Page 15 of Beast and Remedy
No. No. Please, No.
I clutch my chest, teetering on the precipice of ruination as another scream surges up. “Please stop!” I choke out in a plea on my hands and knees.
Power and its tether rip away, and I fall to my side.
My bones adjust as air returns, and I take a long, sharp inhale before shivering through involuntary tears. Clasping my throat, I check my pulse, grateful for the hundreds of medicinal ledgers I’ve read.
It wasn’t a full shift, Vi.
It’s okay.
You’re okay.
Saliva runs down my chin as my pulse evens out, and I repeat those words in my mind. After a while, I start counting each breath and gather my knees to my chest, warming my core as I lay in my most vulnerable state. Alone with nature and defeat.
Why couldn’t I be stronger against the pain? After seven years, I should have built a tolerance to it.
And better yet, why can’t I move on and not worry about the wolf?
It could be a short-term reaction. Though ingesting different ingredients could be harmful to it, other animals, and humans, too.
But what if it wasn’t?
I puff wisps of hair out of my face, closing my eyes and sighing.
No. No. Surely, I am overthinking.
“But what if you’re not?”a gentle voice whispers, and I jolt upright.
I blink a few times, scanning my surroundings for a trace of movement or sound. Cautiously, I call out, “H-Hello? Who’s there?”
Silence.
I keep listening, looking, and pause at a faint orange shimmer.
Tilting my head, I try to discern if it is my own imagination. Yet, the longer I stare, the more I think it’s real.
It twinkles, and I rear back.
No. It’s nothing. Surely, my mind is playing tricks on me.
I dismiss the imaginary voice.
Reading a book right about now would be the real dream.
You are pathetic, Vi.
I drag myself upright, pulling on my clothing before trudging through the woods to return to my rooms. As I enter, Marian sits up, eyes alert and wide with concern.
“Well?” she asks as I tug my cloak and boots off.
But I drop my head, letting the disarray of my mahogany waves conceal my shame. “No luck.”
A half-truth.
Sweet Makers, I can’t even admit my own failures aloud.
Marian’s stare follows me as I step into my bathing chambers to slip into a night garment, eager to forget this awful day.
