Page 107 of To Trap a Soul

“You’re turning out to be a big liar, Nathair.” She repeated his name, hoping one day he would remember it. She’d keep doing so until then. She pointed her chin towards the one skulking agitatedly behind him. “Have you been nice to Orson?”

Nathair snorted through his nose holes before a big huff came from them, close enough to billow hot air over her. He didn’t answer, instead clacking his jaw together. It was his way of saying he didn’t understand what she’d said.

Then he leaned forward to sniff around her curls, and cool bone brushed against her cheekbone. Her stomach tightened with tension, wary of his nearness and how quickly he could violently strike, but her chest aching with the unintentional affection was more prevalent.

Every part of her very being wanted to nuzzle into his snout.

“Smell different,” Nathair muttered. Then he reached out to lift a few feathers from her cloak with careful claws. “Different.”

“Yes. I smell different. I’m using a scent-cloaking spell to hide my scent.” When he pulled back to inspect her as she spoke, she played with her cloak. “Feathers. These are black feathers, from a raven.”

“Raven?” He tilted his head, only to lift his arms up so he could lightly flap his hands to the side. “Like bird?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed a little too excitedly, causing him to spook and recoil backwards.

Nathair’s orbs flashed white momentarily, and he settled low on his palms, dipping his chest down so that it almost brushed the grass. His long tail shimmered in the sun as it looped and made figure eights behind him with wariness.

Orson lunged forward and skidded to a halt in front of Nathair defensively with a snarl. Drool dripped from his fangs when he parted them, warding her back with a stomp of his forepaws. His spines were flared to their highest points, while his tail was lifted and swatted from side to side with agitation.

Her brows furrowed as hurt crinkled her features.

Lindi stepped back, giving them much-needed space.

They’re so animalistic at times,Lindi bemoaned.Orson, in particular, is distrustful of everything.It was like he was a skittish dog that had been trapped on a lead attached to a spike in the ground, just waiting for the cord to snap so he could attack with a ferociousness.

“Is fine,” Nathair claimed, pulling on Orson’s shoulder where there were no spines.

“Stay back,”Orson barked, his voice much deeper and more beastly than Nathair’s.“Protect.”

“I don’t understand why you aren’t welcoming of me, Orson,” Lindi rasped, shaking her head. “Why don’t you remember me at all?”

“Smell bad,”Orson retorted.“I no know scent.”

I wonder if it’s the scent-cloaking spell.It was apparently sweet to the nose. It just made it painfully obvious that Nathair remembered at least her face, and Orson didn’t.But why? They were born not many years apart.

Is it because many humans began to hide behind walls by then?Orson may not have eaten as many as Nathair.

The humans of Austrális, in the grand scheme of things, were actually relatively lucky. Although she hadn’t known of them because she’d pulled from society by that point, the Anzúli hadn’t needed to convince people of the arrival of Demons. They already knew about them.

The Anzúli had merely confirmed their existence.

The people living in Austrális had already begun to build walls and fortify their cities. Coupled with the fact that Demons had struggled to cross the desert except on moonless nights – the connecting forests not grown yet – they hadn’t been overrun when the flux of them did arrive.

Not many lived within the centre where the Veil had formed; most settlements were nearer to the mountains and meadows bordering the cooler and more bountiful coastlines. When people fled, they didn’t have to travel far.

It was the natives of the country, the farmers, and those who chose to live in isolation that had needed to pack up their lives and travel to the closest large city, village, or town. And because they’d been given ample time to build their defences, everyonehad been welcomed, as there was plenty of space. Most mayors had rightly assumed there would be many seeking refuge, and they accepted everyone.

No matter who they were, where they came from, their beliefs, or if their lives had been vastly different beforehand.

Many had to learn how to adjust, especially those who didn’t understand each other’s languages. It’d been a stressful time for all, but it ensured that, even though the number of humans living in Austrális had been much fewer than what she knew of the rest of the world, they’d managed to mostly retain their numbers.

There were already reports of Duskwalkers being sighted in Austrális, but neither Nathair nor Orson travelled far to the coastlines, preferring to stick close to the Veil. It was likely that neither knew of the existence of towns or that humans congregated together. Otherwise, she doubted the town, no matter how tall its walls, would have survived.

There were people who still chose to live on their own – far too many, in fact. Somehow, even after years, they continued to survive with the help of the Anzúli offering protection charms and herbs. People were hidden well under these magical tools.

These things meant that Orson would struggle to reach Nathair’s humanity, despite them only being a decade or so apart. It was disheartening, and even though she knew it was wrong to think this, she was disappointed for him.

I want to spend time with my children.

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