All of it feelswrong.
My skin prickles, as if my body is trying to warn me.
A sound cracks in the distance and my head jerks toward it.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps, crunching over the broken terrain. They aren’t trying to be quiet or conceal their presence, as if they have nothingto fear.
As iftheyare what we should all be afraid of. A tingle runs down my spine as a chill seeps through my bones.
Their voices float toward me but I know it’s too late to run and hide, with the surrounding landscape withered down to nothing. My instincts scream at me to remain as small and unthreatening as possible.
“You think she could be one of us?”
A gruff voice answers. “My second was scouting the skies and reported that he watched her body be pushed up through the ground, like the earth was spitting her out.”
My brow pinches.Are they talking about me?
“She can’t be human. I’d be able to scent her blood by now.”
My breath stutters at that and I second-guess not attempting to flee.
I don’t understand their words entirely, but it’s clear they’re discussing me.
“She can’t be a big enough threat to require all four of us to investigate,” a fourth voice says, softer than the rest.
A threat? They seem to know more about me than I do, so I’d say I agree with him.
The footsteps and voices draw closer and I steel myself for them to come into view through the haze of smoke and ash.
They step through it one by one.
Four figures emerge–scarred, radiant, and terrifying. Yet…I don’t flinch. I merely observe each of the large men as they grow closer.
The first is a mountain built of pure muscle, his chest bare and streaked with soot. Scars cross his nose, his cheekbone, and the corner of his mouth like brutal punctuation. His eyes are molten gold and sharp as they bore into me. There’s a steadiness in him that radiates quiet strength.
The second is the opposite. He’s all lean elegance with winter-white hair, his bright blue eyes cutting through the haze like knives that somehow manage to gleam with mirth and intrigue. His mouth curves in a way that makes me feel like a puzzle he's already halfway solved. Even from here, I feel theshiftin the world around him as his attention is piqued.
A third form drifts from the smoke, shadow clinging to his shoulders. His steps are soft, and I’d likely miss them entirely if I didn’t feel the low vibrations of the ground through my body. His hair is as dark as his shadows and contrast against his silver eyes. My skin prickles where his gaze passes over me, swift, precise, unfeeling. It doesn’t linger, as if he took one look and catalogued me away.
And the last...
There’s something ethereal about him, with a commanding presence like he was born to be obeyed. Crimson eyes flick over me with a predatoryglint, and by the end of his inspection, I know without a doubt that he’s the one who can scent human blood. I may not be a human to hunt, but I feel like his prey nonetheless.
None of them speak as they draw to a stop ten feet away. They simply watch me.
I can feel the power that rolls from each of them in waves, and despite that, the dread that coiled within me a breath ago begins to loosen.
The broad one–the mountain–steps forward.
His movement is slow and measured, like he’s approaching something wild. He crouches down several feet away and cocks his head to the side, strands of his dark brown hair falling into his eyes with the move.
His voice is low and rough as he asks, “Do you remember how you got here?”
The question hits harder than I expect. It’s simple and direct, yet it exposes how lost I am. How alone.
I blink, unsure how to answer. My lips part, but no sound comes as I struggle to figure out how much to tell them. While I may not have an instinctual fear of them the way the rest of the humans made me feel like I should, I’m still uncertain whether I should make my vulnerabilities apparent.
He doesn’t rush me and he doesn’t move closer. He simply waits patiently, eyes glued to my face.
