Keeper of the Lost Cities: Rebuild [COMPLETED]

Chapter Twenty-Three - BIANA

Cold pricked at Biana's skin through her thick brown cloak. She had chosen it specifically for this job; earthy greens and reds and oranges wove patterns into the fabric, imitating the forest itself. 

She was on a Council-issued mission to find a missing dire wolf. A few days ago, two Emissaries had found the pack dangerously near human civilization and had sent them to the Sanctuary. But Jurek soon reported one missing—apparently it ran away.

The job sent Biana to the Saint Elias Mountains, where she was to spend the whole day searching for the wolf.

If she was telling herself the truth, she didn't mind. She'd been needing time away from the Lost Cities for a while now, and the place was absolutely gorgeous. Wind whipped between the mountains, brushing over snow caps and whistling through the treetops. Every step Biana took elicited a crunch of leaves and fallen branches. If she looked back, she could see her mark among the solitary woodland, and a part of her ached to see the damage she was doing to this untouched place.

But she returned her gaze forward, reminding herself it was not untouched. The seconds were filled with twittering birds and buzzing insects and the mournful howl of—

A wolf.

It came from just north of where she was hiking, and she shifted directions, keeping the same pace. Part of that was because she wanted to stay, even a second longer, in this magical place. But it was also more practical; if she ran to the sound, she could scare the dire wolf away.

She was invisible for the same purpose—at least that was what she told herself. Technically, it wouldn't make much of a difference if she vanished or not; the wolf would smell her once she got close.

But focusing on letting the pollen drift through her, as Calla had taught her, gave her mind a purpose. It allowed her peace, something she hadn't had since...

Biana whimpered and grabbed her forehead as flashbacks threatened to surface.

Five years.

It had been five years, and she still could not forget it.

Why was she so weak?

Forget it, she told herself, as she had done so every time her mind slipped. Think about the good things—think about Dex.

This time she didn't tell herself to smile—she had done enough of that already. No one could see her here; she may be able to convince herself she was fine, but there wasn't a need to convince anyone else.

So she continued forward, stopping every once in a while to mimic a wolf's howl. Sometimes it came out too squeaky, sometimes too drawn out, but her training was serviceable, and every time the dire wolf howled back. She had taken to counting her steps at some point, needing a better distraction from her memories, and found herself in a small clearing after one hundred thirty-seven paces. The trees stretched thin limbs to the cloudless sky, and they leaned into the clearing as if forming a rooftop to this sanctuary.

The space wasn't quite a circle, but the imperfection only made it more beautiful. Biana could have stood there all day, counting her breaths until they fogged from too-cold temperatures—but opposite her, on the other side of the stream that trickled through the pocket of forest, stood the missing wolf.

His coat was a deep blue-grey, arching over an elegant back down to the tip of his thick tail. Claws digging into the ground as if angry—or afraid—he stayed still, looking straight at Biana, nostrils flared.

She released her vanish. Instinct prodded her to put it back on, but she ignored the urge. Invisible, the wolf would be scared—it was better for him to know what he was facing. Then he could see she was harmless.