Spilled blood

Keira...

Nestled just outside the Crimson Clan's territory, a majestic oak tree rose into the sky, its gnarled trunk a testament to over a century of enduring storms and seasons. Its sprawling branches sprawled wide, providing ample space to rest comfortably without the fear of a sudden fall. One such branch became a perfect haven for Keira, who sought solace in its leafy embrace.

Nathaniel, skilled in the art of concealment, positioned himself in the shadowy underbrush nearby, keenly observing the woman. He was curious to see what her next move would be. Keira, with an air of tranquility, gracefully ascended the tree, her fingers deftly plucking vibrant green leaves. Each leaf brought back memories of her childhood: her mother skillfully crafting intricate dolls from tiny branches and delicate foliage. Inspired by this cherished tradition, Keira found herself absorbed in creating her own miniature figurines, her hands working tirelessly. Hours passed as Nathaniel watched her, captivated by the rhythm of her movements and the care she put into each little creation. Keira's laughter floated through the air as she fashioned dozens of these tiny dolls, each one a reflection of her imagination, until the warm hues of dusk yielded to the silvery glow of the Moon. Eventually, fatigue claimed her, and she succumbed to sleep, nestled within the embrace of the tree's branches. As night enveloped the forest, Nathaniel, too, yielded to the call of rest, leaning back against the trunk of another nearby tree. Not long after, his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off, the sounds of the night surrounding him.

With the arrival of dawn, the first rays of sunlight filtered gently through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Keira stirred, roused by the warmth of the sun. She climbed down from her lofty perch and chose a sturdy branch from the ground. Using her sharp claws, she expertly transformed it into a formidable stake, honed to a lethal point.

Once satisfied with her creation, she ventured deeper into the woods, a sense of purpose guiding her steps as she prepared to lay in wait for whatever might come her way.

Nathaniel was looking at her in wonder. 'What is she doing?' he thought.

Some time passed, and Keira stood up abruptly and threw the stake with force. Nathaniel looked in that direction and saw the stake pierce through a wild rabbit. Keira went to pick up the rabbit. Then, she used her claws to rip off its skin. Then she made a fire, roasted the rabbit, and ate it. And Nathaniel had a really hard time keeping the contents of his stomach... in his stomach. He felt sick when he saw the woman use her still bloodied hand to hold the meant she was biting from. A meat that was not washed before it was cooked, and it was still undercooked. Nathaniel wondered why Keira even bothered to attempt cooking it if she didn't plan on letting it cook well. And there was a reason for it. Keira was doing this because the meat would've been too slimy had it not been for the fire.

After finishing her meal, Keira wandered over to a tranquil lake that shimmered under the sun. The water was cool and refreshing, and as she stepped in, she took the opportunity to wash off not just her hands and face but her entire outfit. Strangely, she chose to cleanse her clothes while still wearing them, submerging them briefly before scrubbing at the fabric. The warm sun above worked its magic as she stood there, letting the gentle breeze aid in drying her clothes. Unfazed by her unconventional method, she remained in the damp garments as they gradually dried under the sunlight. Nathaniel observed her from a distance, a perplexed expression on his face, unable to fathom how she managed to maintain a fresh scent despite her unconventional washing routine. Once her clothes were sufficiently dried, Keira returned to her task of crafting dolls, her hands moving deftly as she transformed simple materials into lifelike figures, each one a testament to her creativity. The hours slipped by unnoticed as she immersed herself in her work, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the landscape, the moon began to rise. It was then that fatigue overtook her, and she finally let herself drift off to sleep beneath the twinkling stars.

The following day unfolded in a similar fashion, marked by the same rhythm of activity. Keira ventured out, this time successfully capturing a small bird, its delicate chirps filling the air as she marveled at her catch. The third day arrived with a sense of repetition, but it was on this day that Blake, curious about Keira's unusual pursuits, reached out to Nathaniel through a mind link. He inquired about her activities, eager to understand more about the enigmatic girl. Nathaniel relayed everything, a sense of urgency in his voice as he implored Blake to reconsider his orders concerning her. The thought of witnessing her create yet another doll was driving him towards the brink of madness.

Blake found himself at a loss, unable to comprehend the enigma that Keira presented. Meanwhile, Kyle had scoured every avenue in search of information about her, even enlisting the help of a witch to trace her past and uncover any hidden details. But despite their efforts, nothing materialized—each lead dwindled into nothingness. Louise, too, had struggled, failing to establish any connection between Keira and Andreas. Frustration mounted in Blake as he processed Nathaniel's words; for the first time in his life, his mind felt like a blank canvas, devoid of thought.

