Page 27
Story: A Soul to Revive
Just... a fewsmallpuddles of blood?
His nose holes may be clogged, but even he had been able to smell the stench of his own fur, scales, and blood that had been around his knees. It had not been small, by any means.
Somehow, his unwanted companion suddenly looked even more drained, the scarring on her face paling further. He was surprised she’d fallen asleep earlier, considering he’d been right there, but somehow... watching her jugular pulsating had been a soothing distraction for him.
He’d watched it, imagining all the ways he could escape his confines so he could pull it from her. She wouldn’t have even woken up to realise she’d died.
“Hurry up,” Wren bit at the tired female. “You have a big day tomorrow, and I expect you at my station just after sunrise.” She turned to someone who had been scribbling on parchment. “You. Stay here as well and note all his changes.”
After that, his unwanted companion and the scribbler were left alone with him.
The scribbler did nothing except move to lean against the wall, waiting and watching.
The female without a face covering was quick to pick up the arrows and place them near the door, probably to remove later. She’d braved coming close to him, and him jerking forward hadn’t frightened her this time.
She was quick to adjust to his antics.
He didn’t like her near him.
Her proximity meant he was able to somewhat smell her, and he knew her scent had been in this room when they’d cracked him open. She’d watched, had been a part of the agony he’d undergone.
There was also the smell of... something else on her.
It repulsed him, despite not knowing what it was. It obviously didn’t belong to her feminine scent, was far too masculine, and gave him the impression ofminethat belonged to another. She was under someone’s gaze, under someone’s protection, and they’d made that known by marking her.
Any time she accidentally touched him, that scent and his recent experiences caused his skin to flare with revulsion.
She wasn’t to be trusted.
Her gaze drifted to his raven skull as she swished her mop near his right knee. She nudged against it in an attempt to clean where he’d been kneeling.
Despite the obvious difference in their height, currently they were almost face to face. He watched her, his sharp and hyper-clear sight picking up on her tiny pores, the translucent drop of sweat on her brow, and the softness of her small lips as she tightened and relaxed them.
He’d thought her eyes were the same as Wren’s, but they actually appeared icier in their blue, like the top of a frozen lake.
They were an odd contrast to her wavy hair, which appeared as though it was warm like the sun, streaked with bright orange and dark red. He was sure he’d seen many dusks and dawns cast such colours across the sky and clouds.
Her face was dirty though, since she had dark spots all over it. She needed a bath more than he did, and that was saying a lot coming from a Mavka whose own blood was clumping against his body.
His sight followed her as she picked up her bucket and shoved the arrows into it. Then she bashed on the door to be freed, stating she was done.
“The Duskwalker is still dirty.” The guard chuckled.
“If Wren thinks I’m going to wash him while his chest is open like that, tell her I’ll take a knife to my throat. She also didn’t tell me to. Now move.”
The male tsked behind his mask. “Fine.”
Then she was gone, leaving him alone with the scribbler.
She never got to see his chest closing up an hour later, nor how he writhed to free himself now that his strength had fully returned.
Ingram did wonder if she heard his bellowing and restrengthened roars reverberating through this wretched stronghold.
He hoped it gave them all nightmares for the rest of their days, which he intended to make short once he was freed from his bonds.
Ingram watched his unwanted companion as she used her mop to clean the edges of the room, only daring to come closer when she had to.
More of his blood had puddled around his knees from when they’d rotated him from lying on his back to kneeling once more.
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