Unchained

Chapter Nineteen

NOT EDITED—point out mistakes if you'd like.

                Standing in the vast lands that flowed out behind her mate's castle, Lym gazed, seemingly in a trace, at the thicket that provided as the beginnings of the large expanse of woodlands. A formation of twenty or so Enforcers stood by her mate and her side, searching for this so called 'problem'.

                     The ebony skinned man had said it was Rogues, a whole pack of them, but Lym knew it wasn't just Rogues, she felt it in her bones, there was more to this than they saw and heard. While her mate and his Enforcers stood a defensive formation, she had started mapping out plans.

                       The air didn't smell of the normal feral scent that Rogues put off, it was usually a musky, rotting stench. But this was an earthy, metallic, wet scent, something Lym had only smelled at one place, minus the earthy part.

                    There was no feeling of a threat thrumming in the air as there usually was when a rogue meant harm, so she waited patiently unlike the men around her who stood with their hackles practically raised. The soft rumble of low growls coming from the half shifted men filled the air, yet she remained calm and kept waiting.

                    It wasn't until half an hour later when she finally became restless, causing her to head towards the forest, it wasn't in her nature to be a sitting duck, she was the predator. She heard the dominate growl of her mate sound out behind her along with the crunching of his footsteps across the ground. She sensed his aura before he reached her, preparing her for his sudden skin on skin contact with her, still, it did nothing to stop her from twirling around to knock his feet out from underneath him. Sure they made out, but it changed nothing with her skittishness.

                 With a snarl plastered on her pale face, she glared down at her stunned mate, the message was conveyed clear as day, don't touch me. He gazed up at her with worry and confusion, his wolf whimpered silently in the back of his mind, trying to call out to his mate's wolf with no answer in return. The flap of dozens of wings halt their standoff, everyone watched in silent understanding as the flock of once chirping song birds flew off, the problem was near.

                   Lym took a few more steps closer to the thicket, her gunmetal eyes harden in concentration, she sensed movement a bit beyond what their enchanced eyes could see, whatever it was paced back and forth, ready to strike. Yet, the stance wasn't threatening, more like observant, the pacing more like walking unsurely back and forth. A low chuff echoed out through the trees and to awaiting, eager ears, the Royal wolves immediately became alert of the foreign sound, it hadn't came from a known wolf.

                         "Sco—" her mate began to order the Enforcers out into the woodlands. But with a sharp glare over her shoulder, Lym stopped him, she wanted to see the so called problem for herself.

                         Her dainty feet carried her silently over the ground, every step was carefully considered, her eyes calculated every twitch of movement that was around her, her ears picked up on everything as she disappeared slowly into the thickness of the forest.

The sun shone in through the branches, shining brightly off of her pale, lightly freckled skin, reflecting greatly against her pale locks. She kept up a facade of a carefree form when in reality she was as wound up as a timer, though the Rogues probably knew this. A flash of ashy brown and the game had begun.

The low growls of the Rogues had started to become louder and more audible, glances of the browns and greys and reds of their coats swirled around her like a tornado, their multicolored eyes flashed with emotions. Hatred, contempt, eagerness, excitement. Lym steadied herself, digging her heels into the loose, rocky ground, her muscled coiled up tightly in anticipation, ready for the brutal onslaught that was about to be delivered.