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Turns out, being shot is not that fun. If the bullet didn’t kill him, the pain from it would. He thought that with time it would get better, but the way he struggled to traverse even sparse wooding had definitely proved him wrong. It made him feel entirely too hot, and the dirt that clung to his sweating paws only made the situation even more uncomfortable than an infection needed to be.
He managed to find his way to a tree that he had a bad habit of sleeping against. The roots curled around in just the right way, feeling snug and sturdy against his body when he decided that he was too anxious to sleep out in the open. He knew that he shouldn’t be staying in one spot for too long, his scent was clinging to the roots like he was practically apart of the tree. If any other creature took the time to come there, they would very quickly find out that Wylan frequented the spot.
He pushed away the idea of ruining his own safety and laid down with a graceless thud. Without the small breeze he got while walking, he almost immediately started panting. He managed to nose around his back leg, very quickly finding where a bullet had pierced him. There was no exit, and Wylan very often worried himself with the idea of the metal being stuck under his skin, finding a permanent home inside his muscles.
The area around the wound was sticky, and quite frankly, disgusting. He nearly recoiled as the sharp tangy scent of infection had hit his nose, his body making it very clear that it was only getting worse. He forced the rolling in his stomach to stop, not wanting to spill the already little food he had in his stomach. The bullet had left a chunk of his skin awkwardly missing, indented and irritated. It was a wound that never seemed to dry, constantly filling with pus that lingered in his fur like burrs. But long ago, Wylan had realized that there was nothing he could do. Wylan had always lived a helpless life, his control of any situation limited. It seemed to carry on even in this state.
If he was able to, Wylan would cringe as he recalled the moment he had gotten shot. It was his own greed that had led to it, biting off more than he could chew and hoping to still swallow it.
It had been early in the morning, dew clinging to Wylan’s paw and making it hard to smell anything but that. A hunter that lived a little ways away had just come back from a trip, rabbits that had gotten fat off the plentiful food early spring had to offer slung over his shoulder, their bodies swinging limply as he walked. It was hard to track down the scent with the water clinging to the grass, but a careless hunter made the hard work manageable.
Wylan didn’t mean to stay for long, lingering around bushes near the wire fence that surrounded the property. But when the hunter had too much to drink in victory of his haul and promptly passed out on his porch, leaving those fat rabbits out, Wylan could hardly resist.
He managed to wriggle his way through the squares in the fence, his fur pressing against his sides from the wire. Turns out, this particular hunter’s partner didn’t fancy day drinking. He had just managed to get the tight rope off one of the rabbit’s long back feet, when he started to hear barking. He had tried to hurry up, worried that the barking might wake up the hunter. It was only when the door had opened, revealing a man with wide eyes and a growling dog at his heels that Wylan had realized he was worried about the wrong thing.
The shotgun in the man's arms was already pointed at him before he started running. A loud shot rung through the air at Wylan’s paws, and he snatched the rabbit and started bounding towards the fence. The machinal sound of the gun reloading could be heard from the house, with the barking following him along the flat expanse of yard. He quickly tried to stuff his way through the way he had come, but to his own dismay, the rabbit's body bent awkwardly and refused to bend through the narrow square. That’s when the second shot had wrung, hitting him. He had yelped in pain, forced to drop the rabbit. He didn’t have time to pick it back up and attempt to squeeze it through again, the sound of the dog getting too close for comfort. He was forced to leave his stolen kill, retreating to lick his wounds.
He had barely eaten since then, only finding the occasional mouse or dropped fruit. He wasn’t the most comfortable with it, but the ache of a starving stomach pushed him into doing things he had never done before. Unfortunately for Wylan, that ache was getting worse and worse the more he laid there, not comforted by the rough tree bark like he usually was when he wanted to wallow.
With pain stinging through his back leg and working its way to his hip, Wylan managed to get up. If he didn’t find something to eat soon, he wouldn’t have the energy to eat at all. Things weren’t served to him on a silver platter the way they used to be. He couldn’t afford to sit by and let the infection pass by naturally. Even thinking that was something he couldn’t afford, infections like this one could be fatal.
He had opted to awkwardly lift his injured hind leg when maneuvering flatter areas, his balance messed up and making him move much slower than Wylan would have liked. He wasn’t also a fan of trying to find something to eat during the day, but push came to shove.
Much later than he would have hoped, a house came into sight. It was different than the hunter's house. The house itself was bigger, with fields of crops behind it in a way that painted quite a nice picture. A sharp stench hit his nose as he got closer to the fence, and he looked around trying to identify it. It was some other animals, the wind blowing the stench towards him and giving him more information than he usually would have. Eventually, he managed to locate what he realized were barns. His vision had worsened in his current state, but he could make out the vague shape of stables. The large windows above closed swing doors offering shadowy silhouettes of what Wylan assumed were horses, and what Wylan could unfortunately hear very well, at least one donkey.
Wylan had nearly cut his losses and turned around when he heard a soft repetitive sound, almost like dull clicking. He padded around the fence some more, the sound slowly getting closer and closer. A pungent smell that the wind had pushed opposite of him hit his nose, and his recoil was very quickly snuffed out when he realized what he was smelling. Chickens.
Invigorated by the idea of sinking his teeth into feathers that covered a plump body, he pushed his way through the fence, his leg bumping painfully against rusted wire. He had to loop around the coop, not completely sure if the chickens were smart enough to run if they caught his scent.
When he caught the blurry sight of strutting white and brown shapes, Wylan swore his mouth started to water. Slowly, he began to creep up, his body and tail low to the ground. He managed to make it to the corner of the coop, peering around it and getting a better view of the chickens, oblivious to his presence. They seemed fat and happy, clucking and walking about without a care in the world, picking up grain that someone had scattered without worry. Wylan envied having that constant access to food.
He carefully stepped closer and closer, waiting until an unsuspecting hen had waddled her way closer to the edge of the coop, eating corn and oats that her sisters hadn’t gotten to yet. She didn’t even realize Wylan was waiting for her, but he was too hungry to feel guilty for sneaking up on the bird.
Just when she was about to see him, her far eyes being able to see more of her surroundings, Wylan pounced on her. Immediately, squawks and panic clucking filtered the air, feathers bursting out in a cacophony of avian chaos. It was sweet music to Wylan’s hungry stomach.
With a satisfying crunch around the hen's neck, she went limp. Red began to soak the pretty white feathers there, pouring out in a way that Wylan would have been repulsed by years ago. Now, all it did was increase his appetite.
