Wolfbeat Chapter 1

She came to in a bruised, sweating heap, her head throbbing so hard she thought she might as well be better off dead. Her limbs were weak and unresponsive as she struggled to move in the frustratingly shifting pile of cloth she lay in, her mind trying to focus on remembering why she was here. Where was she, anyway? She squinted in the darkness, totally unsure of what time it was, or how long she had been unconscious. Getting to her knees was a challenge, and standing, albeit unsteadily, was a feat to her willpower alone. Cael judged that escape was nigh well impossible, but she took a lurching step anyway in the direction that looked like it led to a door. She staggered and collapsed to the ground after only a few feet. On her hands and knees, she crawled painfully forward, aware of everywhere her aching joints touched the ground. She made it to the silhouette of the unlocked door and reached out with a dirty hand to push open the wooden panel when it swung open toward her.

An immense dark force barreled into her, knocking her backwards as if she weighed no more than a small child. She cried out, but the noise was muffled by the thick fur pressing against her face, something heavy leaning on her chest, forcing her to the ground. She was pinned beneath it as easily as if she had a mountain on top of her, and that's what it was, a mountain of fur and warmth and thick animal scent. She was being smothered as she resisted, her defensive action already pitifully weak, without the lack of oxygen to slow her more. She was being crushed under this creature, she was going to die, and she didn't even know what it was.

She heard a sound from far away, and belatedly registered it as a man's voice. The thing on top of her growled in displeasure, but cleared itself of her body so she could gasp for air on the ground. Gratefully she sucked in the dusty air, alive, and knowing it because she hurt so much. She heard the sounds of the door being bolted, peered into the darkness, asking in a rasping voice that quavered slightly, "Who's there?" She heard the animals, still very close, rumble aggressively as she spoke.

"No one you know," was the rough reply. "Do not try to escape again, or the wolves will bring you down, next time not so gently."

"Wolves?" she repeated, fear apparent in her low tone.

"Yes," the man said, feeling in the dark for tinder to make a light. "They will not hesitate to kill, especially an escaping enemy."

"So you are a Cespian," she spat the word, as she glared at her enemy in the dim light he had conjured. The man held a single candle over Cael's head, and though he could make out her features quite clearly, all she could see of him were deep shadows. "You have information I need," he told her bluntly. "Give it to me now."

"Never," she said, and threw herself at the light, knocking it from his hand before he had time to turn away. She hurdled past him, but his foot caught her and she fell heavily, sprawled on her face on the ground. The wolves were on her in a flash, their menacing growl roaring dangerously in her ears as a pair of jaws was none to lightly clamped over her unprotected neck.

"Wait," she heard the man order the wolves sharply, and their sharp teeth did not draw blood. She froze, barely breathing, listening to the man as he retrieved the extinguished candle from where it lay a distance away. "Too bad," he mused indifferently. "That was my last match. You'll have to spend a night with wolves in the dark now." The way he said it, she knew he couldn't care less for her fear of the creatures still poised to kill her. "Enough," he barked, and Cael felt the jaws unclamp as a rough, strong hand gripped the collar of her shirt and pulled her to her feet. "Tell me what you know," he ordered her softly, holding her firmly in place by her collar.

"Never," she hissed, and bent double as his heavy fist slammed into her stomach.

He reached for her, and ordered again, clearly, "Tell me."

"No," she replied with such certainty he thumped her soundly again, driving her to her knees with the blow.

This time he pulled her up by her hair, and said truthfully, "If you don't tell me now, I'll beat it out of you. There is no other choice for you."

"There is," she replied evenly, despite her gasping breaths. "To fight!" She lunged at him, fists ready and swung low and hard. He dodged just in time, and landed a smarting blow to her back and shoulders. She cried out in pain, the blow having landed solidly on her previous bruises. She darted in with a short efficient kick to his leg, and as he faltered, she leaped in close and began pummeling his torso. With a sharp rap to her bleeding temple, he forced another wave of pain to descend on her from the earlier wound. She backed away, clutching her head and trying to stay upright as the blow drove bolts of jagged pain through her skull. With her hands raised to her face, Cael had no protection as the man drove to her ribs. She backed up, flailing her arms, and he roughly grabbed her around the waist and twisted her arms behind her back. He shoved her down to the ground, his knee in her back, making her back arch as he put careful, manipulative pressure on her arms and shoulders, knowing from experience how painful this position was.

