Feral

Friends were a luxury I did not have. My judgmental and rude attitude did not exactly help either. I didn’t even know if there existed such a thing as a friend. Perhaps before you found your consort, but after that, everything changed.

To be frank, I didn’t want any friends anyway. They were all fake, plastering on a big smile and swooning at the mention of their consort.

Inside, those were the ones most like me. They knew the truth, but they were too weak to fight back. They’d accepted their damned fate and hoped to make the best of it.

Unlike me, they still had a small kernel of hope. They still prayed to get a kind, loving consort to make it all worth it.

Nothing was worth it.

No consort could be worth the complete submission required of us. We weren’t our own person. Females became an extension of their consort. We weren’t allowed to have our own thoughts and opinions. We were a second voice to the male that owned us.

Finding your consort was the most exciting thing for the other females, such as the one chatting my ear off. They gushed about love at first sight, about how someone would love them completely in a matter of seconds. I’d given up long ago trying to pull their heads out of the clouds, but they all told me I would see one day.

“He’ll be blonde, I just know it. With the clearest blue eyes and dimples…” her voice trailed off in a sigh, “and he’ll be at least a Two in rank, of course.”

The fork in my hand was bending as I bit my tongue to keep from lashing out at her. Not only had this stranger invited herself over to my quiet corner where I was trying to eat in solitude, but she also didn’t have the slightest care that I was not interested in her daydreaming.

She played with a lock of her red curly hair, fluttering her lashes, expecting me to tell her how beautiful she was and that no one less than a Two could be her consort. “And when I see him for the first time, it’s going to be like fireworks.”

The fork in my hand snapped.

Enough.

I couldn’t listen to any more from her.

Throwing my fork on my plate and pushing my chair back, the sound was like nails on a chalkboard as it dragged across the floor. I glared down at the girl. I felt many eyes on me as I hissed at her in a cold and lowered tone, “Not another word.” Her mouth instantly popped open to object, but with a growl and flash of teeth from me, it snapped shut. “Consorts are not something you get to pick and choose. You get whoever the hell is dealt to you and get no say. Instead of wishing for a Two, you should pray for an un-ranked. The higher ranking your consort, the less control you get. Threes are violent, never mind a damn Two.”

My words were spat harshly at the girl, making her flinch with every word. “This shit you are spouting about love at first sight is a goddamn fantasy. Your consort isn’t thinking about anything other than breeding you. Love doesn’t exist. The soul bond is a joke. It’s a brand, not a fucking instant love potion.”

The soul bond was the biggest farce of the century. It was a term used to describe the love between consorts, an ideology that offered instant affection at first sight. It was a lie to cover up the suppression of males over their consorts, a way to brainwash the females into believing the oppressive ways of the males were out of love and protection.

The girl couldn’t hold my gaze and dropped her eyes to the table, playing with her fingers as she whispered, “You’re only saying that because you’re ugly, and your consort couldn’t ever love you. You don’t have to be so mean to everyone else because of it.”

My claws came out as I slammed my hands on the table, raking them across the surface with a loud screech. I knew I wasn’t attractive, but I wasn’t ugly. I was as flat as a board and as straight as one, lacking any curves save for the slight flare of my hips. My claws were sharper than blades, though, and that was the only thing I cared to maintain.

Every wight possessed retractable claws and teeth, but I often kept mine out, along with my sharp incisors. For females, displaying teeth and claws was deemed improper, supposedly making us unattractive. However, the actual reason was more insidious—they wanted us weak and helpless, entirely reliant on our consorts.

“Want to say that again?” I challenged the trembling female. I hovered over her, forcing her flat against the tabletop. She turned her head away from me, squeezing her eyes shut, her neck entirely borne to me in submission. Her soft and delicate flesh was vulnerable to my sharp incisors, ready to tear out her throat in a moment.

She whimpered and shook her head. I waited a few more seconds before withdrawing, snarling at her, “Your consort will be pleased with your submission. You are just as pathetic as they desire.”

Tears burned in her eyes as she squeaked, “You’re feral, and when your consort realizes that you’ll be euthanized as you ought to have been a long time ago.”

My lips peeled back from my teeth, and she instantly cowered away. Instead of lunging at her like she had expected, I just laughed. The wicked sound made all the females around me tense. I gave the redhead an aggressive smile. “I have no intention of ever finding my consort, and if such an unfortunate thing were to happen, be assured I’ll kill him before he has the chance to kill me.”

Wasting no time, I slipped out of the café, the crowded noon rush providing perfect cover. My claws retracted as I walked, the rage still simmering just below the surface. I was relieved there hadn’t been any males around when my temper flared. Fighting was the last thing I had energy for today.

