Chapter 8
Niya is standing on the rooftop, her hands shoved in her pockets with cool air brushing past her cheeks. Tonight is different. Tonight the entire tribe is hushed, as if everyone is put under a spell and are sleeping under the blanket of fear. A tear trickles down her cheek and she sighs at the warmth. Slowly she takes out her right hand and immediately the mark begins to burn and glow. She is accustomed to the agony now, but tonight she feels something different, something she can’t describe; like an invisible tug, like an unspoken language. The longer she looks at the mark the more she loses any other sense, as if the world is muted and only she is real.
Suddenly her focus shifts to shadow, a silhouette standing under the birch tree a few metres in front of her cottage. Niya squints her eyes but is only able to see the hooded figure staring back at her. She can’t see the face, nor can she identify the gender but she knows, she knows in her gut that she is being watched. As if in a trance, Niya finds herself climbing down the staircase and following the hooded figure. A part of her screams inside to alert everyone about the intruder, but she continues to follow the figure like a marionette pulled by invisible magical strings.
The hooded figure doesn’t look back and keeps distance. Stumbling through the bushes around the old shrine, Niya tries to stop and pull back, but to no effect. Curiosity gets the best of her and she crosses the clan boundary into the deep forest. Having no idea of how much time has passed Niya finally stops at a clearing in the forest. The magic that was clogging her senses abruptly lets go and her knee buckles at sudden jump to reality. The silence of the woods sits on her heart heavily wrapping her with the promise of death.
The hooded figure she was following is nowhere to be found.
“Shit! How can I be so stupid? It must be a trap.” Just as she is about to transform, a soft breeze nudges her forward. Someone is behind her.
Niya turns to find the dark silhouette standing inches away. Her voice constricts and only a whimper comes out instead of scream. This close she can see shiny long black hair spilling out of the hood and the black cloak hiding the feminine curves inside. Her face is hidden but her eyes glow with pure moonlight.
“Who are you?” Niya whispers. Just then the figure extends her left hand and presses her thumb on Niya’s forehead. Her whole world crumbles as if she is falling through space and time. Her body starts tingling and blurred images fly past her in the blink of an eye.
One second she is standing in the forest, and the next moment she is looking at a bonfire. Niya looks everywhere but cannot understand where she is. This is not the jungle she hunts in, this place is different. As her gaze fixes on the actual scenario her blood curls up with dread and disgust. Werewolves around the bonfire are engaged in sexual acts in various positions. This is not a loving making session, this is savagery at its best.
A group of three females and two males are so acting out all the vulgar poses no one can ever imagine of. The acts don’t inspire any good feeling in Niya but only nausea. Suddenly a naked woman is thrown on the ground thrashing and crying, pleading for her life. The wolf-male who threw her pounces on her and sinks his canines on her neck. The woman cries out in pain and attempts to remove the attacker. All those having sex nearby laugh and howl at her misery. The male wolf sinks his claws on her chest and rips open the flesh. The woman stops thrashing and her blood is splattered on everyone continuing to have sex.
Finally she finds the voice to scream but apparently she is inaudible and invisible to them. Her mind tries to process what she has just seen and suddenly blacks creep up her vision. The last thing she sees before oblivion is the dead eyes of the woman.
Morning light caresses her cheeks when she finally cracks her eyes open. Rubbing her temple with the echo of a mild headache Niya sits up. Flashbacks from the horrific events of last night snaps her out of the limbo and she opens her eyes only to find herself sitting on her bed. Was it a dream then? Was it inflicted on her by the birthmark? It felt so real!
The savage laughs, the filthy sexual acts, the dead woman, all images are so clear in her mind. Then she notices the dirt on her pants and her hair. Last night it was absolutely clean when she was on the rooftop. It can’t be real!
Who was the hooded figure? Who was she and why did she show her all these?
The Wild Alpha’s Forced Luna