"Tell me," he ordered, his voice in her ear.

"No!" she shouted fiercely, though her voice was so raw from pain it didn't carry. He tightened his hold, and Cael heard her limbs pop. The wolves began to growl loudly.

"Tell me before your arms break," he said, digging his knee deeper into her spine.

"Ahhh-" she moaned deeply, near passing out. The wolves were now barking, pawing at the door and nudging the man to get his attention. The sounds of riders could be heard outside, and men shouting. Without a word he released the arm lock on Cael and she collapsed on the ground, breathing raggedly.

"Guard her," he ordered his canine companions before he unbolted the door and stepped out into the night. Cael dared to lift her throbbing head to her surroundings, now that she wasn't under the excruciating pain of the hold he had on her. A snarling muzzle was inches from her nose, and Cael found herself trembling in pure terror. Don't move, the wolves plainly said. She could see four of them, huge, hairy beasts she had no doubt that would rip through her throat should she give them the slightest reason. Her head hurt terribly though, and her arms were aching. She was in a vulnerable position facedown in the dirt, and was not anxious to be here when the man returned. Slowly, she eased her screaming arms alongside her, palms down. Her eyes never left the wolves as she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, her arms shaking from the effort to remain calm while a gigantic gray monster of a wolf breathed wickedly on her face. Cael got to her knees and the wolves growled. She swallowed her fear and crouched on the balls of her feet. The gray wolf in front of her simply butted his large head into her chest and sent her sprawling backward. Cael scooted back on her elbows, away from her captors, looking for another exit as she retreated. A different wolf bounded over to her inching form and stood over her, growling angrily and showing a malicious toothy grin. Cael gulped and stopped moving, and waited nervously with the wolf directly guarding her until the man returned.

"Off," he motioned with a sweeping motion to the wolf. His voice was tight and clipped, reminding Cael of the controlled stillness before a particularly dangerous storm. She had no doubt his fury would be directed toward her. It was.

He hauled Cael up by the collar and spoke directly to her, not mincing his words. "A party of five enemy riders escaped a few moments ago, your riders; but of course you already know that." His fingers dug into her neck; she hoped he couldn't see her wince. "They followed the original plans we had already discovered, they escaped because we already knew." He shook her roughly, his grip on her unbreakable as iron, and Cael wondered who he was. Abruptly he shoved her away and she stumbled in the darkness, but did not fall.

"You have no information at all about the ambush."

It was a flat statement; she knew from his tone that he had found out exactly what happened. Cael decided to make her position clear to him; lying to him did not seem wise at this point.

"No," she said, staring at him squarely, unafraid, "I don't."

He looked at her hard in the dim light, saying nothing, putting together the knowledge he had about the situation. Finally he had to admit he had been tricked, and neatly too. "Clever," he commented, "And foolish. I can hand you over now the riders and let them rip you to pieces, and get a good amount of gold for my find. I'm sure my fellow Cespians,"-he spit the word- "will be anxious for vengeance on someone who helped bring down several of their own and allowed their rightfully captured prisoners to escape. You took a risk for your comrades and they won; you lost." She felt angry and frightened at his words at the same time, but he didn't move, didn't hail the men outside.

"Why don't you do it then?" she snapped, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

"Because I don't wish it," he shot back. "They think they have already caught and killed a spy, and they have, because there were two of you." Dread seeped into her bones at his words; already he knew too much. He continued. "They have accomplished what they wanted, partially, in the way I am responsible for. You would only satisfy their insatiable lust for revenge, and perhaps some other male needs before you died."

"And why would you care about that?" she asked him. "What is my life worth to you?"

"Not much," he answered. "Not yet, but soon I will find out."

"How?" she asked him, her tone defiant. "What makes you think I will stay here?"

"The wolves," he answered. "You are afraid of them, and they make excellent guards." She thought she saw him shrug in the near darkness. "Should you happen to get by them, however unlikely, there is still my occupation."

"And what is that?" she inquired haughtily.

"Hunter," he replied, his white teeth flashing in a grin she couldn't see. "I will catch you sooner or later should you flee, but perhaps not soon enough to avoid finding you lying in a gutter with your throat slit by a Cespian knife."

