Be careful of the secrets of the forest

Hvad der skulle have været en fridag, var startet med et opkald fra en tydelig desperat kollega, der måtte se sig noget forsinket til sin vagt. Lettere tiggende havde han formået at få Cyrille overbevist om at klargøre og om nødvendigt åbne baren, mod at han skyndte sig at få sit korpus ned til Late Night i en vis fart. En halvtime var blevet til en og en time blev til to. Før kollegaen endelig dukkede op var der gået næsten fire timer af vagten. Efter at have givet ham en imponerende pænt indpakket reprimande, forlod Cyrille baren.

Tiden blev ikke spildt på at skifte til det tætsiddende sorte træningstøj, som vanligt. I stedet blev der kun brugt den fornødne tid på at samle gribe to magasiner, hvor af det ene blev sat i den 9 mm pistolen som sammen med det andet magasin blev placeret i hylsteret, der var spændt til buksernes livvidde. Hvorefter kursen blev sat imod skoven nær de endeløse stier.
De første dråber ramte forruden inden hun nåede at stige ud af den parkerede bil, fik øjnene til overvejende at søge mod det grå skydække. Den blå himmel havde været godt gemt væk det grå vattæppe siden morgengry, men det var aldrig blevet til enkelte dryp, som var væk lige så hurtigt som de var kommet. Der var derfor ikke en længere betænkelighedstid der skulle til, før det nedfaldne løv gav sig under vægten, i det hun drejede af og bevægede sig væk fra stien og længere ind mellem træerne, der blev tættere jo længere ind i den våde skovbund hun kom.
Da først lysningen nær den lille bæk var nået, havde den lette regn der var faldet, hvis man da overhovedet havde kunne betegne de få dråber for regnvejr, aftaget.

Med en solid fodstilling, der sikrede at tyngdepunktet forblev stabilt. Tog blodheksen sigte på det opsatte mål og med rolig finger trykkede aftrækkeren ind, efter sikringen var slået fra på pistolen. Lyden af skuddet og de efterfølgende blev båret endnu længere ind i skoven, end hun allerede befandt sig.
Ved det femte skud var det som om lyden flækkede himlen og skyerne over, der sammen med mørkets kommen kun var blevet mere intense i deres grå nuance. Alt det vand der havde ophobet sig, væltede pludseligt ned i et regnskyl, der ikke virkede til at have nogen ende. Det var ikke før end Cyrille forsøgte at finde tilbage til stien i tusmørke og silende regn, at det gik op for hende hvor meget lyset var svundet ind og hvert skridt syntes at fjerne endnu mere.
Med hovedet sænket for at skærme mod regnen og sikre hun ikke ville skvatte i den bløde skovbund, ænsede hun først for sent at hun var i færd med at lede sig selv længere ind blandt træerne. Ude af stand til at genkende nok til at finde tilbage til stien selv. Den ene hånd søgte til den lomme, hvor mobilen burde befandt sig, kun for at blive mødt af vådt inderfor, da vandet efterhånden var begyndt at trænge ind gennem de mange stof lag. Irritationen over sin egen tankeløshed, affødte et tungt suk hvor et vrissent "Idiot you're..." ment til hende selv, blev udstødt.

The air cracked sharply from a gunshot; a sound that instinctively had him alarmed. He slowed his pace from his jog through the forest, trying to determine where it came from, and as the second gunshot sounded, he looked in its direction, trying to decipher what or who had caused it. As a werewolf, he’d always been very vigilant of the possibility of hunters, but as the third, fourth, and fifth gunshot sounded without screams or the scent of blood appearing, he figured it was someone target-practicing. It was something he often did himself, having taken a great affinity in shooting ever since he’d discovered his ability of enhanced accuracy. However, it wasn’t so often he heard others do it, not in these parts, anyway. Other shapeshifters or werewolves preferred more up-close fighting, and the fairies usually refrained from violence altogether. Or they simply had their magic, rendering a gun unnecessary in most cases. No. More often than not, when he heard a gunshot, it usually meant trouble. So, he was only happy to discover that it wasn't this time around.

