Bitter Conflicts {Rated T}

[huntress]

I trotted alone, barely able to overcome the strong desire raging within me to simply run and never look back into the darkness. The trees were my enemies, and although I used them for cover, I could glance above and see the hatred written in their branches; they were trying to lift their concealing shade because they wanted me to get caught. They wanted me to be punished for the mutiny of which I had just carried out unmorally, almost like a wild animal. The moon was my life-line, a metaphor for a nightlight available to a frightened child, and even now it was the only resource in sight that could calm my racing heart.
I hadn’t wanted to kill him. Dr. Morloch was an archaeologist, and the world-wide known psychopath when it came to the unknown. I had been sent on a mission simply to pick up a message, and possibly to desecrate his mind, dust off the knowledge he wasn’t supposed to know. He was a charming man with smooth black hair and pale skin to match; his glasses just barely hung onto his nose in a fashion that gave away his all too clearly silver eyes, and a small mustache framed his upper lip like a caterpillar inching its way across a shard of glass. Dr. Morloch was very wealthy as well, and also very clever. To say he was intelligent would be an understatement. He knew my secret right off the back, although I presume my eyes, gleaming and nervous like faded emeralds, gave a quiet hint.
I had appeared at the door to his estate like a lonely wanderer, and was definitely caught off guard when he used my maiden name and welcomed me in like an old friend. I was tempted to shrug my cloak off at the very unrealistic sense of comfort that I foolishly allowed myself to breathe in like oxygen. He offered me wine, to which I absolutely refused, and then a cigar that I did not accept either. Then we sat on his leather sofa, and I sunk into the familiar fabric while letting my eyes drift shut for a brief moment. For a short while everything was silent; the soft sipping of him drinking was the only sound that interrupted the peacefulness. Finally he spoke.
“Do you understand why I have asked you to come here, even in the harshest of weather we have experienced all year?”
I held my cloak closer to me and shivered at the memory of what waited for me outside of this warm and inviting parlor.
“My master arranged for me to retrieve a notice?”
He sipped his wine again. “Indeed.”
I tapped my fingers repeatedly on the leather before clearing my throat and peering up at him from under the cloak.
“May I have it?”
An eye drifted in my direction. It was suspicious, and suddenly the comforting, relaxing feeling was replaced with hostility for the man.
“I’m sorry; you must have misunderstood my phrasing. You see, you were only arranged to pick up a notice, but that doesn’t insist that the notice is or was actually real to begin with.”
A low growl rose within my throat. He stood in the calmest of manners and placed his hands behind his back, stepping towards me lightly. I leaned forward, ears listening carefully, every one of my senses locked in on his movements.
“I know what you are, Miss Rachel, and if you would hand over the treasure I desire, we won’t have to bring this case to the authorities.” My hand traced the wolf outline on my necklace from underneath my cloak, and I momentarily grasped it, then taking a deep breath and replying.
“I’m afraid that is impossible,” I whispered, eyes darkening with animal instincts. However, my human side managed to chain me back from attacking Dr. Morloch right then and there.
“Then I’m afraid,” he reached into his back pocket where I could see the faint gleam of a dagger. I smirked and clutched the edge of the sofa, leaning forward to a greater extent. “You will have to die.” His face flashed a serious concentration as he threw the dagger with unbeatable precision. Unfortunately for him I had caught it in my hand, though it had pierced me a bit, and dropped it on the cold, marble floor. The sharp clatter of it hitting the ground was drowned out by his horrified screams. When I was done, he bathed in a puddle of blood that reflected off the tile, and my paws and fangs were stained.
I didn’t want to murder him. It was self-defense. It was necessary.
My paws beat atop the ground as I stumbled over boulder and bush, the moon my only guide. I had outrun the guard dogs, and the officials, and the many carriages that were filled with weapons and traps, but I could not outrun the guilt.
Mud splashed in the distance, followed by a legit croak. I had grown weary though I was unable to sleep as well as unable to find the energy to turn human. I couldn’t help but forget my wariness even when I felt cold gravel slip between my toes, and I only faintly made an effort to realize that I had come across the road again. The carriages would surely catch up to me here, and the distinct lack of scent could possibly lead the dogs in my direction. I stumbled over myself and glared at the dark shape that had nearly hit me in a drunken state, although I had not tasted the alcohol. The sharp whiny of horses startled me out of my trance, and I looked up to see the driver of the carriage that had nearly run me clear over. From what I could tell in the dark, he was a stubby and plump man. Unable to see his face properly, for it was mostly covered by a thick wool cardigan, I took my focus off of him to see the door open and two shadowy figures step out on four paws each. Growling would have been an option for facing this menacing surprise, but I already knew the two figures. And in their case, growling was completely unnecessary.
“Time to go.” Chief’s tone was darker than usual, but kept its common sense of urgency. His dark gray fur almost looked as pitch black as mine.
“Hurry,” Mena, the white female, spoke anxiously while peering back a couple of times into the shrouded entrance of the door where another ominous figure waited.
“What will he do to me? I wasn’t supposed to kill hi-“My breath left me as another sharp whinny manifested itself down the road. “They’re coming,” I uttered under my breath.
“Damn all to hell, get in,” the shadow hissed in a cold, porcelain voice; amber eyes glared at me eerily from inside the carriage, pulling me like gravity closer to where they lingered. I swallowed thickly. The master was angry.
“Time is of the essence,” Chief barked, leaping back into the carriage, followed by Mena who shoved me along. I think she mentioned something about not letting him hurt me, but I was too distracted by the sudden bright flicker of a flame only a few feet away. I was now engulfed in darkness once again, unable to see, and that was when I heard the reigns snap, and the carriage was rocking with movement. The amber eyes continued to glower throughout the night.