Soon, yelling joined the panicked frenzy of the fowl. Wylan’s eyes darted up to see a large blond man standing in the doorway of the house, yelling and pointing at Wylan. He didn’t understand what he was saying at first, until a large white dog began bounding towards him. His mind reeled back years ago, and uneasiness began to course over him.
He remembered how cold it was, the entire place having a type of freezing that made his bones rattle and his fingers feel numb. He remembered a large hand on his shoulder, directing him through the expensive set up of the gathering. Everything had been so big to him, or maybe it was just the fact that he hadn’t stopped growing at the time of the visit, and Fjerdans tended to show off how powerful they were. He remembers meeting tall men, wolves sitting calmly at their sides. Druskelle commands, his brain had finally supplied him.
That only made the situation entirely more frightening, knowing that this dog, was in fact, not a dog. It was a wolf, one that had been specifically bred to kill. Sure, it was meant to kill people, but Wylan sure that they loyal beast wouldn’t argue the order and with its teeth into a coyote. He decided to pointedly ignore the lesson he had learned a couple days prior, grabbing the chicken by the neck and booking it.
This time, it wasn’t the sharp sting of metal entering his skin that made him drop his prey and recoil. Now, it was the forceful clamp of teeth sinking into his back. It ripped his paws off the ground, and Wylan was tossed further into the yard like he was light as a feather. He didn’t get the graceful landing of one, however. Soon, the white beast was hovering over him, strong paws pressing against his narrow chest and pinning him against the ground. Wylan tried to squirm away, his paws uselessly kicking in the air as the wolf refused to let him turn over.
“Trassel!” a deep voice yelled, but the wolf didn’t stop, those sharp teeth sinking around his neck. Wylan could feel the strong jaw begin to tighten, not giving him the mercy of a quick kill. Wylan briefly wondered if they had been taught to do that, too. “Sten!” The voice yelled again in Fjerdan, with what defiantly a poor attempt at a Fjerdan accent.
Despite the person telling the wolf to stop, it didn’t. Pain began to erupt from Wylan’s neck, and he could feel those sharp teeth begin to enter his skin. He stopped squirming, trying to delay the inevitable. He always knew his death was going to be pathetic, but he certainly didn’t expect it to be over a chicken. It was all rather anticlimactic, but Wylan supposed it was fitting for how his life had been ever since he had been forced out of his home years ago.
Soon another voice chimed in, a woman this time. “Djel commeden!” commanded the woman, her accent stronger than the person who had told the big beast above him to stop. In an instant, the jaw loosened. Wylan watched as the wolf tilted its head, its head dipping like it was in trouble. Wylan didn’t know what to do, the panic and adrenaline coursing through his body like fire and making him burn from the inside out. It was almost enough to ignore the pain in his neck and leg.
Soon, the wolf (which Wylan assumed was Trassel) backed off, head dipped low in shame. Wylan scrambled to his paws, his breathing heavy as he looked up at the wolf, who only was sparing glances in his direction. He didn’t move for a solid beat, until something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned his head, and saw a figure beginning to head towards him, long legs making the distance shorter than it needed to be.
Wylan scurried away, deciding to ignore the lesson he had learned twice over now and grab the bloody chicken by the neck, silently thanking that the fouls round body was still smaller than that rabbit he tried to snag from the hunter.
He could hear yelling behind him, but nothing signaled that there was anything heading in his direction. He couldn’t hear the stomping of feet or feel the vibrations through his paws. But Wylan couldn’t deny that there was a tug that he felt in his chest, this feeling that made him want to stop and turn around. He didn’t think it was guilt or shame for killing their poultry. It was this small feeling in his chest, like there were strings tied around his ribs and pulling gently in the direction of the house, towards the people.
Wylan couldn’t fathom why he would want to go back. He hated being around people, even before this, and the bite marks around his neck and the bullet hole in his leg proved that. Nobody wanted a coyote on their property. But there was this small itch under his skin that felt like it could only be scratched by going back.
The tree he had so often curled up near seemed so far away, the weight of the hen in his jaws feeling much heavier than it should have been. He felt so weak. His paws were practically dragging along the bottom of the forest floor, exhaustion not making him care about all the unnecessary noise he was making. Right now, it was too much effort to pick up his feet and make sure he didn’t crack twigs or disturb rather noisy shrubbery. He couldn’t even bother when he walked past a bush of particularly gnarly brambles, ignoring how they scratched and poked at the skin under his fur. Blood loss and fatigue did funny things to his head and body.
When he finally had found a spot that seemed far away enough from any suspicious smells or odd marks, his legs practically buckled with exhaustion. He managed to save just a little of his energy to nose around now red feathers, finding a point of access to start tearing into the chicken.
It was a slow process, and he only managed to finish half of it before his body begged him to stop and to give it some rest. Despite his muscles and bones aching, and the red-hot pain that shot through him every time he slightly moved one of his wounds, he forced himself to at least dig a shallow hole to bury the rest of the chicken. Honestly, he had done a pretty poor job. Any predator or scavenger worth his salt could probably smell it from its shallow burial. Realistically it was just putting Wylan in more danger, but that thought didn’t stop him from shutting his eyes only a couple feet away.
As he tried to lure himself to sleep, he thought about the house. The person trying to call the dog off of him without much success. Wylan had seen him briefly before he tucked tail and ran. Long legs striding in their approach towards Wylan. They might have been Zemeni, but the bright glare of the sun and the distance made it hard to discern it, but Wylan swore he caught the silhouette of dark coily hair. But even with the blurry shape and indiscernible silhouette, the figure still plagued Wylan’s mind. The itch under his skin came back, before his body succumbed to sleep and his eyes closed.
When his life had become like this, he hadn’t expected that he would be able to dream, let alone have nightmares. That idea was quickly proven wrong.
He could hear the gentle lapping of waves, but it was too dark to see anything. There was a light... somewhere, but he couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, and it certainly didn’t do a very good job of showing him his surroundings. Despite not being able to see anything, his subconscious knew where he was now. He knew how this went. It was hard to forget, no matter how much he pleaded his brain to forget the memory. That’s what this was, not a nightmare or dream, but a memory that had turned wobbly and distorted through his subconscious.