In a sudden surge of resolve, Blake commanded his men to apprehend Andreas. He demanded answers about their relationship, his demeanor tense. When the name 'Keira' fell from his lips, he watched as all color drained from Andreas's face, the stark realization of her significance unfolding before him.

“Why—why do you ask? Is—she's not... did she come?” Andreas stammered, his voice barely a whisper as a wave of anxiety washed over him.

Blake nodded solemnly, and within moments, the tension became too much for Andreas. He collapsed, the world around him fading as he fainted. Instinctively, Blake knew that he wouldn't glean any useful information from Andreas in this state. Keira's deadline was fast approaching, and he felt the weight of urgency pressing down on him. Despite the gravity of the situation, he wanted to ensure that their relationship remained amicable. Without hesitation, he ordered his men to carry Andreas and brought him to Keira.

Meanwhile, Keira sensed the presence of the men drawing nearer. She halted mid-motion, her hands deftly working on an unfinished doll, the leaves slipping from her grasp as she set it aside. A brief flicker of worry crossed her features. “I told you to bring him to me, not to take any action,” she remarked coolly.

Blake sighed in response, “I didn’t. He fainted after hearing your name.”

Her response was understated, almost indifferent—“Oh...” It was as if fainting at the mention of her name was the most ordinary occurrence in the world. “You can leave now,” she instructed, her tone urging Blake to exit.

“I’ll stay a bit longer,” he replied, determined to remain close.

A moment later, Andreas stirred, his senses gradually returning. With a sudden jolt, he sprang to his feet, confusion flickering across his face as he searched for the Alpha he barely recognized. The conversation prior to his unconsciousness had evaporated from his memory like mist. He shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the fog clouding his mind. That’s when his eyes fell upon her—a figure adorned in an aura of unsettling familiarity.

A shudder wracked through Andreas, a primal instinct taking over as he stumbled back in sheer terror and collapsed onto the ground. His body trembled violently, a visceral reaction to the fear coursing through him. Nathaniel observed, heart racing, half-wondering if Andreas was having a heart attack right before their eyes.

“Hello there, darling. It’s been a while…” Keira purred, her voice honeyed with mock affection.

“I—I’m... I’m sorry... I’m so sorry…” Andreas babbled, his words tumbling over one another in a frantic attempt to appease her.

“Whatever for? I’m just here to make your dreams come true.” Her hand brushed lightly against his forehead, a touch that sent a jolt of magic rippling through the air.

In response, Andreas erupted into frantic shouts, his voice reaching a fever pitch as if he were losing his mind. There was something eerily familiar in the chaos, a brief moment when Blake felt a haunting residue of magic linger in the air, an invisible cloud swirling around them.

“You… how can you wield magic?” Blake muttered, his mind racing with questions and concerns.

“It doesn’t concern you,” Keira replied, her tone icy, dismissing him with a casual wave of her hand.

Blake’s thoughts churned with uncertainty as he regarded her—this enigmatic woman was clearly not ordinary. Her presence was charged with an undeniable hostility, and he sensed that any questions he posed would fall on deaf ears.

“You said you’ll make his dreams come true, but he appears to be in pain,” Blake challenged, a frown deepening on his brow.

“I never said they’d be happy ones,” she retorted, her lips curling into a sly smile.

“So you’ve given him nightmares.”

“Bad dreams are still dreams,” she replied, her indifference chilling him to the core.

Blake couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle, though it held no trace of amusement. More a reaction of disbelief, he couldn’t wrap his head around the cold, calculated cruelty of it all.

Blake watched as Andreas squirmed in pain, after which, blood began oozing from his eyes, ears, and nose, and finally, he stopped breathing exactly an hour later.

As he sat there, his gaze fixed on the enigmatic figure before him, Blake's mind raced, piecing together fragments of memory. The name echoed in the depths of his thoughts, growing clearer with each passing moment.

“Keira... you’re the infamous bloodthirsty killer,” he finally breathed, his voice steady but laced with a hint of disbelief.

She leaned forward slightly, a playful smile dancing on her lips. “Oh? You’ve heard of me?”

Blake nodded slowly, his expression unwavering. “I’m positive every wolf has heard tales of your dark deeds.”

A glint of amusement flickered in her eyes. “I’m honored,” she replied, her voice smooth and almost seductive, as if relishing the fear her name inspired. The tension in the air shifted, thickening with an unsettling blend of admiration and dread.