"Barby... I can't imagine my life without you," he uttered, leaving me speechless without even looking at him.
"You've had too much to drink," I complained as Timothee purposely pulled me into his embrace.
"I don't know why, but I feel like this might be our last meeting," Timothee cried softly, his hands holding me tighter.
"Don't think like that; we can always see each other," I tried to soothe his heart, though confusion lingered within me about the meaning behind his words.
"I'm afraid they'll hurt you, Asher and Sawyer." Timothee was increasingly babbling incoherently.
"Go to sleep, let's rest." I immediately lay down next to Timothee and tried to sleep quickly but I couldn't.
The night grew deeper, and the silence of the room was only broken by the distant sound of the city. Timothee's breaths became more even as he finally succumbed to sleep, but my eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. The fear in his voice was palpable, and it echoed in my mind, refusing to be silenced.
Suddenly, a soft knock at the door jolted me from my reverie. I glanced at Timothee, who remained undisturbed, and tiptoed to the door. Peering through the peephole, I saw a shadowy figure, its features obscured by the dim hallway light. My heart raced as I debated whether to open the door.
With a deep breath, I unlocked it, only to be met by a familiar face.
"Dave," I whispered, surprised. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Timothee.
"I needed to warn you that Timothee should consume his herbal medicine," Dave said, urgently lacing his words. "Because... I know the hunter is planning something. Something dangerous, and it involves both Rogue and your previous pack."
"A-are you sure?" I stuttered.
Dave's gaze was intense, his concern evident. "Yes, I've seen the signs. The hunter is cunning, and with the full moon approaching, he will strike."
I felt a chill run down my spine. The full moon was a time of power, but also of vulnerability for our kind. "What do we do?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"We need to prepare," Dave said, determination in his tone. "Timothee's medicine will help him sense the danger, and we must alert Rogue. As for your old pack, they are strong, but they need to be warned."
My fingers found their way to my lips, the taste of anxiety bitter as I gnawed on the skin around my nails. The room seemed to shrink with each step I took, the walls echoing my restless tread. Memories of past hunts flashed through my mind, a simpler time when it was just us against the hunters. But now, Taylor and his cohort loomed like specters, their motives as murky as the shadows that danced across the floor. The air was thick with tension, a silent storm brewing, and in the midst of it all, I stood—a tempest of worry and unanswered questions.
A heavy sigh escaped my lips, fingers pressing against my temples in a futile attempt to quell the throbbing headache. The room was still, the only movement coming from Dave's hesitant steps as he approached.
"Luna," he began, his voice a low rumble of unease, "I'm reluctant to burden you with this, but there's been unrest at the border since dawn."
He paused, his eyes reflecting a storm of concern. "Lycan's been wounded, caught in the crossfire, now clinging to the threads of recovery."
My heart skipped a beat.
"But Timothee has my Fae essence flowing through his veins now. That should shield him, shouldn't it?" The question hung in the air, a fragile hope amidst the brewing chaos.
Dave's assurance was a soft murmur, almost lost in the stillness of the room.
"It should be fine," he said, more to himself than to me. His eyes, usually so full of fire, now held a flicker of doubt as he turned away.
"Just... make sure Lycan remembers the herbs from Healer Cruz. That's all," he added, his voice trailing off, leaving the words to hang like a delicate thread in the air between us.
Dave's words dissipated into the charged air, leaving a silence that was almost tangible. He lingered for a moment, his silhouette framed against the doorway, a guardian between two worlds. Then, without another word, he slipped away, leaving me alone with the weight of his warning.
I turned back to the room, to Timothee's peaceful slumber, and the moonlight that spilled across the floor, casting long, ethereal shadows. The herbs from Healer Cruz... they were our lifeline, a beacon of hope in the encroaching darkness. I had to ensure Lycan remembered, for the sake of us all.
As the clock ticked towards the witching hour, a sense of urgency settled over me. The hunter, the full moon, the herbs—everything was converging, and time was the one thing we didn't have. I knew then, with a clarity that startled me, that the dawn would bring with it a reckoning. And as I finally closed my eyes, the night whispered its secrets, promising that nothing would ever be the same again.
The aroma of melting cheese and sizzling onions crept into my dreams, a savory intruder that coaxed me from the depths of sleep. My eyelids fluttered open, reluctantly parting with the remnants of slumber, only to be met with the unexpected sight of my mom. She stood by the window, the morning light casting a halo around her as she busied herself with a skillet, the source of the tantalizing scent that now fully claimed my senses. Confusion mingled with the warmth of home, a silent question hanging in the air as I tried to piece together the puzzle of her presence.
"M-mom? What are you doing?" The words tumbled out, a whisper lost in the symphony of morning. My gaze, still clouded with the remnants of dreams, found her there—a silhouette against the dawn, an unexpected anchor in the chaos of the night before.