When the pair of companions returned to camp, part of Charlie had expected to find everyone licking their wounds. It had been a defeat, in spite of the almost amicable conclusion it had finished with.
Every eye in the camp was fixed in one direction, the fear could have been cut with a knife.
At first glance Charlie believed that they hadn't been noticed but he quickly realised otherwise.
It was still and silent, terrifyingly so. Unnatural. They were like statues.
Petrified.
A growl crept to the back of Charlie's throat, only cut off by Briar's touch on the back of his wrist.
Spinning around with a snarl, almost forgetting who she was. She barely seemed to notice his aggression, pushing past him as though he were a child to be pushed around. He held himself together only long enough to allow logical thinking into play.
Briar slipped through the camp, a spell at her fingertips and she headed in the direction that the eyes were fixed in.
The King's tent.
He followed.
Charlie would have shifted had it not been for the intense pain rippling through him from the wounds already inflicted on him. He moved to take the lead from Briar, he didn't know what they would find inside of the shelter.
And he didn't want her hurt by it.
But she wasn't having it.
Grabbing hold of his wrist just as he passed, and gripping onto it with surprising strength. He looked at her, narrowed eyes but voice lacking the growl from before. His eyes softening a little as he looked down at the smaller witch.
Her tone on the other hand was a little more sharp.
"I'd rather not be ripped limb from limb by you," she said firmly. "We don't know what will happen in their, I can look after myself. I go first."
As much as he hated to admit it, and allow her to go in by herself, Charlie had to agree with her.
Once again he followed.
Pushing past and through what remained of the gathered army, their staring yet unseeing eyes made him uncomfortable. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch one, as though to make himself certain that they were actually human and not some strange prank.
Unfortunately, it wasn't.
Forcing himself to not look back, he sped up a little to keep up with Briar who had continued on.
When they at last found their way to the traditional red and black colours of the King's tent, standing out against the red and gold of every other standing shelter. It stood out like a sore thumb, for more than just that reason.
It was the only source of sound from the entire camp, other then Briar and Charlie's footsteps.
Even the birds seemed to have fallen silent, though if it were in awe or terror of what happened bellow, Charlie didn't know. He was very aware that it put him to the point of losing it whilst he still wasn't sure of what he would find.
The presence of Briar was the only thing which kept him calm.
But now he was left wondering if it was because of her powers, or because of something with a deeper meaning.
Until he could be certain, Charlie felt unable to shake the feeling of caution around her.
Still he followed her like a lost puppy, because for now she was his anchor.
YOU ARE READING
Nomad {Editing}
WerewolfTo his family, he was a traitor, to his people he was a threat and to himself a monster. Charlie never had a chance to prove otherwise. For the last twelve years, Charlie has lived a life of isolation. For fear of what he might do to the people he...
