The Dark Ages of Wolves

An Arrival

Jade:

I stand in the doorway, watching Morgan run about the playroom for a few moments before I tear myself away. A rush of childish laughter flows through the house. Lilly and Eladia are back with the children. They barrel past me, shoving me aside as they scream and laugh. Their tongues are fast-moving with new degrading slurs about humans and their place in the world of wolves. It sounds like they've learned a lot.

"Pitiful human," one sneers, laughing like it's some joke.

"Good morning, sir," I greet Sir Lakefall. He looks my way and grumbles quietly. He inspects the freshly polished, set dining table for flaws. Vincent's eyes narrow, searching harder for something to pick at.

"Hmm, very well. Come," Vincent orders. I follow him feeling quite pleased with myself. It might have been a pain, literally with my ankle, but at least he's happy with me. In Vincent's office stands a man in a fabulous suite. He stands well-dressed in a royal blue suit, neatly groomed, and stands tall and stately.

"Ah, Sir Brook, it's good to see you again," Sir Lakefall greets him, shaking hands. The moment is odd. It's strange to see these growling monsters, hunters of prey, and human killers shaking hands and dressed like professional businessmen. Before me stand animals in suits and bow ties.

"It is indeed, but you know you can call me Charles," says Mr. Brook; this is Suzah and Lilly's father's speaking. Like his two daughters, he has the same dark blond hair framing his angular, high cheeked boned face. His face drops when he spots me.

"What about her?" Charles inquires. Vincent waves his hand dismissively,

"Just one of the peasants," he scoffs. The two men take seats at Vincent's desks. Even sitting, their husky frames consume the space of the office. The deep-voiced chatter about their kids' marriages vibes with joy, friendly familiarity, and pride.

"Now, what to do about the barbarians?" Vincent mentions them. I feign disinterest, but curiosity rises within me.

"Yes, what of your barbarian," Charles scoffs, "They seem to cause you some trouble," he sneers.

"They are trying, Charles. We are still in control, but none the less, these barbarian upstarts have been stealing and ambushing our patrol teams," Vincent tells him.

"They are a problem but shall be suppressed," Charles shrugs the very idea of them off.

"As one pack, we'll rid our territory of them. We shall never have to worry ourselves again," Vincent adds. How can they fear the barbarians? Wolf hunts ended ages ago. Sure, the barbarians launch a few raids, but they're nothing like the hunts back in the day.

"Disgusting they are. Humans are just foolish and terrible!" Charles criticizes, and they make a face.

"And they smell like vermin, pew!" Vincent adds.

"And they're so weak, too," Charles says with a short chuckle.

"Like sticks, so bony with no muscles," Vincent adds.

"Because we're too busy fending off beasts to feed ourselves," I mutter under my breath, but they hear me.

"Shut up human, filthy vermin," Charles snarls. Vincent's face had twisted into a horrible look of anger. I just knew I was going to get it. 'Me and my blood mouth,' I scold myself.

"I'm so sorry for her senselessness," Vincent apologizes, shooting a look my way. Oh, yes, I'm going to get it.

"It's fine, it is so hard to find good work these days," Charles complains, sparking another long chat about the humans this and that. They say their goodbyes, and I can feel it coming. I watch Charles leave the castle with a few rough-looking wolves walking on either side. Vincent wastes not a second more to lead me away.

"Hunter, my boy, why don't you come along?" Vincent offers as we pass his son. Hunter stares with his brows furrowed together as Vincent grabs my arm, and yanks me down to the basement; only we pass by my quarters. He drams me down to another level below. The air is cold, dimly lit and musty smelling like it's had a history of flooding.

"Father, what's going-," Hunter begins to ask, but is cut short.

"When will you learn your place?" Vincent bellows, and he throws me down. I'm sent rolling, the rough stone floor scraping my arms.

"GAH!" I splutter, my chest seizes, and I gasp for air. He yanks me up by the arm and swipes across my face. This time it throbs all across my face. "Please!" I cry out.

"Have you learned your place, filth?" Vincent demands before throwing me down again. He glares down at me, storming towards me as I struggle to prop myself back up. Don't let them break your spirit. I glare back up. He raises his heavy foot and hits my sore ankle. He watches my face expectantly, but I hold myself firm. He growls at me and stomps harder. I can't hold back my screaming.

"Please help!" I cry out desperately. I look between Vincent and Hunter. His son grimaces, averting his eyes from this pitiful sight.

"No one's coming for you," Vincent laughs, rolling his head back. He steps on my ankle again, kicking me, sending me rolling across the floor.

"Do you know your place?" Vincent begins again.

"Yes!" I blurt out. My shoulder screams at me again. I whimper, my face scrunching up, I cry out.

"Do you know your place?" he spits in my face.

"Yes, now please-," I beg, and he strikes me across the face. My skin screams. Something wet rolls down the side of my face.

"Do you know your place?" Vincent roars.

"Y-yes sir," I stutter, "I'm just a pitiful human, I am not worth any kindness or to be shown gratefulness," I murmur. He drops me, and I fall to bow before him.

"Good," Vincent praises. He turns to leave me here on the cold floor. I lie there for some time, listening long after his footsteps fade. Pulling myself toward the wall, I lean on it for dear life. My fingers scrape against the stone wall, hanging on for support and balance. My quarters upstairs feel like it's miles away.