Ander - Part 4: Subchapter 14
14
She was afraid, so very, very afraid. Not just for herself, but for the others, too. There was a time she wouldn't have given a damn, but evidently that time was over.
Mellah clutched the bear pelt to her breast and shivered, unable to shake the worry, the growing certainty that something terrible was about to happen, might _already_be happening.
Sensing his mate's distress even in the depths of sleep, Sorrin folded one of his big, burly arms across her body, and she quickly wove her fingers through his, grateful for his warmth at her back.
"Sorrin?" she whispered quietly, not wanting to wake him if he really was asleep.
There was no answer. Just his slow, steady breathing against her shoulder blades.
"Sorrin?" she tried again, a little louder, hoping that he really was awake, but hadn't heard her the first time.
"Hurrum?" he grumbled, then pulled her in close against his belly, even more of a bear than the pelt that covered them.
"Sorrin? I..." She sighed. She went to the bother of waking him up, feeling like she had to talk to him, but now that he was awake (sort of) she had no idea what she actually wanted to say. There were so many feelings rushing around inside of her, some flowing together in the same direction, some splitting apart, some colliding head-on in complete contradiction to each other. She just...
"Aryu arigh, Mell...?" Sorrin sleep-mumbled, making her smile, despite herself. After so many years sharing the same tent, she could understand his every grunt and groan.
"I don't think so, Sorrin."
"Is it Ander?"
She nodded.
"Renna?"
She nodded again.
"The others?"
She nodded for a third time, then shut her eyes tightly against the bitter sting of tears. She hadn't cried for anyone since her Vallah went missing all those years ago, and she didn't want to start again now. But closing her eyes didn't help, because every time she did she kept seeing that poor Renna child being beaten about the head over and over again, her face contorted with pain against a pitch-black background, the fist of her beastly mother bearing down strike after strike, making that sound... that horrible, meaty sound... And then that single crimson line of blood would flow between her eyes and she would look up, not at her mother, but at her, Mellah, as if to beg for help. And then it would start all over again. It was like a nightmare that wouldn't leave her alone, even when she was wide awake, made even worse by the fact that it wasn't really a dream at all, but reality. She saw that poor girl's face at Garten's funeral today. She kept her head down, but she couldn't hide her swollen eye or the cut on her forehead or her puffy cheeks. It was a sin. A horrible, grievous sin. She had such a pretty little face. Give her a few years and every strapping young Wolf would be tearing at each other's throats to win her favour. But she has to live in the same tent as that witch who dares call herself a mother. Just thinking about it made her stomach tie up in painful, nauseating knots.
But what right did she have to meddle in the affairs of others? Aisa's been raising that child for years. It wasn't strange for Renna to show up at sacrifices or feasts with a bruise on her face and her tail tucked between her legs, one hand held firmly in her mother's claws and the other in her own mouth, frantically chewing her finger nails. And yet Mellah never felt the need to interfere before now, and she knew exactly what had caused it.
It was Ander. Before he came along, fighting so hard for what he believed in, she was perfectly happy to turn a blind eye to the world around her, because not seeing anything made it easier to forget the long nights lying awake, just like she was doing right now, waiting and hoping, but knowing in her heart that no good news would ever come.
He opened her eyes. He made her remember about Vallah.
"I miss her, Sorrin," she said, squeezing his hand tight. "I miss her so much."
Sorrin squeezed back, and gave her a gentle kiss on the neck. "Me too."
He's always been a Wolf of few words, but Mellah knew Sorrin was actually saying much, much more. It was in the way he was holding her, the way he kissed her, the way he rested his head against the nape of her neck, the way he kept her warm, the way he made her feel so safe. All these things and more. She could interpret them the same way she could interpret his grunts. He was saying he loved her very, very much, and no matter how bad the pain became, he would always be there for her.
His grip suddenly tightened. He raised his head, his ears swivelled back and forth, his nostrils flared.
"Sorrin?"
"Shh!"
She held her breath and listened hard. Underneath the slow moans of the trees and the chirping crickets she could hear them coming, several sets of feet, moving quickly against the wind. She had enough time to wonder why anyone would be running around outside on a cold night like this when the answer was literally shoved in her face.
A dagger, long and curved, wickedly sharp, pierced the side of their tent mere inches above their heads.
"Move!" Sorrin shouted, and next thing Mellah knew he had pushed her to the centre of their tent, the sounds of ripping canvass impossibly loud in her ears.
Another knife pierced their tent and ripped open a gash as long as her arm, and suddenly she could see the moon and the stars peeking in at them, flickering as the icy wind rippled the canvass.
More knives appeared and disappeared like evil magic, tearing their home apart, rending it to pieces like the teeth of a monster.
And they were laughing as they did it. She was sitting in the middle of their tent with her arms and legs tucked in as close to her body as she could manage, cowering in fear, watching her home being destroyed, and they were laughing.
"You bastards!" Sorrin shouted. He made a beeline for the exit, his shoulders hunched and his fists balled so tight she could actually hear his knuckles crackle, but as she felt him brush by her side she couldn't stop herself. She grabbed him around the calf, not knowing what she was going to say until the words had already left her mouth.
"Don't go out there, Sorrin! Please!"
"They're cutting our tent, Mellah!"
She held on as tightly as she could, her claws digging into his muscle. "Then let them cut it! If they wanted to kill us they would have snuck in while we were asleep! But if you go out there... if you try to fight them..." She pulled him down and wrapped her arms around his body, part embrace, part shackle. She wouldn't let him go out there to be murdered in the dead of night by a gang of thugs. She wouldn't.
It only took a moment for him to return her embrace. Together, they watched the holes in their tent grow bigger and wider, the blades shining in the moonlight. They listened to the canvass rip and tear. They saw the silhouettes of their attackers caper around and around, laughing and laughing, glimpsed through the wavering slits, rippling in the wind. They felt the tatters drop down from above and drape over their shoulders, only to be blown away.
And then they were gone, just as suddenly as they had appeared, but Mellah couldn't stop shivering.
Sorrin held her even tighter, rubbing his hands up and down against her shoulders to try and warm her up.
"It's okay, Mellah," he whispered. "They're gone now. It's okay, It's okay."
She looked up and saw more sky than canvass, their home reduced to a barely standing mess of sticks and torn animal hides flapping in the breeze. She buried her face in Sorrin's chest and she cried, she cried like she hadn't done in eight years. Sorrin held her, and rocked her, ran his hand across her back and told her everything would be all right.
And she cried.
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