Origins : The Luna City Trilogy

(6) Little wolf...

As if an ablaze comet were crawling past, my vision remains engulfed in an unexplainable white light when I come to notice a growing throb sweeping across my forehead. Uncertain of what is happening, I lie motionless while commanding my fluttering eyes to stay open—groaning weakly as they fight in complaint to re-close, blinded by the amplified brightness that does not wish to fade. Struggling to push past the mental fatigue weighing down on me, I take in a few raspy breaths while reeling in a dazed confusion, anxiously waiting for my disorientation to lift. A high-pitched ringing resonates within my head deafeningly, drowning out any other possible sounds surrounding me when the muffled sensation blocking my hearing abruptly pops. Feeling nauseous, I painfully swallow down the gathering spit pooling within my mouth when a rhythmic machine-like beeping echoes somewhere close by, soundly oddly familiar as it keeps a steady pace. As the overbearing light thankfully dims, my sensitive eyes squint into a burning wince while taking in my unrecognisable surroundings.

Startled by the unknown, I attempt to sit up in alarm. Limp and barely moving, my feeble effort comes to a halt when a rippling pain erupts down my side, causing me to gasp. Incapable of pulling back an arm to clutch my searing ache, I lay in discomfort as it refuses to obey my simplistic command—hardly lifting in my attempt to console myself. Glancing down, I glare at my hands in disillusion; watching in dismay as no matter how hard I try, they struggle to fathom that of a twitch with one appearing to be hooked up to what looks to be an IV drip. Focussing through my gnawing frustration, I relentlessly prompt my fingers to wriggle when a spreading tingle of pins and needles trickles throughout my numb body while it gradually awakens. As my skin becomes reactive, I notice the faint brushing of wires against my chest; resting beneath the loose-fitting shirt that I seem to be wearing. Despite my mind jumping to the presumption that I must be in hospital, a tinge of doubt nestles within me as the room somehow appears to be more homely than that of a ward.

As my breathing quickens with worry, the choking stench of bleach and antiseptic that usually plagues the confines of any hospital’s walls appears to be missing while in its place, a sweet, floral scent masks the air instead. Lifting my head towards the glaring pour of sunlight that had recently deprived me of my vision, I watch while a set of grey curtains sway inward from the gentle breeze drifting through the open window—the view beyond the clear pane that of bland, concrete buildings. Growing more bewildered with each discovery I make, I grow no wiser as to where I could be right now. Strangely, I note that the furniture scattered throughout the room looks close to being unused while the disruptive explosions of colour littered throughout the pastel-toned space acts as a distraction—submerging most, if not every surface within sight with an abundant of spilling vases, all brimming with elaborate and decorative bouquets of flowers.

Struggling to make sense of how I got here, my recollection remains buried beneath a landslide of forgetfulness—foggy and inaccessible as I try to think back to the events that had led me to this place. Feeling a frown tug at my chapped lips, I hang my head and try to trawl through my blurred thoughts when my eyes slowly drift up towards the noticeable persistent blinking that flashes just ahead of me. Facing a vanity table built into the middle of a wall-length wardrobe, a set of monitors come into view while their lit screens reflect brightly in the centred mirror before me. Unable to conjure enough strength to hold myself upwards, I huff loudly while straining before allowing myself to flop back with a heavy thud, resting against the stiffened headboard waiting behind me. With my muscles remaining close to being that of unresponsive as if they had never been used before, I restrain the impending strop building deep inside of me—feeling agitated at the limitation held over my own body.

Unsure of what to expect, I sheepishly raise my eyes and catch a glimpse of my slumped appearance when my lip quivers—shocked at the sight that I’m met with while I muffle a self-pitied whimper, horrified by what it is that I see. Taken aback, I turn my head from side to side while observing the unrecognisable reflection. Raising a shaky hand, I brush my fingertips against my heavily bandaged neck before running them across the healing cut sat upon my forehead, wondering how far the gash recedes into my hairline while my locks are held back in a set of ruffled plaits. Ogling in disbelief at the discoloured patches littering my skin, they bare noticeably against my sickly appearing complexion. Opening my mouth, I go to murmur to myself when no sounds leaves my parted lips—the only response being that of my eyes watering, shuddering in agony while a roaring pain races down my throat in consequence. As the searing burn courses down my neck like a spreading fire, a sudden thirst sets in; leaving me quenched and desperate while weakly looking around for a cold glass of relief, thankfully locating a misted jug of water sat waiting on the bedside cabinet to my side.

