70. Beginnings And Endings

Comincia dall'inizio
                                    

The grunt had come from two hallways further, and before long I saw a frail figure leaning against the walls, barely moving

Oops! Questa immagine non segue le nostre linee guida sui contenuti. Per continuare la pubblicazione, provare a rimuoverlo o caricare un altro.

The grunt had come from two hallways further, and before long I saw a frail figure leaning against the walls, barely moving.

I couldn't see it too clearly with the lack of natural light and the distance still between us, but the person seemed to be wearing ragged clothes, draped all around their body.

A long, fuzzy net of hair silhouetted the figure, stopping just below the shoulders.

Another frail cough came out of the person, followed by another grunt. The person was in pain.

Leaning against the wall, barely stepping forward, the person was struggling to move. Their hand tried to grip the wall, holding themselves steady, but it seemed futile.

I recognized the person in front of us as soon as Benjamin did, too.

"Gil, what are you doing here?" he called, running to the feeble figure in the distance.

Was she involved, too? The old, crazed woman?

I ran towards them, seeing Gil lean into Benjamin as soon as he reached her. Her frail, old body was trembling, her hair wild.

Benjamin checked her for injuries, scanning her all over, but I hadn't picked up on the scent of blood.

I did smell fear, however. The tunnels filled with a sharp, pungent smell, reminding me of a burning pine forest, somewhere by the sea. The danger of burning closing in, while the salvation lay close, just a jump to reach the salty water. But being rooted in the ground, not being able to move, to escape the doom that was approaching, taking down the world in an orange glow. Not only did I smell the fear, I felt it, too. 

I smelled it like it was written on the walls in front of me, like the word was being sung into my ears. She was terrified.

"Gil, where are the others?" he asked.

"They weren't fast enough," she said, her voice cracking. "They couldn't risk it."

It had already begun. The slaughter of Spitta, men and wolves alike, had begun. I had been too late. Countless of lives could have been spared if I had just reached Benjamin earlier. If I hadn't wasted those precious moments drowning in my mind, instead of doing what needed to be done.

Yet that was exactly the deal I had made with Aven. I could only save Benjamin and his family—and Aven had made sure my hand was forced in this.

Gil had barely changed since the last time I had seen her, but her eyes widened greatly when she looked at me and noticed that I had.

"Death," she whispered. "Death. Death. Death."

Yes. I know.

Her voice grew louder each time she said it, drumming it in the hallways as if saying it louder would make it real. It was already real. Death had come.

The Twelfth Moon || ✔️Dove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora