Chapter Ten
When Kendall and I stepped out of the carriage, we were greeted with an energetic rush of excited screams and inviting smiles. As I scanned the crowd, it looked as if almost the entire town had gathered in the little time to spot their beloved Prince.
I gave a growl at the thundering sound that was new to me. A disadvantage of remaining in my human form for most of my life was not having made myself comfortable with my wolf senses. As a human, my senses were heightened compared to that of a full-blooded human, but as a wolf, they were enhanced further. It caused each individual scream to pierce not just one of my ear drums, but both.
I scanned the crowd once again and saw many distantly familiar faces. Their eyes were either glued to Kendall or swiping side glances at me. I had to clamp my teeth together to keep from the temptation of growling at every single one of them. I took another glance at the crowd but didn't spot my family and friends among it.
Kendall stared at them, his expression cool and neutral, but the crowd still went wild, eating it up. All I did was huff when I wanted to laugh at their stupidity. If they knew their Prince was as arrogant as the word, they might not look at him with such adoring faces. Kendall cleared his throat and within seconds, the crowd grew silent.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen. As you are all aware, I am currently completing my Wolf Journey," he started, receiving screams for no apparent reason. I just rolled my eyes, wishing that this was the end of his speech and not just the introduction.
"I have settled with the wolf beside me, but decided to journey my land, not for a potential Protector, but to see my people," he continued, the crowd clinging hopelessly to his every word. "My wolf is to roam around while I visit with you-" His voice was suddenly drowned out.
As soon as he said that, the crowd surged forward in unison, shoving startled guards onto the ground. Instead of growling and baring my teeth to halt the wave of people like a potential Protector might have done, I turned and left Kendall to fend for himself. He should be able to do that at the very least.
I walked in the shadows created by the buildings, knowing the town's landscape by heart. In order to get home, I had to walk through the whole town daily because my house stood alone on the edge of the town's border. But it had never bothered me as it always gave my time alone to think.
Right now, I walked near the overgrown bushes and trees, thinking about my parents. They were probably worried sick about me, depending on what lie my friends had conjured up and repeated to them. Probably anything but the truth.
Another five minutes of listening to nothing but my paws hitting the soft ground silently and my stable breathing, and I was finally there. Right in front of me stood the place I called home.
The exterior of the house didn't look like much and it never had. In fact, it looked shabby and worn down all the way to its bones. The bricks somehow managed to adopt a faded look, adding to the effect. But stepping inside the house made you forget what the exterior looked like.
The interior of the house maintained a traditional look but seeped comfort from its furnishings. The aura of the house made you want to slip off your shoes, grab a cup of steaming hot chocolate, and sink into the couch in front of the tender fire burning in the fireplace. The house gave comfort to everyone who stepped inside but me.
The house had always seemed more like a prison in my eyes. It had been the place where I'd been cooped up until the age of fifteen when my parents had gradually, but reluctantly, allowed me to roam the outdoors. After that, I'd spent a majority of my time outdoors than under the roof of the house.
I circled the house, twisting the back doorknob open with my jaws. My parents had been cautious about strangers and people in general, yet they always managed to forget to lock the back door. Fortunately, it worked in my favor right now.
I inhaled the air as I stepped in, tasting the thick aroma of homemade soup. My mother was always trying new recipes, each somehow tasting better than the last. My favorite of hers had been the spiced catfish, which always brightened a stormy day for me.
I let myself into my room, shifting and grabbing a pair of sweats and a shirt. My room looked just as I remembered, the bed being an exception. I'd left the bed sheets wrinkled and bunched up as I always had, but now they laid smoothly and neatly on the bed.
I walked out hesitantly, faintly surprised my parents hadn't already tackled me into a hug. They were usually more observant than I was. I made it into the living room, following the sound of light breathing. I knew it was my mother without seeing her, and I also happened to know she was alone in the house. My father was nowhere to be seen.
I saw her sitting down in her old rocking chair, her eyes never leaving the knitting needles and yarn she crafted with. She didn't look up, her whole concentration into rocking the chair and knitting as if her life depended on it.