He had been anticipating the trip, the promise of new beginnings luring him in. He could get a fresh start in Belendt. Nobody would know who he was, and he had no obligation as a Van Eck there. His family name wouldn’t follow him around like a heavy plague, sitting on his shoulders and making it impossible to do anything but suffer under the crushing weight of a legacy that would never be made his. His father had made that clear plenty times before, but in Belendt, he wouldn’t have to face that anymore. It would be different. People would forget that Jan Van Eck had a son, and things would be fine. Things never tended to go Wylan’s way, however. No matter how hard he prayed to Ghezen for things to just be right for once.
The shaking of the boat had calmed to a stop at some point, Wylan knew where he was. How could he forget? Belendt and Ketterdam were so different. Belendt was still big, but it lacked the pollution and the crime that littered Ketterdam. The air was clearer there, the outside not as far away. And as Wylan would soon find out, pockets of magically gifted people, who if paid the right price would get their hands dirty.
He didn’t even get the chance to step off the boat before everything went dark. He stirred with his skull feeling like it was made out of lead and feeling like someone had put his skin in a furnace. He couldn’t even stand, his head hitting the mesh of a cage. He felt so sluggish as he looked around, his body feeling weird and dipropionate. He was aware of everything going on around him, every scent, every sound. All of his senses felt like they were on fire, alight with energy he wasn’t used to. He heard a voice, only being able to open his eyes a fraction. There stood a woman in front of him, heavy and bright jewels spread around her collar. Maybe they were diamonds. Her dirty blond hair was swept up into some loose configuration on the top of her head, a clip with even more stones on it holding it together. She reeked of wealth, but in a flashy way Wylan wasn’t used to seeing in the merchants and their wives. Everything that this woman displayed made Wylan want to recoil and hide.
She leaned down, the silky fabric of her skirts billowing out at her sides. She looked over him with a critical eye, making a dramatic show of drawing a long drag from her cigarette, which was held in a showy, long holder.
“So, your Van Eck’s brat,” she said sharply, smoke billowing out of her perfectly painted lips. A sharp pain started to spread over his skin, and despite his eyes already open and being able to see the woman in front of him, he felt his eyelids twitch open.
Once he did, he felt the aching in his neck and his leg, making him fully aware where he was. Around him, the sound of the forest greeted him. He could hear the chirping of birds, the shuffling of branches as squirrels jumped from tree to tree. He never used to appreciate the nature that surrounded him, but he had to admit it was better than waking up in a bedroom too empty and too big by himself after a bad dream. He lifted his head, his body immediately making it known that that wasn’t something he was supposed to do.
He crept around the tree a little, letting his nose guide him to where he had buried the hen, hoping that whatever he hadn’t finished before would give him enough energy to power through the day. To his own dismay, the lump of dirt was nothing more than a shallow hole in the earth, feathers strewn about. Fantastic.
Keeping his head low to not disturb the bite marks on his neck, he huffed and turned away. He would have to find something else to sustain himself. Maybe there would be something he could scrounge around for. The pain that shot through his body every time he moved negated any benefit the food and rest was supposed to give him.
Padding through the branches and thickets, his nose trying to pick up something, anything at all. He had nearly given up hope when he picked up a sharp smell. It was iron-y and pungent, the kind of smell that clung to your nose and stubbornly refused to leave. Something had been killed, but not too long ago. The scent of decay didn’t follow it. But the smell of another coyote or fox didn’t either.
Carefully, he followed it. Slowly the copper smell got stronger and stronger, leading him to whatever was killed and didn’t get disposed of. Eventually, he caught sight of it. There, sitting on the ground, a hare was splayed open. Wylan could see its ribs and organs on display. He wondered who in their right mind would leave it, knowing full well that someone would come along to finish their leftovers. Sniffing over it, Wylan couldn’t smell anything but the pungent smell of raw meat. He sunk his teeth in without much complaint, savoring the taste on his tongue.
There was a small tugging on his foot, and he tried to move away, only for it to tighten. Fear immediately surged through him, worried that it might have been a snake that had decided he was too close to it. Wylan quickly moved away, and the pulling just continued to tighten. In the matter of a couple of seconds, the tugging was restricted tightly around his leg, only digging in the more he struggled to get away. He hit the ground with a dull thud, even more pain coursing through him as it sunk into his skin.
He turned around, looking at whatever had stopped him from running away. Around his uninjured back foot, a silver line sat snuggly against his skin. It was a fucking snare. If the pain coursing through him wasn’t fueling his adrenaline like gas to a fire, he would’ve been embarrassed. He had literally fallen for a trap.
He quickly twisted around, ingoring the protest in his neck as he began to gnaw on the line. It was stubborn under his teeth, something soft coating it that made it hard to sink into. He tried pulling at it, but it seemed to be secure in his leg.
He struggled with it for Ghezen only knows how long, his yips of distress progressing down to soft grunts. He eventually admitted defeat, laying down on the ground in an exhausted lump. He was panting, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. What was he supposed to do? His adrenaline was too high to sleep, and his body was too weak to keep fighting the line around his foot. If Wylan kept on tugging on it, then it would only tighten. He was laid out, exposed.
All he could do was pray that whatever hunter had set up the trap gave their game swift kills.
Eventaully, the heavy steps Wylan had been expecting for hours came. He shuffled away, making himself as small as possible away from the sound. Wylan could feel his ears press against his head as he saw the figure of a person step forward. But they didn’t look like a hunter. There was no gun in their hands or slung around their back. Not to mention they looked servally underdressed to be out in the woods, besides a pair of boots that looked like they belonged in a window of a shop back in Ketterdam. Too flashy to really be effective for hunting, though.
Then there was a tugging at Wylan’s chest again, this pull in his body that was pushing him to unfurl and welcome the man. Wylan’s eyes narrowed, and as the person got closer, he realized he had seen this man before. It was the person with the bad Fjerdan accent, who tried to approach him after Trassel had backed off. The proximity proved Wylan’s idea of them being Zemeni. If Wylan was more confident that he wasn’t about to get shot, he would’ve thought that he was beautiful.
The man lowered himself down, hovering over the base of the snare. Wylan watched as his long fingers moved down, trailing the silver line. His eyes then met Wylan’s. Those were silver too.
Wylan tried to make himself smaller, but that tugging. It was burning brighter than it had before. The itch under his skin was only worsening, and as the person’s hand trailed up the line, Wylan was only getting more and more confident that they were the only person who could sedate it. Some treacherous part told Wylan to greet the touch, to somehow beg him to release Wylan from whatever it was that made Wylan want to seek them out.