A faint gathering of strength that has returned comes to my aid when I reluctantly force myself up, despite the tightening pain spreading down my side once again. Already out of breath, I feel a growing warmth spread over me while the covering blanket draped over me clings to my sweat-cast skin. Without delay, I drag my legs over to the side of the canopy bed and reach out for the empty glass before grasping onto the full jug. Like a deprived animal, steady trails of water spill from my mouth and drip down from my chin while I greedily gulp my worth of the ice-cold liquid, allowing it to subside the rupturing scorch that had engulfed my throat. Placing the jug back onto the table, I lean back achingly while awaiting the spinning room to steady itself as I try to catch my breath. Clutching onto the side of the mattress, I’m filled with fright when the clunking thud of approaching footsteps sounds from outside the closed door. Before I can react, the door suddenly bursts open, causing me to wobble backwards unsteadily as I fall onto my trembling elbows.

Unaware of my watching eyes, a sullen, toned pair walk into the room while whispering. With their hands cupping a set of steaming mugs, their attention remains fixed on one another as they carefully close the creaky door behind them. Turning around, their muffled conversation falls into silence when their unexpected gazes levitate towards me—left in bewilderment as they glance at where I had awoken before finding me perched on the edge of the bed. Frozen like a rabbit caught in the headlights, I stare back at the two unfamiliar faces while they gape at me with drooping mouths—leaving me to relish in anxiety as they unrecognisable duo remain speechless just as I. Flashing each other a disbelieved gaze, their sorrow evaporates when they erupt with delight into a matching set of widening smiles—immersed in relief as it washes down upon them.

“Woah. I can’t believe it,” a tall man cheerfully announces in a well-spoken manner as he walks forwards; his unusual charcoal toned eyes being the first feature of his to catch my attention, “-you’re actually awake. Welcome back to the land of the living,” he playfully teases, “-how does it feel?”

“Seriously, man?” the bubbly woman stood at his side scorns him with a nudge, throwing him a shaded glare of disapproval.

“What?” he shrugs dismissively, looking genuinely confused at what offence he may have caused.

“I am so sorry about him. He can be an insensitive i***t at the best of times. Just try to blank out his voice and ignore him. That’s what I do,” she turns away from the frowning man as he takes insult to her joke before she makes her way towards me, “-anyway, it’s great to see that you’re up and about, little wolf, but you should probably rest up for a little longer,” she places down her mug before helping me back into bed, “-I don’t want you burning yourself out straight away. Try to take it easy until we can get Doc Harlow here to check you over, hm?” the kind voiced stranger suggests.

Retrieving her drink, she jumps onto the bottom of the bed, almost spilling the scolding contents of the cup over her bare lap in the process. Crossing her slender legs as if she were a child sitting on the floor during school time, she curiously leans over while maintaining my gaze, taking a long and noisy swig of her drink. While she turns to nod at her friend to join us, I can’t help but sneak a glance at the illustrated tattoos covering the exposed skin on her neck and legs as if she were a canvas. With her style as unique and bubbly as what her personality appears to be, the woman wears a floral dress beneath a man’s unmatching vintage cable-knit sweater. As she brushes back her long golden curls that drape over her shoulder, I note the perfected dark eyeshadow worn on the lids of her amber eyes while she don’s a deep plum lipstick that amplifies her feminine features even more than they already are—soft, yet fierce; somehow reminding me of Lillie.

“Oh. I must seem really rude right now,” the enthusiastic blonde gushes, “-I haven’t even introduced myself. You’ll have to forgive me. It’s been a while since I’ve met someone new. Sorry about that. The name’s Dakota,” she holds out a hand warmly while reaching across the stretch of mattress for me to take it, “-and, that guy over there is Isaac,” she announces as I warily clasp her hand and shake it, acknowledging the raven-haired man while he nods in return, “-we were actually the ones that found you that night. Along with Mato, that is. He’s my baby brother,” she notes proudly.

“Oof-“ Isaac comically winces, “-don’t let him catch you saying that,” he smirks.