"You forget my occupation, Hunter," she replied calmly. "A Fighter lives up to their name. I will not be vanquished so easily; your guards and your skill will not keep me here for long."

"Then your wounds should, Fighter," he observed sharply. "Or had you forgotten that you could barely crawl to the door?" She stiffened as he spoke, unaware that her body's condition was so apparent in the near blackness. Then she remembered the brawl she'd had with him, how he had known exactly where to hit to bring her down. She bit her tongue before she hurled an angry response, unwilling to give this man any more information about herself, even though he had already guessed her weakness.

He noted her tense silence and heavy breathing and continued, stepping forward until he touched her shoulder. He pushed her lightly on the chest and she crumpled to the ground without a word. Involuntarily he felt a twinge of pity as he stood over her dark form, remarking softly, "I really doubt you'll be leaving anytime soon."

"Damn you," she muttered hoarsely as she struggled to sit up and failed, her head spinning. With difficulty, she clambered to her hands and knees, her head hanging as she fought off a wave of pain, dizziness, and nausea. She squinted her eyes against the light that suddenly shone in front of her, making her headache all the more unbearable.

"Too bright," she rasped. "Head hurts." The pain forced her to speak in incoherent fragments, and her semi lucid self chided her outburst. Why would he care if she was hurting or not? But already the light was dimmed, and she could crack open her eyes enough to see the man held a lantern in one hand, a screen half covering its light.

"I thought you said you ran out of matches," she said, then berated herself for pointing out such a trivial thing. She must really be losing it.

"I did," he replied. "This came from outside." She hadn't even heard him leave, but then again she wasn't listening for footsteps as she cringed on the ground. God, she was so disconnected, and that was dangerous. . .

Cael didn't notice the sure hand on her shoulder until it pulled her to her feet. She swayed, then groaned as the world tipped and her legs buckled. She felt him catch her as she slumped forward onto his chest, his strong arms wrapping around her back and pinning her own limp arms to her side. He pulled her backwards to the wall and let her drop onto the pile of rags. He wisely placed the lantern on a ledge a good distance from where she lay against the stable wall, remembering how she had recoiled from the bright light. He gazed down at her, for the first time he saw what he thought he had already sensed in the dark, and his stomach jolted in surprise.

Brown curls, mussed and sweat drenched from the recent scuffle, framed a face tightly drawn in pain and exhaustion. A long bloody gash purpled with bruise marked her left temple sharply, the dark liquid trickling down the side of her face and throat. Other gashes indicated by wet stains seeped through her tunic, her clothes were torn and dirty. The man noticed she was not quite flat on her back, and from the red tinge on her sides and the memory of how she had arched under his strike he guessed she had been thumped there more than a few times. Overall she was a mess, and close to delirium as well.

The man turned and walked out of the barn, bearing a bucket of water and clean cloths when he returned. Cael's clouded mind barely registered that he was gone, though the wolves were not. She gave up trying to escape before she even moved, mainly because she couldn't. She felt the man kneel beside her, and flinched fearfully when he reached out a hand to touch her, her mind already clearing.

"Easy," he said, "I don't wish you harm." He began checking her for more injuries, his hands deft and practiced.

"What?" she gasped, her senses coming back in a rush. "I thought you wanted to kill me!" She pulled her arm out of his grasp, and cradled her wrist in her hand.

"If you try to leave, I will," he said simply. "I can't risk you escaping, things would go badly for me, and I don't want that. For now though, I want you alive, and I can't do that if you bleed to death under my nose."

Patiently he took her wrist and felt it, carefully rubbing at the sprain. She winced as he flexed and bent it back and forth, and yelped sharply as he gave it a good twist that made her joints crack. "I won't die from a sprain," Cael pointed out, unnerved by the sudden and illogical change of behavior in her captor. "Why bother fixing that?"

He met her gaze briefly and responded with only, "Faster traveling," and Cael knew that was all the answer she'd get. Turning her attention back to the limb the man was now wrapping firmly in a narrow length of cloth, she realized that the sickeningly taut feeling her arm had after he applied the lock had been released; he had undone his own damage.

He checked the rest of her for broken bones and sprains, and finding none, examined her internal organs through gentle pressure.

