The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 21: Cottage at Midnight

"Please turn the boat around! Arlan is ill, we have to go back."

The boatman only squared his shoulders.

"My orders are to get you to the South, come what may."

Claire ran a hand through her hair.

"Zach would understand... I know he would. Please take us back."

The man just continued steering the oars in the only water as if she had not uttered a word.

She glanced around. There was no shore in sight. And she couldn’t swim.

Her eyes dropped to the boy in her arms. He was so pale, his skin icy.

His breath fogged in her face, thin but not nonexistent.

"It’s not about money, lass. I have honour, and honour demands that I get you to the South even if it costs me my life."

She blinked. Did his honour impale his conscience?

"What about the boy?"

He flicked a brief glance over his shoulder and continued sweeping the oars through the inky waters. She followed the movements of his arms, watching as they contracted powerfully.

Her vision slowly blurred.

If Arlan died...

She’d blame herself for the rest of her life. Even Aurora would hate her. And, she had taken him as a bargaining tool to get her sister back.

How would she ever get her sister back now?

A tear dropped on her lap. She watched as it spread over the fabric.

"I’ll give you money." She lied.

The man scoffed.

"I may not know who you are, but I know that when pretty girls flee in such circumstances, they aren’t worth a penny."

Something in her snapped.

She was Lord Stenly’s daughter, a descendant of the Great Black Wolf whether she had a wolf or not.

"I’m worth more than you!"

The man chuckled, a snide sound that turned her stomach inwards.

She had already been feeling nauseous because of the salty smell of the sea.

"I’d pick saving a little boy over honour any day." She muttered.

The man’s grip on the oars tightened.

Then, he turned around.

She grabbed one of the oars and just as he released it and held it firmly.

He looked down at the object in her hands, raising a mocking brow at her.

"What are you going to do with that? Spank me?"

Her thoughts blurred.

When she looked down at Arlan, her eyes hardened.

With one sweeping movement, she swung the oar with all the little strength she had. She had barely even eaten that day - which made her surprised at the amount of energy she devoted to the task.

The oar connected with the side of his head and sent him falling towards the side.

The boat tilted precariously as he landed at the side. His body was slightly dangling overboard.

The urge to toss him over occurred to her, but she decided to have some ’honour’.

Setting Arlan aside gently, she moved to where the man laid.

Claire hesitated before touching him. His coat was dirty - almost as dirty as her mud-coated dress.

She held his collar and tried pulling him up. Instead of lifting him, the collar tore and the boat rocked dangerously.

"What do I do, father?"

Claire knew she could not steer a tilting boat. All of them would sink.

A croaking sound startled her. She glanced at Arlan.

He was pointing at something with his frail and pale finger.

She followed the direction of his finger.

Rope.

Her brows drew together.

What was she to do with rope?

"Forget it. Just stay with me, you hear me? I’ll get you home safe... and well." Her voice broke as she said the last parts.

Claire stared up at the sky.

"Moon Goddess, give me the strength of the Great Black Wolf."

Then, she bent forward and pulled him by his hands.

His body barely budged at first, but wind rocked the boat, making his body slide inside with little effort on her side.

Claire wiped sweat off her forehead.

She could barely see the way back.

"Let’s go home."

She inserted the oars and started paddling.

If she gave Arlan back... dead, there was no guarantee she would ever see her sister again. And if she gave him back alive, there was still no guarantee she would see her sister.

Her freedom might even be taken from her.

The back of her filthy dress soaked with sweat as she struggled to paddle the boat back to the shore.

The man’s added weight made it difficult to achieve the feat.

The moonlight made it possible for her to see where she was going.

She nearly screamed when the boat collided with something solid.

She had reached the shore.

When she looked around, there was no one to share her joy with her.

Her arms were sore, her throat parched.

After taking a few seconds to compose herself, she picked Arlan up in her arms and took him out of the boat.

He was lighter than she expected, though she wasn’t sure her strength would take them all the way to Penbrook.

She wanted to cry.

What then?

Where did she go from there?

Penbrook was a day’s journey from where she was.

The man in the boat stirred.

She heard him spit out something which clattered at the bottom of the boat.

"She took out my damn teeth!" He murmured.

Whispering under her breath, she rushed into the dark woods with the pale boy in her arms.

The moonlight barely penetrated the thick trees. The woods smelled damp, like wet soil and wood.

When she paused to catch her breath, she’d see green eyes staring back at her.

They were so familiar.

Exactly like the ones she always saw in her dreams.

And somehow, seeing those eyes looking at her gave her strength to keep going no matter how much her back and shoulders hurt.

An owl hooted somewhere in the distance - it was getting closer to midnight, the hour of wolves.

She couldn’t be out in the open much longer, she realized.

Claire slumped against a tree, cradling Arlan’s head. There was no cave in sight, no Zach to guide her.

Just as her eyes were beginning to drift closed, light from a lantern flashed before them.

"Are you lost, dear?"

She looked up.

Her father stood before her. He was smiling.

"Father?"

His smile only widened.

"Walk with me." He said.

She clambered to her feet immediately and followed him.

He seemed to be floating among the trees, unbothered by the damp soil that clung beneath her feet.

They walked a fair distance before he stopped and stepped out of the path.

Before her stood a cottage with light shining through the windows.

Who owned it? 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Someone had to be living in it.

When she turned to thank him, there was no one there.

"Thank you." She whispered and inched up the steps towards the door.

She set Arlan on the floor beside the door and knocked.

There was no response the first three times she knocked.

On the fourth attempt, the door opened just a crack to reveal the face of a thin old woman.

"I have no food! I don’t take in strangers."

The woman was about to close the door but Claire stuck her feet inside.

"Please, he’s dying." She pointed at the boy on the ground.

Something in the woman’s gaze softened.

"Come in." She said softly this time.

Claire almost sighed aloud.

She took Arlan inside and laid him where the woman directed.

There was a fire burning in the hearth. Herbs were scattered all over the room, giving the room a nice aroma. A half-knitted quilt sat on a threadbare cushioned chair. There were two doors on one side of the wall, which she assumed led to the room and kitchen.

Most of the room was dark, save the part lighted by the hearth’s light and the windows were locked tight.

"Let me have a look at him." Came the old woman’s shrill voice, startling her out of her survey.

Just then, wolves howled loudly outside.

"They’re here. Hide!"