𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

x. the woodlands.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐍'𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐀'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒. How they convinced Morrow to completely usurp his original plans goes beyond Elowen's comprehension. Elowen and Morrow might be strangers, but the alpha of the pack is a creature of independence. He loathes the idea of asking for assistance, or letting his betas step in for support.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Or worse, letting his fated mate tag along.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Still, for some bizarre reason, Elowen finds herself amongst them, flipping Morrow's decision like a switch. Ever since she followed the sound of his violin to his bedroom, their tether has been cackling like a midnight fire. He hasn't shut her out, hasn't blocked his mind from her. But he refuses to come within sight of where his betas run on the ground below. He remains in the sky, exactly where Elowen would be if her wing wasn't wounded by a terran iron arrow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The betas left at nightfall, as to Morrow's orders. The were thrive under the light of the crescent moon, gaining momentum under its lackluster beams. The Tabrien meadows slowly evolve into a glossy woodland of shadows and deciduous brush. The scent of oak wafts through the stilled breeze, reminding her of the Brecian forests at the base of old Reovell, the place she harboured in after the terrans eradicated her kind.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her fingers dig into Ronyn's fur at the thought, and the sound that vibrates from his wolf is enough to reassure her that she's alright. She never feels like she is, because she isn't. This— this is only a step towards what she desires. Freedom. A chance to have the breeze carry her through her turmoils. Only now, she'll accept every warning she receives to protect her wings. The ache in her wing is a reminder of her foolishness.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Twilight shifts into the dead cold of night, and Elowen must've drifted off when she awakens curled up against Ronyn's wolf. She lays against his side, her breathing matched to his pulse. Beneath her skin, her creature falls captive to Ronyn's embrace, for she knows he's not a threat. Ronyn never was, and never will be.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A branch snaps, awakening Ronyn from beneath her. An ire growl rumbles from him as she hears a sharp snap of his wolf's jaws. She peaks an eye open as Ronyn snaps his vicious bite, attempting to scare away the intruder, as well as another thwack of a branch breaking beneath laced books.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Easy there," a familiar voice soothes, his voice a strange yet beckoning lullaby. "Just making sure you all haven't fucked things up."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She peaks an eye open. Although the foliage remains dense, Elowen catches Morrow's silhouette kneeling close to her own. A calloused palm scratches behind Ronyn's ears, his wolf giddy with delight as those slow calculated fingers stroke earthen brown fur.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"There's something I have to do before we get to Yestrea," Morrow whispers to him. "You can handle it the rest of the way."