“I need you to calm down,” he said, his voice deep and calm. Wylan did suppose he was a scared animal, but who in their right mind would get this close to one? For all he knew, Wylan was just some sick coyote who wasn’t in the right mind to lash out. He supposed he kind of was.
Wylan didn’t notice when a knife had first entered the man’s free hand, but he caught the shine of metal. Wylan was quick to try and scurry away.
“Hey, hey-” Hands grabbed at Wylan’s hind legs, making pain shoot through him. Instinct overpowered the pulling he felt, his head whipping around, his jaw opening. His teeth welcomed the soft press of flesh beneath them, and a sweet copper taste hit his tongue. He heard the person curse, hand reaching away, but Wylan’s jaw didn’t loosen.
“Saint’s sake-” he heard, the calmness no longer present in the man’s voice. Wylan saw his eyebrows furrowed, a mix of frustration and pain. “Go to sleep.” Those slender fingers raised, the knife clenched precariously with his ring and pinkie finger between his palm with his middle and index outstretched towards Wylan. A second later, Wylan’s vision went dark.
When Wylan’s consciousness returned to him, he could hear voices surrounding him. Hushed whispers that he couldn’t make out. Sluggishly, he lifted his head, only for it to bump against the cold press of a cage. Panic began to surge through him, and he looked around to get any clues of where he could be. He didn’t think he was back in Belendt, he made sure that he had gotten out of there as quickly as possible. His surroundings seemed different, felt different, at least. There wasn’t that thick tension laced in the air, or maybe that was just the heavy smoke of cigarettes.
Wylan finally peeled his eyes opening, and nearly leapt out of his skin when there was a woman in front of him. But this wasn’t the same woman. The person in front of him wasn’t adorned in flashy silks and glittering jewels, not begging for eyes to be on her. If anything, she was the complete opposite. Her clothes were dull and dark, clinging to her body, leaving nothing to trail behind her.
She looked like if a shadow had come to life, but there was none of the fear that Wylan thought there would’ve been at the darkness personified. Dark eyes looked over him, a furrow in her brow that Wylan could’ve mistaken for caring.
“Hello,” she spoke, her voice barely as whisper. The voices around him quieted, but Wylan didn’t look to identify them, too focused on watching every movement he could see from the person in front of him. “Are you feeling better?”
Wylan blinked, bringing his body closer in on himself. He could feel the cold mesh press against the base of his tail as he bumped against it, but that didn’t stop him from trying to get as far away as possible.
Her gentle smile turned downwards, like a soft disappointment. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Nina should’ve gotten you in good shape, at least.” Wylan didn’t do anything, trying to make himself as small as possible. Her brows furrowed, and she looked at something across the room.
“Are you sure that he’s the right one?” she asked, not directed towards Wylan.
“Positive,” a woman answered behind Wylan’s cage. “Look, me and Jesper can both feel it.”
“He’s the same one that killed Queeny,” a deep voice said, his Ts coming out blunt and his Ss sounding more like Zs. Fjerdan. Maybe he was the druskelle. “Had the hole in his leg and the bites from Trassel.”
The woman in front of him didn’t look convinced, glancing at people Wylan couldn’t see. What did they expect him to do? He didn’t even know these people, and he already felt like he was doing something wrong. He thought he had left disappointing people behind in Ketterdam. Wylan saw someone round the corner of the table he was on, but he didn’t look away from the girl in front of him. He came closer, and he finally came into Wylan’s sight.
He was the man from before, only with the addition of thick bandages wrapped around one of his hands. Wylan tried not to, but he did feel a little guilty for hurting him. In hindsight, Wylan knew that he had only tried to help him, but so much time like this had made instinct easily overpower his rationality.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, moving in front of the girl. The tugging returned. Wylan didn’t want to, but his body relaxed a little. “Nina helped me get some bandages on you, had a pretty nasty infection from where you got shot.” Wylan had been too scared to notice that there had been anything on him. Now he could feel the bandages, tight around his leg, a constant pressure. He could also feel something around his neck, but it felt more like caked mud than a bandage.
Wylan didn’t know how to respond, just blinking up at the man. That same disappointed look crossed his features, and Wylan felt another pang in his chest knowing that he was the one to cause it with not just one, but two people.
“Maybe he’s been a coyote for too long,” the woman behind Wylan suggested. The man in front of him opened his mouth to say something, but he shut his mouth. “I know what you’re feeling, Jes. I feel it too.” There were a couple of footsteps, and then the other woman came into view. She had her hands on her hips, eyes looking over Wylan with a critical eye. The pulling Wylan felt to the man doubled as the woman stepped in front of him. What were these people?
“Well,” she continued, leaning closer to the cage. Her dress was low cut, not wearing a blouse underneath that provided dresses more modesty. It gave Wylan a view he could’ve lived his entire life without seeing. “I’m Nina, the other witch is Jesper.” She stood up, putting a gentle hand on the shoulder of the girl. “This is Inej. Matthias is behind you and Kaz is... somewhere.” The introductions overwhelmed him, to the point where he didn’t even notice a key word. Witches. That explained the pulling Wylan was feeling towards the two of them.
Who the woman introduced as Jesper stepped forward again, “Yeah, and we’re like, ninety percent sure you’re cursed. But you’re starting to make us believe you don’t want our help.” Help? What could they possibly extend forward to Wylan? Was he supposed to do something to prove that he did want help, but what would that help even look like?
What am I doing here? He thought, not for the first time in his life. Nina and Jesper exchanged a glance between themselves.
“Well, you killed Queeny and nearly got killed by our dog,” Jesper said with a shrug.
“Wolf,” that voice still behind him corrected. Matthias.
Jesper waved his hand dismissively, “Wolf, dog. Whatever, he still sits down when you tell him to and begs for food at dinner.”
It had taken Wylan a second to process what just had happened. Jesper responded to him. Wylan didn’t know much about witches, but he wasn’t aware that they could hear animal's thoughts. Maybe it was being cursed that gave him the ability to have cohesive enough thoughts that witches could hear. With this knowledge, Wylan had to stop himself from bursting at the seams with questions. If Wylan was good at anything, it was focusing on something. He forced himself to stop and conjugate the words in his head, making them transparent and clear.
Where are we? He thought. He needed to know how far away from Ketterdam he was, how far away from Belendt and how far away he would be from anybody who would ever recognize him as a Van Eck.
Jesper glanced at Nina. “Lij,” she supplied. “South Kerch.”
