Chapter 6

Sitting at the bottom of his pond, his tail wrapped up beneath him, Nathair yanked downward on his black hooked ram horns. Dammit. I couldn't let her be eaten!

He'd tried. Nathair had tried to ignore her screams, the way her cries shattered through the water to tingle his ears and vibrate against his scales. Her begging, her pleas, each one had made his orange orbs shift to a darker hue incrementally. His insides had twisted, crawling as if tiny fish sickeningly swarmed within him.

He'd reminded himself it would be for Weldir's gain, and that it would give him the peace he sought.

Yet, as guilt clutched at his throat like a set of hands, he couldn't take it. The voices in his head, the many last moments he was forced to suffer, bombarded him worse than ever. They hounded him, bashing at the inside of his skull like they wanted to crack it open from within and rush out.

They were harrowing, making him claw at his back in disgust and hate.

Despite his desire to remain impartial, he'd saved her.

And, as another Demon came hours later, beckoned by her silly fire, her human scent, maybe even her fear, Nathair had assisted then too.

The second one had been less developed than the first. It'd had goat-like features: back legs with hooves, a prey snout with fangs, jutting horns, and stood on all fours. Although its upper body was similar to a human, its skin was void-like and glistening, showing it hadn't eaten many.

Refusing to exit the water completely, he warded it back. When it wouldn't leave, he had to swipe until he clawed its face, and it only retreated due to its pain.

The female huddled against his abdomen, trustingly pressing against him, and he couldn't help thinking that foolish. Had he taken a single breath through his lungs, rather than holding his breaths through his gills, her fear scent would have enraged him. Despite not flicking his tongue forward to taste the air, it still managed to settle on his tastebuds.

His stomach had cramped, hunger eating away at him.

Before he could turn his rage upon her, making it far bloodier and mindless, he slipped back into the cold salvation of the water. Holding his breath via his gills also stopped the shift of his body, allowing him to accept the colder temperature at ease.

He currently sulked at the rocky bottom of his pond, annoyed with her and this situation.

Tomorrow, I will make her leave. He didn't care if he frightened her, so long as she gave him the peace he sought.

I will have to... speak with her. Nathair shuddered at what that meant.

His own voice was currently locked behind some barrier within his mind, but he did have another option. He just... he fucking hated it, despised it, would rather tear his own scales off than do so, but he would do it as a last resort.

Clutching at his skull, he whimpered in the water, and waited.

Only once day broke, and light reached him, did he float to the surface. He peeked out of the water and took in her limp form sitting against the boulders.

Although her eyes were open, they blinked lazily. Dark smudges had formed just below the inner creases, and her fawny-brown complexion looked sickly. Even Nathair could tell she looked utterly spent.

With the hilt of the sword in her hands, she lifted her weary gaze to the sun. Dust particles floated around her face in the beam of light, making her entire aura seem to glitter.

Something about the way she smiled up at the sky, her lips parting to flash white even teeth, twisted his chest. She looked so soft in that moment, somehow even prettier, as relief settled over her features.

Then, as if that was all she'd been waiting for – light and safety – she closed her eyes. Her head lolled to the side, her lips parting to let out quiet breaths, as her shoulders and arms sagged. The sword's hilt dropped to the ground.

With a light growl, Nathair grumbled at the fact she'd fallen asleep – even more so when he discovered he wouldn't disturb it. She looked so peaceful resting there in the sun on his very territory, and he just didn't have enough of a spiteful heart to wake her.

His tail swivelled below him to keep him afloat as he thought on what to do. Why did it have to be a female who came here? He thought he may have been less inclined to be benevolent towards a male.

He eyed her petite, curved form, disliking that she looked soft in all the best places. She was so small in comparison to him, so feminine and unguarded, as if she truly needed protecting. He didn't like that he was helpless to keep protecting her, and kept doing so when he'd never had the desire before.

Swimming forward, he came a little closer to the pond's edge where the boulders were. Quietly, as not to disturb the sleeping beauty, he placed his hands on the stone ledge. His claws dug into the grass just behind it as he lifted.

Water flowed from his gills, and he parted his maw to let it freely escape his lungs on a singular, hard compression. He leaned in closer. Like the day before, he took in her delicate features.

Her long, black eyelashes fanning down in her slumber were like the wings of a dark moth. Her lips looked utterly malleable, as if they would feel like cushions against anything hard – like his skull. He let his sight roam over her smooth skin, free of imperfections, and it seemed to glow in the sunlight. Even with barely an inch of distance between them, he knew her flesh would be hot.

Then something had Nathair choking back a strangled breath.

