Born of Blood

Chapter 3

She was the first to see him arrive.

And when he did, her heart stopped.

She was sitting on the grass, it tickled her legs and her feet as she moved them around. An ache was present in her left knee, she watched as her feet moved inward and outwards, ignoring the pull in her tendons as she did. The earth rolled beneath her, following her movements while she brushed her fingers through the blades she found comfort in. Their corse edges gripped onto her lines of her fingerprints, pulling themselves closer to her body, mourning as her hands trailed away from their grip. The sun beat against her skin, the heat burning her shoulders while she smiled to the sky. She loved the rain, but she would never turn away a moment in nature. She would never turn away a moment for her soul to fly free from the land she was bound to, it would soar high over the treetops for as long as it could before returning to damnation.

She was facing the perimeter of the Giant Sequoias. Something about those trees called to her spirit. She never found herself moving elsewhere, her body consistently dragged to the same spot that began her life all those years ago. A flash of a growl and a memory of heads separating from bodies was quick to leave Scarlet's heart racing, the thumping of her panic a hollow echo in her ears. She ignored the burning in her nose as she remembered her parents deaths, and focused instead on the wind singing its wistful tune through her ears. Her long dirty hair was thrown through the wind, the feeling of a cool breeze on the back of her neck almost made her feel clean.

It was getting colder in that small mountainside of California. The people of Townsend were preparing for the harsh winter that was to come. Cutting down diseased trees to use their bark to warm their homes, making blankets from the finest of wool for the new children whom entered the world. Purchasing warmer clothing on their bi-weekly runs to the big cities, stocking up on extra food for the blizzard that was sure to come in the high mountains. The young were to be protected during these harsh weathers, they weren't deemed strong enough to endure as their parents and grandparents do and did. The rain was more consistent during this time of year -Scarlet couldn't be more content- as the seasons changed from falling leaves of autumn to the chill of winters first frost. It had been a peaceful transition for the girl. Her injuries were minor, and her good behavior allowed her outside more than she had ever had the opportunity in the past. It was as though without the young Alpha-in-training on pack grounds the pack members weren't as violent to Scarlet. His terrible touch was disappearing where Scarlets gentle work remained constant.

Apollo Malkún, son of Alpha Augustus Malkún, had left four months ago for his consolidated Alpha training with all other heirs to territory's. It was seen as a time to strengthen bonds with the new generations of leaders. Settling debts, finishing battles, ridding themselves of any notions their parents had put in their minds about others outside of their own land. It was fantastic in theory for the bonds between werewolves within the world. Though for Scarlet, it was enriching for another reason all together.

She was free.

Apollo was the only person who knew how to make her skin tremble, how to bring tears to her eyes with just a look. He had been the most vicious amongst her tormentors, leaving no time for breathing between his punishments. His frame was built to lead a mountain pack, no matter how progressive Malkún was. He was large, and strong, his rage rivals that of his fathers, but unlike Alpha Augustus, Apollo never seemed to have true reasoning behind his anger. Scarlet knew to keep her mouth shut if she didn't want his torment to be worse. He was a true leader, coaching the young children of the pack to abuse Scarlet whenever members from Townsend came to the pack house for council. He taught those residing within the home how to take their frustrations out on her flesh and bone, they followed like sheep. As the future Alpha of this pack, it was only right to follow in line or face possible exile, insubordination was not a tolerated trait in Malkún; those that showed it could turn to the wild. Those members of the Malkún pack knew self preservation all too well, or hated Scarlet just as much as Apollo did. Though, in his absence, their snide comments to her slowly fell away from their lips, their beatings became bearable, and a small routine had formed. If she stayed quiet, if she did her duties, she would garner no injuries to add to her ledger. It was peaceful.

She felt free.

The wind carried low to the ground, sweeping through the trunks of the Giant Sequoia and tickling the lobes of Scarlets ears. Voices slowly began to murmur through the wind howling through her ears. The chimes tinkling in the weather slowly dulled as she zeroed in on the noise. She couldn't detect words, she couldn't detect tone, but the slight crunch and slosh of feet stepping on fallen leaves and old puddles began to grow. Someone was coming.

There had been no word of visitors coming to the pack.

She could hear the thump of the earth as it cushioned their steps, as it held the power in their stride. Scarlet found a fear gripping her heart, vivid memories of her parents legs walking through the snow- muscles bunching and twitching against the freezing weather. Slowly, Scarlet rose from the ground, heart thumping wildly as she felt the blood rushing through her ears slip in with the sounds of the wind. Her body left its friendship with the grass, and they lifted themselves from their rest to reach for their own.

There was four. Four people making their way for the Malkún pack house, strides quick and with the force of steel. Her voice caught in her throat, so used to being silenced she didn't know how to speak a loud enough warning. Her eyes searched through the wilderness, swinging wildly between the low hanging branches and broad trunks for any visibility of those who moved so quickly. Her soul soared from the tips of the trees, swooping through the branches before slamming back into Scarlets chest.

"Some-someone is here." She whispered, the howling wind carrying her voice before the words left her lips.

A large, booming, laugh echoed across nature, birds erupting in flight, her birds, leaving her stranded.

Blood turned to ice.

Winter had built itself a storm within the confines of her skin, raging  through her bloodstream, freezing all movements within her heart. Blood pounded through her ears, leaving her unable to even hear the wind chimes she so adored. The world around her slowly stilled, the air stagnant, her hair no longer pulled from the wind sweeping over her body. The world beneath her stopped its roll and the earth held its breath, because it knew.

Slowly, the bodies of Apollo and the boundary keepers emerged from the trees. Apollo held electric blue eyes, eyes that screamed for attention, unable to be ignored. Eyes that could freeze prey in its spot during the hunt, stilling it's own with warning of death. Apollo's eyes landed on Scarlet like a wolf on a scent. His fists flexed and muscles bunched up his arms, thick, tan, skin solidifying in anger. A bitter smile coiled around his lips and the most sinister of chuckles crawled it's way to Scarlet's ears. She spared not another second before bolting from the weather she fought and endured so much to experience. Her legs pumped, knee straining from the movement, lungs burning bright, as she raced into the home where her soul went to die. The stairs had never seemed so many, racing up the carpet to her small attic. Her room, her safety, stretched miles before her and every step she took it seemed farther away.

Oh how cruel the world could be.

Bright black spots danced around Scarlet's vision as panic crawled its way like bile up her throat, through her limbs, entrapping her mind to that of a frightened animal. Shelter, she needed shelter. Safety, she needed safety. The yells of her pack mates fell on deaf ears, only the sound of blood and her terrified whimpers coming through. Werewolves were fast, very fast. In Scarlet's emaciated state she was very swift, there was no telling what her speed could be if she were healthy with proper training, but she had never received training. She had never received a proper meal.

Apollo caught his prey too easily.

Scarlet's vision fell to the darkness as his hands released her down the stairs she had so quickly climbed.

Maybe fear was a good thing sometimes for Scarlet; in this scenario, Scarlet's fear kept her from feeling her bones breaking as she fell down three flights of stairs.