Page 16 of To Free a Soul (Duskwalker Beginnings #2)

The woman held it to her chest protectively, shaken but with a slitted, narrowed glare.

She looked prepared to fight, as if she expected something to jump out of the bushes and attack her.

The straight strands of her black hair were tangled like a nest. The dress she wore was pale pink and of poor quality from what he could tell, compared to the elaborate garments Lindiwe had stored in his realm.

Once she had everything she wanted from the garden, she yanked up her bag and headed back inside with swift steps.

That’s when Fenrir stepped out of his hiding place.

He lifted his bony wolf snout into the air, sniffing deeply before huffing out with his orbs shifting a dark yellow.

On his hands and hind legs, he skulked over to the garden to shove his nose into where she’d knelt, then clawed at the ground like she had.

He pulled out a vegetable and took it with him as he lowered himself and headed towards the opening of her cottage. He skulked up the steps, sniffing each one, and followed the sounds of thumping, hurried footsteps and the clanking of items knocking to the ground.

This... is not going to end well, he thought, when Fenrir poked his head inside.

As he continued to rub Nathair’s underbelly, he cupped his chin at something peculiar. Fenrir hasn’t rushed inside in a bloodlust. His actions were more curious than anything. This woman must not smell of fear. Even if her hurried actions inferred otherwise.

She passed Fenrir, not seeing him as she turned her back towards the door while standing in a kitchen area. She checked the contents of a small ceramic jar before closing it and putting it in her backpack, then clipped a small iron skillet to it.

She’s packing to leave her home.

She threw the backpack on, which joined the bulky satchel she had at her side.

When Fenrir stepped a hand through the threshold, the floorboards underneath it creaked. She checked over her shoulder, then sucked in a gasp. She brought a kitchen blade to her chest defensively, while her backpack and arse hit the counter she’d been standing at.

She moved to the side, deeper into the house, and her bag knocked items off the counter, leaving behind a mess.

“H-how did you get inside?” Her wide eyes darted from the doorway to Fenrir’s wolf skull. “The sun is out. You shouldn’t have been able to survive.”

Fenrir’s skull twisted, causing the rattle of bones from within it, and he pushed his wide shoulders through the entrance.

“Back, Demon!” Her trembling hands swiped her blade through the air to ward him off. “Y-you’ve had your fill! Now back off. Go back to the forest.”

Weldir rotated the disc to get a different perspective, and a scene played out before him.

Claw marks littered the walls and furniture was upturned, showing that a kerfuffle had not long happened. And now that he was looking at it from a different angle, he noted the dried streak of crimson blood upon the ground that led through the doorway and down the stairs of her yard.

Fenrir gave a rumble, which could have been mistaken for a growl as he came closer to her.

“Get away from me, you vile creature!” she shouted, slashing the air again. “You’ve already taken my family from me, but I will not let you have one bite of me. I will use this blade. I swear it. You come closer to me at your own risk.”

Her feet knocked into broken furniture, and she tripped to the side. She scrambled backwards into the corner when Fenrir, uncaring of the danger, skulked closer.

When he encroached on her space to sniff at her, she screamed and sliced her blade through the air. It connected with the crown of his skull and broke in half due to its low quality. Fenrir yelped, his orbs turning white, and sat down while covering the top of his skull from her blow.

“No hit,” he whined at her.

Her blue eyes somehow managed to widen further. “Oh heavens, it spoke.” She covered her mouth as she shook her head. “Did it steal Blakely’s voice?”

She winced and shrunk into herself in preparation for a final strike when Fenrir reached a clawed hand towards her.

“Do it. Just kill me then. Make it fast.”

Instead, he placed it against the wall next to her head to balance himself and sniffed at the top of her head. She made herself even smaller as he inhaled her hair and then moved down to her cheek.

He gave another rumble, this time with his orbs shifting to bright yellow. “Smell nice.” His deer tail wagged against the ground. “Pretty.”

“E-excuse me?” she rasped, opening her eyes to look at his skull.