Drool flooded his mouth, saturating it completely, when he finally took in a long and deep draw of her scent. His entire being pulsed – his mind, his biceps and pectoral muscles, his entire tail clenched and shuddered. Even a throb lanced low in his groin, making him wince in confusion.

His mental fragments immediately pieced together the peach-and-vanilla scent currently rudely clogging his nose hole. He dipped his neck beneath the water, forcing himself to breathe through his gills.

Somehow, it'd stained his essence. He struggled to rid himself of it as it clung inside his nostrils, saturated the flood of drool, and invaded his bloodstream.

Annoyed that she'd elicited such a strong and visceral reaction from him, he retreated to the side. Once his tail tip grazed the ledge of rock lower down, he rested on it to keep himself buoyant.

He averted his gaze from her, only to bring it back with his sight flaring a bright reddish pink in embarrassment, as well as shame. With just how much looking at and smelling her had pleased him so profoundly, his reaction to her made him feel guilty over what he planned to do when she woke.

I have no right to feel anything towards her. Once more, he looked away, only to let himself sink.

Nathair wouldn't change his mind and keep this little creature just because he thought her attractive and her scent called to him so intensely. He wouldn't steal her, or keep her, even though he was aware that focusing on her tended to minutely quieten the fragments within his mind. He wouldn't hunger for her presence for such a reason – he wanted to fix his brokenness on his own.

I will only... hurt her. Currently, he was lucid. Should his lucidity slip, he had a tendency to harm himself. He may claw her in confusion, in agony, and if he grew attached to her... and then ate her, the guilt of that may set him back.

Nathair was aware most of his Mavka siblings had brides. Weldir had kept him informed to the best of his capabilities while he'd been stuck in Tenebris. Sure, he'd suffered much envy, but he'd also just learned to accept that nothing about it could change at the time.

He knew that possibility was still unobtainable for himself. I am not deserving of a bride. He harmed when he did not mean to, expelled souls when he shouldn't, and could not even speak freely unless he wanted to be riddled with unpleasantness.

Even if he longed for one, the chances of him keeping a human safe while he gained their trust were low.

He wouldn't hold out on those chances changing, even if this particular female persisted in remaining. She would eventually run off scared; it was better he made it happen sooner rather than later.

His sight shifted to a deep blue as he coiled up on the ledge within his pond, waiting to feel the vibrations of movement from the surface. Such an ability had once irritated him, but he'd become reliant now that he was able to decipher it through his increased humanity. What had once itched his scales, now became a necessity for his senses.

Nathair picked at one of his scales, mulling over the last two days. I wonder what her name is. He'd like to know the name of the little female he'd likely remember for all time. The one he'd protected for a short while and didn't end up eating.

Is it as pretty as her face and scent? Even her voice had been lovely. When she'd spoken to him the day before, she'd managed to lull him enough into listening to her plea.

Soft, gentle, sweet – her voice had been audible heaven.

He opened his maw and stuck out his tongue with a bleurgh. Already she haunted his thoughts, persistently invading them.

Yes, he very much needed to get rid of this female before he became irrevocably obsessed.

Just as the nagging to rise and watch the female sleep began to itch his scales like an infection, he sensed the tiniest movement. A foot moving, perhaps even a groan, but enough of a disturbance highlighted she'd woken just as the sun was at its zenith.

Nathair immediately lifted to the surface, just in time to watch her rub the sleep from her eyes. With her face screwed up, she tilted her head to the side, and a crack sounded from her neck, which made her release a little cry. It appeared she had hurt herself by sleeping the way she did, which was upright against the boulders supporting her back.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she stared at the grass with a docile gaze. It flicked to the water before darting to his skull.

The female gasped and recoiled to the side, falling away from him.

"You scared the hell out of me!" she exclaimed, before immediately settling. The dark circles under her eyes had eased exponentially, but they became sunken as something seemed to register. "H-have you been watching me sleep the whole time?"

Nathair rolled his head in annoyance, then flicked his tongue in her direction to taste the air. No fear had entered her scent.

Perfect. There was still plenty of day, and she had rested: time for her to leave.

Placing his hands on the pond's edge, he slipped up until he'd exited to just a foot below his hips. That gave him enough leverage to skulk onto the land, slithering the long length of tail underneath him until he was completely free.

"I keep forgetting how big you are," the female stated, giving him a weak smile that showed just how wary she truly was. "H-have you decided to finally come talk to me?"

Due to his torso not being flexible, nor having the ability to slither, he walked towards her on his hands. He did so cautiously, trying not to spook her too badly with sudden movements.

He halted his breathing when he was barely an arm's length from her, her smell finally turning tangy as he reached out. She shrunk into herself, her arms and legs curling inwards, and her eyes clenched shut. Nathair ignored her response to his closeness and reached down beside her.

