𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃│✔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟔

"From what Clan is he?" The following silence makes me think that perhaps, she mustn't have heard me, but when she pauses in her tracks and turns her head downwards without facing me. Her tone is different when she softly says:

"Silver Scale. He's from Silver Scale."

There seems to be more to the story that she's not telling me, but I decide that it's not my place to force her. Me, someone she barely knows. 

When she'll feel ready, she'll tell me her truth. Until then, I'll just have to show her she can trust me. We remain silent for the next long moment, both seeming lost at what to say to change the mood. And then, In the distance, I recognise the high standing guard posts at the same time Adonis points at it. All energy surging back through his body as if he wasn't dragging his body for the last hours.

"There it is!" he announces excitedly. "Thank the Gods or else I was about to ask someone to carry me the rest of the way. Perhaps you, Ciaran, could do me the honours."

I hesitate to feel his forehead with the back of my hand to make sure that the heat didn't affect his lucidity, but second guess my decision when I notice the odd look Damien gives him. It seems I'm not the only one weirded out by the image of the bastard carrying Adonis. Much less without any murder attempts on the way.

"The only time I'll carry you, is to throw your corpse into a grave hole. And even then, I'll make Dameon do it for me."

See, I knew it.

The girls snicker at Adonis' horrified expression, and I cough to hide amusement gracing my lips. When all laughter dies out, I turn back to Adonis only to see Sir Aries whisper something to him too, his gaze going over everybody and resting on me a while longer before turning away. Strange.

"Guys." Eliza halts us with a hand gesture, ushering us to hide behind bushes when we're close enough to the border entrance to have a clear view of all the commotion going on at the portals.

"What the hell is this?"

 Esmée asks, her eyes wide when she takes in the great calamity displayed in front of us. Tents, twice the size of the once we encountered in Hilas are set up against the entrance gates. Hundreds of shifters occupying the space in every worse way possible. 

A group of soldiers the size of an entire division is standing in position, listening attentively to their General screaming orders to them. The tents are pinned open, and from here I can see women focusing attentively on sewing large pieces of cloth, their hands protected with leather gloves which should make the job ten times harder. 

Yet they make it seem like the easiest task there is, when I know from experience that sewing can be a real nightmare. Another group is actively painting swords with a transparent substance, and I guess this is them covering their battle gear in Silver Root. The many empty buckets at their feet making me wonder just how large their supplies are.

"Fuck." we're so screwed. The curse words strangers to my lips. The second part sounding too discouraging for the moment to say out loud.

"Never thought I would hear those words coming from you, Precious. I suppose there's no helping it, since you insist."

 The bastard answers cheerfully in the silence of panic that has surrounded the group. I should've known he would find something to say back to me. He's the only one insensitive enough to say such things in moment where our lives are, quite literally, on the line. Unfortunately, I'm everything but in the mood for his pleasantries. And I would rather my head to be pushed in one of those buckets of Silver Root before admitting that he successfully pressed by buttons, again.