5.
Into The Light
As she came awake, Faline slowly realized two things. The first was that she was freezing cold, and the second was the tight, aching pain throughout her entire body. She sat up slowly and tried to take in her strange surroundings. The last thing she remembered was fleeing through the forest, but now she found herself inside of some sort of cabin. Where was she? And more importantly, how did she get here? She was surprised to realize that her teeth were chattering despite her body being tangled up in several thick blankets. She pushed them down off of her and began to swing her feet towards the floor.
"Please don't move too quickly, you are not well."
Startled, Faline raised her eyes, searching for the man who had spoken to her. Though the voice seemed filled with gentle concern, there was also an undercurrent of authority in his tone. She located him standing across the room from her, where he was framed in a doorway that led to the room beyond. Though at first glance he appeared to be casually leaning with his arms crossed, she could tell he was tense. It was clear that he was purposefully keeping his distance.
Her eyes widened as she quickly noted the breadth of his shoulders, and how even in his relaxed posture his folded arms were thick with muscle. He was tall, undoubtedly strong, and appeared to be wound tight like a spring. If she was reading his body language correctly, he was on edge, possibly set to pounce at any moment. She dared to take her eyes off of him for a moment to scan the room. She was searching for an exit, a way to escape. When her eyes landed on the front door, she quickly looked back to the man to see how far from her he was standing. She had to risk it. Without taking her eyes off of him she brought her hands together and started to whisper to herself. "Hverfa ... fel."
She saw his eyes narrow as he focused on her words, but to her relief he did not move. She quickly realized she could not continue to speak, as her breath was suddenly gone, only to be replaced by a horrible cough. She covered her mouth with her hand as the cough worsened. Faline couldn't stop herself from doubling over. She began to feel lightheaded as the cough progressed, and she suddenly recognized the achy pain in her body as one she was all too familiar with.
Once she regained control of her breathing, Faline opened her eyes and was relieved to see the man still hadn't come any closer to her. He observed her with worried eyes, as if her condition somehow caused him discomfort as well. He unfolded his arms, and as he did so he took his first steps into the room. "Please don't be alarmed. You are not in danger here."
Faline couldn't have disagreed more. She extended her palm toward him as if it would fend off his approach. When that didn't work she looked at him with brave eyes and stated simply, "You are a wolf."
She knew that when he suddenly froze in his steps it was because she had shocked him. She wasn't certain if he would deny it or not. He tilted his head slightly to the side as he considered her, and then after staring at her for several long moments he finally nodded. "Yes. I am the Alpha of this territory. My name is-"
Without thinking, Faline sucked in her breath. "You're an Alpha?!," she blurted, as she assessed him once again. Noticing once more how large and powerful he looked simply standing still. She couldn't stop herself from rambling on. "Of course you are," she muttered, "They must really want me dead to have finally sent an Alpha ..."
The growl he issued at the mention of her death shook the air in the room. Faline misinterpreted his anger and looked again to the door. "Leyna," she whispered, hoping that she had enough strength to vanish long enough to at least make it outside. Faline kept her eyes glued to him, hoping that she had enough time to flee should he suddenly attack her. Including the time in London and the run in with the one she encountered on the way to the bakery, Faline had been attacked by werewolves regularly since she was a small child. Always, she managed to escape with little to no harm. This was the first time she had been in such close confines with one however, as it usually happened out in the open. This was also the first Alpha she had encountered to her knowledge, and that gave her all the more cause to panic.
When he spoke again his voice had taken on a rough, gravely tone which she knew meant he was a step further from man, and closer to becoming the wild creature that was capable of tearing her to shreds. "Tell me the name of whoever has threatened you, and they shall rue the day they dared to bring you harm."
Faline found she couldn't concentrate on his words as she was once again suffering another coughing spell. She shook her head and as he began to approach her once again. He stopped when he saw her eyes go to the door and he followed her gaze. "You are not a prisoner by any means, but we are in the middle of an ice storm. Leaving is out of the question. It is not safe."
Faline managed a small breath before shaking her head at him, "No, not safe," she rasped.
She saw him frown as he digested her words. He then reached to a table beside her and picked up a glass of water which had been placed there. "Here," he said, "Drink, you are dehydrated." Again, there was that tone which suggested he fully expected her to comply. She hesitated before accepting the glass, knowing he could quickly kill her in a dozen ways without having to waste his time or energy with poison. When she took a tentative sip, he nodded his approval. Almost instantly she began coughing yet again, and so he extended his hand to take the shaking glass back from her.
Faline sighed in defeat, knowing she was too sick to truly consider any type of escape at the moment. He spoke the truth, she realized, as she could hear the frozen rain beating against the roof of the cottage, and a glance towards the windows told her it was dark outside. She felt exhaustion closing in on her, and while she still feared for her life, she knew this man in her presence was the largest Were she had yet to come in contact with, and he hadn't killed her yet. Either he was waiting for some reason, or possibly there was a chance his words were true, and he would not harm her. She hoped for the latter, but was too weary to ponder it much further. When she could fight it no longer, her heavy eyes closed as she slipped to sleep once more.
