They’re devastated.
Even shoppers who hear us asking questions stop to talk to us, hoping for news. From what I’ve gathered, the Ever Fields are sacred to shifters. To them, this feels like losing parts of their families, which I guess is accurate.
Still, we aren’t any closer to figuring out what happened to the souls. Or, more accurately, what is still happening, seeing as there should be at least a few wisps since the attack on the collectors.
I mean, it’s not like no one has died since then, right?
The longer we walk, the slower my steps become. Without fail, Sin matches my pace, casting the occasional worried look my way.
The weariness is starting to grate on me. I mean, I know I didn’t move around much during my prisoner stint, but this seems like an unfairly large hit to my stamina.
The hollow pit in my chest pinches.
I steadfastly ignore it.
We’re just about to enter a clothing shop when an older woman grabs my arm. Bony, gnarled fingers curlaround my wrist, but her hold isn’t aggressive. Her hunched frame pitches forward slightly, and she uses my arm to stay upright.
“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to help steady her.
“No,” she answers with a wheeze.
Dark green eyes meet mine, surrounded by deep age lines. She searches my face, looking lost. She barely registers when Sin gently pries her hand from my arm and helps settle her onto a nearby bench.
“Do you want us to call for a medic?” He asks, concerned.
“Nooo.” The word drags, slightly pitching from alarm.
My eyes meet Sin’s, both of us unsure of how to proceed.
“You. Are you the ones asking about the souls?” The woman points a twisted finger in my direction. It sounds as though even speaking is taking a toll on her.
“We are. Uhm, I think maybe we should ask the shopkeeper if there’s someone who can come help,” I answer tentatively, since I’m not sure if this realm has 911.
The woman’s hand immediately darts out. She would have grabbed me again if not for Sin. He’s faster and pulls me back against him.
At this point, her behavior is unsurprising. After just a few hours in this realm, I’ve come to the realization that shifters are very… touchy. Many have tried to pat my shoulder or hug me at first sight.
If I were alone, I’d probably let them do it, even though it makes me wildly uncomfortable. Thankfully,Sin isn’t a people pleaser. He’s warned off more than a few people already.
Weirdly enough, they haven’t tried to be touchy with him. I’m not complaining, since the thought of someone touching him has something dark rippling inside of me. Still, it’s a bit odd. Maybe my body language screams ‘openly affectionate with strangers.’
I need to work on my resting bitch face – for safety.
“Please. I have information,” she rasps, even as she continues to grab at the open air, like she hasn’t registered that I’m not there anymore.
“We’re listening,” Sin says. He’s a little stiffer now – like he’s torn between wanting to help the woman and assessing if she’s a threat.
“My mate, he passed last month,” she starts, and Sin’s shoulders relax. “I was going to visit his spirit–” she coughs, and it causes her entire body to tremble. “That’s when I saw her. AHarvester.” Her watery eyes widen, and she says the word like it’s a curse.
“Harvesters aren’t supposed to be able to enter the Beast Realm,” Sin supplies at my confused expression.
“Despicable creatures,” the woman hisses in agreement.
“Where did you see her?” I ask, excited to finally have something to go off.
“In an alley, two streets down. She put something under a dumpster before sneaking away.” Her voice grows stronger, anger lacing it with steel. “I thought she was stashing contraband, but it was a soul crystal.”
My pulse picks up. “When did this happen?” I ask, hoping the crystal is still there.
