Lily
Lily hadn’t known Elijah long, but she had picked up on some of his habits: the twitch in his fingers that signalled he wanted to toy with his shaggy hair; chewing the inside of his cheeks; rocking back and forth on his heels. She hadn’t known him long, but Lily knew that Elijah was nervous.
About what, she had no idea.
They crossed a small, sparkling stream, wobbling across a casually placed log. Dense forest formed around them, blocking out the sunlight as they left Entra behind.
They walked in silence for a while, the soft sway of their steps and the occasional slice of their swords through thick underbrush the only sounds to fill the air between them. Lily weighed her new sword in her hand, garnets glinting dully in its hilt, guilt gnawing at her insides.
Elijah had paid for the sword. He’d paid for everything, in fact: their new canvas tent, their bedrolls, and a set of new clothes for each of them. He’d even bought her a new pack, and he’d dug her old, now-battered canteen and her dad’s shirt out of the torn remnants of his.
Something else, something worse than guilt, had been picking away at her since they’d arrived in Entra. She’d seen the same feeling in Anyen and Pritus’s eyes over breakfast, no matter how hard they’d tried to hide it. It was distrust – towards her, because she was a wolf.
She slashed the sword through a slender vine, fire heating her blood. It wasn’t fair. She couldn’t help what she was.
Even as she stabbed at a wide, flat leaf, her head and heart heavy, the truth settled deep in her bones. Their unease was deserved. If not by her personally, then her kind – her pack especially – had created such distrust. Even in Entra, the only business profiting off violence was that of a werewolf.
It was such distrust that made her hide away every full moon. She understood it, even as a scowl worked its way onto her face.
Elijah came to an unsteady halt beside her. Lowering her sword, Lily stopped, too.
He smiled, but his eyes were tight as they met hers. “That plant do something to you?”
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
Strapping his sword down his back, he leant against a tree. “It’s fine. So long as you don’t turn it on me.” His lips twitched into a smirk, and Lily found herself smiling in return.
“I just – they don’t really like wolves there, do they?”
He shrugged. “Lots of wolves live there.”
Lily frowned. “I thought – I don’t know.” Was she projecting? She thought back over the breakfast, trying to remember every subtle social cue. Anyen had been nice, Pritus too – especially to Elijah. They’d seemed familiar in their interactions, even though Lily was certain they hadn’t met before.
But Elijah was a werewolf too. And they hadn’t been unkind to her, not once – save for Pritus’s comment. It had got her back up, making her snap back at him and cross her arms like a child. Even still, Pritus had side-stepped her anger with ease.
“Perhaps I was mistaken,” she said, sliding her sword back into its sheath.
Elijah nodded, but his eyes had drifted to a faraway tree. He brushed his hair forward over his ears, but Lily hardly noticed the motion. His irises were darkening, and she stepped forward, called to him by an innate need.
“Can I ask you something?” he blurted.
Lily slid into his arms, unable to resist. Though she could pretend away their connection, could ignore the reality they shared, she could not stop her body from finding its way against his.
“What is it?”
He sighed. “Where do you want to go?”
Tucked beneath his chin, Lily sucked in a breath. Since leaving the Blood Moon pack, she’d wandered aimlessly until Efaffion had captured her. Finding Elijah felt like an intervention of fate. And, try as she might to deny it, they were… joined. They were connected in ways she could not explain.
But her hatred of her kind surged against the wave of her affection towards him. A plan was forming, hazy and blurred, but it was a plan nonetheless.
“You mentioned going home,” she said, stepping out of his embrace. “I… I don’t have that option.”
“Come with me. If… if you wish to.”
Lily knew what she wanted. It had been growing, a seed germinating since long before she’d ventured away from Blood Moon. Her departure had become a catalyst, the world away from wolves making her desire clear.
She wanted to find a cure for lycanthropy. The magic was out there, she was sure of it; she just had to find a witch bold and brave and strong enough to help her.
Her lips parted, her intention wholly settled on declining his offer. She would say no, and she would venture into Eldda once more, alone.
Then Elijah smiled. Hope filled his gaze, the dark shade of his irises softening into a warm grey. They were thin clouds passing by a lazy golden sun, and Lily’s heart broke for him. Atticus’s cold stares dissipated into the fog of old nightmares in that moment, replaced entirely and irrevocably by the look Elijah gave her now.
“I want to.” She swallowed hard. “I want to come home with you, Elijah.”
She may not understand their connection, their… attraction, but she could deny it no longer. If nothing else, seeing his home might open doors to his past – and to their joined, strange, uncertain future.
Relief swept through him, so clear that Lily saw every fragment of it. His face softened, and then she was in his arms, her face pressed against the warm hollow of his throat.
“I’m glad.” His voice was rough, gravelly; his emotion spurred her own, making her chest tight. He held her as though she were the most precious thing in the world, and their shared truth reared its head once more. Lily breathed him in, breathed in the comfort he offered, unwilling to untangle the writhing mess of feelings their connection brought forth.
Instead, she breathed. She breathed and, in that moment, everything was okay. She’d lost her old home, but had found the beginnings of another in him.