Chapter 3
The Flamewylf’s gaze cut through Flisety, sharp and direct, before his step altered and he began moving towards her. Flinching back, she glanced sideways, only to find that Kalia and Mak were already a good distance away.
The anxious knot in her stomach tightened as she laid eyes on Kalia. Her neighbour’s seemingly unceasing energy had diminished, and she cowered behind Mak, stealing a nervous peek over at the approaching Flamewylves before staring at her paws. Mak’s dark eyes were narrowed, guarded, as he fixed his own stare on the Flamewylf, before nudging Kalia and tugging her into a side street.
Only then did his eyes flick to Flisety, his distant words clear in his look. They needed to go, immediately, whether she accompanied them or not.
Her paws were too slow to respond. She had only managed a few steps in their direction before a taunting voice rang out from behind. “Leaving so soon?”
She should have kept walking. But instead her curiosity forced her to whip around to face the Flamewylf. He was close enough now that she could make out the exact shade of his fur -- a crisp, burnt orange, emblazoned with striking bolts of reddish-brown. The additional stripes had a slight unnatural brightness to them that suggested they had been soaked in with dyes, an uncommon practice but one that occasionally occurred amongst those who could pull it off. Which this bold wolf did with ease.
Around his neck, a shining leather strap was clasped, with a smooth diamond threaded so that it rested at his chest. It glinted along with his eyes, a jewel meant to dazzle any who met its fragmented gaze.
Flisety flicked her tongue over her fangs. Such an unnecessary weight.
At her silence, his head tilted sideways. Either side of him, his companions locked her with a stare ten times more intimidating than Jael or Damek.
Inching backwards, she fumbled for an answer. “I… I was only passing by.”
The wolf’s amber eyes flashed. “Wolves like you don’t simply pass by here.”
Flisety swallowed. She looked over at the street, but Kalia and Mak had already disappeared. She was alone. “I’m sorry,” she said, dipping her head. “If that’s the case, I’ll make sure not to come back.” A sharpness built in the back of her throat before she could prevent it. “But shouldn’t anyone be able to come and go as they please? It seems a little cruel of you to decide where wolves can and can’t go.”
Though her tone was more polite than she wished, she still regretted the words the instant they left her tongue.
The Flamewylf took a slow, threatening step forward. In response, the other two shifted away, smirks playing on their snouts. “I think you’ll find I can make decisions just fine,” the wolf growled. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
A buzz of heat lit in Flisety’s claws, channelled through the twisting energy inside. “I’m afraid I don’t,” she said, forcing her voice to remain level. “I only arrived in Lunerda yesterday.”
He grunted. “You best learn to respect your new leaders quickly.” A flame reared up, starting at the base of his neck and spreading down to highlight the stripes on his flank. “I am Rowtag. Son of Garel? Surely that name should mean something to you?”
Thankfully, it did. Flisety suddenly realised why the others had been so quick to scarper. She stood before the son of the leader of this town, and she had just made him rather angry.
Glancing up at his flaring eyes again, she realised her note of pride at such a fact. Leaders deserved to be put in their place every so often.
“Oh, right,” she said, bowing her head again. If she looked at him long enough, she might say something else out of line. “I do apologise, ofici Rowtag. I’ll be on my way immediately.”
“Good.” Rowtag’s fire dimmed, but his stare remained piercing. He stayed there a moment longer, daring her to meet his gaze, but she kept her eyes on his paws until he released a snort and began to turn away. “Stupid aest-nef,” he muttered to his friends, still close beside him.
A flinch shuddered through Flisety as her head snapped up. Aest-nef. From the little of the old tongue she knew, that should mean either dirt-born or dirt-life. The scathing way he spat the words awakened something within her, like a flare of her magic bursting from her chest to lodge hard in her throat. It hissed, its wills almost forming thoughts of its own.
How could he get away with insulting her so easily? How could she simply turn away and leave him with that satisfaction?
She glanced at the side street again. Kalia and Mak were still nowhere to be seen. She was alone and vulnerable… and yet the sting in her claws, an echo of the dark void, spoke otherwise.
Her paw moved forward, her eyes fixing on Rowtag’s fiery back. “What right do you have to assume which ring I come from?”
All three Flamewylves paused. Slowly, Rowtag turned, his striped flames gradually relighting themselves. His two companions followed, though they hung back as he prowled back towards her.
“I can smell it on you,” he hissed. “You stink of aest.” His head cocked to the side, a dangerous flash in his eyes. “What right do you have to question me?”
Venomous sparks of magic exploded within her, pooling to form a bitterness on her tongue. She let it linger. “I can question anyone I like,” she responded. “See, I don’t think you have any idea who I am.”
“Why would I care?” He was right before her now, snout close enough for her to claw if she reached forward. “You’re only a little aest-nef Kinetiwylf, thinking she can simply stroll into a place she doesn’t belong.”
“I am more than that.” The image of Fixel, bloodstained, calling out to her one last time, flickered through her mind. She bared her fangs. “I’m the one stood in your way.”
Rowtag moved forward again, so close that his hot breath crackled as it met her snout’s fur. “Stand there as long as you want. It doesn’t change what you are.”
“But it changes what you are.” She matched his hiss. “You want to be a well-respected future leader?”
A brief hesitance, small but enough to cause him to pull his head back a little, crossed his eyes. Of course he did. It was what this whole show was for.
“Then try earning my respect.” Pausing, she slid away from him just the slightest amount, enough to give her space to plant her paws firmly into the sparkling cobbles. “I won’t make it easy.”
Rowtag’s ears twitched in surprise. “Was that a challenge, aest-nef?”
“Perhaps.” Her tone was edged with the same energy burning within. “Or you can simply walk away, and I’ll go tell my friends what a coward you are.”
His lips pulled back into a snarl. “I assure you, I am no coward.”
“Then fighting a little Kinetiwylf like me should be nothing.” His ears twitched again, their movement more obvious. A smirk rose to her snout in response. “What? That is how a wolf earns his respect, yes?”
Her last fight had occurred nearly half a cyluh ago. The war may have ended in victory, but her own battle had resulted in nothing but loss. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
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