“They are all retreating.”
“Thank the gods for that,” Jarek whines. He sits down heavily, leaning against the wall.
Mordecai and Cadel are both as tired; they have lines around their mouths and eyes and are pale. I look up at the night sky, seeing just the thick, black clouds. It feels like rain is coming, and a lot of it.
I have not been able to turn into a wolf again, though I have tried over and over, but whatever trick caused the transformation is not repeatable, or I just haven’t found it yet. Even when we were nearly caught and had to fight our way out. The wolf has not come. I have not felt it at all.
It’s almost as if I dreamed it happening, but I asked the others, and Cadel had merely shrugged and said the change happens when it happens.
“Do you know what I miss?” Mordecai says into the silence. “I miss the forests of my home. They were these massive giants that stretched straight up into the air. You could look up and up and not fathom how tall they were. I liked walking in them.”
Jarek stares at him. “That is so random.”
Mordecai punches his thigh, but it’s playful. “It’s just not the same here. I haven’t seen them since the night we left, when my parents died.”
“Oh,” Jarek whispers, and I see him reach out and take Mordecai’s hand.
Since the day Jarek woke up weird and ran away from us, he’s been different. Softer, sadder. He’s also embarked on a physical relationship with the other alphas, not holding back his affections. I think they were both surprised, but neither has rebuffed him, and I certainly am not going to be the one to say that loving people is wrong.
They banned us from associating, banned us from living. Alphas can’t be with omegas, near omegas, mate with omegas. Alphas can’t love alphas. Omegas can’t love anyone.
We’re breaking all the rules anyway, so what’s a few more?
“I miss hearing them worry about ordinary things. People would walk past where I was chained up and whisper prayers for money, for love, for food, for mercy. I used to think them so tedious, so trivial, but we’re all just one bad fortune away from drowning down here,” Cadel murmurs.
“Do you remember your time as a god yet?” Jarek asks cautiously. His eyes snap to me and slide away.
“Not all of it. Some, though. I remember massive forests, a frozen world. Everything is white, and the trees tinkle delicately when the wind brushes against them. The snow is blinding and so crisp, but snowflakes float down in swirls that look like dancing horses.”
I bite my tongue, wanting to ask, to know more but scared to stop their conversation.
“I miss the thrill of stealing.”
I choke on a mouthful of water I’m drinking.
“What?” I splutter, looking at Jarek.
“I miss stealing. Pick pocketing, breaking and entering, the thrill of outsmarting someone who thought they deserved better. I like to punish them. It felt like I was doing something, and it felt good.”
He leans back and sighs with a wistful little smile.
Cadel and Mordecai are still staring at him. I’m not sure they know what to even say about that.
“Are you serious?” Cadel asks at last.
“Yes, I was so damn good,” Jarek sighs. “All these dramatic, hard-earned skills, and it hasn’t helped me at all here.”
I wipe my hand over my lips to hide my smile.
“I miss,” I pause when they all look at me and flush when I remember I wasn’t going to join this conversation.
“What do you miss?” Jarek asks with a smile that gives me hope.
“I miss the smell of baking cookies and bread. The meals you can only make when you have a home and you aren’t living on the run. I miss hearing laughter and the cries of babies.”
“Kaida, you will hear those things again,” Mordecai says with absolute conviction.
“Maybe, maybe not. Even if I did, I wonder how I would go on living in this world anymore. At what point do you see too much? How scarred do you have to be before you can’t appreciate the things you loved so much about the world?”
