Nyell let himself fall on his bed, exhausted. Today had been, let's say, eventful.
In the morning, he almost had a heart attack when he realized his sister was nowhere to be found. Panic struck first as he thought she had disappeared, spirited away like the others. Only after ransacking her room did he calm down, having discovered on the ground a leaf on which was written:
"I'm going to the jungle. I'll be back later!"
He had the urge to wring his moron of a sister's neck. Couldn't she think before acting?! Even before the disappearances started, her habit of sneaking out was nerve-wracking. Now? It was causing him to worry to death.
To top it all, if Nyell hadn't found her earlier, the saber tooth tiger would have gobbled her up whole. His sister tended to overestimate herself, and he lost count of the number of times he had to save her ass.
Being a big brother was tough.
After dropping Isa at the shaman's hut, he went to his father's and met with the White Moon tribe's chief. The man was his destined mate, the biggest headache of the day.
Only the gods knew what was going through Allen's head. On the one hand, he asked his father to hand him over; on the other, he offered him an escape route. Nyell only had to keep hating the man, which wasn't difficult, and he'd be free. There was no way he'd follow the bastard back to his tribe. He despised said tribe too much, and strangely enough, he had a hunch the people over there reciprocated the feeling.
The last time a hunting group from his tribe and the White Moon tribe met, it hadn't been pretty.
Why did they fight? Nyell couldn't remember. It could have been for prey, or it could have been for hunting territory rights. The reason didn't matter. Any excuse was good as long as they could beat each other to an inch of their lives.
Yet now, he had to bow his head to the White Moon tribe's chief and beg for help. And to add insult to injury, Allen was his destined mate. It was ridiculous. The god of fate had terrible taste.
"Oh, whatever. Let's sleep."
.
.
That night, Nyell had a lifelike dream. It enacted one of his worst memories, one he'd have liked to keep buried deep into his subconscious.
His teenage self was dashing through the dense vegetation of the jungle. The sharp branches and leaves cut his arms and legs, yet he didn't care. He had to run as fast as he could. He was taking risks, jumping over gigantic roots without knowing what lay behind them. He didn't have the time to slow down and look over. He could only count on his excellent reflexes to land on the rough terrain without twisting his ankles.
The elders had told him not to leave the jungle, but the young and naive him didn't listen. He was curious about the mountain bridge encasing the jungle and wanted to explore it. So what if it was the White Moon tribe's territory? As long as he didn't get caught, everything would be alright.
But he got caught.
After strolling around for a while, Nyell had grown careless and entered a cave where a group of hunters rested. He couldn't pretend to be a member of their tribe, for his skin and hair color were giving him away. The people from the Black Moon tribe had chocolate skin and charcoal to deep black hair, while those from the White Moon tribe had white skin and blond to whitish hair. They couldn't be any more different in appearance.
Nyell knew it wouldn't bode well for his well-being if the men caught him, so he spun on his heels and bolted toward the jungle. He turned a deaf ear to their screams and ran and ran and ran.
He thought they wouldn't follow him into the jungle, but they did. They closely followed behind. They weren't as agile as him, giving Nyell some leeway. Because he knew his way around and was used to navigating in the jungle, he could stay ahead by several meters.
Only, it didn't last.
His stamina couldn't compare to grown-up hunters, and he eventually slowed down, out of breath. The moment he did, one of the men grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back.
"I asked you what you were doing in our territory!"
Nyell hissed. The man gripped his upper arm with so much strength it felt like his bone was about to break in half.
"I was sightseeing…?" he muttered.
"Sightseeing, huh?" the man sneered. "What do we do with him, leader?"
"Why are you asking me when you're aching to teach the brat a lesson? You won't listen to me whatever I say, anyway."
"Well, kids nowadays don't know their places. It's our duty as adults to remind them."
"I guess you're right."
Nyell pulled on his arm, trying to escape the man's grip and flee. It was in vain. The man's fingers didn't even budge. Nyell could fend off most beasts, but adult werewolves were another story.
He was strong for his age, enough for the elders to allow him to wander the jungle alone. However, seasoned adult werewolves were on another level. Maybe he could have fought against one or two. But a dozen? He could keep on dreaming.
It didn't mean he wouldn't fight back and let them do as they pleased. He lowered his head to bite the man's hand, making his assailant let out a curse as he reflexively let go. Nyell then dashed forward, only for the man to grab his hair and jerk him back to his chest. He locked an arm around Nyell's throat, immobilizing his head.
"Let's see if you can run away from us with a broken leg," he snarled. "Hold him down for me!"
"Sure thing!"
"No, please wait—"
Nyell woke up in a sweat.
Even though it had been years since the incident, he still remembered the feeling of his leg getting crushed under the man's feet, as well as the disturbing cracking sound it made. The men's smiling, smirking faces had been deeply engraved into his mind as they kicked and punched him. It seemed to take forever before they had enough and abandoned him in the middle of the jungle.
Returning home had been hell. True, he could fend off beasts, but only if all his limbs were intact. In the state that he was in at the time, even a boar could have killed him.
Dragging his battered body through the jungle that had grown dark, trying not to make a sound despite his injuries, had been hard on his young heart. He didn't have the mental fortitude he had today, although this incident did help build it.
Back then, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of monster the White Moon tribe's chief was to allow such bastards to see the light in his tribe. Though Nyell's tribe hated the White Moon tribe, they would never assault a youth.
"Hate you a little less, huh?" Nyell whispered to himself. "Sorry to break it to you, but it won't happen. Not as long as these kinds of memories remain in me."