The Last Spirit Wolf (Elena Norwood)

-Vera-

"Hmm..." I grunt, waking up unexpectedly.

I rub my eyes and turn to the clock on my nightstand. It's two A.M.

Once again, I missed dinner.

Putting a pillow over my head, I try to fall back to sleep, but after a couple minutes, it's clear I won't be able to.

Stepping out of my room, I tiptoe down the stairs. The pack house is entirely deserted at this hour since everybody is asleep; I'm careful not to make any noise.

Without turning any lights, I go down to the kitchen to grab a kettle to make myself some tea. I know this kitchen like the back of my hand, so in no time, I have the kettle on the flame, heating up the water. I turn around, going towards the cupboard to grab a mug. Without warning, however, I get a sudden vision.

It isn't clear, and I have to squint my eyes a little to adjust to the light of the vision.

Where am I?

I blink several times, the vision still foggy, until I suddenly see a shape moving about.

It's a woman, a very beautiful woman at that. She's carrying something in one hand as she makes her way up a set of stone stairs.

I take a look around me, I don't seem to be in lycan territory, nonetheless this place seems quite familiar.

I follow the woman up the winding stairs. Now being closer to her, even if I can only see her back, I can tell she's a very elegant woman, of high birth. Her long, thick brown hair sways as she moves like a gentle wave.

Soon, we reach the top of the stairs which has led us to some sort of run down rooftop. The brightness of the night sky illuminates the entire space and I notice that the entire stone wall has been taken up by wild vegetation; it makes it seems more like an open courtyard. From the plants alone, I know we're in wolf territory.

The woman moves to sit on a concrete bench in the middle of the courtyard, one that is barely noticeable since the vegetation has started taking over it as well. She proceeds to take something out of the leather pouch she was carrying; it's a wind flute. I haven't seen one in several years, not since we were taught music in school.

She closes her eyes, delicately putting the wind flute to her lips and blowing on it. After a few test blows, without opening her eyes, she takes a deep breath, and begins her song.

It's a haunting melody, full of sorrow and melancholy, but there's also a sweetness to the song that I can't understand.

The wind is blowing gently, causing her hair and all the vegetation to dance along with it; everything in perfect synchrony with her song.NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

The entire scene is quite wistful; quite beautiful. So much so that I find myself unable to take my eyes off of her, completely enthralled by the sight. After a few moments, her melody is done and she places her flute on her lap. With her eyes still closed, she turns her face up, reveling in the gentle caress of the wind. Without opening her eyes, she opens her mouth, and begins to sing.

I was raised with tales of sirens, far off in the sea, but I never thought I'd see one on land. Her voice is melodic but sorrowful, vivacious but serene. If I thought her melody on the flute was striking, her voice is simply put... magical.

I'm completely captivated by her performance and how everything around her seems to react to her, even me, so much so that I only heard the heavy steps coming from below us until they're almost at the foot of the stairs. "Ellie!" Someone yells.

I turn to the sound of the voice, vaguely noticing that the woman has stopped singing.

"Coming!" she yells back, rushing past towards the stairs.

She makes her way hurriedly down the stairs as I follow her.

When we reach the bottom, there's a large, dark figure waiting for her off to a side. "Where were you?"

"Oh, nowhere, I was jus - I was just getting some air"

"Air where? Off in the roof? I told you to stay away from that place!" The figure yells.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to go out of the pack house without you so I went there instead."

"You shouldn't be going *anywhere* without me, not even that fucking rooftop! What do you think, that you can escape me so easily?!" he screams at her.

Coming forward with large, heavy steps, he stands right in front of the woman, lifting her arm forcefully.

"And this? What's this?!"

He rips the little leather pouch from her hand and opens it, tossing it to the floor as he retrieves the flute.

"This shit again?! How many times do I have to tell you?!"

He grabs the woman by the hair with one hand, tossing the flute to the floor with the other, breaking it into pieces that scatter at the woman's feet.

"I'm going to teach you what that useless family of yours never could; respect!"

"No, please!" She pleads.

He drags the woman by her hair through several corridors. The man is so much taller than her that she has to run in her tip toes to keep up and make his grip on her hair less painful. "No, no no please. I promise, I'll be good! I promise!"

I can tell by the thickness of her voice that she's holding back tears.

I run after them, screaming at the man in my head. I have to remind myself that this is just a vision, something that has already passed, and there's nothing I can do to help her; but still, I have to at least try. Soon, we reach a door and he slams her against it, opening it by the sheer force with which he throws her at it.

She lands on the floor, chest down, as the man stomps inside, reaching for her hair again as she weakly tries to lift herself with her arms. He closes the door behind them.

I run closer to the door, desperately banging on it.

"Leave her alone!" I yell, my heart constricting at the entire scene.

"No, please!" I hear her yell inside once again.

"You piece of shit!" I bang on the door, desperate to get inside and help her.

Tears are starting to well up in my eyes, and even if it's just a vision, my fists hurt from banging on the door.

Then, I hear her muffled cries.

Goddess, no.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" I yell again, even if I know it's useless.

Before long, the door to the room is opening again, the half-naked man stomping out, leaving the door ajar.

Inside, I see the woman, hugging the sheets to her body and crying into a pillow.

She briefly opens her eyes, sadly looking at the door, making sure the man is truly gone, and that's when it hits me.

Sorrowful, hazel eyes stare at me, almost as if she could see me. Her sadness, however, can't hide those golden specs in her irises that I have come to know and love. Ellie, he had said.

Ellie Goldmoon.

I try to take a step towards her but a sudden, horrid sound causes me to drop to the floor, forcing me to close my eyes and cover my ears.

It's the tea kettle.

When I open my eyes again, I'm back at the pack house, on my knees and in the middle of the dark kitchen. The only light is the fire from the kitchen stove. Goddess, what was that?

My heart is still racing from the vision; my eyes sting from my crying and my throat feels hoarse from all the yelling; even my knuckles feel very painful.

This had never happened before. I had never had such a visceral reaction to a vision, much less be hurt in one.

I go to turn off the kitchen as soon as I manage to stand up; I really hope I didn't wake anybody up because the water in the kettle has nearly evaporated at this point.

I rub my temples with my fingers, a headache slowly settling in.

I take several deep breathes, trying to calm myself.

Clearly, I won't be getting any sleep tonight, specially not after that vision.

Feeling defeated, I step out of the kitchen, heading towards my room again. There, I will no doubt lie awake, waiting for the time we leave for the Goldmoon Pack. This is how I officially begin day three of our journey.