A Vision From The Past

[ A PRECAUTIOUS NOTE FOR THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER ]

TRIGGER WARNING: profanity, death, mature dialect, mentions of abuse & bruising/wounds/bodily harm.

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CHAPTER NINE

TINY'S POV

The sun filters through the treetops as I slumped against the forest floor.

My fingers drift over the mossy layers of soil as I exhale. Below at my feet, I can feel the long body of my bow resting. To use my gift, I have to rely on my remaining senses. My eyes dance behind my eyelids while tranquility fills my ears, and the life around me swirled. A light breeze drifts past me as a silhouette steps out from the wilderness.

I follow the figure with my eyes as it crawls out from the depths of the forest. I blink back the tears that threaten to break free as I lock my gaze on a petite girl. She couldn't possibly be older than eight years old. Her tawny ringlets caressed her shoulders as she smiles at me.

She pulls her finger to her scathed lips to hush me. A simple warning that meant imminent danger was near. I watch in horror as the mangled child mouthed the word three. Before I can ask what she means, another figure emerges by her scrawny side. A gentle hand caresses her shoulder as the image of a woman fizzles into view. The woman, who resembled the little girl, looked worse.

Her bones were prolonged from her body, and I could count the bones cracked in her rib cage. I don't hold back my tears when another figure joins them. One by one, the two spirits are joined by another until there are ten. The gathering of spirits reminds me of a family. The woman is joined by a handsome lean man. His golden eyes never falter from mine and I pull apart his appearance. He must've been powerful because his body is splotched in defense marks. The little girl remains in front of the man and woman who both have a hand gently on the child's shoulder.

I watch as the little girl stepped forward. Her tiny maimed feet gently pressed on the dirt leaving no prints. She should be back home playing dress-up and coloring out of the lines. However, she was accomplishing something wolves beyond her age could never do. The child walked with grace as she limped forward.

A lump forms in my throat as I watch her drag her finger upwards into the distance. My eyes fall onto the spirits of three rogues. Darkness radiates off of their bodies, and they're littered among broken tombstones. My gaze doesn't fall from them as I pick apart their leader whose wolf is larger than the other two.

Her voice is small and as gentle as a summer breeze, "King."

The little girl drops her hand before lowering her gaze as she stepped back to the gathered spirits. She kneels to the ground with her head hung in respect. I restrain a sob when I see her bludgeoned scalp. Following her, the spirits kneeled one by one until they slowly dispersed.

My eyes meet the little girl who lifts her head. Her emerald eyes were lifeless with a cold gloss over them. I can only imagine the stars she must've had before her death. The innocence was stripped from one of the purist souls I've seen. She attempts to smile as she dissipated as well.

And I'm left with the callous reality.

I open my eyes in a cold sweat. I reach into my burlap to page the house. Akila will assemble a hunting party to help me settle the last wishes of the dead. My ability is to help the forest thrive. It speaks to me in ways not even I can explain. Therefore, I can see and hear the wolves who are buried in the rich soil.

And honestly, it feels like a curse from the moon.

My thumb runs over the pager as it flickers a green tint. I linger to a nearby stash where I slip on my moss camouflage. Serene says the coat reeks of the musty soil and bone marrow. I smudge paint across my eyes and dust off the broken elk skull I often wear. By hiding my burn marks, I can't be easily identified.

The three wolves below are settled at the hillside gnawing on a freshly mauled buck. I listen for the sound of heavy paws as I bury myself among dead leaves and broken soil. While most wolves can't figure out my scent, Akila has it embroidered into her mind. She says it reminds her of the forest after rainfall. I remain still when the body of a tawny wolf rests on its belly by my side.

"Three rogues," I mumble, "they've accumulated ten victims. The youngest is Rue's age."

I'm met with silence as Aspen and Mage settle beside us. I press, "down below at the hillside."

We watch as the three wolves settle at the hillside eating the remains of a buck. The four of us wait patiently until the strongest rogue departs from his members. I watch as the rogue takes off toward the riverbank. His heavy paws leave muddy streaks in the creek.

"Do what you see fit for the two down below," I mumble, "but save the big one for me."

The stench of rotting flesh looms from the two who remain by themselves. Loud snaps and crunches echo as they fill their swollen bellies, and grind on a femur bone. A sense of darkness oozes from the rogues and bleeds around them. I signal Akila to lead her wolves in. She sends Mage down to lure the two from their kill.

Mage is unmarked therefore they wouldn't hesitate to overpower a she-wolf with no mate. Compared to Akila and Aspen, Mage would appear to be the weakest because of her stature. As predicted, the two wolves fall for the bait. Their attention is glazed by lust, and they've fallen into a brutal trap unknowingly. I watch in silence as I use my spare time to fill injection tubes with opium poppy and sedatives.

Mage manages to lead the wolves snipping at her paws to the opening. She flashes her large canines as a warning while the two seem unbothered. A thick howl ripples the forest. Its sound is sweet and quick as Akila informs the rest of the pack with her howl. I settle on the moist ground— camouflaged by my coat— to watch their defeat.