The Blood Wolves | Vol.3, The Eldenarian Artifacts ✓

3.

Slivers of sunlight pierced the loosely woven straw roof of the hut Makaela and her companions slept in. A few danced across her face, warming her cheeks and nose until she woke up. She blinked a few times before raising a hand to shield herself from the golden rays.

Lifting her head, she noticed Emile and Amora were still fast asleep. Emile's body was rigid and stiff on his cot, his face expressionless and dull. He slept like a corpse. Shuddering, Makaela glanced at Amora.

The girl was spread out wildly on her makeshift bed. One of her arms hung off the side, her fingers brushing the floor. Her black hair covered her face like a mask. Makaela snorted back a laugh.

She yawned and arose from her own cot. Stretching her arms while suppressing a satisfied groan, she left the hut and ventured outside.

While Emile and Amora might not have been awake, the village certainly was. She spotted a few of the men heading off into the forest with weapons, nets, and traps in their hands. She arched an eyebrow at their retreating figures. The women who were around were either preparing breakfast, washing clothes, or looking after the children.

Makaela smiled sleepily at them. Their lives, while simple, looked peaceful. They didn't have to worry about much and from the looks of it, they had a close-knit community. A family.

A frown replaced her smile.

"Wouldn't it be amazing if we could just stay here?"

Makaela spun around to face Emile.

The bald man smiled at her while rubbing his eyes. The morning sun glinted off his onyx skin.

She nodded. "Yeah, it would." Too bad we can't.

"One day, we'll be able to live whatever life we want to," he told her. A strange look filled his dark brown eyes. Makaela wasn't sure what it was. "One day."

"Is he spouting his nonsensical bullshit again," a tired Amora inquired. She stumbled out the hut. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were still bloodshot. Then again, Makaela's probably were too. "It's too early in the morning for that, Emile."

Emile pressed his mouth into a thin line. "Good morning to you too, Amora."

She smiled sweetly at him before facing Makaela. "Have they made us breakfast yet?"

"They're not our servants," Makaela scolded. "We're their guests, not their masters."

"Yeah, yeah." Amora stepped past her and looked around. "All I care about is food right now. You can save the lecture for later."

Makaela and Emile turned to each other, sharing an unimpressed look.

"Oh, good, good. You're all awake," the young girl from the previous night said while approaching them. "Breakfast is ready if you'd like to join us."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Amora chirped. She speed-walked over to where a few others were sitting down and eating out of wooden bowls.

"Sorry about her," Emile said.

"It's not problem," the girl replied. "We know how you Eldair are."

Makaela pursed her lips. What was that supposed to mean?

During the meal, she recalled some of the village people's men heading off into the jungles. She turned to a woman slurping down the juice in her bowl.

"Are the men out hunting for food?"

"Grifos negros."

Makaela frowned at the woman's reply. "Excuse me?" She didn't speak Portuguese, but those two words together sounded fairly derogatory.