The streets were bustling, and I kept my head down, blending in as best I could. My irritable mood was a dangerous liability, attracting unwanted attention whenever I lashed out. I needed to find a new place to lay low, knowing rumors of a female flashing her claws would soon spread.

As I turned a corner, I spotted a narrow alley and ducked into it, my senses on high alert. “Fuck, if there weren’t so many irritating people, I wouldn’t have to run around like this,” I muttered to myself, glancing around to make sure I was alone. Losing my temper had been a mistake, one that my trackers would jump on. Usually, I could go weeks without an outburst, but I was on edge.

I leaned against the cold brick wall, taking a deep breath. It had been nine years since my first consorting season, nine years of evading my consort. Approaching my eighteenth season unbonded was unheard of. Most females bonded by their third season, fifth at most. This wouldn’t have been an issue before the law passed two hundred years ago, mandating that any female unbonded by her fourth season had to attend The Finding.

I hated it. We were rounded up like cattle to be brought to the males who couldn’t even go through the trouble of looking hard for us. The least they could do was put in some effort before they took our freedom away.

I had never attended The Finding, but my defiance came with consequences. Zeta hunted me for two reasons: one, for breaking the law by skipping the ceremonies, and two because the World Council was undoubtedly abuzz with stories of a feral, unbonded female.

I moved deeper into the alley, my senses picking up the faint sounds of the crowded streets beyond. I needed to keep moving. Zeta was the World Council’s law enforcement tasked with maintaining peace and order throughout the four Provinces. They’d been on my tail for the past year, but I was good at hiding and covering my tracks. Lately, though, the stress I’d been under had been tripping me up when I couldn’t afford mistakes.

I didn’t have many options left. I’d been to too many territories already. Usually, I could sneak in undetected, with no one giving a cowering female a second glance. As long as I kept my head down, the One wouldn’t even know I was there. But after today’s outburst, news would spread quickly, and I had to ensure to be gone before the One discovered a feral female in his territory.

As for the feral part, well, I wasn’t really feral. I had a temper horrible enough to rival that of a One. But I was a female, and having a temper was a big no-no. True ferals were overly aggressive wights who had lost all sanity. Their animalistic tendencies consumed them, and everything ended in violence. A feral would never be able to live within a territory unnoticed for several weeks. They came with the intent of bloodshed, and a massive pile of bodies would follow in their wake.

Exiting the alley, I navigated the crowded downtown streets, keeping my head low. I paused at a newsstand, pretending to examine the headlines. The vendor barely glanced at me, his attention focused on his smartphone. My eyes darted around, scanning for any signs of trouble.

There were fewer and fewer females these days who even thought about fighting against our flawed society. While it angered me, I couldn’t blame them. After all, resisting meant a life on the run, and perhaps that was more exhausting and soul-draining than just accepting a consort.

While crossing the bustling plaza, an urgent need to run and hide gripped me. My pulse quickened, and I slightly turned my head, searching for the source of my anxiety. I kept walking, my eyes scanning the sea of wights around me, careful not to draw unnecessary attention.

The plaza was packed, making it impossible to know who might be a Zeta agent. They blended seamlessly with the crowd, moving to and from the various buildings. I dimmed all my senses except for smell, trying to pick up anything unusual.

Dirt, food, people. The usual city scents. But then, a faint whiff of pine and sap. My heart froze.

The nearest evergreen forest was at least two hundred miles away. Only one thing always smelled like evergreen: the head tracker of Zeta. He was relentless, always finding me no matter where I went. But he’d never gotten this close before.

He was probably in this plaza right now.

I felt overwhelming relief that I had covered myself in my homemade honey-scented elixir, which had changed my scent. Every month, I made a new elixir to disguise my scent. The one I was wearing now had just been made last week, and the fact that it was so new was probably the only reason Zeta hadn’t cornered me yet.

My usual routine was to head to the border of the territory and slip away. But if the head tracker was here, he would have the outskirts of the city watched. That escape route was no longer an option. Staying here was equally impossible. News of a crazy female showing her teeth and claws to threaten others would spread fast. With Zeta in the vicinity, I was beginning to think I’d reached the end of the road.

Then, I caught sight of my one way out.

A bus was loading full of the unbonded females going to The Finding. I had forgotten that the next season was only a few days away. My heart plummeted at the thought. If Zeta caught me, I’d be forced into The Finding anyway. But boarding the bus now might give me a chance to slip away later, maybe during a transfer.

Steeling myself, I made my way to the bus stop and got in line. Climbing the stairs, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my life was about to take a turn for the worse.