26 - Vine Vice

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Milo leads me deeper into the woods. I jump at the sounds of nature, every cracking branch and fleeing bird. It's not Milo or the forest that make me uncomfortable, no it's the wolves, the signs of their presence. Maybe I'm just paranoid but after last time I can't help but to be cautious, for him or me I'm not sure. It's quiet and I try to catch up with him.

I don't know if he does it on purpose, but Milo, while he matches my speed without even watching me, stays a few feet ahead and it feels weird, it feels cautious, as if I was chasing him. I brush away memories of the cold and of obsidian like skin, of fog in the distance. The path he takes even straight, we take a few turns by trees Milo must have memorized.

I'm not sure how he can recognize them with their bare bark and crocked branches. I take time to breathe in the cold air, to let the sun warm my skin. It never felt like this before, so liberating, so essential. I jump back when I feel a hand on my wrist. Milo must have come to get me when I took too long.

His face is scrunched up with concern, with inquiry. I can't help but to look at the line forming at his eyes, on his forehead. I smile instead, because it's just that, but I feel my throat tighten and my lips push together, because it's not home. I try to look at him but it suddenly feels like too much.

« I'm okay. » I step back when he gets too close, when his arms threaten to hug me. This time I see the pain in his eyes, but maybe this is okay. I his tongue lick his teeth, watch his frown deepen with something bitter, but Milo steps back into the woods, slow pace information enough for me to follow him.

I breathe multiples times, try to push away the tears and I move behind him. It doesn't help when each foot I put down makes noise when his steps don't. Milo has his shoulders squared but his head hung low and I don't know what to make of it. The forest quiets down as we move further in, still no wolves in sight.

It feels different, though I can't explain why. Here the mud is darker, trees have already grown a few leaves, their trunks thicker. My footsteps echo when I start to step on small stones than pebbles, just like those by the lake. I let out a strangled noise when I walk into Milo, realize we have reached a small clearing in the forest.

It's a small pond right at the center of the woods, a stream with a round center that must lead to the lake. It doesn't make a sound, when I look over Milo's shoulder, the water is running so slowly that it almost looks still. Milo turns his head to me, irritation gone for something else, for something more.

It's solemn, like how he looks in the moonless night. Serene yet eerie and Milo sits down on the white pebbles, right at the edge of the clear water. It's the lightest shade of blue and I could count the undisturbed stones. It feels unnerving, like I shouldn't be here, like it's too sacred, I feel like lost in a dark alley.

But as I sit by his side, Milo's shoulders are relaxed and instead he feels right at home. His fingers are stretched out, digits over the stones at our feet. It feels like he wants to show me something, but just like last time Milo waits, head down low, avoiding me. I don't reach out this time.

« Tomorrow I go to a place. » I watch as he speaks, though for once his voice doesn't command for attention. Milo scratches his jaw, scrubs his eyes as he plays with a pebble in his bare hands. It makes my heart jump, because it's the first time he mentions leaving, because I think of running before of going with him.

« I want you to come. » It pleads for attention. Milo doesn't stubble over his words but I can feel how tense he is, as if he was really asking. Because he looks up to me with fear in his eyes. I'm sure he must have a plan for me to stay even if he's gone, could have Lise watch me.

Maybe he just wants me to come, he doesn't want to be alone. Somehow I forgot about the outside world, I forgot it isn't just home and the mansion. I was only focused on him, focused on surviving. I let out a small breath, close to a silent laugh, because it doesn't feel like asking when he doesn't give me another option.

« Where are we going? » I don't go against him, it feels counterproductive, like pointless rebellion and I'm tired of foolish exhaustion. His eyebrows raise with surprise, but his mouth is still a scowl. I lean with a hand under my chin, pat the floor for a smooth pebble.

A small snarl shows on his mouth, barely noticeable but I catch it anyway. As silent as Milo is, his face really does show his emotions. Or maybe I've spend too much time gauging him, fishing for signs of aggression, of any kind. I remember the cold hard wooded floor under my skin.