That was good news. That meant that he was far enough away from Ketterdam that there was no chance that there would be any trace of him that his father could pick up. He was still closer to Belendt, but the old city was in the middle of the country. He just hoped that he was far enough away that the woman with the jewels couldn’t find him.
“Is he talking to you?” Inej asked, glancing between Jesper and Nina. The two of them nodded their heads. Inej's eyes widened a little, “So he’s not too far gone.”
Jesper let out a rich laugh, “Don’t worry, I’m going to get to the bottom of who this guy is and help him get home.” Immediately, without meaning to, Wylan’s body tensed. The three of them must have noticed, because an uneasy tension swept through the room. “...Unless that’s not something you want,” Jesper added onto the end. Wylan didn’t respond.
Time passed by slowly in that house. He couldn’t move around a lot, not with the bandages around his leg and the constant attention he was under. With five people and two canines, the house was a little crowded. It wasn’t that small, but Wylan could tell it was built for the family to sleep in at night and for them to go out during the day and work. They were on a farm.
Wylan didn’t talk (communicate? Let his thoughts be read?) to them much over the last couple of days, just lying there and letting them change his bandages and slather his fur in funny smelling pastes. Even if Nina and Jesper were supposedly witches, Wylan didn’t see them practice a lot. To be fair, he didn’t really know what that looked like. He would catch glimpses of it, though. Nina lounging about, explaining that some places in the house were starting to feel off, while Jesper flipped through a notebook, laying upside down on the couch. Sometimes Wylan would see the two of them leave in the middle of the night, coming home hours later looking weirdly refreshed and undoubtedly alive. Most of the time, it concluded that way. With Wylan knowing that there was something going on but being left out of it. The smell of something burning, the sweet aroma of incense or orange peels with cinnamon being warmed on the stove. He knew that there were things in the works, but he felt like it was something he wasn’t supposed to poke his nose into.
Staying with these strangers as he healed was weird. He barely knew them, and now he was sleeping there and being taken care of by the people there. He didn’t know what they wanted from him. He didn’t have anything to give. He had been stripped of his name and who he was. Even if he wasn’t a canine, he still wouldn’t have anything.
As days past, the limp he had had begun to go away, and he was able to walk more and more every day. The process had been as slow as molasses, with Wylan not fully trusting the people around him. He didn’t think he trusted them entirely now, but it had been made clear that they were trying to help him. No matter how much it made Wylan want to claw his skin off, he tried his best to let them help him. It didn’t always work. Sometimes he managed to sleep into different rooms when it was time to change his bandages, staying out of view as they searched the house for him. It wasn’t his fault that they had started to keep a schedule of when to change his bandages and add ointments to the wounds. Turns out his anxiety was great at keeping schedule.
He tried not to let the guilt get to him as he watched their feet walk by the couch he was stuffed under, calling out to him. It somehow made him feel more human, but that could just be because he used to hide from his father and tutors in the same way.
They still hadn’t learned his name, and Wylan wasn’t keen on giving it to them. He didn’t have anything, and it made him value his privacy more. They had dubbed him ‘sunshine’, which Wylan was still debating wither or not he was uncomfortable with it.
He had been laying down on the table, his back leg bent at an awkward angle as Nina slathered the closing bullet hole with something slimy. It had moved in a weird way, and Wylan had tried to take his leg back, only for Nina’s grip to increase. It had only made Wylan want to get away more, but a warm hand pressed against his back, keeping him still.
“Be still, sunshine, it’s fine. Just a couple more minutes,” Jesper said, his other hand rubbing comfortingly over Wylan’s side. Despite Wylan trying to hide himself from those moments, it was hard to deny that he enjoyed some of the attention. Mostly Jesper’s.
“Sunshine?” Nina asked, laughing to herself. “I wouldn’t call the coyote that bit your hand and infected it ‘sunshine’.”
Wylan twisted his head to look up at the man, only to be greeted with a frown on Jesper’s face. “I don’t blame him, I was crawling up to him with a knife. I would’ve bitten someone too.”
“I think you just like biting people,” Nina replied with a smirk.
Jesper had no reason to defend him, but for some reason he tried to. Always coming up with excuses for why Wylan behaved the way he did for others. Why he hid, why he didn’t eat when others were around, why he wasn’t fond of being left alone with certain people, Jesper was always quick to comment on it and make it sound reasonable. It didn’t matter if the real answer was different, they believed Jesper, and by extension, Wylan’s reasonings for his behavior.
It made sense that they believed what Jesper said, seeing as Wylan had begun to develop a bad habit of following him around the house. He couldn’t help that the person made him feel as comfortable as he was going to get there. Jesper never shooed him away, never made him feel like a pest. It was a weird feeling to be welcomed by someone, to not feel annoying for just being in the same space as someone. He wasn’t going to waste that feeling, wanting to experience it to the fullest.
That’s where he was now, resting up against the couch while being curled around Jesper’s feet. His head was resting against Jesper’s foot, the other one bouncing quickly and rubbing against Wylan’s tail. Wylan wasn’t even sure what he was doing. Jesper had taken out a dinner tray that was above Wylan’s body, blocking Wylan from seeing any of it. All the clues Wylan received was the occasional scratch of a pen and papers flipping.
Jesper let out a loud sigh, and then another, and then another. Wylan lifted his head off of Jesper’s foot, peeking at him from under the table. The two of them made eye contact through the sliver, and Jesper ran his hand over his face.
“Sorry for disturbing you,” Jesper mumbled against his palm. Wylan had a feeling that Jesper wasn’t that sorry. “I’m trying to figure this out, and Nina’s not here to help me stay grounded. I can’t focus on anything.”
Wylan wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to help with that. It’s not like he could sit down and help Jesper read. He couldn’t help him sort whatever it was he was doing. Wylan still wasn’t even sure what he was doing.
Wylan stretched, crawling out from under the dinner tray to jump up on the couch beside Jesper. He blinked over the books and journals strewn across the flat surface, words screwing together and not making any sense to him.
He heard Jesper laugh beside him, patting Wylan on his back. “I don’t think you can help me with this, sunshine.” Wylan agreed, but he still tried to look over it. There were a couple of drawings, beautiful diagrams from books and scribbles that Jesper had in his own journal. There were rocks, animals, herbs and other plants. Jesper leaned forward, flipping some of the pages and looking between them and the book. Wylan caught glimpses of flowers and plants that were physically pressed against the pages, arrows pointing to scribbles of text.