Her bag clinked and clanked as he dumped it onto her lap. The breath she'd been holding fluttered out of her, and she flung open her eyes to look down. She touched at the pale-brown satchel, before pouting her lips and frowning up at his skull.

Nathair pulled back and pointed to the forest.

Her gaze darted that way, and she quickly leapt to her feet. The bag thumped to the ground. She threw her hands out, like one might do to halt another.

"Please, wait," she begged, before she dropped her head and held her elbow. Her stance appeared defeated, and almost... hopeless? "I know you want me to leave, but you saw what happened last night. That's what awaits me every night, whether it be this coming night, or the one after that, or even after that. I'll be travelling for weeks if I go around the mountain. I'll be alone, and the area is infested with Demons."

Her features tightened, and orange darkened in his sight as little droplets collected on her glittering eyelashes. Don't cry. Don't make this harder than it needed to be.

"If you don't help me, my only option is to pray I don't die before I make it to the villages south of here."

Steeling his heart, Nathair folded his arms. He hoped it conveyed that he wouldn't be moved from his decision.

Her lips tightened, her eyes narrowed, and she tsked as she turned her head to the forest. "You've shown that you can be merciful to someone in need. That, despite what you are, you do have a heart and compassion for another being."

Nathair's arms loosened, and he tilted his head. I've never had a human speak so fondly of me or my kind before. Yes, he did have a warm heart, should he so choose. He could be understanding and sympathetic. The fact she'd seen this in him already was quite startling, and quite touching.

It wasn't enough to subdue his determination.

"Y-you're probably wondering why I don't just go to the other human villages nearby, but I... can't. If I do, I'll just be taken again, or people will get hurt if it's discovered they harboured me. I'm alone, and I'm... scared. I know you have no reason to help me, or anyone else, but I'm begging you anyway."

Shaking his head, Nathair sighed. He crept forward, picked up her bag, and handed it to her.

Leave, female. There is nothing I can do for you.

Even though she took it, she only fisted it in one hand and stomped her foot. Her pretty features twisted up beseechingly towards him.

"Please don't make me leave," she yelled, before she ran her free hand over her hair, pushing down the loose strands. Nathair released a soft growl, and his orbs flared red in annoyance – weak annoyance. "If you make me leave, I'll likely die. I'm only twenty-one, for pity's sake! I want to live. My people deserve to live. I'm so desperate that I'm asking you, a Duskwalker, for help! Do you even understand how insane that is? But here I am, trying, because I have no other option."

I don't want to help you! Because helping her meant bloodthirst, death, and sorrow. The humans had never been kind to him. They had been cruel as they shoved him with blades and called him foul names.

Nathair shot forward and released a resounding hiss. Why should I help such horrible creatures?!

The female gasped, stumbled back, and fell onto her round backside. He held his breath as he slithered above her, then leaned around her on straightened arms.

He pulled a memory fragment to the surface. His sight blackened as he let it take hold, let it swim in the forefront of his conscience, while battling to keep his own mind present.

An argument between two human males played out, one in which would shortly morph into physical blows. They argued over cheated coin, one a villain and the other a victim.

But Nathair only needed one second of it, and he opened his maw just before it played out.

"Get out!"he roared, echoing the voice from within his mind. It shook out of him, quaked, and the voice in which he spoke with was not his own, but the human's he was borrowing.

He shut his mouth and tried to push back the fragment, stuffing it into the back of his mind. He shuddered, his entire body rippling in disgust. His sight came back, filled with white as agony swirled within his skull. His throat became tight at what he'd just done, accessing a memory to speak with it, never able to use his own voice.

Dread filled her features, which had turned gaunt as she gawked up at him. She had the foolish courage to say, "Y-you won't hurt me."

She didn't sound so sure.

Fuck!She refused to listen, refused to bend to his will. She was more stubborn than he was, and Nathair could be rather unmoveable.

His sight blackened as he let another memory lift to his forethoughts. A woman, begging, pleading for her life, right before it was ended. Her screams would follow him for the rest of the day, but he took what he needed from it.

Opening his maw once more, he, she, they, weakly said, "Please."

Please leave me alone. I don't want to help you, and even if I did, I cannot. He'd slaughter them all, and then she would regret asking him for help.

Even now, just holding back his ire was a strangulation he was barely maintaining. Invisible hands attempted to mould the goo of his brain, to turn his anger and annoyance at her into fang-filled hunger.

She was at risk, and she didn't even know it.

"Oh gods," she cried, attempting to scramble out from underneath him. Her head butted into the boulder behind her, stopping her from going far. "Are... are they the voices of the people you've eaten?" she whispered.