“What?” Dakota pouts, “He is.”

At the mention of Dakota’s brother, my heart suddenly aches for my own when a dark foreboding washes over me troublingly. With the realisation dawning upon me, the absence of Ash’s presence becomes apparent as blurred visions emerge from the foggy pits that cloud the confines of my jumbled mind. Desperate to see him instead of sitting here with these strangers, I go to ask where he is when the burning sensation I had felt earlier once again spreads down my throat, making me gasp and heave in replacement of words. Noticing my discomfort, Isaac rushes over while placing his cup down on the table beside me as it clinks while hitting the mirrored surface, reaching for the almost empty jug reactively and pouring the remaining glass of water.

“Try not to talk. It’ll keep hurting if you do-” he ushers while passing me the brimming cup, a sympathetic smile casting my way, “You got hurt pretty bad out there, but you don’t need me to tell you that, right? Anyway, it’s fair to say that trying to speak will be a bit of a struggle for a while, I’m afraid. The Doc had said that the muscles in your neck were going to need a bit of time to heal completely once you woke up, which I guess is now,” he smiles reassuringly while taking away the empty glass when I finish my drink, nodding nervously as I thank him for the help.

“So, while you rest up, we’re going to be here to help with anything you need. All you gotta do is ask, and we’ll make sure you get it-” Dakota chimes matter-of-factly, almost looking excited at the idea of playing the role of both nurse and maid, “-oh, man. Mato’s going to flip out when he finds out that you’re awake. He only popped out about an hour ago to grab a few things for the place,” she awes through a chuckle, “-you should feel honoured. Since he took up his Warrior enrolment, getting him into his human form is a battle, let alone successfully sending him into the City to do something. But, enough about that. How do you feel?” she asks with concern while reaching over to place a hand on mine, giving it a friendly squeeze.

With my head tilting slightly, I look between the pair, speechless, not sure how I’m supposed to respond if I can’t talk. Unknowing of what else to do, I lift a shuddering hand into the air unsteadily and waver it back and forth—trying to imply that I’m neither good nor bad. Sighing with disheartened despair; I drop my hand, wishing I could figure out a way to ask about Ash and the girls.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I swear, I’d forget my head if it weren’t screwed on. One second-“ Dakota bursts with embarrassment before gracefully jumping to her feet and heading towards a resting shopping bag tucked behind the chesterfield armchair sat beside the window “-I already thought about this,” she remarks while reaching inside the paper container, bringing out a brown notepad and a purple pen, all new and wrapped in plastic.

With a skip in her step, Dakota walks over and gently places the notepad on my lap before returning to her seat. Trying to sit up, I wince sharply as a set of shooting pains ripple over my body—growing more intense as the daze-like numbness that had overwhelmed me upon my awakening wears off. Reaching out, Isaac stops me from moving any further while he adjusts the rustled pillows behind me, helpfully propping me up against them without causing any further discomfort.

“There you go. How’s that?” Isaac asks as he takes a step back while I flash him a brief smile in approval, “Good. Well, now that you have a way to speak,” he flashes a comical glare towards Dakota, his behaviour friendly as if he were trying to appease any worries that I may have about them, “-how’re you feeling?”

Opening the notepad, I reach the first clean page and click the lid of my pen. Clasping it shakily, I scribble away, trying to keep my writing readable as it appears to resemble that of a toddler’s compared to my own usual neat handwriting. Pressing down hard as if learning to write all over again, I restrain the urge of sticking my tongue out in concentration before thankfully penning the simple response of, “sore”.

“I bet you do, little wolf,” he remarks agreeably.

Raising an eyebrow, the repeated nickname catches my attention when I write, “Little wolf?”

“Ha,” Isaac snorts, “-sorry. I bet that’s weird having two strangers call you that. We came up with it while you were, well, you know-“ he wavers his hand, “-sleeping. We didn’t know your name and Dakota had called you it one day. After that, I suppose it just kind of stuck. Speaking of, what is your name?” Isaac asks with intrigue.

Looking down, I carefully spell it out while Dakota leans over and watches attentively in anticipation. Glancing up at me as I finish scrawling the last letter, she smiles widely at the announcement—almost as if this moment was some built up grand reveal for her.