I had long since turned back into my human self by the time the sun rose with early dawn, spreading its colorful rays through the heavy-lidded and tired trees we passed. I covered myself in a new, less bloody, cloak that Mena had been allowed to carry along for me just in case; I didn’t really mind the smell of wolf breath. I refused to look at Tamikan, even though he spoke to me in disappointed, bitter words.
“You will serve your punishment soon enough,” he would say. My master was not the most gracious shape-shifter. His golden blonde hair reflected the many sunrises and sunsets, but was terribly marred by eyes so dark even the amber didn’t stand out enough to brighten his complexion. His skin was cold and marble, and I shivered from simply sitting near him. His entire appearance, however, was nearly always covered in a thick black cloak like mine, and I only was aware of his muscular and attractive physique during my “punishments”. He might have liked me, he certainly didn’t love me, but I was always taken advantage of. I was a slave to his masculine desires. He had claimed once that we were soul-mates, for we shared a common gift. We shared the gift of transformation. But he continued to keep me in slavery, in his keep, because according to him I was a wanted girl.
I was a murderer, completely aware of all inner secrets in this wondrous new world of sickening twists and unwished thrills, and not to mention, I had been changed by a wanted criminal. Icewind, a she wolf with whiter fur than that of our very own Mena and chilling golden eyes, was even more wanted than I was for unspoken reasons. And since she had been the one who transformed me into the monster I was, now I had some of the criminal blood in me as well.
I wasn’t the first shape-shifter. In fact, Tamikan was changed when he was incredibly young, a mere eight year old. Both his parents were murdered by the first lady of his estate, a black she wolf by the name of Onyx. I had never met her, I had arrived far too late, but I heard rumors that she was ruthless and strong. She won every battle she fought, but the worst finally happened when she started persecuting the werewolves. Werewolves, much different than shape-shifters although humans would guess them to be the same, were very much hated by Lady Onyx. She would kill most, and keep others for the sheer entertainment of beating the blood out of them. Tamikan was a prisoner for helping the werewolves, but he escaped during his planned execution, and led a resistance against the queen. Onyx fell on a cold winter night after she and her troops were thrown into an icy river, beaten and weak.
Tamikan was viewed as a hero and worshiped after he took over, unfortunately for the werewolves. He hated them too, and only gained their trust to survive. Onyx’s persecution was continued until it reached a full out war. The werewolves surrendered, and were cast out of the city and its forests. Some were destroyed by humans in the process of fleeing. Some didn’t make the journey at all, and became ant food.
“Come,” I jumped as I realized Tamikan spoke. His voice was so smooth and yet so rough and harsh at the same time, kind of like a ghost’s whisper. I followed him, Chief and Mena trailing behind me, sharing worried glances from what I could see. He led me into the main corridor where the walls were all a deep red and a large fire blazed in the fireplace. Cedar, Mena’s mate and one of the guards, stretched out of his relaxed position and straightened upon the master’s entrance. Tamikan told me to drop the cloak and follow him, giving me a solid, but sincere grin. Despite the sincerity, it still seemed completely evil. I hesitantly dropped the heavy cloak off of my shoulders and allowed him to bind my hands with a painful rope before leading me on. I nodded uncertainly to Cedar as we entered through a second pair of doors into a glamorous bedroom with silk curtains and sheets. I closed my eyes and heard the noisy click that signaled the door being locked. I didn’t have to open my eyes to see his pleasured smirk. I breathed heavily in through my nose and out my mouth as he sternly grabbed hold of my binded hands and led me against my will to the place I knew all too well.
Yes, it was disturbing. Yes, it was shameful. But it was my punishment, and I was but a pawn in his well planned game of chess, my mind completely taken over, my heart beating a thousand miles an hour, his breath on my skin, his unpleasant touches. I closed my eyes and cried, wishing I could wake up from the horrid nightmare that he had me chained to like a dog. I couldn’t run or scream. I relaxed into the satin and silk and forced myself to give in to his wandering fingers and erotic touches. I was punishing myself.