Unfortunately, yes. At least their souls, ensuring he'd snuffed out their entire existence, even from the afterworld.

Dizziness swam as Nathair pushed down the fragment, staggering on his hands as his right elbow attempted to cave in. Lassitude and weakness softened his muscles, and his lack of breathing didn't aid the overload of pressure in his mind. His skull throbbed, a painful reminder as to why he shouldn't have done this.

He'd never be able to string together a conversation like this, as he couldn't change the fragments, but he could sometimes borrow what lingered there. So long as he opened his maw, it was as if he was able to speak from his belly, rather than his mind. Doing so brought on discombobulation, and his skin tightened as confused rage flooded his muscles.

A large stick snapping in the distance caught his attention, just as voices softly began to reach them. They were close, too close.

"Their footprints went this way," a male said, grunting as he fought through the brush.

"Hopefully we find them, and they weren't eaten," another added, disgruntled and obviously displeased with such a notion. "It's been two days. That's rarely a good sign."

Forest debris cracked and snapped under quickly approaching footsteps. They weren't far, only a few metres deep into the trees.

I was not paying attention to my surroundings. His fragments had dulled his senses, as did his focus on the female.

"They better have left her alone if they have her," a deep, guttural voice bit. Another branch snapped under the power of an axe, yet their voices echoed louder and louder. "Or it'll be the chains for them. I won't have my woman be sullied by other men."

A sob broke below him. Nathair turned his wavering sight down to her.

She's crying.Why was she crying? She'd covered her face with both hands, and even turned on her side with her back towards the forest.

Warmth wrapped around his wrist – blissful, groan-inducing warmth. His focus sharpened momentarily, and he sucked in a quick breath. He regretted it when red entered his orbs at the terror-stricken scent coming from her, and he sunk his claws into the dirt to fight it.

He halted his lungs once more.

"Please," she whispered, tightening her tiny hand on him. "Please don't let him take me."

In a final bid to make the female understand, he released a quiet hiss. She flinched and brought her knees up to make herself smaller. Yet, she didn't let him go, didn't try to run. Her tears fell faster, wetting her face in streaks as they dripped onto the grass below her. Her weeping worsened.

Nathair's heart began to race.

Look at her, he told himself, watching her tremble and shake.

Not once had she been this terrified before him, nor had the Demon made her nearly paralysed with fear. She was reaching out to him, a Mavka – a skull-headed monster – as if he was preferable in comparison to the four human males approaching. Her own kind.

Had he taken a second breath, he could tell by her trembling that her scent would have sent him into a bloodthirsty rage.

Her delicate hand tightened on Nathair. A snap decision was made. Fine. If she desires guarding so deeply... Then he would guard this creature, and only her.

Scooping her up with his right arm, Nathair dived for his pond. With his tail hooking around her bag, he submerged them both just before the other humans could enter his clearing.

Oxygen flooded his system, giving him acute sharpness after being without it for so long. The female released panicked air bubbles, but he covered her mouth as he let them both sink. Then he turned, pointing the end of his snout downwards as he swam deeper and deeper, swiftly gliding through the water.

Darkness surrounded them, but he could easily make out the stone walls of the tunnel he descended before ducking to the right where an entrance opened. Nathair swam fast and hard, knowing she wouldn't last long without air.

A small pocket opened, and he shoved her against it, letting her breathe what little air was there. She sputtered, gulping it down, then he pulled her back under. He swam on, his long tail wiggling up and down and propelling them with intense speed.

A little while longer, the tunnel opened into a wide and vast area. He shoved the female above him, and they broke the surface of an underwater cavern. He dragged her towards the land available; it was a large and long section of rock.

She sputtered and choked, clinging to him. That was until he dumped her onto solid ground and joined her.

"You almost drowned m–"

Before she could finish whatever silly complaint was about to fall from her lips, he slapped his hand over her face to quieten her.

Nathair listened to the bandits above them, their voices echoing as the sounds moved through the many chambers. It wasn't strong – the water muffled and diluted their noise – but the area they were in was tall, only leaving a small amount of rock between the ceiling and the land above. Even thin streaks of light glittered here and there, brightening the area through deep cracks in the rock, which could topple if the world violently shook.

He hissed at the foulness of indecipherable chatter.

Instead, releasing his grip on her face, he turned his sight on the wide-eyed female he'd just brought to his home. An inferno of swirling, violent heat radiated behind his sternum, and a dark, possessive green flared into his orbs.

This human... who had time and time again pleaded for his help, his protection, and had even reached out to him as if he were safe. The one who had shown little fear towards him, but quaked near males of her own kind. The one who was as powerless as tiny prey.

Hello, bunny.