Open Chronicles Wolves At the Gate

[Asta]

Somewhere in Asta’s mind she knew the words of this Goddess were wrong. Pain and death multiplying, a strange feeling like watching a sinking yet living light from the sky fall down behind the horizon. There was a mixture of intrigue and horror and Asta could do nothing but look at Mallia.

Why did it feel wrong to say no? Why did it feel wrong to say yes? Which could be the right answer when neither felt right?

Asta hadn’t realized but she had began tapping her right foot furiously against the floor. Hands were on her hips and that tapping continued, picking up the tempo and continued until it sounded closer to a woodpecker against a trunk of a tree.

She bit her lower lip, drawing blood, for the first time in a long time staying quiet. She closed her eyes as if that could help with blocking out Mallia but it was useless at this point. Even with her eyes closed, all Asta could see and all she could hear were her words: we will march forth and remind the world the Wylds is to remain that way; wild and free.

 

[Izoldë]

Izoldë gave a large yawn.

"No thanking you," she waved her hand towards the mad woman. The skinwalker had seen first hand what the races of this world did to their kind and had no interest in joining the slaughter that would no doubt happen. They might have been killers but they were not warriors. Not like the armies of man. She could barely stand to be in this room with this many.

"I leave, take what is left when all dead," she flashed them a feline grin then turned on her heels and padded for the exit. She wanted her fur and claws again, itched to get rid of this human skin where she felt so vulnerable.