The feelings hit Shiori like the force of a bullet.

Within his emerald eyes, she sees a future without images, but strictly of emotions.

Obsession. Desire. Protectiveness. The knowledge that one day he will die and the sensation of loss that will occur in her soul if he goes before she does.

It washes over her like a tidal wave, and when the stake is shot, her instincts kick in and she pulls the trigger. It’s only after the gun goes off she is capable of putting a label to the phenomenon.

Linking.

I Linked.

It’s real.

Shiori tries to stop the bleeding, but it’s no use. She knows she has a few options, but in her mind, in her heart, there is no decision to make. It’s already done.

She kisses him, and chomps down onto the same spot.

Shiori must admit, being born with lycanthropy has its benefits. One of these is her inhuman strength. She carries him with ease, so her legs shake not from the weight, but of the fear. Hot, bitter fear curls up in her chest, her mouth dry and her eyes wet.

“Why did you bite him? You’re gonna be in big trouble,” says Hattie.

“Don’t care.”

“Are we headed back?”

“Yes,” she snaps. “Stay several feet behind me.”

“Do you not trust me?”

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Shiori’s silent, unwilling to give the question any attention, let alone thought.

When they arrive about an hour later at the tree, Shiori holds her enchanted rock up to the crack in the wood. It glows purple, then the earth by the roots pulls itself open, revealing a metal trap door. She places him down, and looks behind her. Hattie’s far away; keeping her distance, but there all the same.

Shiori opens the door and enters the stairway with its dirt walls. When she reaches the bottom, she drops the rock so that Hattie can close the door on her way in. Elijah and Boon were sitting at the round table with a deck of cards. They’re standing now, though, once they noticed a stranger present.

“Who the fuck is that?” Boon asks at the same time Elijah demands, “Shiori, what have you done?”

Shiori knocks the cup of tea off the table with one hand, then uses both hands to lift up the new werewolf and slam him down on the table.

“Get me restweed,” she says, sliding one of his blades out of its sheath. She pulls up his shirt to reveal a mostly-healed gunshot wound. “He’ll be up soon and I need to cut his stomach open.”

“Why??? Is this the sergeant?” asks Boon.

They had agreed to capture the sergeant of the Woodsmen alive and use him in negotiations. It was an unlikely dream of peace, a fantastical idea.

Shiori doesn’t say anything, but gets to work instead. Boon brings her the herb, which she breaks up in a pestle and mortar. She gets him to sit up, mentally praying to a god she didn’t believe in that he would swallow the crushed restweed so he can stay asleep.

Elijah takes Hattie by the arm, leading her deeper into their head quarters.

His mouth begins to move, and his eyes open. He spits in her face, to which she pries open his teeth. Luckily he’s still groggy, as she manages to quickly use her fingers to widen his mouth, stuff the rest of the herb in him and yank him back by the hair so that his face is leaned back. He gags.

“Swallow or I’ll kill you,” she says, struggling to keep her voice monotone. ‘

He does, and his body stops twitching. As Shiori slices his skin open and digs deep into him, she pushes her worries from her mind to focus.

Questions like, “Will he hate me?”

“What do I do about Elijah?”

“Why the hell could this happen to me?”

She keeps the bullet in an unusual burst of sentimentality, stuffing the red smeared little object in her pocket.

Elijah clears his throat, and Shiori finally notices he’s standing in the doorway.

“We need to talk,” he says.