What The Fox? (Completely Free!)

Chapter 39

Chapter 39

I dragged Daoming's body to safety as fire consumed the camp. The soldiers scattered after they were unable to put out the fire. Their flimsy attempts to bring buckets of water from the sacred mountain stream did little to prevent the inevitable.

Shortly after I loaded Daoming's body on a nearby wagon, the soldiers gave up. Leaderless, after losing both High General and the Sixth Prince, they fled into the hills with whatever valuables they could scavenge from the royal tents.

I covered Daoming's body with a horse blanket to sneak him into the mountains. There, we found a quiet clearing where the wolves would not dare to tread, and the humans did not care to.

As the sun set, the Lycan blood inside Daoming started to stir. He had slept the day away and woke up as the moon rose above the horizon. It was a blood moon, and I believe the gods had sent it to mark Daoming's rebirth as a werewolf.

He woke up completely unaware of what I had done. I saw Daoming throw the horse blanket aside, make a face, and rub his chest where Alix's claws had taken his mortal life.

"Selene?" He asked, squinting in the dark even though he didn't have to. I knew that his new eyes saw perfectly in the blackest night. Daoming did that of habit because his memories told him that as a human, he had difficulty seeing at night.

"It's me," I replied slowly and carefully. I kept a safe distance from him. If he attacked me, I would not be able to fight him off. "You were badly hurt. I carried you away to safety. You would have been killed if I left you there."

"T-thank you," Daoming stammered and looked down at his tattered undergarments. I had unlaced his armor and left it in the camp because he was much lighter without all that leather and metal. His shirt was ripped, and I could see his bare, heaving chest underneath.

Somehow, he looked more beautiful than ever to me than ever with all his tassels and gold embroidery. Daoming blushed as he saw his state of undress. He wrapped himself with the horse blanket as though he was afraid that I would be offended by his state of dress. Little did he know, he would never walk this earth one more day as a decorated prince.

"What happened to that wolf? The one who attacked me?"

"He ran away."

"Good!" Daoming exclaimed and slammed his fist into the side of the donkey cart in glee. The donkeys jumped but then went back to munching on the shrubbery. "Did my men scare him off?"

"No," I replied with just a hint of sadness. I hoped my silence and somber demeanor tipped Daoming off that all was not well. I didn't want him to deceive himself into believing he was about to return home to the Imperial City as a victorious conquer. No, not at all. He had, in fact, been conquered.

"Was he intimidated by the strength of my devotion to you, then?" Daoming said, laughing. He laid his elbow against one knee and appeared to look about, searching for something to drink. "My love, do you have any wine? Let's drink to our victory."

I stood up and went to his side with a hollowed-out gourd that I found nearby. Inside was water from the river. It wasn't the baijiu Daoming was expecting, but at least it would quench his thirst. I offered it to him, and he bowed his head to me in gratitude. Throwing back his head, Daoming took a deep gulp of the water and sighed in happiness.

"Perhaps I am drunk. You smell so beautiful, Selene, like night jasmine. And the most precious jade — if that were to have a smell. I've never been intoxicated by a woman's smell before."

"I know," I whisper sadly. I reach out and touch Daoming's hand that was dangling from his knee. His skin felt hot, hotter than an ordinary human's. He couldn't see his reflection, but his iris shone faintly, like two cursed stars. His beauty blurred the line between imagination and dreams. The Lycan were all always so beautiful. Did he realize how silly he sounded sitting here and calling me beautiful?

"You did something to do me, didn't you?" Daoming finally whispered. The mirth was gone from his voice. He was staring down at his hands now. I didn't know what he saw as I was only a half-fox spirit. He studied his skin for what seemed like ages. I imagined that he saw his skin more clearly than any human could. Perhaps he could even see the hot rivers of Lycan blood pulsating underneath, smell the scent of the clay rocks beneath our feet, and hear each crunch of the hay between the donkey's jaws.

With each sense, the realization was dawning on him that he didn't win that battle down in that valley. He wasn't here to celebrate a victory but to mourn a death — that of Prince Daoming, the Sixth Prince.

"Tell me what you did to me," Daoming finally whispered, his voice growing ever softer in his horrifying realization. "I promise, I will not blame you. You are all I have left."