“I’m trying to figure out how to turn you back,” Jesper said suddenly, his voice a little quiet. It was like he was sharing a secret, and it was only to Wylan. “So, from what I’m getting is that we have to wait until you’re feeling better. If I'm too worried about your health, which I have been, then it can mess up like... the whole thing. Energy and intention and all that.” Jesper’s hands moved as he talked, gesturing vaguely as he spoke. The words went in one ear and out the other for Wylan. Turn him back? Were these really the people that were going to make him human again? He would be able to talk freely, to continue the scraps of what remained in his life. Finally, they could see what he looked like. He wondered if Jesper would like what he looked like.
“Nina has been getting supplies for it, well, both of us have, but that’s why she's out,” Jesper continued to explain, and Wylan had to shake his head to bring his focus back. “I don’t know why she couldn’t have done this and I go out, but that’s the way chips fall.”
That was one thing that Wylan liked about Jesper. Wylan hardly communicated with Jesper and Nina since he found out he could, but Jesper didn’t seem to mind. He was fine filling the space with his voice, and Wylan certainly wasn’t going to complain about listening to that smooth baritone.
Wylan laid back down, but now he was on the couch. Instead of Jesper’s foot, he laid his head on his thigh. Nothing happened for a few long moments, other than ramblings that Jesper went on that started to get more frustrated. Wylan wasn’t really paying attention to the words coming out, letting Jesper’s voice lul him into closing his eyes. Suddenly, Wylan felt a hand come to his head, fingers gently scratching behind his ear and running over the top of his head. It startled him a little, but it soon became a welcome feeling. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.
Wylan worried that he wouldn't get this as a human. If he would be able to put his head in Jesper’s lap and have his fingers card through his hair. If he would be able to follow him around without complaint. He swallowed, coming to the realization that that was what he wanted.
“I can hear you thinking,” Jesper said softly, his hand never stopping its motion.
Wylan quickly sat up, worry coursing through him that Jesper could hear his thoughts. Then an apologetic look crossed his face, and Jesper held up his face in mock defense.
“No, no, not like- not like I can hear your thoughts, I can just tell that you’re thinking.” Wylan’s body almost immediately relaxed, and he allowed himself to lay back down. If Jesper could read him so well like this, then how would he be able to manage being a person around him?
“Are you excited to be human again?” Jesper asked, a smile clear in his voice as his hand resumed on Wylan’s head.
Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s complicated.
“Is it really that complicated? I mean, no more sitting on the floor, you can eat any food without worrying about it killing you, don’t have to piss outside. Sound’s like being a person has it’s upsides,” Jesper said. Wylan glanced up to see that Jesper was looking down at him, and Wylan found was pleased to find that he was right in assuming Jesper was smiling.
Wylan didn’t want to voice his fears. That he thought that Jesper wouldn’t like him as a human, that he would be robbed of these moments. Being cursed had his perks, he could be something else entirely. He wasn’t Wylan Van Eck like this. He was a pest, vermin, a scavenger and a thief. He was sunshine. That wasn’t even delving into his past in Ketterdam.
It is that complicated.
Jesper laughed, squeezing the base of Wylan’s ear. “So mysterious. Do tell.”
I’ll tell you when you manage to figure out to turn me human.
The excitement Jesper had immediately fizzled out, replaced with something close to frustrated focus. “Fine, fine. I’ll get back to it.”
Days passed, and those consisted of Wylan laying around and being with Jesper. He was slowly talking to him more and more. Just small things, like that he was doing fine or that he had seen something through the window. He still wasn’t allowed to be outside for too long, Nina being worried that he would reopen the wound on his leg. Wylan didn’t think that would happen, but he also wasn’t as experienced as the others were with these issues.
Wylan was laying in front of a window, the sun hitting his fur and warming him in a very pleasant way. He sniffled a little, shifting. Suddenly, the distinct smell of gunpowder and the chalky aroma of flowers hit his nose. He lifted his head. Jesper.
With careful small steps, he let his body guide him to Jesper. Poking his nose through the slit in Jesper’s door, he caught the fresh smell of him. Gently, he scratched at the corner of the door, his nails making an irritating noise. The door quickly cracked open, and Wylan saw Jesper peering through the crack
“Oh, hello, sunshine,” Jesper said with a smile, opening the door and bending his knees and falling into a squat. He used both hands to scratch both of Wylan’s ears, making Wylan let out a content gruff noise. “Y’know, I was just thinking about you. Getting more things worked out as you get better.” Wylan opened his eyes, looking up at Jesper.
Wylan didn’t think that he had ever had someone so caring in his life. Maybe his mother, but he could barely remember her. This was different. He did nothing to deserve this. There was nothing making Jesper care for him. Maybe it was the fact that Trassel had nearly killed Wylan, maybe this was Jesper’s attempt at forgiveness. Wylan hoped it was more than that.
“I almost got everything ready,” Jesper whispered excitedly, leaning close to Wylan’s ear.
Really?
“Yes! Get to finally see who I’ve been talking to, sunshine.” Wylan was sure that if he could, he’d be absolutely beaming. The idea that Jesper wanted to see Wylan for who he was. To see the person he was before. The person who his father had tried hard to scrub from the record, Jesper was excited to see. Maybe that’s why Wylan felt so comfortable with him, because he was the opposite of what Wylan had dealt with his entire life.
I wouldn’t get your hopes up.
“Oh please.” Jesper shook his head, pushing Wylan's front leg lightly, like he would with someone’s shoulders. Jesper stood up, turning into his room. He didn’t shut it, so Wylan took it as an invitation to come in.
Jesper plopped down on his bed with a huff, and Wylan joined him a second later. Jesper’s arms were spread across the pillows at the head of the bed, and Wylan took the opportunity to rest his jaw on Jesper’s arm. The welcomed feeling on his fingers in Wylan’s fur returned.
“I wonder if you like this matches you normally,” pondered Jesper, looking up at the ceiling. “Like... you don’t look like a normal coyote. You’re like... warmer. Are you blond?”
Ginger.
“Oh, so worse.” Wylan huffed, turning his body away from Jesper. Wylan heard him laugh, and that sound immediately ebbed away any sting the insult had. “What do you look like?” they asked softly.
You’ll find out.
When the bandages had to stopped being replaced, Wylan was deemed ready to go through the process of turning back into a human. Excitement and anxiety mixed together into some ugly feeling in his stomach. The house had begun to get more crowded as Nina and Jesper horded items they thought they might need. Candles, stones, bundles of herbs, bones, trinkets that Wylan knew had stories behind them that made them special to the two of them. It was very overwhelming to Wylan’s senses.