The light drizzle suddenly burst into heavy rain, making him run faster as he turned off the path to go through the forest towards his house, seeking to escape the rain quicker. The leaves rustled underneath his sneakers, and his grey sweatshirt was slowly getting drenched, but it wouldn’t be but a few minutes before he would return to the warmth of his home.
However, he never got so far as he was stopped by the sound of a female voice which made him halt and look through the pouring rain and darkness for the source of it. He squinted his eyes as he saw the side profile of a brunette.  “Hey,” he called out with a raised voice as to overpower the rain, then taking a few steps closer to her while he caught more of his breath from the running. “What are you doing out here?” he asked as he stopped within a few meters from her. It was freezing cold, and although she might have the ability to keep warm, or even use a spell to diminish this, it wasn’t often people just willingly caught themselves in the middle of a rainstorm.

Dråberne af regn slog hårdt mod det nedfaldene løv i skovbunden. Men ville næsten kunne have taget bladenes raslen som lyden af løbene fødder. Indtil man lukkede øjne for en stund og lyttede ordentligt efter, så ville man have kunnet høre hvordan skoven blev et instrument og sang med regnen. Cyrille havde bare ikke hverken tiden eller lysten til at stoppe op og tage lydene ind, selvom det havde været det mest fornuftige valg fremfor at lede sig selv dybere ind i mørket.

Tungespidsen løb over læberne, som var de ikke allerede fugtige, da hun løftede blikket i et forsøg på at orientere sig. Det virkede som om skoven lukkede sig sammen bag hende, gjorde det umuligt at pege ud hvor hun var kommet fra. Skoven var levende, men var den magisk levende? tanken slog sig ned i hende, som havde det svært et lyn fra en klar himmel.
Ikke klogere på, hvilken retning var ud, lagde hoved sig tilbage og med missende øjne for regnen, bad hun til et hul i skydækket, som ville give hende gik til den spæde nattehimmel – lige så ineffektivt som at håbe på træerne ville skille sig og bane vejen for hende. Kulden begyndte at bide i særligt kinder og næsetip, men det var kun et spørgsmål om tid før det våde tøj ville trække den helt ind til benet. Hun var allerede begyndt at spænde op i kæben, for at hindre tænderne i at klapre.

Bevægelsen var hurtig, glidende og mere en refleks end egentligt gennemtænkt handling, i det den mandsstemme brød gennem regnen, da den skjulte pistol blev trukket og rettet imod stemmens ejermand. Hjertet føltes som om det sprang et slag over, under chokbølgen af ikke at være alene. Hun havde ikke hørt ham…
Vagtsom i sit blik, bevægede øjnene sig ned over hans skikkelse mens han nærmede sig hende til spørgsmålet om, hvad hun lavede her? “I would ask you the same thing? Running in the forest at this time in the day, and in this forest?” selvom han ikke fik svar, var der ingen fjendtlighed at spore i den lyse stemme. En stor kontrast til det endnu hævede våben, hvis løb pegede direkte mod ham. “Who are you?” spurgte hun så mere indgående og lod pistolen skænkes, men ikke sættes tilbage i sit hylster.

