call my father?"

"Call the patrol guards!"