* * *
Shane held his breath as he watched his mate drift into a restless slumber. His first encounter with her left him staggering. He was amazed that she identified his true nature, and he wondered how it was possible for her to know such a thing. What he found more worrisome however, were her cryptic words. Clearly, she had interactions with the Were community before, and from what he could tell, none had been pleasant. The mere notion she thought he could be capable of ending her life nearly crippled him. She obviously was knowledgeable about Weres, to be able to identify one on sight. It relieved him of having to explain to her what he was. It did pose a problem however, that she was clearly afraid of his kind, and seemingly for good reason. Desperately, Shane ached to know where she had
been
all these years. She must have been miraculously revived at the hospital. He wondered if after Gregor's death if a distant family member had come forth to raise her. He readjusted the blanket covering her, before stepping back to gaze upon her once more. So many questions, he thought to himself as he shook his head and backed out of the room.
A short time later, Shane was standing at the window in the kitchen of the cottage. This room faced east, and from here he watched the slowly brightening sky. The branches of the trees were encased in a coating of ice, causing them to gleam in the early light of day. Thick clouds still hovered in the sky, though the rage of the storm had ended. The forest was silent, as it was too early for most of the creatures to emerge. He had now been awake for over 24 hours, and while he was fatigued, he was more worried over what this day would hold.
His mate was ill, and from the sounds of her distressed breathing while asleep, she would be no better upon awakening. She needed medical care. He sighed as his eyes scanned over the ice encrusted world beyond the window. There were no actual roads leading to the cottage, which meant they would have to travel by foot. He considered reaching out to Logan, to send a vehicle to the nearest point where the forest met a nearby back road, but then he quickly dismissed the idea. The ice which covered the trees would be doubly thick on the pavement of the road. The back road was subject to several curves and a number of hills, as pack lands were decidedly set far beyond main highways. While the roads may have been pretreated for the winter weather, he was doubtful they would be drivable at this hour. He did not have faith in traveling on such roads after such treacherous weather. It wasn't worth risking the safety of any of his pack or his mate to drive in these conditions. It was an hour drive to the nearest city which held the best medical center. His hope was that she was well enough to make it to his home and by then the roads would be in better shape for traveling.
His decision made, Shane turned on his heel and crossed the kitchen to slide open the pantry door. He paused as his eyes scanned the shelves, thinking of the many times he had restocked the items here. His habit was to donate the food to a shelter before it expired, and then shop for replacements. There were boxes of rice and pasta, jars of fruits and vegetables, bags of flour and sugar. Typical finds in any kitchen, he imagined. Like the rest of the cottage, Shane maintained the organization of the pantry identically as it was kept by the kitchen's original owner. Ilsa had kept her cottage immaculate, and the pantry reflected her tidy housekeeping. The items on the shelves were aligned in perfectly straight, neat columns. The arrangement of the foodstuffs made sense. There were dry goods on one shelf, canned items on another; vegetables together on one side, fruits on the opposite end, and so on.
Suddenly his gaze landed on a number of boxes and cans, grouped together on the shelf at his eye level. Several specific items were set apart from the rest, and tilted ever so slightly to cause them to stand apart. While shaking his head in disbelief at the dozens of times he had purchased the groceries and rearranged them just so, Shane reached up and took them down off of the shelf. He gathered them together and walked to the counter by the stove where he set down the chicken broth, tea and sugar cubes. He paused for a moment and then returned to the pantry and retrieved the final item which resided with these things, a box of graham crackers.
Ilsa, was there anything that you didn't know?
Shane thought, as he reached into a drawer and withdrew a can opener. He then made quick work of heating the broth and brewing the tea. He placed a steaming hot cup of broth and another cup of tea on a tray, along with a saucer that held several of the crackers and some of the sugar cubes. He carried the tray into the living room and set it down on the coffee table before he went to the fireplace to stoke the steady flames and embers there. A sound at his back caught his attention and he turned to see his mate had awakened. She had raised herself into a sitting position and was watching him with distrustful eyes. She followed his every move until he realized her focus was on the sharp iron poker he held in his hand. Slowly, he lowered his arm and returned the poker to the stand which housed the fireplace tools. He then stepped to the tray and lifted the heavy mug containing the broth and held it out to her. He saw her eyebrow arch as she studied the contents of the tray, and she gave him a confused look as she accepted the broth.
"Thank you," she croaked, and he nodded silently. The rumble of her congestion concerned him greatly, and he studied her intently as he took a seat on the edge of a chair close enough to observe her, but far enough away as to not crowd her. She blew gently on the broth to cool it before taking a small sip. After several long moments had passed, she wrapped her hands fully around the warmth of the mug and fixed him with a curious stare. "I don't get you," she said.
