How to Catch a Fish (ManxMan)

Original Chapter One: What Happened to Hope?

~Chapter One: What Happened to Hope?~

"What if we-"

"Won't work," I cut her off, maneuvering around creatures that linger in the halls. My eyes, having long since adjusted to the dark, have no trouble picking out things that need to be avoided. The girl is not so lucky – tripping over a troll's foot, stepping on a kitsune's tail, banging her knee on a crate.

Without the ability to shift, she is about as useful as a human would be. When I pictured someone being sent to help me escape, I thought of a strong demon who can tear this place apart or, better yet, my captain, Sidr. I did not expect them to send in a mere child who is only a little stronger than a human in her current state. If she has some sort of special ability, why has she not shown it to me?

"You don't even know what I was going to say," Heather exclaims, and I do not need to look back at her to know she is glaring at me. She has been trying for two days to convince me to plan another escape attempt. However, I have already tried almost everything and nothing she has suggested is new to me.

I shrug, "You have been saying the same thing since you showed up."

"So, does this mean you have given up on escaping, then?" She demands, seemingly unable to keep her mouth shut.

A looming shadow – something I would not normally concern myself with if I was alone – drags my attention towards a darkened cell as I pass by it. I turn around and pull the small werecat to me. The lunging wendigo misses her by only a few inches. This flesh-eater must have smelled her and since Were creatures and witches are the closet to humans it can get down here, it was probably hoping for a snack.

The disgusting creature bares its pointy, shark-like teeth at both of us, though its red eyes remain locked on Heather. The grey fur covering most of its body is matted and dirty, while the legs and arms, which are not covered in fur, are bloody. It is hard to tell if the blood is its own. The antlers on its head make it appear huge, but it is only seven feet tall when standing, its antlers just barely touching the ceiling. It looks mostly human in figure, and if you look closely enough, it is not hard to figure out that the fur is something it wears and does not come from its body. The upper part of its face is covered in what looks like the skull of a deer or some kind of mammal's head, making it impossible to see more than its eyes through the eye sockets. All in all, it is an ugly creature.

"She's mine," I sneer, glaring at the stupid creature. While it has a brain, it certainly fails to use it by attacking her when I am right here. Even without magic, I could easily take a weakened wendigo down. The creature must have come to its senses, as it backs off a moment later.

"Eventually your guard will slip, and then she will be mine, demon," it says in a dark yet clear voice, disappearing once more into the darkness. Its threat makes me frown, but I do not hesitate to turn my back on the cell to continue down the hall.

When Heather does not immediately follow, I turn back around and grab her wrist to pull her along before the wendigo tries again. There are plenty of dangerous creatures living down here – myself included – but putting a wendigo down here was probably the single most foolish decision the witches could have made. We may not get hungry down here, but wendigo do not need to feel hungry to crave flesh, the disgusting creatures. It is a good thing they only found one wendigo.

Once we are a relatively safe distance away, I release her hand. "To answer your question – no, I have not given up. I am just waiting," I reply, slowing down as I turn the corner to make sure she stays glued to my side. Even if the wendigo leaves us alone for now, there are plenty of other creatures that would jump at the chance to 'play' with a powerless Were.