"Alright, safe travels," Wren said with a friendly wave.
Aeson looked at her curiously, and Wren groaned internally.
"I am a wolf," Aeson said slowly, his brows knit in confusion.
"Yes, I know. Sorry. Human habit," Wren blurted out, wanting to kick herself.
Aeson nodded, still looking bewildered, but walked out the door. Wren sighed heavily, knowing she didn't belong here with these monsters. Yes, she changed into a wolf now, but fighting and murdering would never be something she did willingly. When her wolf took over, she retreated completely until it sated itself on rabbit or deer, refusing to play a part in the monster she was forced to become. The monster that Agatha forced inside of her, all for the sake of Aribelle, the woman everyone around here called Alpha. Gods above, Wren hated every last beast-person in this place. She was nearly convinced that Jurot and the horrors she had witnessed here was actually one of the nine realms of hell. She had made a deal with that devil of a witch, so the idea that she died and went straight to the underworld was plausible.
Her eyes remained focused on one spot of the page, failing to see anything written as she sat lost in her morose thoughts. The Alpha would kill her the next time she showed restraint or refused to spar in The Pit. Wren had spent the last two weeks hiding here in the healer's hut, hoping to avoid the inevitable confrontation with the Alpha. Any day now, Aribelle could demand that she be present for training or command her to perform a duty far more nefarious than rifling through the intruders' belongings, and the end result would see her dead.
"Gods above, I need to get out of this place," Wren sighed, rubbing her tired eyes and slamming the book shut.
A rustling of movement caught Wren’s attention. The younger prisoner had turned on his cot to stare at her. Wren’s heart tugged at the sight of him; he was filthy, his clothes torn and covered in grime. His hair was tangled, twigs and bits of earth stuck in the snarls, and his jaw was covered in days-old stubble. It was his eyes, however, that had Wren missing home terribly because those eyes said he wanted to get as far away from this place as he could.
He was normal.
But he wasn’t her problem; she reminded herself. It would do no good for her to begin to worry about someone else’s wellbeing when she was trying so hard to make it out of this place alive. The young man would pay the price for intruding here, and there was nothing she could do about it, even if she wanted to.
She couldn’t help him escape, not when she did not have a clear plan of escape for herself. The wolves would scent him out in a heartbeat, and she would be sentenced to death for her betrayal. No, Wren’s best chance would be to wait until she was sent out close to the border, where she could be long gone before anyone questioned why she had not returned yet. Perhaps if the man stayed alive until that moment came…No, she couldn’t chance it. Gods have mercy on her. She would have to leave him to his fate.
“Mayhap, we can assist each other. I’m Dru, and this is my brother Thame,” Dru said, hitching a thumb over his shoulder to point at his unconscious brother.
Wren snorted as she stood, shaking her head. There was nothing she could do for him or his brother. Both would die, likely before midday, unless the Alpha wanted to create a spectacle of their executions; then, there would be a feast, bonfire, and sordid debauchery.
Her eyes were again on Dru as he flashed her what was surely meant to be a charming smile but was ruined by the sight of black teeth, tinted from the potion. With a start, Wren’s head snapped to the side, where she saw rays of light were beaming through beneath the shutters. Hours must have passed as she stared at that book, lost in her own homesick thoughts and feeble escape plots. She still needed to search through their packs before the healer or the Alpha returned.
“I take it, you will consider?” Dru persisted.
“No,” Wren replied curtly.
She walked over to the healer’s table, where a black pack with a long shoulder strap laid. Unhooking the flap, Wren began to take out the smaller packs that were stuffed within.
“I must have heard you wrong. Did you not just say you wanted out of this place?” Dru asked.
Wren sighed heavily, mildly annoyed that he was still talking, but more aggravated with herself for talking aloud to herself. All it would take would be for this man to tell the Alpha what he overheard, and she would be watched so closely that there would never be an opportunity for her to flee.
The creaking of the cot was loud in the hut, followed by Dru’s frustrated huff. Wren turned her back on him, dismissing him as not her problem, even though it felt as a pit was opening in her stomach. All of this was so wrong.
She shouldn’t be torn between cutting him loose and saving herself. There shouldn’t be an evil witch lurking around the kingdoms making deals or punishing humans by turning them into beasts. There shouldn’t be an Alpha. There shouldn’t be a pack. There shouldn’t exist a place where half-humans live to conspire against unsuspecting humans. Above all, there should not have come a time where she was so desperate to provide for her ailing mother and a younger sister that she made a deal with the devil witch.
“I do,” Wren whispered, wishing she could take those words back the instant they were uttered.
She turned to Dru with a plea on the tip of her tongue, until she suddenly remembered he could not help her. Like overboiling water, the urge to blurt out the hideousness of Jurot and its people bubbled in her throat, but she swallowed and turned back to her task. How long had it been since she last had someone in which she could confide? When was the last time anyone looked at her with such empathy and understanding? She had been in Jurot for half a year, at least, listening to how blessed these people thought they were now that they were part wolf. Some called themselves chosen by the gods, and others were blindly loyal to the Alpha because they believed their families were taken care of or because of the extreme relief that came with having a home and food.
Wren, however, had not heard news of her mother or sister. Every message she sent out was intercepted by those who are allowed to leave Jurot and travel between kingdoms. Agatha had told her to be patient, that her mother would come for her when she was no longer frail and bedridden. None of these felt true in Wren’s heart, not after seeing the brutality of these beasts, after hearing the whispers of overtaking kingdoms. Her homeland of Olthaire was in danger, which meant her family was too. Nothing mattered more than her getting home and warning everyone, not even this young man’s life.
“I could help you if you let me,” Dru whispered back.
Wren tensed, her shoulders creeping upwards to her ears. That hollow feeling in her stomach expanded. If the Alpha made a celebration of their execution, she could run away. Two men would die, but she might save her family and an entire kingdom.
“You cannot help me,” Wren said softly, her heart breaking for the stranger she would leave to die.
She was a monster like the rest of them, a beast, she thought miserably. There was no difference in allowing him to die, maybe even watching some of it before she slipped away, and her doing the actual killing. She had sat on her chair and condemned him to his fate before he had spoken. It mattered not how much she fantasized about saving him; she knew that she would leave him if rescuing him did not benefit her.
Dumping the contents of each pack onto the table, Wren sifted through each pair of trousers, tunics, coats, and cloaks, turning out the pockets and shaking the garments loose. She pulled out first aid kits packed full of bandages, salves, and tinctures for fevers and coughs. Next came fire starting kits with bundles of kindling and matches that were spelled to light at a single whispered word. There were engraved hunting knives and vials of different colored liquids, one of which made Dru begin to breathe a little faster as she rolled it around in the palm of her hand.