She screamed when his large hand encompassed her thin arm and pulled her along the cabin floor. She fought against him, kicking and yanking, which caused the contents of her bags to clank against the wooden boards.

“Let me go!” She screamed louder when he took her all the way outside and hoisted her up over his shoulder. “Put me down, Demon! What more could you want?”

Fenrir ignored her shouts and her knees kicking into his chest as she punched at his back. On three limbs, he carted the woman through the forest with a wag in his deer tail. His orbs remained bright yellow; he was quite happy with himself and the new thing he’d found.

Something that, apparently, never smelt of fear as she was carried. All she showed was rage, and it didn’t cease no matter how far he took her. She even buried her face in the fur of his back and tried to bite him before resuming her yells.

Nothing she did mattered, weightless and weak to something as formidable as a Duskwalker. He was able to carry her and all her bags without issue.

Although the day pushed into its highest peak, Weldir kept that viewing disc at his centre while he brought the one displaying his sleeping mate closer.

“Lindiwe,” he called. When she didn’t stir, he did so louder. “Lindiwe, wake up. Something is happening that may be of interest to you.”

She flinched and then curled deeper into herself on her side. Burying her face in her hands, she then rubbed at her eyes before peeking them open.

“Weldir? Did you call me?” she asked, her voice sleep-laden and with a lovely rasp.

“Yes, little female. I did.”

As if that was all she needed, her eyes opened wide, and she sat up within her protective dome. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She reached for the handle of her bag, pulling it closer to her from where she’d been using it to cushion her head.

“I wouldn’t say anything is wrong just yet.” His gaze slipped to the viewing disc of Fenrir and a still-fighting human.

Her eyes narrowed into a glare that held no fire. “There’s always something wrong when you call me like this.”

“I guess it would depend on your perspective. Fenrir has come across a human, but he’s decided not to eat her.”

Her full lips pursed in thought. “Then what’s he doing?”

“From what I can tell, he might be taking her to the Veil.”

“And he’s not eating her?” She brought her knees up to her chest and covered her mouth as her expression grew more pensive. “Is she not afraid?”

“She seems more enraged, to be honest.” Then he thought back to the state of her home. “I’m guessing a Demon came through the night and killed, stole, and ate her family. She has mistaken our offspring as the culprit.”

Lindiwe slipped her gaze to the side coyly. “In all fairness, he could have done so if he was the one to stumble upon their home. Her... assumption wouldn’t be wrong.”

“I was watching. It was not him. Fenrir came upon her as she was packing her artefacts to leave.”

“Without someone to protect her, she must have been escaping to a nearby village then,” she muttered. She looked up at the sky momentarily. “And it must only be early morning there. She was waiting for the sun.”

A small silence was shared between them as he watched both his mate and his offspring. When it went on for too long, Lindiwe unmoving upon the ground as her eyes stared off into the distance, Weldir broke it.

“What do you want to do?”

Her lips drew inwards as they tightened. “I... don’t know.”

“It’s likely that he’ll eat her,” he pointed out.

“Exactly. Why intervene if what he’ll do is just natural for him?” Her fingers picked at the seam of her satchel. “But the question is...”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Her voice was small. “Yes, exactly.”

“We can wait to see what happens.” Then Weldir offered a possibility that hadn’t come to mind until now. “They are soul eaters. There is a possibility that if they eat the soul of a living human, they could bond with one.”

She lowered her face with her lips parting on a quiet gasp. “Like what you and I have?”

“Perhaps similar.”

She regarded this new information in depth, darting her eyes back and forth across the ground. But he knew her expression and what the invigoration in it meant.

Lindiwe was excited about their offspring finding mates.

“Let me know what happens if they reach his cave,” she said, grabbing her bag to rifle through it in search of her writing charcoal and journal. “If she makes it there... I’ll get you to bring me to your realm to watch what happens.”

Lindiwe flicked through the pages of her journal until she found a blank one. At the top, she marked the date, and it orientated Weldir to how long they’d truly been bonded. A hundred and forty-nine years had passed.

March 14 th , 1832, she wrote.