"Hey Mom," I said quietly, my voice mingling in with the warm silence. She slowly looked up, her eyes blank, showing no recognition.
The longer I looked at her, the more I noticed. I could more clearly see the dark, heavy bags under her eyes and the uneven, jagged look of her nails. Something was wrong.
"Check the soup," she said simply, her voice as expressionless as her eyes were. That was it. No "Where were you?" or "I missed you" or even "I'll kill you if you disappear on me again!". All she had to say to me after all this time was "Check the soup."
I frowned but obeyed her. She was still my mother, even if she wasn't acting as she usually did.
I was slowly stirring the soup when I heard her get up. She did so quietly as if trying not to disturb me. But it was her feet that gave her away. Her footsteps were careful as she stepped on her toes as if to catch me off guard.
I whirled around and she screamed in rage, lunging towards me. I cursed but held still until she was within reach. When she was, my hand shot out quickly and I grabbed her by the neck, slid one foot in front of both of hers, and slammed her into the ground. By now, my eyes were the hazel color my wolf wore, and she was slamming against me, demanding to take control.
My mother snarled at me, her own eyes holding a wildfire. She had just tried to attack me. I snarled back, allowing the anger to course through my body instead of the fear. I wouldn't let her know her attempt had scared me.
"You killed him! He's dead because of you!" She yelled, settling dread in my bones. But I still asked the question.
"Who, Mom? I've been locked up for days! I couldn't have touched anyone," I snapped, trying to reason with her. But her void eyes showed me she was long gone, out of my reach.
"Don't you dare call me that. You're a disgrace to me. You killed your own father," she spat, her eyes now holding her kindling hatred towards me.
I froze, unsure of how to respond. I wanted to hurt her, my own mother, and demand to know what was going on. Why would she lie to me like that? But I knew that would only cause her to clam up, and her eyes would become glassy once again.
"Mom, I'm sure he isn't dead. He's probably-" just out of town. That's what I had wanted to say. But she spat in my face and interrupted me; all traces of the woman who'd raised me with love were now gone.
"He killed himself because of you! I had to find the man I loved with a bullet in his head just because of you!" she screamed before breaking down into heart-wrenching sobs.
I chose then to pull away, staring at her. She only continued to cry, not even attacking me as I expected. She'd completely broke over his death, but losing your mate could do that to you.
No, werewolves didn't have soul mates. We only used the term "mate" to describe our life partner whom we tended to stay with until death.
My eyes remained dry, and I didn't find myself choking back a sob. I couldn't no matter how hard I tried. I didn't find myself feeling anything either. I only felt numb throughout my body.
When she started wailing was when I ran out, becoming a white blur as I darted through the town. I didn't know where I was going, but I kept running.
Eventually I stopped and finally paid attention to my surroundings. I immediately recognized the place for the forest where I'd been kidnapped in. It looked the exact same as before, but somehow gave off a different vibe than before.
What brought me here, I wasn't sure. Maybe I felt reminiscent or wanted to see what had caused my luck to go haywire. I sat there, wondering if I'd have changed had I not been captured. Would I have been less careless? Probably not.
I considered visiting my friends but went against the thought. They were probably so drunk they wouldn't remember who I was. I would also only be reminded that I had nowhere to live unless I wanted to see my mother succeed in killing me.
The town filled with the echoing chime of a bell. It was oddly calming, clearing my mind. I sat there for a second before trotting forward to answer the bell's rhythmic calls.
The screaming crowd had grown since I'd last seen it, and I had no doubt people from a nearby town had come to catch a glimpse of Prince Kendall. It was rumored that being in the company of a Prince would give you a year's worth of good luck.
Kendall stood behind a barrier of guards, his calculating eyes directed towards me. He seemed to only notice me and not the hoard of people vying for his attention. But Kendall only waited patiently for an answer from me.
Later, I would wonder just how badly the visit to my mother had affected me. I'd curse out loud as I remembered the moment and let the regret eat my mind. But in that moment, I felt nothing.
It was that empty feeling I would blame for causing me to walk slowly past Kendall and into the carriage.