~Layla’s POV~
The trees formed a royal bow as they arched over the tunnel. Going through it, you could not do anything else but rely on your sense of smell and hearing because your eyes were obsolete in the obsidian black environment. Pups were sent here for hours of practice to learn not to rely on their sight too much and to strengthen their other senses. This would come in handy if they ever found themselves blindfolded by an enemy. This instance had occurred because of the fear of being mind-controlled or an Emberclaw seeing their memories and because of that these practices were mandatory.
I had been sitting here for two hours in the eerie silence. Some smaller sounds, such as the wind grazing the leaves or the bird chirping from far away, did make it into the tunnel, but the longer I sat here, the louder those noises grew. I was hearing them clearer than before, and when I listened in, I could hear the birds landing on the trees. I could hear the flapping of their wings and the sizzling sound of crisp leaves fluttering against each other.
”Are you doing okay?”
”Why wouldn’t I be?” I replied, to Justin who was in here with me, sitting opposite of me with his back against the leafy wall and his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes closed. Justin had been doing this since he was a child, so he knew how it worked, but it was new for me, and I was hypnotized by the smallest of sounds that suddenly sounded as clear as his voice.
”For some people this is hard—the silence and the darkness, especially in the beginning.”
”I love it, the silence, I mean. I don’t remember the last time it was this quiet around me.” My body reacted to his stare, and I opened my eyes to see him peeking at me through one open eye.
”I’m glad,” he said and smiled.
”You did well, I’m proud of you.” Justin wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side.
I laughed and smacked his arm away.
”Thank you, but when will you teach me how to fight?” He nodded his head as we walked past the many open doors and families having dinner outside.
”Soon, but it’s not the most important thing. Sometimes we don’t even need to fight. First of all, we’re genetically stronger than other werewolves, and secondly, we prefer to use our memory powers instead of our fists.” Furrowing my brows, I looked around at everyone and couldn’t help but find the peacefulness odd. Not a single day went by in the other packs I had lived in where I didn’t at least see the warriors fighting.
”So nobody fights?”
”No, we fight. Everyone here knows how to fight; we just don’t require as much practice in it because, as I said, all of our senses are already superior.”
”You don’t have any warriors? Or specific individuals with extra fighting skills in case of an attack?” He chuckled and looked at me with a matter-of-fact-expression.
”Nobody would ever come to us. If we want a fight, we go to them.”
”Do they not come here because they’re afraid or because they don’t know this pack exists?” He tensed for a second. His shoulders dropped, and he turned his head.
”They know it exists, but they don’t know where it exists, and that’s how we want to keep it. It’s none of their business; they have all done enough harm as it is.”
“Layla, please come in.” Nathaniel had called me to his house and waited for me in the throne room. I had no better word for it then that because that was all there was – a throne and the memory table. Some paintings hung on the walls, and there was a table with two chairs up on the stage next to his throne, but overall, it was impersonal and, quite frankly, cold.
”You wanted to see me?” He nodded his head and stepped down.
His hand shot out, and he pointed to a painting that hung next to the door where I had seen women walking out of the other day.
”What do you make of this?” My confusion showed, and so did my disinterest in the matter, but nonetheless, I walked over and looked at the painting. I licked my lips and placed my hands behind my back. Staring up at the painting, I saw a woman in her forties, I guess. She looked to be the same age as my mom.
”She’s pretty?” I said and shrugged my shoulders.
What was I supposed to say? She looked average. Brown eyes, brown hair with lighter highlights that fell on her sides, and curtain bags that framed her heart-shaped face.
She was wearing a dress and was clearly not from this century. Her red cloak hung heavily over her shoulders, and her green bejeweled dress had a corset that pressed her in. She was sitting with a straight back and a somber smile. Looking closely into her eyes, I saw no life or soul. Maybe it was because it was a painting, but I had seen other portraits where the painter had managed to capture the soul of the person they painted. This just looked forced, and she did not look happy.
”She was strong,” Nathaniel said.
”Are you saying you knew her?” He turned his head back and forth.
”I know of her. The stories have been told for centuries. She lived and fought with Jeremiah Stark, the man you saw through the memory table. She was a fierce warrior and wielder of her powers. She was his most trusted friend and ally.”
”I saw a woman with him, with Jeremiah but that’s not her.” He smiled and looked back at the portrait.
”No, that was Inger, his wife. She was a…a special woman to say the least.”
”In what way?”
”Never mind that.” He said and turned away from me. So I was only allowed to hear parts of the history?
”Are these stories written in books? Something I could read up on to learn about the history of our people?” Nathaniel looked at me before diverting his eyes to Justin, who was standing by the door. I didn’t have to look back to see him tensing up.
”There are no books, the history is passed down, it is told. And you will learn everything in due time.”
”But you decide when I learn?” He stepped closer, his eyes piercing mine, and his aura filled the room.
”Yes I do. You’re new, Layla, and you will be treated as such until the point that I know I can trust you.”
”Don’t you trust me?”
”Can you tell me with dead certainty that you will not return back to your mate?” Kade…his picture was forever in my mind, but I hadn’t thought about him lately at all. And the picture was fading with each passing day, but it was still there, albeit withered. Like an old photograph that had become fragile with pieces falling off.
He saw the answer on my face.
”You may leave now, we’ll talk again soon.”
