The Wolf Among Us (Completed)

Chapter 11 - Memorial

The time on Magnus' pocket watch read three in the morning when he awoke in a sweat drenching his entire neck. He touched his pillow, only to find it soaked as well. Tossing the blanket off, he got out of bed to make his way to the kitchen for water, but paused in the hallway, feeling slightly guilty about his behavior towards Estera at dinner. Brushing his fingers against her door, he considered stepping inside to apologize, but decided against it.

The apartment was quiet as he glanced around while filling his glass. Moonlight filtered through the white flowy curtains, highlighting the beige couch against the wall and the coffee table that sat in front of it, with the patterned area rug underneath. His eyes followed rows of books on the built-in shelf behind the couch, where Samson often pulled novels to read. A bolder amassed in his throat when he glanced at the dining table. How many times had he wandered into the living room over the years, to find Samson sitting there having a midnight snack?

Water from the tap spilled onto his hand, and he looked down to see that his glass had overflowed. He tapped the faucet, shutting it off, and dried himself. A memorial service was scheduled to take place in the morning so that citizens could pay their respects, but his father was refusing to attend. He still believed that Samson would be found.

Feeling wide awake, he picked a book from the shelf, it's binding coming apart, the pages dog-eared and crinkled — one of Samson's favorites. He cracked it open and began reading, but next thing he knew, his eyes were rolling shut.

The next time he awoke, it was to the brush of Estera's fingers through his hair. He sat upright, rubbing his eyes, and checked his pocket watch. Almost two hours had passed, and as uncomfortable as the couch was, it was the best sleep he had in days.

"Did you go somewhere?" He scanned her from head to toe. "You've got your shoes on."

"I couldn't sleep. Went for a walk."

"Listen, I wanted to apologize..." He took her hand. "Earlier, I was rude, and you don't deserve that."

"It's ok."

"It's not."

"Magnus, it's ok." She brushed her fingers through his hair again, and he closed his eyes, savoring the tender touch. "We should get to bed."

He stood, her hand still in his, and began guiding her down the hallway to her room. Once inside, he climbed in bed after her and held her close. As he breathed in the slight scent of sweat on her skin, and pine in her hair, he recalled her smelling the same way a few days prior — when Samson fell. He remembered her being flustered that night as well. Shaken.

Then his eyes flashed open. Whenever he returned from a hunt, Mira and Zemora often complained that he smelled like the outside. What if Estera had been out in the forest that night? How else could she have gotten that smell?

Did she see when Samson tumbled to his doom?

Or worse. Did she cause it?

∆∆∆

That afternoon, during the memorial service, Magnus kept a hand in his pocket while the other held an umbrella to shield himself from the drizzle in the air. A sea of black expanded across the main road as every citizen paid their respects in front of a shrine of candles and flowers, set at the footsteps of the Great Hall. Every once in awhile, Magnus would steal glances at Estera from the corner of his eye. Zemora had loaned her an ebony dress for the occasion, and prior to everything that happened, he would've found her beautiful in it. Except now, his suspicions pulsed like living, breathing whispers, insisting Estera was guilty. He needed to talk to someone about it, but who could he trust with such delicate notions?