Snippet #2294876

{I'm so sorry, Angel! For some reason it didn't show me that you had posted, so I was here waiting for your response for like a week haha}

"Do not be wary of him, woman," came the soothing voice of a particular apparition, whom had suddenly appeared beside Katherine, still tarrying over her niece whom was nursing Julian back to health. "The boy is a kind soul."

His translucent form materialized against the accumulating mist as if the fog is what he was composed of. He had the youthful and handsome features of a man in his early twenties, though he was dressed as though he were living during the era of Queen Victoria's reign. He watched the young couple indifferently, then shifted his gaze to the woman, who emanated a slight jealous rage over the girl.

Julian rested soundlessly inside the tent, bundled up in Lyra's sleeping bag beside a bunch of chocolate and sugary water drinks. His lashes twitched and weakly he stirred, regaining consciousness gradually until his pupils finally were able to properly focus on his surroundings. His eyelids parted to reveal his silvery irises, which shifted around the little tent in slight confusion before falling upon Lyra. For a moment despite his agony and tired confusion, he watched her warmly, but then at realizing he was naked and inside her tent, his eyes widened and he jumped a little, though recoiled immediately.

"What...what's goin' on...?" he muttered, cradling his head, which had suffered a massive blow, and touching the bandages around his torn neck.

Welts and dark bruises began to form on his ribcage, which he was certain he had cracked a few, and then he opened the sleeping bag just enough to where he could see the deep bite marks on his calf. He winced in pain, falling back against the ground and groaning softly before he closed his eyes.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked. "What did you see, Lyra?"

He avoided her light eyed gaze, unsure of how to explain what she had just witnessed, and also uncertain of how he felt about it. Here he was, naked inside her tent, bound up and bandaged crudely while his packmates were off killing some rogue wolves that had appeared out of nowhere. Were they the ones that his grandfather had mentioned before he passed? The ones that were responsible for claming numerous lives and leaving chaos and destruction in their wake, risking the exposure of his family in consequence to their recklessness?

The world was spinning crazily, too quickly for wounded Julian to comprehend. He was of no use in the state that he was in; he could hardly even stand. How was he going to explain this to little human Lyra, who probably viewed him as nothing more than a wild beastly monster now. What would she think of him, having seen the extent of the curse that plagued his family?