Alanor, The Lycan King's Prisoner [BL]

11- Just One More

[ALANOR]

Alanor was sure that the trust his parents had always given the people of Udrad had cost them. And he wasn't going to make the same mistake as his parents. He would never trust anyone, no matter how good they treated him.

He would always expect the worst from everyone, that way, he wouldn't have to sit and be sentimental about things he couldn't control.

"What about me," Alanor asked, curiosity sparking his voice. He hadn't done anything that would warrant any person's interest in him. If anything, he was just a random boy in the forest. He had been crying for as long as he remembered and he could call it an attractive thing.

Whatever the man wanted, alanor didn't have the time for it. If he didn't speak in the count of three, Alanor wouldn't care whether the man was the hound of the lycan King. He would simply pretend like he was alone in the forest, and he would leave him there.

"In the past two days, I studied you and realized you have nowhere to go. And a little birdie told me that you are Alanor Wynter, the son of thieves. I'm just saving you before they come after you. Everyone in Udrad already knows that you ran away.

"It's just a matter of time before King Edison comes for you, and we both know you won't outrun the royal warriors," the man said with a smirk.

Whatever he had said was true, and Alanor already knew that. However, he wasn't going to be scared of the people who had taken his family from him. He was alone in this world and only he could take care of himself.

'Son of thieves' Alanor wondered to himself. That is what he was called by the people who knew him, and that is what he would be branded for as long as he lived. He wasn't sure the intense desire to make everyone pay was a good idea, but he would accept the name.

He was after all the son of the people Udrad had termed as thieves. So just like everyone took pride in their family names, Alanor wouldn't abandon his.

He would be the son of thieves.

Everywhere he went.

Maybe that would be his new identity. That would be his pride and maybe it would help with his survival. After all, whether they accepted him or rejected him, Alanor would come back to Udrad, and he would be stronger.

"Well they were right, and I guess you're not here for the hugs and kisses no? If you're going to subject me to the same fate, then be quick about it, and one more thing," Alanor said tiredly to the hound.

"What is it kid?" the man asked, curious about the boy who wasn't scared of anything.

"Make sure you don't miss my heart," Alanor said as he got up, and walked past the hound. He wasn't going to sit here and cry over things he would never be able to change.

There was more to life than what he knew of, and while that should have sparked his curiosity, the only thing he cared about was getting away from here. He didn't want to smell the same air as the people of Udrad.

He wanted to go away to leave this place, well, until he was ready, and then he would come back.

"Where are you going? It's dangerous for a kid to be walking to those ends of the forest! Greroth is not a safe place for anyone. Those people are savages and will kill you the moment you walk in. Don't go!" the hound said to Alanor but the boy didn't care.

If that was how his life would end, in the arms of the people of Greroth, then he didn't exactly have an objection. Maybe his whole family was meant to die by the public's hands. He would accept his fate then.

"Goodbye!" Alanor shouted at the hound who stood there watching the young boy walk himself towards the devil's hotbed. He didn't need to know a lot of things about the boy, but he knew that the kid had some determination.

Whatever it was, the hound could only wish him the best.

****

Alanor was tired and weak. He hadn't eaten anything in a while and nothing made sense to him right now. The one place he had been referred to had just turned out to be the very place that could mean the end of his story, but he had to try.

He had to know why the old man at the gates had told him to head to Gregroth and even given him referrals. Maybe the old man already knew Alanor was a fighter, but what would that even make him?

He was a measly ten-year-old kid who had no family and definitely no home. He was completely alone and with nothing to do. Maybe that's why he decided to go to Greroth. To see for himself what the land of the witches could offer him.

It was a risk, but as Alanor had learned in the past few days,there would always be risks associated with family and life. Everything was a risk in its own way and nothing could be changed about that.

Five kilometers later, the young Wynter was tired. His body couldn't take it anymore and the worst part of all of this was that he knew he was only two kilometers away from Greroth. He wanted to continue his journey, he really did, but the hunger he had experienced in the past few days wouldn't let him.

He hadn't ever eaten the wild berries in the forest, because he didn't know what fruit was poisonous and what wasn't. And he wished he could see that annoying kid Unar. Sure that kid was a pesky bundle of annoyance, but at least he was the first one who had cared about Alanor even though they were strangers.

Unar had fed him without knowing who he was or what he was doing out here and Alanor could only wish there were more people like him.

'Two more steps. Just another one more,' Alanor tried to push himself, but he couldn't move forward. So dehydrated, hungry, and fatigued, the son of Wynter collapsed on the forest floor, right in the middle of the hunting space for the hounds.

Maybe he truly was meant to be consumed by the hounds, because what was their explanation?