Rafael lowered his gaze to the pistol that was aimed at him, making him stop in his tracks, not wanting her to feel like he posed as a threat. All he really wanted was to know why she was out here. So far from the main path and so close to his house. “I hadn’t checked the forecast before I started running and I live close by, which is more than I can say for you. I’ve never caught your scent before.” he said, not exactly knowing why she thought it was strange seeing him here, not unless she hadn't any idea of the pack's territories in the forest. “You do realize that you’re trespassing on werewolf territory, right?” he asked as he arched a brow, just to confirm this. In fact, he had every right to be in his own territory whereas she didn’t. He usually didn’t take kindly to trespassers, but something also told him that she was lost. At least he hoped this was the case. He’d already had enough trouble as of late with another pack marching into his territory and attempting to take over what was his. He didn’t need a witch to be lurking around or any other suspicious person for that matter. He squinted his eyes slightly as he thought about this, wondering why she hadn’t answered him on what she was doing here. Instead, she'd avoided the question altogether by shooting it back at him. “Please, point the gun away.” He raised his hand to gesture towards it, thinking it was highly uncalled for when she was the one trespassing. Besides, had he any intention of fighting her, he wouldn’t have bothered to ask any questions first. But he couldn’t quite blame her for taking the precaution either. The forest was a dangerous place, after all.

He waited until she'd lowered her gun before answering the question. “I’m Rafael Silvera,” he introduced himself, his Spanish accent becoming especially prevalent at the pronunciation of his name. He tilted his head to the side as he looked at her. “Who are you?” he asked, already thinking it was odd that a witch strayed so far away from the territory of the forest surrounding Moonlight Falls. And then at this time, in the middle of a rainstorm.

Cyrille have kunnet slå en hånd mod panden over sin egen idioti. Naturligvis var hun i sin hast vandret direkte ind i den del af skoven som hun oftest havde gjort sit for at undvige; Crimson flokkens territorie. En enkelt varulv var som sådan ikke et større problem at håndtere, lidt af en mundfuld ja, men intet i forhold til en flok, selv der kom blodheksen til kort - meget til kort.
“And how do you know I don't have the ability to hide my scent? For all you know I could be your neighbor without your knowledge?” teoretisere hun, men valgte hurtigt at følge op med en affejende hånd frem for sig, som tegn til at han skulle lade spørgsmålet ligge “Normally I stay out of your or any other werewolf territory, - I know better than hunt where the pack lives, but the rain caught me of guard.” indrømmede hun endeligt, men lod det stå ganske uklart med hvad hun præcist havde ment med jagt. Ikke at det ville kræve alverdens for ham at regne ud, at hun næppe mente fasanjagt ud fra det ikke ligefrem var en jagtriffel der pegede mod måneulven. “- and I don't cut into living trees just to get out of a forest.” fulgte hun roligt op med, forud for eventuelle spørgsmål om hvorfor hun ikke bare brugte sin magi til at vise vejen ud. I teorien var det en mulighed, men selv en heks der flirtede med mørk magi måtte have grænser.
Med pistolen peget ned mod skovbunden, blev den sikret og ført tilbage i hylsteret i en så indøvet bevægelse at den kunne have været gjort i søvne. Alt mens hun ikke flyttede blikket fra hans skikkelse, heller ikke da hun sank på hug for at samle patronen, der havde siddet i løbet, op fra den våde bund.

Hans accent var i ørefaldene, særligt i det han præstenterede sig selv “Mmh, spanish or portuguese?” spurgte hun oprigtigt interesseret i svaret og ikke så meget for at trække ud at svare på hvem hun selv var. Svaret faldt derfor også kort efter spørgsmålet. “Cyrille Black.” præsenterede hun sig selv, velvidende at navnet oftest ikke var helt ukendt. Ikke alene var hun ud af en æld gammel ren blodet hekseslægt notorisk kendt for at dyrke mørk magi, men hun havde også børn med en af Gaias prinser. “You're the alpha of the Crimson Lycans, right?” gættede hun og lod armene krydse foran sig, ikke for at fremstå hverken afvisende eller beskyttende overfor ham, da vægten skiftede fra begge ben over til at ligge overvejende på det ene.

