Brotherhood of Cain (Werewolf/Mafia)

Chapter Twelve: Artificially Sweetened

"Goodfellas don't sue Goodfellas....goodfellas kill goodfellas." - Salvatore Profaci

Chapter Twelve

Ethel's POV 

 I let out a yawn, stretching my arms above me and flexing my toes. I heard a few cracks and my back relaxed. Rubbing my eyes, I glanced around.

The plush bed was empty, warm and empty. Draven had gone off somewhere it seemed. I didn't even get a thank you for being strangled all night by that dunce. Sitting up, I looked over to the crackling fire, Tycho was gone. I didn't worry, figuring he was probably hunting around for food somewhere.

Slipping out of the bed, I strayed away from the light filled windows. I laced up my boots and left my coat on the dresser. Stepping out of the room, I turned left. Following the way I came up from yesterday, I pulled down the sleeves of my shirt. The draft in the castle was strong.

I passed a silver suit of armor on my way down the winding staircase. It was the only decorative piece along the bare hallways. The front door was cracked when I stepped down. Cautiously, I opened it.

A foot of snow dusted across the ground. The powder blanketed the mountains and sprinkled down from the towering trees. It seems winter had come early. Unusually early. Now what was up with that?

I spotted a pair of boot tracks a little ways down from the door. Closing it, I followed the tracks in search of Draven.

Muttering under my breath, I picked up my feet as the snow deepened along the grounds. I could feel the cold begin to settle in my bones. As the snow began to gradually deepen, I picked up my pace. The soft dust was now edging along my jeans tucked into my boots.

"Need help?" Draven called behind me.

I didn't bother to whip around, instead giving a slow turn and staring blankly at him. "I don't need it, but I'll take it."

"Come 'ere."

An uncharacteristically decent Draven came over to me and crouched down. He had changed since last night, throwing on a pair of worn blue jeans and and a tight, red long sleeve shirt. Looking down, the military boots he had on now were certainly big enough to make the tracks I was following.

"Lower," Draven crouched lower. His back was still too high up for me to reach.

"Lower," Draven bent so his hands were brushing the ground and turned to give me a snotty look.

"Better?"

Refusing to respond to the bait I gave a brief, "Much."

Grabbing his broad shoulders, I yanked myself on him. He let out a snort as I tightened my chokehold on his neck. My legs weren't long enough to lock onto his stomach so he ended up having to grab my thighs below his ribcage. I made sure to dust off my boots on his sweater.

"Onward, my trusty steed." Shaking his head, Draven began the trek back to the castle, prowling over the snow.

I sneezed, burrowing my achy nose into Draven's sweater. He smelled of smoke, like the smoke of a burning fire and...peppermint. Giving another sniff, I rolled my eyes and diagnosed this smell. Yes, it was peppermint. Like a strong spearmint and smoke. Weird.

"Did ya just smell me?"

"I did." And I wasn't the least bit ashamed about it.

"Results?"

The snow that had fallen down my boots now became a cold slush that was just about freezing my feet.

"Can we hurry up here? I'm freezing to death."