« Queen house. » Milo mutters under his breath, words like a curse. I can understand why. Different car and different skin that must mean more to them than I can understand. I've gathered that Milo has an official sort of diplomatic title, like the keeper of a land. It must be something big for him to switch from his usual desk. Has he cleaned up the broken glass?

« Why? » I speak louder than he does, play with the small stone that feels cold even with my gloves on. I see his eyes twitch at my voice, jaw working on imaginary gum. Milo puts his down, hand coming up to lower the benny on head over my eyes.

« Work ». His voice low and clear, too definite. I don't see it as playful unlike earlier, no it feels shady. So it's something he doesn't want me to know. Which it's either about humans or about me. Is something going on at Detroit I haven't heard? I couldn't have seeing how Milo is uncomfortable about any subject of my home.

Milo may be trustworthy for my wellbeing but not so much for my will. He's gotten more confident at leaving me out. I scrunch my nose as I push the benny back in place, sun coming down shine on my face. How peaceful. I think of the black fur again.

« Can you show me? » I lean back, stone forgotten for the comfort of my middle, hands on my thighs. I don't want to fear him forever. Now I feel like I should fear the man more than the monster. Or his selfish intentions more than instincts.

Milo seems confused, brows together and line forming on his forehead. I know it must feel out of place for him, for me to ask when I feared this side of him more before. When I used to run from it. I feel my nerves buzz with anticipation, with the slightest regret for asking.

But his head turns with a tilt, eyes scanning my face. Does he not understand? I gulp after a small sigh, wonder if this is really a good idea. Yet his eyes widen with revelation and his body tilts back from me, face in disbelief. Somehow it feels like I won't fear the other wolves has much after this, maybe I already don't.

« Sure? » His voice comes out in a choked whisper. I can see the tension in his throat, I watch as he thinks, jaw still working. Milo looks at the seemingly still water, clear as Cristal and I can't help but to follow his stare. I feel like there'd more to this place than he might want to me to know. It feels like his sanctuary.

I nod shyly, partly because no- I'm not sure. Mostly because it feels like knocking on the devil's door, like I know I probably won't like the outcome. Milo extends his naked hand slowly over the space between us. His skin is slightly tanned already and I wonder how it will look like in the summer.

I watch intently as the skin starts rippling just like last time. Black swirls snake around his fingertips first, nails darkening. The flowing bands wrap around like vines around his knuckles, it's a mesmerizing sort of horror and his golden skin disappears when it loses the fight with the dark liquid like vice.

His nails contort and twist for talons like claws to take their place, his fingers look much longer, knuckles further apart than before, it doesn't just paint his body. Even the ball of his wrist wrings within, it turns sharp like another claw might just come out. Even with the sun coming down on us, it feels like he doesn't catch the light.

I hear birds fly out in the distance, winds flapping in a distorted cry but no song leaving with them. The dark skin leaves under his jacket. I'm temped to let him finish but I'm too curious to feel it for myself, because with if face turning into a wolf's, it's better, it's not as monstrous.

I put out my gloved hand over his, pull out my index to softly feel the skin of his turned up palm. It's as smooth as metal, cold too. I let my finger skim to his wrist. Like this, it really feels like his wolf can hide from anything. A body that doesn't reflect light, a skin that has not heat. Like it could hunt anything.

I'm temped to touch it directly, to feel this skin against mine, because last I was too out to really feel anything. But the talons hanging bellow my wrist are too intimidating. Too long and too sharp like they could cut through anything with ease. The forest has gotten so quiet that my heart is too loud.

I press the rest of my palm against his and when I look back I see his neck, mostly black and his usual tan. The swirls stop midway but their vine like spikes come up to clutch at his jaw. I know it shouldn't, but his eyes are cast low and strong while his neck and jaw are painted like sin, so my stomach flips.

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I'm excited for the next chapters with new characters ! I will try to update within the next two weeks.