“No one is making you do this,” Kaz had told Jesper as he rushed around the room trying to get last minute things organized.
“Yeah, you’re right. And it was no ones obligation to make sure you didn’t live the rest of your life as a bird,” Jesper retorted, his foot brushing against Wylan where he laid under the table.
Wylan watched as Kaz readjusted himself, fixing his coat and twisting his cane under his palm. “That’s correct.”
“Are you saying that you lived better as a bird?”
“I wouldn’t be as rich as I am if I had stayed a crow.” That made Jesper let out a bark of laughter.
Wylan had caught blips of these conversations, references to the other’s past that Wylan was not told about directly. From what Wylan understood, everyone except Jesper and Nina had been like Wylan. Cursed. Forced to take a form that wasn’t what they were born with. Wylan hadn’t thought that there was such a huge market for turning teenagers and children into animals, but here he stood corrected.
He also knew a brief story of why they were staying at the farm in the first place. The pieces that Wylan managed to stick together was that one or all of them was in trouble and avoiding the law. Kaz was the one who had actual ownership of the property, with the rest of them just tagging along. It was a complicated story, but Wylan didn’t have the confidence to ask for the full thing.
Jesper nudged Wylan with his foot, getting his attention. Wylan lifted his head, just to show that he was listening. “Nina’s going to be inviting some other people to help us, whoever cursed you was... experienced to say the least.” Wylan put his head back down, accepting the information easily. He didn’t know much about the woman who had put the curse on him, but if her expensive taste in fashion was anything to go by, she had been in the business for a while.
“Just letting you know that we’re going to have some more friends with us tonight.”
The night was bustling more than Wylan would’ve liked. People he had never seen before surrounded him, towering over him in the way everyone did now. The event really seemed more like a social gathering rather than having to get multiple witches in one area to remove a powerful curse. There was a fire, and Wylan was sure that he could smell food, but with all the new scents and tugs in all directions, he couldn’t pinpoint it.
He kept his head low as he maneuvered around strangers’ feet, hearing the brief sound of them acknowledge him. He was trying to find Jesper, maybe even Nina. It was hard to find them through so many scents and sounds. It was very overwhelming. Thankfully, they both came into view, with the addition of a short shu boy talking animatedly to Jesper.
He padded over to them, trying to not let his overwhelmed senses get to him. Everything in him was telling him to run away, but he would settle for sitting by Jesper’s legs.
Wylan watched Jesper’s expression shifted, seeming to go from polite to excited. Wylan felt that tug in his chest, a fishhook caught in his skin and pulling him in Jesper’s direction. He wondered if it was still there because of the curse or because of his own wants.
Jesper bent down, greeting Wylan by scratching his neck, “Now, what are you doing over here, sunshine?”
Too noisy.
Nina snorted, nodding her head with her arms crossed. “I wasn’t expecting for it to be this loud, that’s my bad. We were planning on starting sooner, but we’re waiting on just a couple more people. Don’t want to be underprepared.”
The boy who was talking to Jesper nodded his head in agreement. He took a step closer to the two of them, putting himself close to Jesper. It made something stir in Wylan’s chest, a feeling that he’d much rather push down.
He put a hand on Jesper’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, Nina. It’s not like any of us mind staying a little longer.”
I personally mind.
Jesper snorted, putting his hand over his mouth and trying to cover it up with a cough. The boy frowned, retracting his hand from Jesper’s shoulders. Wylan forgot that if all these people were witches, they could probably hear him too. He found that he didn’t really care wither or not the boy heard him, though.
Time passed by achingly slow, anxiety burning up in Wylan’s chest and making him ansty. Finally, two women showed up. The red-headed one seemed a bit scattered, her breath heavy as she tried to straighten her frazzled hair with her fingers. The woman beside her seemed much more composed, offering Nina a brief excuse as she pulled her long black hair back and cracked her knuckles.
With everyone now present, Jesper began to usher Wylan to a certain area where they would break the curse. Incense and candles flooded Wylan’s nose, giving him a powerful headache. At least it smelled nice. He laid down in the middle of the area, burned ash smearing his paws. He didn’t know much about spells, but Jesper had explained some symbolism to him. Transformation, or something like that. He began to feel crowded as they laid down items of importance around him, personal things that held they had brought to help. Wylan tried not to think about a community coming together just to help him too much. Now was not the time to argue how undeserving he was.
Everything went quiet around him, and somehow that was worse than everyone talking at once. It was eery, seeing these people only in the low light of candles of lamps. He could feel that pulling feeling surround him, tugging on his skin and making him want to move around. But where it was strongest, Wylan was pleased to find Jesper. He had this uncanny focus marring his features, his fingers or foot only occasionally tapping before settling again.
There was a faint murmur, the voice all around him slowly and softly saying something. As their voices began to pick up, they began to merge into something close to a harmony. The candles began to burn brighter, smoke from incense getting thicker. Everything around him crowded him, making him feel like he needed to run. He felt like he needed to hide. But that pulling only increased, making him feel like he was under a weighted net. Everything was so bright and so loud, but suddenly it became very dark.
He could hear talking. The low murmur of voices indiscernible to him. His body felt so heavy, his head feeling like someone had placed a brick on it. With how his brain began to throb, he wished there was one on his head now. He lifted his head, letting out a huff as it only felt worse.
Blinking his eyes open, he saw Nina and Inej talking in the doorway, hushed whispers. Nina took a glance in his direction, before she noticed he was awake. She rushed to his side, gently patting his sides, a furrow in her brow.
“How are you feeling, sunshine? How is your body?” she asked, her words quick and worried. Wylan shifted a little, his entire body feeling off. It was only when he sat up, curls falling down into his face that he realized what had happened. He went through with removing the curse.
He jumped up, lifting his hands just to confirm they were, in fact, hands. He turned them over, the sight of faint freckles welcomed. He could see faint blond hair on his knuckles, which he didn’t think was there before, but he could’ve forgotten.
“I’m-” He tried to speak, only to immediately start coughing. He hadn’t talked in Ghezen knows how long. Nina’s hand rubbed his back, her fingers feeling cold against his skin. He didn’t remember the last time he was able to feel that.