"Is there pain?" he asked as he pressed on various parts of her middle and lower torso. She shook her head, but that brought on another wave of agony and she moaned as she covered her eyes with her hands. She felt a cool touch at her brow, and flinched but did not cry out when he dabbed at the gash with a damp cloth. She struggled to stay still, knowing the wound must be cleaned, no matter who did it. The man dabbed at her other wounds, pulling aside clothing when necessary and bandaging a few with the cloth. When he pulled her up to see to her back, Cael started as he lifted the hem of her tunic to expose her skin. She looked at him quickly, alarmed, as he stared back, expressionless. Finally he shrugged and began packing up his things. Cael hesitated, then impulsively reached out and grabbed his wrist as he picked up the bowl he'd been using to rinse the cloths in. She stared at him briefly, saying nothing, then released his wrist and started to lift her own shirt. He helped her, as she couldn't quite manage on her own, and she leaned forward, hugging her knees with her tunic bunched in front of her chest. "The other person," she announced abruptly, before he touched her, "The spy you said they killed, what did he look like?" He didn't respond at first, thinking. Her question was bold, and under any other circumstances he would have refused to answer and give away possibly valuable information, not wanting to give any power of any kind to a prisoner, especially knowledge. Now, however, his surprising sympathy for her situation and his growing dislike of the Cespian forces and their policies loosened his frugal tongue.

"Young," he said gravely, "And dark haired, with a deep scar on the side of his neck."

At his words her blood froze: confirming Dark's appearance also confirmed his death, as the spy would never have allowed himself to be seen; if captured he would have found a way to take his own life rather than share his face, and secrets, with the world. Hunter's knowledge of the Rider's lifeless features bore the solid weight of undeniable truth to Cael's already trodden shoulders. She was crushed beneath it. Cael gritted her teeth as a sickening wave of grief rolled over her; she covered her intense feelings as well as she could by clutching the shirt in front of her chest, twisting the cloth as his bitterly truthful words twisted her heart. Her body tensed, her aching muscles involuntarily tightening as emotion flooded her system and spilled out of her eyes.

He watched her reaction with growing interest, as obviously she had been at least well acquainted with the dead Aterian. He said nothing, seeming to respect her pride and experiences, and after a moment, slowly reached out to touch her spine with a damp cloth. She flinched, but did not pull away, and Hunter could feel the subtle shaking of her body. Carefully, if not gently, he washed the grit and dried blood from her skin, frowning unconsciously as he took in her bruised and battered form. She trembled slightly under his sure hand, but didn't cry out as he bathed her inflamed flesh in coolness. Privately, he was amazed at how much she had weathered to get this far.

Clearly she had been thoroughly beaten, he could tell from the way she gingerly leaned her weight that her muscles were aching badly. An unexpected anger surged through him as he saw the damage the Cespians had done. Reason pushed his unexpressed emotion from his eyes, and the man showed not a flicker of concern on his carefully guarded expression. Why should he care, it wasn't his problem, and it was her own fault for getting herself so entangled in this war; there were consequences for her soldier rashness.

His mind told him this but when he looked at her shadowed form, he saw only a woman, warrior or not. A woman who needed him because she was hurting, inside and out. He cursed himself for harboring such thoughts about a prisoner he might soon kill outright if she proved useless or brought trouble, yet his hand on her back never expressed his shifting ideas, if anything it became more gentle as he wrestled internally. Before he knew it he was caressing her, moving up her shoulders to her neck, and massaging her deftly at the nape.

Cael could only look back later and realize her state of delirium, but at the time all she could remember was the shameful relief she felt from this strange man's touch. Whatever reasons drove the hunter to massage his captive's flesh was interpreted by the semi conscious and fractionally coherent girl as another one of his clever tricks to undo damage done, like reversing the sprain. A part of Cael reminded her that she was still a prisoner, and it was against all honor to let an enemy man lay hands on her willingly. But the easing of exhausted muscles was too great a trade off, and Cael decided burning in hell couldn't be worse that what she was feeling now. A feeling, for whatever reason, this man was trying to disperse through deft presses and prods and rubs.

Cael considered raising her head sometime during her lucid state of delirium but dismissed it as soon as the man located a place in her shoulders that made her feel weak with relief. The aches that were imbedded deeply what seemed ages ago slowly flowed out of her muscles and flesh like warm honey. Cael did nothing to stop it.

Eventually the relaxation gave enough room for her exhaustion to overpower her senses. She passed out in the midst of hunters.