Chapter XXXIII

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~Tuesday 2nd August 2016~

The cold reminded Shepherd of his past. It brought him back to the streets, all those years ago, before he met Reece. Before all of this. It bit down into his flesh, sinking deep to the bones, leaving Shepherd's muscles tense and aching. He was past the point of shivering, his limbs too numb for it to even be effective. There was no feeling in his right leg anymore, not even with the length of the arrow still plunged into his thigh. When Shepherd first noticed it, he had worried. Now? There was no point. Why worry about whether his leg might have irreparable damage or not when there was little chance he would even live long enough to test it out?

Shepherd thought of asking one of his captors for a blanket. Or even just any scrap of fabric that might stave off some of the cold. Hypothermia was becoming more and more likely with each night he spent in the cave. He had only been wearing jeans and a t-shirt when he had been captured, and Lafe clearly deemed his comfort unimportant. If he was going to die anyway, was there really any point slowing down the process? Shepherd would be easier to kill if he was ill.

In the hours that he had drifted between restless sleep and waking nightmares, Shepherd thought back to that day. Why hadn't he sensed that there were others in the forest? Why hadn't the spirits warned him? Maybe they had abandoned him. They had been quiet ever since Shepherd woke in the cave from the torment the other warlock had performed. It could have been due to water hemlock running through Shepherd's veins, poisoning him with each beat of his heart. Sadly, he didn't believe that was the case. The spirits had abandoned him. Why bother staying with a dead man walking? It wasn't as though they could reap their revenge through such a weak vessel. And that meant Shepherd was more alone than ever.

"How did you meet Lafe?" Shepherd's voice was hoarse, his throat dry from the dehydration and the smoke that he was forced to inhale all hours of the day. The wolves could leave the cave to get fresh air, rather than breathing in the thick soot from the fire that burned constantly throughout day and night. To begin with, Shepherd had seen that as his salvation. Someone had to see the smoke, even just a wisp of it. It billowed through the cave, clinging to the roof before seeping out through the mouth. Surely, someone had to have seen... Unless there really was no one around to see.

"What?" Victor grunted, looking up from the book he had been reading. He was slumped down at the opposite side of the cave, using the low light from the flames to illuminate whatever it was he was reading. If Shepherd didn't have such horrid false memories of the man, he might think he was attractive. His hair fell in shades of silver and black, framing his sharp features that burnt with distaste whenever his eyes met with Shepherd. From what the warlock had seen, when the wolves had been moving around in the cave, none were close to Reece's stature, however, they were muscular in some sense of the word. Maybe if Victor had something to smile about, he might even look kind.

"Lafe, how did you meet him? Must have made a good impression for you to follow him blindly like this," the silence was the worst. Shepherd couldn't stand it. He would take screaming and crying and just about anything to break the constant quiet that fell in the cave. Whenever the wolves wanted to speak, they would leave, step outside and talk in hushed tones that Shepherd couldn't quite hear. In reality, it was pointless. If they truly believed he wasn't a threat, they shouldn't have been afraid to speak in front of him. It showed more about their confidence than anything else.

"Why the fuck would I tell you?" Victor had a sharp tongue. Evidently, he was the eldest of the three wolves that had been left to watch over Shepherd, it showed in his eyes. He called the shots, through and through, whenever Lafe wasn't present. Sloane was next, consulting with Victor on who would leave to go hunt and who would stay to monitor their prisoner. Oscar simply did as he was told, although not happily. Ironic, really, considering that he was the beta in Shepherd's nightmare. Maybe the warlock had her own preferences for the hierarchy within the wolves.

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