Moon Bound

(14) Crossing... Over|Scarlet's POV|

I sat on the shore, clutched the letter to my chest and kept staring into the whispering water that beckoned me into its dangerous depths.

Resisting.

The duffel bag laid right next to me – filled with my belongings and ready for me to set on the road.

The Moon had yet to set free, her first rays of reflection still hours shy of their appearance in the darkening skies while I kept waiting as I'd done for years – with that precious parchment-like sheet of paper held where it belonged.

Close to my heart.

Fear and darkness were gnawing at me. They made the palpitations of my heart sound loud in my ears as sweat trickled down my back in agonizing beads of anticipation. The minutes I stayed there seemed to be ticking painfully slowly as I struggled to portray calm on my face.

How long was I going to wait until someone finally showed up? How long was I going to keep that hope from two years ago alive? How long was I going to deny it?

I never admitted it out loud. I kept that knowledge silently locked into my mind. Yet, for two years I'd been sitting on this shore, waiting for someone – anyone – to take me away from the nightmare. And this hope was my ultimate betrayal, the final step down to my fall.

I was a hypocrite to think that I was any better than the pack that forgot whom they belonged with, for I had done the same. We were all forced to forget.

I picked up a stone with my hand then threw it into the water. I didn't know why but it strangely reminded me of the alpha withering inside the house now.

A sinking stone. Just like him. It was I who sank under its weight. It was he who was submerging into the nightmare right along with me.

I could imagine him sleeping through nightmares, or better yet - drowning in his misery in the company of the bottle of whiskey he kept by his side. He wasn't an alcoholic. He was too strong of a man to ever become one. Even if he lost his mate, I reckoned he would never turn into one. It was just one of his pleasures he took solace in but in his case, the haze would quickly wear off – he was a shifter in his prime. The body exfiltrated the poison too fast for it to have a long-lasting effect.

Perhaps, he would seek his comfort elsewhere then. After all, he was a monster and monsters had many outlets to express their grief.

I wished I had a better punishment for him than leaving him to his own devices.

A slight, barely audible rustle called my attention to the tall outline of the forest behind me. I laid low on the ground to hide from the person, an instinct that would protect me from the pack many times. I listened to the sound.

Steps. Human feet touching the earth. Patrols always walked in their fur coats.

Rolling belly down, I lifted my head slightly and let my eyes scan over the place.

Right there, where the trees ended stood a petite figure of a person. Too slim and graceful to be a man, the very fact that it was a woman told me it wasn't one of the patrolling wolves. Only men guarded these woods.

She whipped her head around, eyes seeking out into the darkness. She froze, her gaze stopping on me, and stared. Her steps as soft and silent as the whisper of feathers dancing in the wind, she approached closer to where I was lying. Dark blond hair fell over the bigger part of her face, the rest just barely illuminated by the moonshine now spilling freely out. A crystal eye looked at me, the one matching – shaded by the hood she wore.

She stopped a foot or so from me. Her hand produced a beckoning gesture.

I sniffed the air the way I'd seen shifted wolves do when they tried to discern a person' scent. There was no such scent, only the mix of forest's aromas. Blank. It was blank. Her scent didn't exist. Which meant one of two things – she whether didn't have one which was very unlikely, or she had masked it somehow.