Nomad {Editing}

::Chapter 11: The King's Wrath

For what felt like the millionth time in the space of a week, Charlie woke up knowing only pain.

Every inch of him was bound in a cloak like item, which was in turn tied to him with heavy chains. Pinning him to the ground, rendering even the slightest movements impossible. Any normal wolf would have been half dead after everything Charlie had been through.

But Charlie was no ordinary wolf.

A fact he was currently regretting. For once he could remember, and he hated it.

Until the day he died, the image of his friend's terrified faces would be forever burned into his brain. They had run for their lives, and had they been slower. They would have been dead and it would have been his fault.

The animalistic instinct to run, from his responsibilities, his fears and his pain was slowly driving him insane. From where he lay tied to the ground, he thrashed and kicked but to no avail. His arms remained unnaturally tied to his body.

Leaving him helpless should someone decide they needed to get revenge.

His body black and blue from the fight of the night before, wounds he deserved to bare but were hard to tolerate. The hard ground did him no favours as he struggled to find any comfort against its solid stone floors.

Giving in, he swore loudly enough that a sailor would have blushed at the sound of it. Accepting that his fate was probably to be left here to rot after the performance of the day before. He prepared to wait out the long night ahead.

When someone coughed.

Leaping out of his skin at the sound, he bared his fangs. As helpless as he might have been in this form, it wouldn't take much to change that. The pain was already making it difficult to stay in control.

Struggling to see through the darkness of the cell, even the moonlight did little to help the visibility. He let out a low growl, "Whose there."

A woman with hair of sunset gold stepped from the shadows, what little light there was revealing who had been hiding in the shadows.

"Violet." Charlie breathed, every muscle relaxing at once. He would have given anything to hug her then and there, even break his arms if that was what it took. The thought of her was one of very few things that helped to keep him calm.

Yet his sister regarded him with caution, her gaze void of the love it had once carried for him. She treated him like a stranger, and whilst Charlie couldn't bring himself to blame her for it, it still hurt.

Even in the darkness of the cell, Charlie could see the bright blue of her eyes glittering in the pale light. The blonde curls of her hair which had once tumbled down her shoulders, was now tied back behind her head.

She looked every bit the warrior his father had wanted her to be.

Yet none of the healer that his mother had prayed for.

"Charlie," she spoke at last. Though not free from emotion, he would have hesitated to call it something similar to affection or joy. She kept her distance despite the fact he couldn't have moved to hurt her if he'd wanted to.

Hell would freeze over before I let myself hurt her, he growled at the very idea of it. Causing her to take yet another step back. Charlie winced at himself, regretting every movement he had made so far.

Whilst he may have never caused her physical pain, he had been the cause of much emotional.

Part of him wondered which would have been worse.

An apology was on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn't given the chance to use it before Violet had interrupted his line of thought.

"How are you?" It was not the first question he had expected to be asked. Especially considering the position he currently found himself in. He hesitated, uncertain of whether he should answer honestly or kindly.