Running Red

Chapter 16 - The Greater Hate

This upload only took a million more years than I wanted it to. Ha. . .ah well. It is done.

I put up a random picture I found on the internet of a black wolf that made me think of Gleo, so that's why he's there.

You guys know the drill. Watch out for typos, tell me what you think of the latest developments, and don't be haters! -FlyOn

The man was not pleased. He paced on four legs through the three inches of snow, sniffing the air. Wood smoke tinged the breeze. It was dark now, but he still slunk, ducking behind bushes and trees so as to not get caught, eyes pointed stoically at the white tents in the shallow valley below him. Blood coated his tongue and flesh still clung to his lupine chops. He licked it as he paced. A deranged madness was taking him as the bloodlust set in.

Oh, but he was angry. Rage boiled in his chest and he lifted his lip as he walked a low growl producing a continuous rumble in his throat.

His jaw was broken. It was swollen and hot on the right side where the bodyguard had swung his stick and made impact. He almost did not feel it in his dangerously furious state.

The man was allowing himself to come to terms with a few things.

First, he had foolishly allowed the camp to make contact with the city. Though small, this meant that Cynd knew more than he should. He would be able to take measures to stop the man’s plans, and that could not be tolerated.

Understanding this brought rise to the next truth. Cynd would need to die. Him along with the woman, the bodyguard, and the boy.

And this realization brought rise to a greater truth. Killing Cynd would bring the whole camp against the man. And, the final truth, the man would need an army to take them.

As he paced he considered other options, but found none. Cynd’s tribe was an obstacle, one that the man had not expected to pose a true threat. He still did consider Cynd’s tribe to be a great threat, but now he realized that simply letting them live on would be like a thorn in his side.

He growled viciously, frustration welling as he realized how many precious hours he would waste destroying them. The time was ever drawing nearer. And the timing had to be perfect. Had to be.

The man was not pleased. He was angry. He was frothing. He was consumed by fury. His mind was murderous. His body was trembling with fire. He was unstoppable. Unbreakable. Untamable.

No, the man was not pleased. He was bealu. Dangerous.

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Night had come. Gleo had not spoken in the last hour or so. I was content to leave him be.

Eventually the cold truly set in and our small campfire failed to ward off the chill. I thought of sleep. I considered the possibility of sleeping through the night. I thought of the food in the chest at the back of the cave.

The last proved a difficult thought to overcome. Finally, after the cold and the silence became too much, I stood, my muscles aching and cramped, and wandered to the chest to dig through the supply. I picked out a few cloth bags with an assortment of dried foods.

I carried them back to the fire quickly, the cold dirt floor unpleasant compared to the space around the fire.

I set the bags down and gathered myself a handful of nuts, dried fruit, and a few strips of jerky.

I made a pointed attempt to not look at Gleo through all of this, refusing to feel like a chicken under a butcher’s blade when his eyes met mine.