He raised his brows at her initial response, knowing that perhaps she’d been able to slip through by hiding her scent, but it was highly unlikely that she’d gone this unnoticed if she was his neighbor. But as she dismissed him from answering, he just lowered his head and listened to her next sentence. She was smart for avoiding werewolf territory altogether, but hunt? He couldn’t help but wonder what she meant by that. “What do you hunt for?” He took a step closer to her, hoping that she wouldn’t admit to hunting werewolves, but the mere possibility of her doing exactly that had him on edge. The anger lurked underneath the surface from her either admitting to it or giving him a lie.

His expression softened slightly as she put the gun away before he lowered his eyes to her crouching and picking up the empty shells. At least appreciating that she respected the forest. And these acts made the werewolf-hunting suspicion dimmer. Because if she indeed was out here for that, she'd probably shot him already and not decided to clean up from her shooting practice.
“I’m Spanish, I grew up in a town just outside of Madrid,” he replied to her curiosity regarding his origin. Her introduction had him look at her for a few seconds, having heard that name before, now knowing that she was from an ancient bloodline of witches. And it intrigued him. Most of all because he'd never had a real conversation with anyone who could perform magic and since he had quite a few magical objects in his house that he knew little of the properties of. “I am,” he confirmed to her question, his eye color changed to a glowing red for a few seconds before they turned back to his natural brown. “I'll be able to tell you how to get back to the main road or wherever you came from. Or you could shelter from the rain at my place.” Thunder rumbled in the skies as he turned his gaze in the direction of his home. “My house is a few hundred meters from here,” he added as he returned his eyes to her, anticipating her answer. She wasn't the first or last person to get lost in his territory and since she hadn't any intention to harm him or his pack, he didn't see any reason for not helping her out.

Det isblå blik bevægede sig ned over hans fulde skikkelse uden at lægge skjul på at hun så ham mere analyserende an. Vurderede om han gjorde en reel trussel i det han trådte skridtet nærmere, mens hun selv ikke rykkede sig så meget som en millimeter. “Whatever I get paid to hunt or track down,” svarede hun ærligt med hovedet let skrånet afventende for hans reaktion, inden hun tilføjede “But don't worry no one want your head on a silver-plate, that I know of.” det var naturligvis ikke til at sige, hvilket stridigheder han måske var i, som gjorde at nogen så ham mere værd død end levende, men en ting var sikkert var det en bekymring af hans, så var det ikke en Cyrille havde en part i.

Armene gjorde sig fri af hinanden igen og patronen fra skovbunden stukket i en af de gennemblødte lommer. Først her slap hun ham af syne, mens hun så sig omkring den våde skov scene der ikke kunne være meget længere fra hans hjemlands, med et enkelt tilrette lagt nik som indikation på at hun stadig lyttede efter, hvad han fortalte. Blikket vendte tilbage til sit udgangspunkt; ham, tids nok til at blive mødt af glødende rødt blik, der med den mørke skov som baggrund blev mere fremtræden. Trods for hun havde mødt en god håndfuld af varulve, måtte hun alligevel imponeret se til, da brunt overtog rødt “I've seen many different werewolf eyes, but never in the color red.” indrømmede hun i en tone der grænsede til en mumle, inden stemmen fik den samme kraft tilbage som den hele tiden havde haft “A few hundred meters sound a lot better than a few kilometer back to my car.” det ville være idioti for hende ikke at tage imod tilbuddet om ly hos ham til regnen om ikke andet havde stilnet af. Selvom udsigterne til det skete snarest muligt, virkede til at snævre betydeligt ind da det første torden skald kunne høres over trætoppende. Med en gestikulerende bevægelse bød hun ham at vise vejen til hytten. Hun forventede i hvert fald ikke andet end det ville være synet af en typisk skovmandshytte, som ville møde dem.
“If you don't mind me asking, shouldn't you have a pack in Spain as an Alpha?” spurgte hun undervejs, som hun fulgte med ham.