“It’s Willow,” she reads while turning to look at Isaac with a huge grin, “-that’s so pretty, hm? To be honest, you do kind of look like a Willow now that you’ve mentioned it. Do you have a last name, Willow? What about a pack?” she prods for further information, a genuine curiosity casting over her while wishing to know more.

Flipping over the page slowly, I ponder over what I should say. Deciding to be honest, I tell them about the orphanage that I grew up in and how I had been given a chosen last name seeing that I eventually phased out, that being Devlin. Moving on to her next question, I couldn’t help but feel shame while sprawling the truth onto the blank page, wondering why she was even asking given that I bare no pack crest. Reluctantly, I tell them about how I was never adopted and wasn’t given the chance to meet any packs within the City, or guided towards them for that matter. With Dakota’s questions answered, I quickly ask my own as my memories remain vague, holding up a sheet while asking, “Why can’t I speak? What’s wrong with me?”

“Your neck got damaged pretty bad. According to the Doc, it’s a miracle that you’re even alive seeing as what happened. You were in a pretty terrible shape when we found you. Like, you lost a lot of blood. And, I mean, a lot,” Isaac replies with emphasis while his eyebrows lower above his troubled eyes, reminiscing over when they claimed to have found me, “-I’m surprised you’re even awake, to be honest. I thought you’d be out of it for longer.”

Still trying to piece together what exactly happened to bring me here, I flick the used sheet over and scribble messily on the next clean page, “How many hours have I been asleep for?” I hold the notepad out, guessing that my unshifting daze is from a few hours’ worth of oversleeping.

“Wait a second,” Dakota’s voice softens as she turns to Isaac, “-I don’t think she can remember what happened to her that night. Can you?” she raises an eyebrow dubiously, aiming her question towards me along with her returning gaze to which I shake my head.

“You have no memory of the attack in the clearing?” Isaac's eyes widen in surprise, his face dropping upon the mention, riddling with guilt like he had just spoken of the world’s worst sin, “Oh, boy. Um, I don’t know how to say this exactly, but you’ve been in a coma for the past three months,” he shakes his head.

As if the word attack had acted as a secret striking trigger upon hearing it, my own runs cold when a bombardment of flashing images surge into my unexpecting mind. Shaking my head in disbelief, a swell of steaming tears flow down my cheeks while my lip trembles from the revelation. Feeling that a door within my head had just been unlocked, I recall the flashing visions of pale, cruel faces snarling and snapping. Jittering, I remember the surging terror I had felt and the horror I had witnessed when the camp had made its race for safety. With little time needed, my thoughts spiral as I try to think of what happened to Ash and the girls, struggling to picture any recollection of them after that beast cornered me. Did they make it out? Are they alive?

Snapping my head towards my notepad, a million questions race within my mind as I write once again before holding up the book, “Where is my brother? Where are Lillie and Fara?” I thrust the page before them.

Looking unknowing as to who I’m talking about, I frantically flip over to the following page and force myself to write the next question, unknowing to if I want to hear the truth while questioning, “Did you find anyone else? Were there any other survivors?”

Stricken with remorse, the pair shake their heads and destroy my building hope. Growing empty on the inside, a tearing sensation rips through my chest and pierces my heart as my brother remains out there, his status pending, as it’s unclear whether he’s dead or alive. Churning from a mixture of self-loathing anger and guilt, I silently beat myself up while thinking of the fact that I’ve been led here all of this time, useless and immobile when for all I know, he and the girls could still be out there somewhere, fighting for their lives. A harrowing doubt drifts above all of my thoughts, pumping my veins with dread as the voice within my mind tries to convince me that if they were alive, they would have found me already. Wouldn’t they?

Suddenly fuelled by the idea of returning to the clearing in search of my companions, I ignore the questioning stares and try to and push myself up away from the bed. Thrashing quickly, I unthinkingly cause the unseen aches and cuts brandishing my body beneath the bedsheet to erupt in agony from my flashing movement, causing me to whine vocally in pain. Fighting against the urge to collapse back onto the bed, Dakota rushes over and wraps her arms around me tightly as she prevents me from going any further—hugging me comfortingly while gently rocking me as I attempt to unleash an out-pour of broken sobs.

