Chapter 4 Man In Shade

• Clara
• I stared wild-eyed into the calm, pretty face of Hazel. She wore a crimson silk gown that accentuated her shining black hair. Red was after all the color of luck for us werewolves; it is the color of blood after a fresh, clean kill. The other color of luck was the deep dark blue hue that I clothed myself in. It was the inky indigo sky that the moon swims through.
• “Hazel, goddess above, I’m so sorry,” I said in embarrassment.
• Hazel smiled sadly at me. There was no blame in her pretty features, and a surge of guilt and sisterly affection rose like a rock in my throat.
• She turned me around, and I could feel her cool hands caressing my torn shoulder where Lord Dover had dug in his claws. “Was this the work of Lord Dover?” she asked in a low voice.
• “Who else?” I growled.
• “Come,” she said. “This won’t do. You can’t be battered and bruised tonight.”
• “Hazel—” I said, but she pulled me through the swath of werewolves.
• “You don’t need to watch,” Hazel said.
• She knew of the love I had for Griffin, and she had advised me to let it go. Hazel was wise; I was too stubborn or stupid to not let the flame die out.
• I let her usher me into the hallway outside. Not a single civilian werewolf could be seen. Two guard posted outside the iron doors watched us in interest, and one whistled crudely at us. They both shared a laugh and elbowed each other in the ribs.
• Quickly, Hazel drew me out of the hallway and pulled us into a silent dark room with several windows and drawn red curtains.
• The giant windows displayed a pristine night with the full moon and stars. A green rosy tint of the aurora borealis shone above the familiar mountain ranges of Yholden far to the north. I looked at Hazel and even though my heart was heavy, I couldn’t help but laugh as she drew out a small pack that was tied to a belt on her thigh. It was her small poultice bag for medical emergencies.
• Hazel smiled mischievously back at me. “Always be prepared.”
• “I don’t think there’s anyone more prepared for an accident than you are,” I said. “Did you really think we’d all be killing each other at the Mating Ball?”
• “Fights have started for stupider things than finding a mate for life,” Hazel said seriously. “And I’m very sorry to say, I always find you in trouble.”
• “I never start the fights,” I said defensively.
• “Yes, but you can never end them well, either,” Hazel said. She nuzzled my cheek with her own. “You know I’m not blaming you. I’m just worried. Eternally worried.” She squished my cheek, an action she was a little too fond of doing. “I should be thanking you. Now I have the exhausting but rewarding experience of being an overbearing mother before I find a mate. Whoever he is, he’ll be delighted at how good of a mother I’ll be.”
• I laughed as well. “You certainly have the stubborn qualities of a hen guarding her brood.”
• “A hen?” Hazel clicked her tongue. “I truly hope that you have greater esteem of me than that of a chicken.”
• “If you start squawking and flapping your arms one of these days, I wouldn’t even be surprised. I can hear the other pack members now: ‘Beware of showing kindness to the traitor’s daughter Clara; you’ll go as crazy as Hazel.’”
• We shared a giggle, but then I looked away from her soft brown eyes. How could I tell her of my plans to escape? Would she understand? Would she feel as though I had betrayed all of her goodwill and kindness throughout all these long years? Hazel had been like a sister to me. To her, there was no prejudice in her eyes. I was a wounded soul, and her gift was to heal, regardless of caste rank.
• She drew out small jar, unscrewed the cap, and applied a cooling ointment to my back. I breathed out in relief. It was an ointment I knew well.
• Hazel was a genius in the art of herbs. It was a remedy she had extracted from a plant called Sophia’s tears – a mint known for its distinctive pearl-shaped leaves and antiseptic qualities. She perfected the old healers’ formula that would sting relentlessly when applied. Now it was so pleasant to the touch, that many werewolves opted to slather on the ointment for something as minor as sore muscles.
• Guilt dug into me; Hazel was the quintessential healer. Everyone knew she was blessed by Elevan, the sister of Diantha and patron goddess of healers. Yet, she had refused to go to the training halls of the healers, because she had worried about my fate in the pack without her protection. She was older than me by two years, and this was the first time she had even accepted the invitation to the mating ball, though she had been invited many years before today. I presumed it was so that she could oversee and ensure that I would find a suitable mate at the same time as her.
• The only kind werewolf in this pack didn’t deserve to be chained to my bleak pointless future. Hazel had nothing but potential and the ability to move up the caste system. She could even become the royal healer of the pack, one of the highest ranks for an Elite, for they were allowed to touch and care for the Alpha and his family.
• I must leave for her sake too.
• The thought of leaving Hazel’s side and hopelessly running towards the Wilds suddenly seemed foolish, and I felt as small as a scared child. Impulsively, I hugged her and pushed my head into her chest. It was so infantile of me to do, but I couldn’t help myself.
• “Hazel. Thank you. I’m sorry.”
• I could hear Hazel’s surprised intake of breath, but she gently tousled my hair like a mother.
• “Sorry? For what? Clara. What are you talking about?” Her voice suddenly became sharp, but I couldn’t answer her.
• I wanted to, but I couldn’t.
• We take no chance.
• For a moment, we stayed there in silence, and I relished the moment of peace. I wished that we could stay like this, like normal werewolves wishing each other a life of happiness. But Diantha was a goddess of tricks and illusions. She was not done with me yet.
• Clap. Clap. Someone applauded.
• A musical, languid voice came from out of the corner of the room.
• “A truly touching scene, but it begs the question: shouldn’t you lovely she-wolves be in the presence of your Alpha?”
• I could feel the hackles on the back of my neck shiver.