I had a weak moment, and that was all it was.
Scowled at Arcane but quickly looked away, freaking out that he would see me and misunderstand it. I mean, who could even blame me? I shouldn't even be here! To be honest, nobody should be here at all. Werewolves and fey, sometimes I still wonder if I just fell asleep reading again.
But no such luck; it was all real. Everything here was so very real. Once, I dreamed about this, diving into my favorite book and being swooped off my feet by a drop-dead gorgeous vampire or werewolf. Letting out a deep sigh of frustration again, I found myself scowling at Arcane.
He had apologized over and over again. I believed him, too, believed that he didn't mean to make me cry or hurt. So like a characteristic damsel in distress, I cried in his arms. Found solace and comfort in his massive arms. I didn't object when he lifted me off my feet and carried me over to a little bench by the railings. I didn't object when he sat me down and put his arm around my neck before pulling me closer. No, instead, I leaned in. Rested my cheek on his chest and listen to him talk, sobbing and sniffing.
He told me about mind linking, and how Hades was able to give him the information he just received. That all wolves and shifters had it, and as long as they were mated or in the same pack, they could use it to communicate. Then he continued talking about his pack or his tribe. I'm not sure what it is; he used both terms, so I'm still a bit confused.
They were different packs, tribes, and flocks here made of the same shifters. Werewolves lived with werewolves-werecats with werecats and so on, but not his pack. Apparently, many other shifters didn't even acknowledge them as a pack or tribe. Most members were outcasts in their former pack, loners and travelers, or banished for one reason or the other. Considering many of them were seen as criminals, they also had a bad reputation.
He had laughed a little and admitted they had a rough start. It wasn't just easy making rules and guidelines for people used to being alone. So, part of their bad reputation had some truth to it. However, he was now proud to call it home-a safe place. I wanted to ask why he joined and what he had done, but I didn't get myself to do it.
Then he told me about Eir's ritual, how they offered their old gods gifts and called for them through ancient throat songs and spiritual drums just like their ancestors used to do. That it was supposed to be a way of helping a dormant shifter pull out the beast. Or ask the gods for a beast where one was missing; of course, it didn't always help. Sometimes the gods said no; other times, they never answered, and a few times, the human body or the beast did not accept the other. Making the match fail.
It made me feel better to listen to him, to understand and learn something about this place. Strange, maybe, but I feel a little less lost here that way. The fact that he claimed to be 100% sure Eir returned with a beast also helped. It gave me a sort of comfort knowing she wasn't wholly defenseless alone in this world. No matter where she was or who she was with.
He talked and talked; I didn't even notice when I had stopped crying or gasping for air. I listened to his stories, listened to his heart, and relaxed against his warm skin. My cheeks burned furiously just thinking about it, and I shook my head to get the images out.
A weak moment: I deserved that!
I had jumped out of his arms, so far away from the bench he sat on that I almost believed I could fly for a moment. But hearing Tew and the others coming back snapped me out of my trance. People are running around, carrying stuff onboard the ship, getting things from the other ship: food, water, furs, and clay mugs. Arcane and Tew are planning the route ahead, and I'm just standing here; looking over the soft waves feeling stupid.
At least I know where we are going now; I know what to expect there and who lives there. It feels so much better than always being kept in the dark, having to wait and see every time and every day. The only thing I don't know is how we are supposed to find Eir and why the hell Toke is still unconscious. Deep down, I even wonder why they even brought him with them, but I remind myself he might be the only one that knows where to find her.
I let them do their thing and kept my focus on the waves. Zoning everything else out, and I ended up back home. My mind pulled out images of my father, the old workshop I worked on, my wooden bench, and my old home. Images and memories are drenched with disappointment, pride, and care. It is not like I doubted that my father loved me, deep down in his own way; it just that it took me so long to understand. Growing up, all I felt was the overwhelming disappointment, the need to make him proud, to show him I could be just as good as any son he wished for,
"You should go below deck when we set sail."
His warm skin brushed down my arm, and every muscle in my body stiffened as my eyes stared at my hand. His hand looked massive next to mine, and he held the edge of the railing so close to my hand that his little finger touched mine. Awkwardly I turned and faced him, giving me a good reason to move my hand without looking like I got burned.
"Ehm, okay? Why?"
"It gets windy, of course!"
I just stared at him, not sure what his point was.
Arcane straightened up and turned towards me; looking down at me, he suddenly reached out and tucked some loose strands of hair behind my ear,
"I figured your hair would be messy! We don't want that now, do we?"
I almost jumped back by the touch and scoffed. When the hell did I care about my hair? It was where it was supposed to be; that was more than enough for me.
"Ntaw, Little human! Are you scared of me?"
He raised his voice when I had turned to leave, and I stopped hearing him. Facing him, I crossed my arms over my chest and arched a brow.
"Why would I be that?"
The amused smirk on his face grew even wider, and with each word he dragged out, he took a step closer.
"Maybe because of my incredibly good look? Or could it be my bulging muscles or just the fact that inside me, there is a beast? A beast that at any minute could jump forward and be fully equipped with canines and claws?"
I scoffed; earlier on, this behavior would have made me feel vulnerable, maybe even threatened, but by now, I know better. Deep down, I know he would never hurt me; he's just a teasing teen with a beard.
" Oh, please! Don't flatter yourself! And why would I? For all I know, the so-called beast inside you is a butterfly."
About to leave, I changed my mind and continued,
"Never mind, I take that back. I think your beast is a mosquito!"
"Oh, A bloodthirsty creature, attacking anything without fear?"
He smirked,
"No. Do you know that irritating buzzing around your ears? You swat it away but is there again the next second? Yeah, I feel that is suiting to your personality. And beasts and humans are made for one another, right? A buzzing little creep, waving around with his trunk, hoping to get a taste. No matter what it is."
He laughed with me as I walked, and I laughed even harder when he stopped laughing, went quiet for a couple of seconds, and then shouted.
"Heey!"
Little did I know, this was just the beginning of our little game, and my next days were filled with snappy remarks and quick replies. To be honest, I haven't had this much fun in ages. What makes it even better is watching his fake sulking or pretend hurt face as he stumbles back, grasping for his heart when my replies hit home. He might be a typical high school jock; only he has fur and a wagging tail instead of training shirts and hockey sticks.