Twenty one | Syn
It was all because of him. This lowly creature kneeling at my feet, knowing surrender to me was inevitable.
He knew his place.
He did not defend himself as my claws clipped the side of his head, knocking him to his side. I raked my claws down his back, skin tearing open beneath my paws, coating my fur in sticky red liquid.
He would pay for this, his death would fix this. He could heal me.
I needed him to heal me.
I needed him.
I paused, my fore paws pressing down heavily on his back. He made no sound, never uttered a scream or a cry as I mauled him.
My snout buried in his neck, smelling him and scenting myself entwined within him.
Mine. He was mine.
I struggled between the urge to sink my jaws into his throat and end his life, the creature of my suffering, and to lick his wounds clean, to nuzzle into his warmth.
The barrel of my chest rose and fell as I breathed heavily, my claws curling and uncurling on the male.
I snarled, my rage resurfacing.
My jaws lowered again but instead of clamping down, my wet nose pressed against his neck trying to smell him again but losing his scent in the overwhelming iron tang of blood.
My bones cracked and my muscles shifted as my body shrank into my hairless form. My snout turned to lips that were pressed against the warm flesh beneath me. Warm flesh that was losing color rapidly.
He was losing a lot of blood.
He could die from it.
Lune would decide. My goddess would kill him or save him. I would do nothing.
I turned to leave, but was unable to pull away completely.
Huffing, I picked up the male. I guess this form had some uses after all.
My territory was compromised, I'd have to find somewhere new.
Yes, that's where I would go.
I dumped the body on the ground on the interrogation cave.
I had been here before. Used this cave during the lycan wars.
I sat against the cave wall, looking at the unconscious body covered in blood and filth.
Waited for him to die.
For this pain to leave me.
He woke, stared back at me wordlessly, motionless, and then went back to sleep. Several times this process repeated. He never spoke and neither did I. We just watched, watched and waited for something.
After he had fallen asleep again, closing bleary eyes that couldn't focus for too long, I hesitantly shifted closer to him.
I crouched next to him and pushed on his cheek with my finger. His skin was soft and I found that I liked touching it. So I let the pad of my finger run up and down his cheekbone, then up across his brow and down his nose, around his eyes, on his lips, tracing everything.
He did not stir, but he did not look relaxed. Even while asleep his expression was pinched and strained. One of pain.
I was in pain.
My hand went over my chest to where I hurt most. Here. This is where I felt pain.
My eyes slid to the male laying prone, his gruesome wounds on full display.
His fault. It was his fault I felt this way.
I retreated back to my corner and watched from a distance.
If he was meant to live, Lune would save him. If not, then he would die.
I didn't leave the cave. Not when day turned to night and night turned to day and then night again.
The male woke up several more times, unable to resist groaning in pain now.
Infection was setting into his wounds. The rancid smell of rot tickled my nose. I could smell it coming from him. He was radiating heat, another bad sign where he was concerned. A high fever could kill him from the state he was in.
I still did nothing.
I just watched.
And I waited.
He was dying.
I knew it. He knew it. The gods knew it.
Those hazel eyes opened, eyelids fluttering in the effort to be lifted. I knew this would be the last time they would do so. He was at the end of the line and he would be forced to let go soon. Those piercing eyes went straight for me, locking gazes.
I bristled, instincts rearing at the challenge before calming when I saw he held no authority. Just sadness.
Why was he so sad?
I didn't like him sad.
I didn't want the last time we locked eyes to be like this. I didn't want him to be sad.
His hand twitched. He lifted the appendage that hadn't moved in days. He could hardly get his arm off the ground as he reached out for me, pushing out three words from his lungs. "I am sorry."
I knew what they meant.
It was an apology. For this. To me. And a goodbye.
The pain in my chest lessened slightly.
My hand pressed against that spot over my heart. I looked down as if expecting to see the cause of the shift.
He had said words and now I felt like this.
My eyes snapped back over to the male and I felt panic in seeing his arm outstretched, fingers slightly curled as it laid dead on the ground. Those hazel eyes were closed and his breathing was so shallow his chest didn't appear to be moving any longer.
I sprang to my feet and darted over to his side.
I shook his body harshly, but his head only lolled side to side. Those eyes did not open again.
"No go," my tongue lifted strangely in my mouth to make these sounds to express what I was feeling inside. "No go," I said again slashing a sharp nail across my wrist and forcing my skin to pale lips. The light pink of his lips was soon stained by crimson.
When I felt a wet warm tongue touch my wrist, I pulled it away.
From the cave I found bandages and healing supplies.
I washed his body clean of dirt and blood. I sterilized a blade with fire and cut out the infection on his back before cauterizing the long gashes from his shoulders to the small of his back. I dressed his wounds, bandaging his head as well where three sharp lines dragged across the left side of his scalp. It started at the corner of his eye and ended in line with the shell of his ear.
I gave him water every time he awoke.
Alive. Good. He was still alive.
But the fever worsened and his shivers increased ten fold. All of the blankets I had piled on did nothing for him.
So I cast those blankets aside and crawled behind him, pulling his back into my chest, wrapping him in my own warmth felt so right.
But then water started leaking from his eyes.
I know this is short and scattered. But that’s the state of Syn’s mind. Also, I may possibly update again today.