He didn’t give her much of a reaction as she revealed her profession. However, it certainly didn’t settle his skepticism towards her. He still believed she might be here to hurt someone, even if it wasn't a werewolf. “Comforting,” he murmured. In truth, it was only a matter of time before someone would attempt to kill him. And if she was here for that reason, she wouldn’t be the first. But it was all he needed to hear - that she wasn’t here for him or anyone in his pack.

His lips curled slightly by her comment of never having seen an alpha’s eye color. It wasn’t so odd, of course. There weren’t many of them, which partly stemmed from the fact that they got in a lot of fights with each other. He nodded as she agreed to seek shelter in his cabin, not thinking she would have declined. Not when her car was that far away. “Follow me.” He started walking in the direction of the cabin, briefly looking up at the tree crowns as electric-blue lightning lit up the forest. He glanced at her as she asked him a question, inhaling sharply. “Yes.” It wasn’t a topic he liked to talk about, yet he couldn’t blame people for wondering why he'd moved to Gaia. “I had a pack in Spain that I was supposed to take leadership over once my father passed, but it was destroyed when I was a kid.” He turned his gaze from her to look ahead of them, letting out a slow exhale. “A clan of vampires came one night and burned my village to the ground, killing everyone in my family,” he explained as he looked at her again.  “That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to find the clan that slaughtered them,” he revealed. It wasn’t something he usually told people. But it wasn’t like he thought she’d do anything with the information, and with her kind of profession, he figured she wouldn’t judge him for it.

He averted his gaze once the eight-bedroom mansion started appearing behind the trees. “What about you? Where did you live before coming to Gaia?” he asked as they walked into the open clearing in front of the house. He found his keys in his pocket and stepped up on the porch to stand under the half-roof, sheltering them from the rain. He unlocked the door and entered the entrance hall where the staircase was located. He kicked off his shoes by the wall and placed the keys in a small drawer before he turned to look at her. “Do you want to take a shower or a change of clothes? I'm sure one of my pack members won't mind if you borrow some while we dry your current attire.”

Cyrille tucked her shoulders a little, not really that bothered by how comforting her answer might have been. She could've lied or even sugarcoated the truth just a little, but for what reason? Even though they didn't know each other that well or even at all, it had already been quite clear that the wolf was by no means stupid. He would have seen right through any attempts, whatever it would be due to her own body chemical reactions to sell her out or that he was really good at judging people. It would most likely be a combination of both.

Quietly listened when he began telling about his pack, former pack, and the reason why he had traveled from Spain to Gaia. She was walking a little bit further back behind him, so she could step in his footprints when the vegetation thickened and to make sure she wouldn't steep in a trap set by one of his pack members or himself, as soon as they entered their territory.
“Wait,” She murmured, lifting her eyes from the ground she had looked at to make sure not to trip when they walked over some lifted roots “The vampire clan are located here? Why would they eliminate a werewolf pack in another country?” She asked, with a surprised expression both visible in the tone of her voice and face. She knew it wasn't in her place to ask why, but the question clearly laid unsaid on the tip of her tongue.
Most importantly, there wasn't a single sign of her judging him for his agenda, in some sort of way she understood his motivation. She herself would hunt down anyone who dared to hurt someone she loved and cared for.

She had excepted a small wood cabin. Wiedeyed she looked past Rafael towards the house, lifting a brow impressed. She had always stayed clear from this area of the forest, knowing it belonged to the Crimsons, but never would she had guessed the forest was hiding a mansion. She turned her gaze at him “I actually grew up here,” She begun to answer, whipping away a big raindrop hitting her right between the eyes. Not that it mattered anyway, it didn't exactly make her any bit dryer “but I left to live abroad before returning home.”.
Stepping inside after him, she bowed down to take off the shoes. Thankfully they had stood put against the weather, as the only thing, but the rest was still soaking wet. Moving the shoes out of the way, near the wall she wasn't too slow to take the offer to loan some dry clothing.
“Some clothes would be nice and just fine. Maybe a cup of tea if it isn't too much to ask for?”.

// Lukkes grundet slettet karakter