Ch. 30 - The Promise

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The wooden bench groaned as I stood up as I looked over at the young woman in front of me. Claire and I's time together had been brief, but in those short few hours we endured together, we were bonded through our understanding for eternity - just like Delia and I were tied together.

I noticed her olive complexion was paler than before, her grey eyes dull, and she had long curly dark brown hair flowing with the wisps of the wind. She had had her hair tied into a bun last time I had seen her. Everything was kind of a blur back in the forest. The last time I had seen her, her "mate" had his teeth embedded into her neck before I attacked him, and he had come after me before Lucas stopped him. That felt like a lifetime ago.

Claire ran over to me and tightly wrapped her arms around my neck.

"Hi." she said in almost a whisper.

Slowly, I wrapped my arms around her like my mother used to do to me and rubbed her back and placed my chin on her shoulder.

"Hi."

I motioned over to the bench I had been sitting on as she joined me overlooking my herb garden.

I took a sip of my tea before asking, "How are you?"

There was a long pause before she answered.

"You know... I've been asking myself that same question for years now."

I glanced down and saw that she was bouncing her legs up and down nervously. I decided to lean into the silence and try to get her to elaborate more. People usually find silence to be uncomfortable, but as of late, I had found it to be a useful tool and my constant companion.

"Before being brought here, I worked in the cornfield - you know - their fields."

I nodded. She had been conscripted like so many had been as an agricultural worker to maintain the food supply or the werewolves forces. I probably would have to if it weren't for my grandfather's age and the fact that we didn't take any food rations from the government.

"I guess it's kinda lucky that I ended up here. I talked with my mother on the phone a few days ago, and she told me that the munitions factory that I was about to be transferred to blew up last week."

"Oh, God." I rubbed my temple internally conflicted. It seemed that no matter where you were in the pecking order in this new reality that the werewolves had created, you were entirely fucked.

She attempted to diffuse the terrible realization that she had dropped on me by laughing softly, "I wouldn't have done well there anyways with my nervous disposition."

I tilted my head and responded, "You've done very well, Claire. You're stronger than I would have been."

I didn't like the way she was putting herself down and being self-deprecating. I went through a phase similar to that myself when I had been her age.

"How old are you?"

She replied, "I turned eighteen at the end of summer."

'Eighteen. She was so young.'

A heavy weight settled on my chest.

"How old are you?" she countered.

"I'll be twenty-five pretty soon."

Her eyes lit up, "When is it? Maybe... maybe you can convince Delia to throw a party."

I smiled softly, "Perhaps. It's on the 21st of December."

The excitement in her eyes dulled a little before she said, "It's just been lonely, you know? And I feel like I'm walking on eggshells all the time around them. I don't know who to trust."

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