The Hunters

Chapter Twenty-Six

A Beginning, Middle, and End

    My father is determined to find a way to kill the werewolves now. I told him what happened. Aramis shot an arrow at Kane and he somehow had the reflexes to catch it and then I surprised him by stabbing the arrow into him from behind.

    "What kind of metal was the point of the arrow?" He asks me directly.

    "Bronze," I rub my forehead, "does it matter?"

    "I was hoping Aramis would've had silver-head arrows on him, but I guess my hope is running thin. We must begin to use silver," my father writes down something on his notepad.

    "Why is that?"

    "Because bronze can kill a werewolf if it damages the heart, but silver will kill the werewolf once it's in their bloodstream or even if it pinches their heart. That's why all the leaders of different groups of hunters have been collecting it," my father smiles, "We will have to send a letter to Payne."

    "But, dad, we're only supposed to contact Payne if we have a firm plan for killing all the alphas," I reinform him.

    "We do, Amaia," my father continues to scribble on his paper, "if we kill Kane, he's the outer-defense alpha and killing him will cause a chain reaction that will follow throughout the east. If all the hunters attack one pack at a time, then we will win the war."

    I nod, "That makes sense, so why are you telling me all this? Why not tell your council?"

    "The council cannot know of this yet. It will cause chaos in this town. I'm telling you because I need you to pass this information onto Cyprian," he looks up, rips the piece of paper from the notepad and hands it to me. I begin to skim his messy writing.

    Stuff about the silver and the plan and then at the bottom all it says is Amaia, "Why is my name on here?"

    "Nothing you should worry about," my father smiles, "now go, please, give him the message as soon as possible. I have work to accomplish tonight. I probably won't be home until the morning."

    I find Cyprian where I always do when he's not in his home. He always comes to our tree when he needs to think. I do too. I can always trust this area to find peace and comfort. It's the one place where no one will bother us.

    "Hey, Cyp," I smile as he catches me.

    "What're doing here, now?" He doesn't make eye contact.

    "I wanted to see you and I suspected that you were probably hiding out here," I laugh quietly, "I do it too."

    I catch the faintest smile on his face, "I know you do."

    I sit next to him on the ground and snuggle into him. He's warm, so warm, and I am cold, so cold. I am as still as a statue. Made only with half a heart. No blood or sweat put into me. Just an... idea. The slightest tear slips down my cheek. Oh, how I cry with these eyes too much. They see the horrific fire of the world... the chaos, and only rarely do they see the shining sun.

The piece of paper my father wanted me to give him burns against me. I should take it out right now and give it to him, but something is stopping me. My name was on that paper. I need to know what it means first. I'm scared that if I give him the paper and he understands why my name on there that he'll leave me.

    He whispers, interrupting my train of thought, "I always wonder- what goes on in that little mind of yours..."

    "If I told you, you'd think I'm crazy," I laugh.

    "I highly doubt it, darling," he kisses my cheek gently. His touch sends shivers through my body.

    I tilt my head up so I can see him. I love looking at this boy that I'm in love with. Yes, our love story is a chaotic mess. Yes, people wonder why I don't leave him, but I can't leave my best friend because it's moments like these that keep me in his grasp. He will make me cry, he will make me feel like I'm in hell. But it's also the other side of him that makes me smile and makes me feel like I'm in heaven.

    I can't leave that feeling. I don't know how to let go.

    And he kisses me on the lips this time. It's the rush of blood that I haven't felt in what seems forever- since the first time he kissed me. It makes my blood turn from water to fire. It makes me feel- alive. The memory of my father bursting in on us flashes through my mind.

    No, Amaia. That won't happen this time. It's just you and Cyprian. The world is in your hands when you're with him.

    I'm pinned against the tree in his grasp. My breathing begins to race and my heart might burst out of my chest. The butterflies caged in my stomach are screaming for freedom and I am his. I will be his for all the time I can think of. He can keep me in the palm of his hand with just a look, a kiss, a word. I will be forever hooked to his fishing rod, always refusing to let go of the bait.

    And I hope to God that he is mine.

    Sadly, he pulls away and looks me in the eye and whispers, "I don't think we're alone."

    "What?" I whisper back, shocked, but he puts a finger to my lips to quiet me and he looks around and listens carefully.

    I listen too. I listen, but don't hear birds chirping, no rustling leaves in the wind, and no animals jogging through the words. This is not how a forest is supposed to be. It's supposed to be more alive with the life of nature. The feeling pains me with familiarity. I know this because whenever a werewolf is around the life of nature seems to hide.

    "It's him," Cyprian whispers, "it's Kane."

    "What? How do you know that?" I whisper back.

    "Because he's standing right there," and I follow where Cyprian is pointing behind me, behind the tree. I turn my head around the corner with fear overwhelming me. Cyprian's arms hold me tight as I do so and my eyes meet Kane's. He stands no more than six feet away, glaring at me in a curious sort of way.

    "Am I interrupting something? I'm sorry to intrude, but this lovely tree you two claim as yours is quite beautiful-" he pauses, "I'm sure it holds so many memories. Hopefully good? But I'm sure there are some bad to it too."

    "Everything good has bad," I whisper, "and everything bad has good."

    "Beautiful words, my love. You have a beautiful mind... as well as physical appearance."

    "Don't talk about her like that," Cyprian sputz.

    "Mm, I think I have a right. Sorry to pop your bubble, but you don't own her," his smile gleams ear to ear. He's right, I think, Cyprian doesn't own me and he thinks he does.

    "Neither do you," Cyprian argues back.

    "Stop," I interrupt, "stop bickering. Kane what the hell are you doing here?"

    He walks closer, so close that he kneels down where his face is now an inch from mine. I feel the burning of Cyprian's stare into my side, "You know that every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end? I hope so, because this war is a story. The beginning starts with your humans discovering our kind and declaring war to exterminate us. The middle has been for the past decades, small battles erupting on the borders, but now we are approaching an end. An end that works in the werewolves' favor."

    "Never," I hiss back.

    He smiles, "I'm afraid you two just won't understand what we have in store for you puny humans."

    And he's gone just like that. I hate that. I hate how they can run so quickly, I hate how they're senses are much more heightened than ours. I hate everything about their existence. And I guess I'm just a little bit jealous of them too. And I guess I feel the tiniest feeling deep in my gut. A wish to be taken back to that amazing place under the drab cave. A world of their own. A beautiful and secret world.