“Calm down, little wolf. I need you to relax. I know what you’re thinking and I’d want to do the same, but you need to stay here. We’ve already got some of the best Trackers and Warriors from our pack out there scoping the place as we speak. The whole of the clearing and the woods are being searched thoroughly each day. The Chief made sure that there's always someone out there just in case someone finds their way out,” Dakota soothes while rubbing my back, trying to appease my upset.

“Hey, look at me,” Dakota murmurs while pulling away, raising my chin to make me face her, “-I tell you what. You’re going to write about everything that happened that night for me, hm? Tell me all about the people you were with. Specifically about your brother's description and the two girls you mentioned. It doesn’t matter if it’s a tiny detail, just write everything that you can remember, hm?” she asks opening my notepad and placing the pen in my hand firmly, nodding at the open pages encouragingly, “Once you have, we’ll pass it on to the Chief so he can alert the search party. How does that sound?”

Choking back my upset, I wipe my snotty nose while nodding at her gratefully. Sniffling loudly, I pen my account of that fated night on the following few pages, tearing out each one as I fill both sides while placing them down beside me. Taking my time, I go into detail of all that I can remember—beginning with the chase, right up to the encounter with the vicious beast that attacked me. By the time I finish, my hand aches dully while I drop the pen and hand over the clustered bundle of paper to a patient Dakota. Waiting to proceed as she looks for granted permission before reading what I had written, I nod approvingly while Isaac leans over her shoulder and follows along. Growing horrified at what I wrote upon the pages, they devour the text while Dakota holds her hand to her mouth with widened eyes, her eyes wincing in dismay as they flicker across the scribbled lines.

“You poor thing,” Dakota swallows loudly, her face pale compared to the rosy demeanour she had worn only minutes before while passing the sheets to Isaac.

“I’ll see to this immediately and let my brother know that she’s awake. He’ll want to know right away,” Isaac places a honey-toned hand on Dakota’s shoulder, “-I’ll catch you both later on, okay?” he steps away, turning towards to door before leaving, “And don’t forget to call the Doc. The sooner he gets here, the sooner she can get out of bed,” he calls out while disappearing into the dim-lit corridor behind the doorway, setting off into the unknown.

Intrigued by the prolonged mystery of why I’m here to begin with, I feel inclined to ask why Isaac’s brother would be so concerned about knowing of my awakening. As she settles down beside me, I take the opportunity to find out more about my rescuers and scribble down, “Who’s Isaac’s brother?”

“That would be the Chief. You’ll meet him soon enough, little wolf,” she smiles cheekily “-I’ll leave him to introduce himself. It’s not really my place. Anyway, try to forget about that for now. We have more important topics to concern ourselves with. We’re going to hang out for a bit while you rest up,” she squeals with a pure flood of excitement, “-I’ve waited weeks to find out all about you. And that’s no exaggeration. I have literally been here since the night we found you,” she picks up my hand; giving it a squeeze “-so has Mato. We’re like your personal bodyguards at this point,” she teases through a light-hearted chuckle, “-anyway, let’s get back to it. Tell me everything about yourself,” she demands dramatically, like a gossiping teen despite appearing only a few years older than myself, “-I want to know it all.”

Spending the next hour answering all of Dakota’s raising questions, I end up taking a trip down memory lane as we talk about my miserable childhood, chatting about the countless foster homes I had been in and what the orphanage itself was like. By the time we get to talking about leaving the horrid place, I notice the bright glow of the outside world dimming when a sudden tiredness overcomes me. Realizing how drained I feel, I try to fight against my gnawing weakness—growing disappointed as I cannot withhold its smothering presence. Sighing with exhaustion, I give in; shuffling down while placing my already filled notepad on the bedside table while Dakota settles by me before turning off the glowing lamp, remaining at my side. Glancing at the ceiling, she seems lost in thought while crossing her arms over her stomach, probably attempting to consume all the information that I’ve told her this afternoon.

“I noticed a few weeks back that you’ve got a lot of scars, Willow. Like, quite a lot of old ones,” she turns her head to look at me, “-I just wanted to let you know I get that you may not be up to talking about what you’ve gone through anytime soon, but when and if you ever are, I’ll be here to listen, hm?” she nudges me with a sympathetic smile, sincerity embedded within her eyes, “Now try to get some rest.”