The Heart of a Warrior

Chapter 34

Sunlight trickles down from the green canopies above my head, sprinkling patches of light across the undergrowth, as I make my way through the forest. The morning breeze tangles in my hair as I follow Colten's scent through the comforting maze, and my mind briefly, yet predictably, wanders back to the fact that's occupied it on and off all morning. The spot on the floor next to me  was cold when I woke to the first rays of light, an obvious sign Adrian had long since left, and I haven't been cursed enough, or lucky enough, to cross paths with him. Honestly, right now I can't decide which I would rather prefer. A small, irritating, voice in the back of my mind refuses to shut up, though, constantly worrying what he's thinking after last night. Is he horrified? Disgusted? Bitter? He wouldn't be alone. And I wouldn't blame him. 

I mean, how could he not be? After what he found out?

Or is it even worse than that, the voice whispers. Is it some other reaction I can't even think to predict, because I have yet to completely figure out how his mind works. My head is flooded by the memory of his immobile figure as I left the room. The look in his eyes last night...

Abruptly, I force away that line of thought. It doesn't matter what Adrian is thinking right now, because I can't do a damn thing about it regardless. He's taking care of who knows what, and I have my own responsibilities to attend to.

With that thought I finally break through the last few trees lining a massive clearing. A collection of patched tents spots the ground and stretches back into the trees. While not centered, the side of the field I enter is part of a large free area surrounded by mismatched shelters, some of which resemble beat up tarps more than actual tents. Children of varying ages are running through the free space, squealing with laughter as they play in the morning sun. Other shifters litter the surrounding areas, going about their morning tasks. My eyes dart around to take in all the children playing, laughing and for many, for once, getting the chance to be exactly what they were meant to be: kids.

The corner of my mouth lifts without me realizing it as my eyes are captured by their tiny, beaming faces. Seeing this, nobody would know the hardships they've gone through. No one would guess that many have grown up rogues, have been forced to see and experience things no child ever should. No one would ever guess that the rest have grown up under the cruelty of the most vicious alpha currently in the shifter world.

No, as their laughter bursts into the air and their legs seem to never stop moving as the play, they're not rogues or refugees or on the run. 

They're just kids.

Finally, finally, they're just kids.

Eventually, I force myself to break my gaze away from the rare scene as I continue to walk towards the outskirts of the camp, careful not to run into any children as I go. My eyes wander across the clearing, nodding slightly as people begin to instinctively notice my presence with a hand frozen mid-task before offering a slightly reclined head. A distinct mop of black hair registers in my outer field of my vision as it fluidly winds through the temporary settlement. 

"You're on time," Colten announces.

I just raise my eyebrow as I watch his approaching form.

A smirk spreads across his features at my reaction, and he looks more amused than I've seen him in years. "What? You think you're the only one around here who can joke?"

"I wasn't aware you knew the skill," I respond honestly, a bit shell-shocked.

His smirk grows, seemingly unaware of my surprise. "Had to learn it somewhere, didn't I?"

My head tilts to the side a fraction as I study my younger sibling. Granted, his words would be ordinary enough in any other given situation, but teasing was never our way. Hell, we barely even had a way. We never had much of a chance to form one, really. As I study him I take in his smirk, take in his unclenched fists and lack of veins protruding from his neck. I take in his stance, as straight-backed as any good solider, and yet there's something lacking. He's as prepared as ever, ready at the drop of a hat to fight against anyone and anything that he needs to (his slightly tensed muscles give testament to that), but that's all just training. That's as much his natural response to any given situation as it is mine; it's not something that even consciously registers. It's automatic. So what's...missing? His usual tension? The perpetual stress? Whatever it is, I can't manage to put my finger on it.