“It’s okay, it’s going to take some time to getting used to,” she said comfortingly. Inej stepped forward, readjusting the blanket that was on Wylan. Once he noticed it, he wrapped it around himself more. He wasn’t wearing any clothes underneath, but he could hardly care. He was human again.
“It’s going to take awhile until you can walk comfortably again,” Inej explained, her voice soft and even. They sounded different like this. Their voices were a little muffled, but he couldn’t hear as much in the background anymore. Maybe he was just too used to having big ears. “A lot of things are probably going to be difficult. It takes time getting used to it.” Her hand came up, gently resting on his shoulder.
He looked up at both of them, unsure what to do or what he said. He hadn’t talked in so long, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. He wanted to ask about Jesper, wondering if he had seen him. He wondered what his reaction had been, if Wylan met his standards or not. He tightened his hold on the blanket a little bit, now feeling a little self-conscious.
“We’ll get you some clothes soon, we just didn’t know what you’d like to wear,” Nina explained, before leaning in. “You’ve seen some of atrocious colors Jesper wears.” Wylan let out a small laugh, the sound feeling uncomfortable in his throat.
Wylan looked up at the two of them, only to notice some additions standing in the doorway. There, he could see Matthias’ broad shoulders, Kaz lingering awkwardly near him, like he was trying to stay as far away as possible from him.
“Should we tell Jesper that your awake?” Matthias asked, stepping a little more into the room.
Kaz let out a huff, “He walked the whole way back to the house with his eyes closed, saying that he only wanted to see you when you once you awake.” Something in his stomach did a flip. Jesper wanted to see him. Wanted to see him. Fully awake and alert. Wylan assumed that he had passed out, not remembering anything up until everything got bright.
He glanced down at the blanket draping over him, and he breifly wondered how many people had seen him without clothes. He wasn’t as embarrassed as he thought he would be, hoping that the people there expected him not to be wearing anything when they agreed to help him become human again.
The four of them were looking at Wylan expectantly, and he realized that he had forgot to answer their question.
He nodded his head, sitting up uncomfortably. His tail bone hurt. Matthias came forward, readjusting the blanket as Wylan moved around.
“Bet you’re in a lot of pain,” he said, making sure that the cloth didn’t fall off his shoulders. Wylan only nodded his head.
He saw Kaz look at Inej, Nina, and Matthias before motioning to the door. They all took a glance at Wylan before exiting the room. It was too quiet now. Wylan’s fingers flexing against the... table? he was on, stretching out the joints there. Hopefully he would gain his full mobility back sooner rather than later.
Wylan could hear footsteps echoing through the hall, before the person that Wylan became so familiar with came to the doorway. Jesper’s eyes widened, taking in Wylan’s position on the table. They stepped forward, a smile beginning to cover his features into it turned into them full on beaming.
“Sunshine,” Jesper began, his hands hovering over Wylan’s face, looking mesmerized with what he saw in front of him. It was a good feeling, knowing that Jesper’s first reaction wasn’t immediate disappointment. “So, this is what you look like? Really?”
Wylan nodded his head, but he wasn’t exactly sure. He hadn’t seen a mirror since he had woken up, maybe his features had changed. But he could feel that things were at least similar. He still had the gap between his two front teeth, he still had freckles where he thought they would be.
“You are ginger,” Jesper pointed out, his voice soft and pleased. They lifted their hand, gently tugging on one of the curls. It immediately sprung back into place when he let it go, and the joy that spread over Jesper’s features was worth any of the pain he was dealing with in his limbs right now.
“Did you think I lied?” Wylan asked, keeping his voice low. It hurt to talk, but despite that, his voice did sound the way he remembered.
Jesper only seemed to get more excited, before his arms encircled Wylan in a heartbeat. It was unexpected. The affection that was overflowing out of Jesper for Wylan. When was the last time someone had hugged Wylan? The last time that someone wanted him to be around?
Hesitantly, Wylan lifted his hands, placing them gently on Jesper’s shoulders. It only made Jesper’s arms tighten.
“Oh, your voice sounds so much better in person than it does in my head,” Jesper whispered into Wylan’s shoulder. Wylan wasn’t sure what to do, he could feel his heart beating faster and faster, but this was different than adrenaline. This feeling didn’t make him want to run away and hide, it made him want to get closer to Jesper. He wanted to squeeze Jesper the way they were squeezing him, but his limbs didn’t allow it right now.
After what felt like ages, Jesper sadly leaned away. His eyes looked over Wylan carefully, like he was taking in everything he was seeing. It was something close to analyzing.
“How are you feeling, sunshine?” Jesper asked, his eyebrows a little furrowed. His hands reached down, pulling the blanket up from where he accidentally pushed it out of the way.
“Tired, sore.” His voice was still quiet, like it didn’t know how to get louder after so long of no use. “And... it’s Wylan.”
Jesper’s eyes widened, “Wylan?” he repeated back.
He nodded, “Wylan.”
“Well, Wylan,” Jesper repeated back, readjusting the cloth draping over Wylan like he was fixing a coat. “I would offer you something to celebrate this occasion with, but I doubt your body can digest much right now.” Wylan didn’t know much about that, so he just shrugged his shoulders.
Jesper put one of his hands on the table, and Wylan recognized it as the one he had bit. His eyes were sharper now that he was a human again, and he could see the indents of where his teeth had sunken into the flesh in a wild frenzy. Slowly, he lifted it up, holding Jesper’s hand closer to his face.
“I don’t think I ever apologized for this,” Wylan said softly, his other hand coming up to run his fingers over the scar.
Jesper laughed and shook his head, “No, you didn’t. It’s okay, don’t worry about an apology, I’m fine.”
“You deserve an apology, Jesper.” Wylan could feel the furrow in his brow. It was weird being able to make facial expressions again, and it felt unfamiliar to feel the skin on his face move around. He tried to push away the discomfort of it, and it was swiftly replaced with his heart jack rabbiting again.
Hesitantly, he lifted Jesper’s hands higher. Wylan pressed his lips softly against the scar, and he could feel Jesper’s fingers twitch against his palms. Wylan opened his eyes, lifting his head to look up at Jesper. Their eyes were wide, and Wylan could so very clearly see the gray in his eyes, despite his pupils being wide.
His mouth felt dry, nerves getting the best of him and not making his heart slow one bit. “That’s um... that’s my apology.” Wylan looked away, feeling heat rise in his cheeks.
An amused breath left Jesper’s throat, and Wylan was pleased to see a small smile spread over Jesper’s features. “Apology accepted.”