There was always a pattern with these kinds of things. How and where they would hit you, the things they would say to hurt you the most. In Astor's case, it was always about how no one liked him, how he was different. Those words after so many years didn't really cause much pain. Somehow after all this time you get used to it. It was almost the same with the physical pain.
They had thrown him on the floor, kicking him as they laughed. He tried to cover his head but they managed to kick him in the face once, making his nose bleed and his face turn red with his own blood. Bruises, cuts, he didn't mind. He always felt kind of numb in situations like these. Terror came first but then it was simply nothing.
They would be bored soon, anyway leaving him there breathless staring at the ceiling, regretting he was ever born.
This time though what truly hurt was the betrayal. The audacity someone would have to talk about his mother, tell him how beautiful he was in a place where he was treated worse than a disease, and then betray him like that, give him to them as if he was a criminal. He didn't deserve this, everyone knew it but somehow it gave them satisfaction to know he was down, crying and pleading.
"Your pretty mum would be so disappointed in you." One of them offended him. Astor grabbed his leg, raising his bruised face to meet that person's eyes. He would remember his face, remember his words for the day he would get to make them pay. For the day he was so patiently waiting.
His actions seemed to have startled him, making him take a step back and cause a pause to the beating.
"I think you had fun long enough. Now leave my library and don't come back." The old woman said and one of them clicked his tongue, annoyed. He didn't object though, gathering up his friends he left him alone after he spit on the ground he lay.
Astor hissed, feeling his ribs ache from the nasty hits. He would have to stay there for a while, waiting for the wounds to heal. Zeth had done this, another betrayal from his own blood, another action to mock him, and show dominance.
"Your brother…he will ruin this pack." The old woman said from her desk causing him to scoff as he tried to get up. He didn't want to be there any longer, he didn't want to think.
"People like you will also ruin this pack. Those who see injustice and think they're helping by offering pity but when the time comes they turn a blind eye. I prefer my brother rather than people like you. At least I know he will end up betraying me and won't catch me by surprise." He told her.
There was no need for an answer, a possible excuse so he just left, leaving her behind and going back into the crowded streets. It was noon by now and everyone seemed to have something to do outside. It was crowded, people rushing and yelling everywhere but no one felt like helping him. Limping, hurting, and painted by his blood he looked as if someone had tried to kill him but no one cared. Once more a shadow, someone who is not worth looking at or helping.
Astor sighed and the aching feeling of missing his mother returned, his heart crying out quietly for an embrace. He didn't go home, he didn't want to give his brother the satisfaction of seeing him like this, at least that he could control.
He went into the forest, feeling the roughness of the tree trunks, smelling the leaves, and hearing the branches break underneath his sneakers. Astor always liked the forest, he liked to hunt and track, he was actually very good at it but no one ever gave him credit for it. He sat down not minding the mud and closed his eyes, allowing himself to take a nap, just for a little bit, just until his wounds would heal. In there he had no nightmares, no fear, the forest was a part of his soul.
"You will wake him up, shut up" An unfamiliar whisper woke him but he pretended to be asleep, scared that someone was here to hurt him again. His eyes closed while he listened to their conversation.
"He won't wake up. He is exhausted. Now let me help him with his wounds so we can get out of here." someone else said.
From the sound of their voices, he assumed there was a woman and a man, pretty close to his body, seemingly trying to mend his wounds. The girl sounded cheerful, her tone sweet while the man was more serious, even a bit skeptical. From the looks of it, they did not intend to harm him but still, he couldn't find himself opening his eyes. What if they were traitors too like many of the people around him? What if the moment they took a better look at him, and talked to him they realized they were trying to help the freak? So Astor remained silent, pretending to be in his slumber as the strong scent of herbs reached his nose. Medicinal herbs, he noticed, knowing their scent well from the teachings of his mother.
"He is healing so slowly, is he malnourished?" the girl asked. "What are they doing to him in this pack of his?"
They did not belong to his pack, that's why they were helping him. It made sense now, no one in the Highfangs would waste their herbs on him. They were trespassers though and that could be gravely punished. If he talked to them now he could be the one scaring them away but what were they doing here? He couldn't help but wonder in silence.
"I don't know. I also don't know why we have to be here in the middle of the night. I am tired."
"I could have come on my own."
"You know I can't let you do that."
"Then you should not complain about what the moon ordered."
"The moon this the moon that. Do I look like a servant to you?" the boy argued and a giggle escaped the girl.
"Definitely." she replied.
He could make no sense of their talk but the sure thing was that they were here on someone's orders. This could be bad news for the pack. Their help though was contradicting the possible reasons why they were here in secret.
"I am done. Let's go." he announced and Astor realized that he wasn't in pain anymore. His body felt light with just a few pinches where previously felt as if he had gotten stabbed, that man had worked some magic.
He waited until their footsteps were not heard anymore to open his green eyes, staring towards the direction they left, their shapes getting lost in the shadows of the night sky.
"Thank you." Astor whispered, instantly regretting that he didn't get to see them or talk to them.
It was better this way though, for his safety at first and later theirs. If the pack asked him about them he wouldn't be able to lie, he was a terrible liar and if they were found on foreign territory things could become bothersome. So now he could surely say he didn't see anything, because honestly, he did not.
"Thank the moon!" The voice of the girl echoed in the woods, traveling between the trees until it reached him. Had she heard him? From so far away?
Astor stood up, thinking of this little encounter he decided it was time to go home, the sun had been long gone and it was starting to get chilly.
"Thank the moon…" he repeated confused by everything that had just happened.
They had been kind to him and treated his wounds all because they didn't know who he was. A sigh escaped his lips as the lights of the compound were starting to get visible. Raising his head he looked at the moon above his head, cold and terrifying. What could she mean? Astor wondered once more before he headed to the lonely place he called home, for a second he wished he had followed them, ask them to take him away.
"You're crazy…" he scolded himself.