18 - Loathing Lull

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When I wake surrounded by warmth, I forget about home. I forget the ache in my legs, the blood gushing down my arm that dried. Tears have glued my eyes together and my throat feels too rough. I feel the slight balancing in his arms. We're still in the forest but the sun has long gone down.

I don't need much light to see him. Skin replaced by a dark armor, still hot to the touch. Cradled in his chest, as he marches to his home. Back there. Despite the wolf nose and ears sprawled back, I recognize him. His dark eyes focused, breathing even. He's terrifying.

A mix of a wolf and a man, taller than he was, shoulders wide enough to encompass my form in his arms. It doesn't feel like fur, his skin. It's smooth and regular. My head is laying against his chest. I forget the cold. I wrack my hands together. If he was going to kill me, he would have done it by now.

His wolf face turns to me and his feet stop. His lips can't hide the fangs that slip past. I can't read his face like this. My eyes widen, but I've cried enough, my eyes still sting. I forget to breathe, frozen in his warmth. He doesn't say anything, stares at me, at my hands and neck. Did he bite me?

I manage to detach my hands to raise one to my neck. He watches the movement, nose scrunching. There's nothing. No blood, no scratch, not an indent of his teeth. I release a sigh. Thank god. He growls quietly, I feel the rumble more than I hear it.

« Angry. » he grumbles but it sounds weird behind his teeth.

I must be too tired for my body to react because all I can manage is a quiet laugh. Dry and raw with my hurting throat. I could have guessed that. He shakes his head at my answer. Have I turned mad? I don't have the energy in me to fight him. The fear has left me numb. He marches on.

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The next time, I'm stirred awake by a growl. It's still night time and I see the trees pass us. I'm still warm and feel a sneeze building up. His arms circle me closer, my head lays in the crook of his neck. The dark skin has been replaced with his usual tan one. My bare arms and cheek touch his warm skin, his shirt probably forgotten along the way.

I feel feverish but can't move away, rid of energy. My unfocused gaze still catches forms moving alongside us, behind branches. Escort or ambush? I squeeze my eyes shut to alleviate my aching head. I manage to rise a hand to move my head over his shoulder, violently sneeze a few times. He doesn't stop moving, uses a hand to push me down onto his chest.

I see the figures behind the trees, behind the snow and the fog that clogs my mind. Other wolves, by their imposing stature. But their shoulders are drawn in, their mouth shut and no growl to echo Milo's. It's fear in their eyes, carefulness in their steps, in the distance they keep with us. Milo's eyes move back to me, but I'm focused on his scowl and when I return his stare, all I see is sadness.

The shadows leave us after a while. We must have crossed the border. Milo has stopped making sound and I can't help but stare at his tears. Anger builds up in me despite the fear. My emotions are always all over when it comes to him. I feel the need to wipe his sadness away, but can't help but to hate him and all he is. I feel like screaming despite the ache in my throat.

« Why are you sad? » My voice is low and broken, barely a whisper above the wind. His eyes snap to me first. His steps are slower but he keeps on walking, nose flaring.

I hear him breathe in, sharp intake of air and his lungs fill up by my shoulder. His stare leaves me for the trees and for the night sky. I look up as well, the grey cloud fill the space, I can't see the moon, nor the stars. Both our breaths rise up, I don't understand why mine is more visible when it's his body that melts the snow. A coughing fit burns my lungs and I curl onto him.

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