Witch's Cloak (DISCONTINUED)

Three

Something wet and warm was stroking her face. Rose tried to push it away, but all she could manage was a twitch of her hand.

The thing moved quicker, making more of her face damp, and she realized she was being licked. Was it... Damian? As terrified as she was of him, he'd freed her from Isabelle's curse and — somehow — kept her from dying.

Whoever it was started to lick her eyelids.

"Astral, let her sleep." The voice was tender, but unmistakable Damian's. "Being in Limbo is taxing, especially for so long."

The tongue strokes ceased and Rose sank back gratefully into the welcoming darkness of sleep.

🌟🌟🌟

The hunt had been long, but the Hunter was not tired.

His silver fur mirrored his maker's and Mother Moon's light. The wolves around him were not the silver children of the Moon, but dire wolves. Not quite as large or fierce as he was, but close. Astral and Clauser were the largest, and trailed behind him. He led his half-dozen dire wolves up the narrow trail, higher and higher. Waves crashed against cliffs not far off.

It had taken the Hunter a long time to find the creature. The part of him that was not Moonborn tracked rumors, mysterious deaths, and disappearances.

Witches, creatures of Evil, knew how to cover up their tracks, but over the past three years he had become quite adept at finding them and had made quite a contribution in reducing the witch population.

Lately there had been many disappearances near the Old Castle village. He'd set one foot into the village and smelled the Evil, strong and fresh. The scent stopped abruptly where the creature's magic took hold, it knew he was following, but it was obvious where the creature was hiding. The castle itself.

He found her in the dungeons.

She was upright, held in place by the Evil wrapped tight around her. Its black tendrils pulsed a bit with a faint golden glow. The Evil had become somewhat transparent, and he could see pale skin and red cloth beneath.

He stretched, the transformation rolling over him. Changing used to be painful, but now, after so many years, it was more like a warm breeze was tugging away his fur. In his human form, Damian found his dagger.

It was silver, and every time he used it, Damian felt amused. Silversmiths claimed silver was the bane of any werewolf. The truth was, if anything, the opposite. Silver was as harmful to a werewolf as it was to a human. In other words, unless it were a blade like his and a werewolf or human was stabbed, it was harmless.

Not that the humans knew that. But the silver humans used to hunt was Fae or wizard silver, which held spells well. That silver did burn.

The blade cut neatly through the ethereal bindings, and when she was free, Rose collapsed forwards into his arms.

Her skin was cold and she was pale, but he felt her pulse and heard her shallow breathing. Damian carefully sat down and settled her on his lap. She was seventeen, now. It was so odd, as he had been used to her being over a decade younger than him. He hadn't aged since his transformation, not that he could tell, but she had. She looked a lot like her mother.

He felt for his pack, which wasn't there. Between his attention on the hunt and how focused he was on being alert for any sign of the witch, Damian had forgotten he wasn't carrying his pack.

Trix trotted up to him and dropped said pack beside him before giving Damian a lick on the cheek. Trix gently nuzzled Rose and whined.

"I know, it looks bad." Trix gave him one last reassuring lick which earned him a scratch on the head.

The little bottle Damian took out was empty, and seemed completely nondescript. He knew better, of course. It wasn't glass, instead made from a single piece of sea crystal, it could hold Limbo magic which manifested as blue smoke in the cursed person's blood.

Damian gripped the silver knife and made a small incision on Rose's arm and held the bottle to the wound. Blue smoke seeped out instead of blood, desperate to touch someone else and feed off their life in Limbo.

That was the danger of cursing someone into Limbo, your magic had to be strong enough to control its hunger. If not, well, you became a second victim. That meant the witch had grown stronger over time, and added this link to Limbo in case Rose ever managed to get the cloak off.

Once the smoke stopped filling the bottle Damian corked it with a practiced motion, not letting any of it escape. He pulled back his sleeve and took a deep breath and plunged the blade into his arm.

It began to heal immediately, but he cut it open again and again until his arm was a mess of sliced flesh. He let the blood trickle into Rose's cut. It healed as fast as his numerous slashes did.

Damian's arm did nothing but ache now, the pain fading and leaving behind a gnawing hunger. He hadn't eaten today, and healing took energy. He'd have to find a deer later. Maybe something bigger, like an elk.

Damian was worried about how easy this had all been. It had to be a trap.

He carefully picked up Rose and almost dropped her. Blood soaked his shirt and Rose's back, dripping down to pool on the stone ground. He fought the panic, and realized the blood came from her cloak. So the blood belonged to a man long dead, not to her.

Damian would have thrown the cloak away but Rose was shivering and he didn't have anything else to cover her with. The broken clasp had caught in her dress when he'd broken it, but now it was as good as new. It took a little while to undo the clasp, but once Damian managed it he wrapped the cloak around Rose like a blanket.

Mysti whined, uneasy in the old castle.

Damian took one last furtive look around before leading his wolves out of the ruins.

They traveled far, long enough for the sun to rise in the East though they had entered the castle at nightfall.

When they stopped, Damian had a few things to take care of before he could drop and sleep off his exhaustion. He scouted out the surrounding territory for anything that might be a threat. There was a fox den not far off with a lone vixen living in it, but she would give them no trouble.

He returned to the grove of ancient trees that clustered closer to each other than the rest of the forest. His pack stood guard, alert, under the spreading branches. Or rather, most of them were standing.

Astral lay beside Rose, gently licking the girl's cheek. Astral had the strongest maternal instincts Damian had ever encountered, and was the only one of his wolves who had children. Trix and Mysti as a matter of fact. The she-wolf licked at Rose's eyelids as if trying to wake her up.

"Astral, let her sleep," he gently told the wolf. "Being in Limbo is taxing, especially for so long."

Astral regarded him for a moment then placed her head on Rose's chest. She fell asleep there and the other wolves piled up around her.

As much as he wished he could sleep, Damian kept watch, alert for any witches. Someone else however, managed to slip his notice.

"Good morning Damian." The voice was cheery and distinctly female. He knew that voice. Damian just wasn't sure if the visit was a good or a bad sign. He hoped fervently it was the former. "We need to have a little chat about your charge."