CHAPTER FOUR
Natasha dreamt that her house was on fire.
This was one of her more frequent dreams. She was younger, around fourteen and just coming back from a stressful day at school. She walked alone, carrying a flower and a wrapped gift, she was barely able to contain her excitement. Today was a special day for her mom.
Natasha could barely contain herself from breaking into a run, though it might get her home faster, she knew that mom wouldn't like that, and today was mom's special day. Then, in front of her eye, her house went up like a bonfire.
Natasha ran like she had never before, the gifts left on the ground, forgotten. She reached the front of her house, and watched as the flames went higher and higher, belching black smoke into the air, causing Natasha's eyes to water, already Natasha could feel the intense heat burning her skin.
Determined, Natasha pushed forward into the burning building and into the charred mess that was once her living room. Everything was on fire, including the glass cup set on the table. The flames were intense, but worse was the smoke.
The smoke moved like a living thing, constricting and hindering her. Thick and black, it flowed through the building, causing her to fall to her knees, her eyes watering and her lungs burning. Very soon, she broke out into a cough. Still, Natasha crawled forward, determined not to let the flames get the better of her, inch by inch she crawled, her hands and legs burning on the hot floor, until she passed through the burning living room.
After the living room, the smoke lessened considerably, until it was barely an annoyance. She stood up to her feet, her arms and knees blistered, but that hardly mattered now, all that mattered was mother. She looked around, where would her mother be at this time, then it came to her. She would be in the kitchen.
Natasha licked her burning dry lips. Breathing was getting hard, but anything for mother. She pushed forward toward the kitchen, and found the door closed. That was weird, Natasha couldn't remember a time when the kitchen door was closed, but that was irrelevant, all that mattered was that mother was on the other side of this door.
Natasha kicked the door multiple times, kicking harder and harder until it broke, it was always a weak door, and it was weakened by the flames, besides, Natasha had always had strong legs. Natasha stepped into the room, breathing heavily, but inhaling smoke which burned her throat, inside the kitchen was her mother.
She stood at the kitchen table, humming a tune, the way she always did when working, as if nothing had happened. She was cutting something, carrots maybe? But it was also on fire. She did not seem to care though.
Natasha ran the few steps to her mother, unable to waste time walking, thankfully, the kitchen wasn't very large, and she was able to close the distance easily. "Mom!!!" she screamed pulling her mother by the hand, "Mom, let's go." But deep down, Natasha knew it was futile, she knew how this would end.
Her mother turned around, with that gentle smile still on her face, the smile she always wore when she saw Natasha, a smile that said, no matter what, all is well as long as Natasha was well. She placed Natasha's hand in hers, and patted her head, and for the first time in years she did something different.
Still smiling, her mother looked at her, and stroked her hair, giving her a nudge on nose, the way her mother always did for her when she was little, she had always enjoyed it, but now wasn't the time. "Mom, please, we need to go."
Her mom smiled even deeper, and tears started to fall from her eyes. "My little Natty, now grown up." She said, and Natasha was a little surprised to find that she had grown to her normal age. "But still carrying so large a burden, it is time to let go, Natasha, let go, and create space for more beautiful things." Her mother continued, her voice growing fainter as the flames grew louder.
"Let go of what? Mum, what should I let go of?" Natasha shouted, though it hurt her throat to even breath, she had to know what her mother meant.
In response, her mother smiled, a smile of peace, of love, of acceptance. A smile that Natasha couldn't understand, and then all when black.
Natasha woke up to the smell of smoke and blood. It took her a while to realize it was coming from her. She stood up from the large, soft, and now bloodstained, king sized bed. She put her feet on the ground, surprised to see a soft yellow rug carpeting the floor, who put's a rug in a bedroom?
She looked down at her clothes, or more accurately, her rags, she hadn't had time to pack clothes from her house yesterday, and this certainly wasn't fit for wearing anymore. So she was a bit surprised, to find a pair of clothes, brand new by the looks of them, folded neatly at the foot of her bed. She walked closer, her foot falling softly on the rug, there was a note attached. It read,
I got these for you, hope it fits.
Love,
Ashier.
P. S I didn't know what colour you liked, so I chose gold, it goes with your eyes.
Natasha crumbled the letter, insufferable man, how dare he choose gold? Worse still, gold was one of her favourite colours, not that she will ever tell him that. But then, she supposed she should feel grateful for the dress. It did have a silky smooth material.
She shed the remainder of the clothes she wore, dropping them in a pile on the floor. She stood there for a second, staring at the mirror. Her face was still bruised from last night, showing a variety of cuts, though the only evident one was the one across her cheek where the arrow had grazed. She touched it gently with her fingers, hissing at the sudden rush of pain that filled her.
Why did he have to be such a good archer? At least her werewolf genes were good for something, the wound had already stopped bleeding, by tonight, it should be as if nothing had happened.
Her body did not look much better, the two arrow wounds had almost closed up, though they still looked swollen and purplish, and her shoulder still ached when she made sudden movements. Though now blood had stopped flowing from them, for that she was grateful. Aside from them, only a few of the other major bruises remained, the rest have already been healed.
Natasha fingered her hair, twirling it with her finger. She loved the way it fell to her shoulders, the way it enveloped her. Now the dark brown was stained in many places, drenched in the dark red of dried werewolf blood. That would take a while to wash off.
She stood there, admiring herself in the mirror a second longer, before walking off to the shower. Her stomach rumbled as she walked, after all that healing, she supposed it made perfect sense for her to be hungry, healing did take a lot of nutrients after all. She wondered if Ashier had any meat?
Natasha shut the door and stepped in to the bathroom. She turned on the shower and just let it flow on her, calming her down. The water was cool, streaming down her hair, turning red from the blood. She just stood there and let her mind wander, what did her mother mean by let go? And more importantly, why was she paying attention to a stupid dream? It's not as if her mother was speaking to her from the land of the dead. Still, Natasha could not shake off that dream.
She let the water take her away, focusing on everything and nothing at all. She closed her eyes, just enjoying the peace of the moment. The future might bring its own troubles, but now, there was nothing but cool water stroking her skin.
After a while, Natasha turned off the water, opting for her sponge and soap, lemon scented, she guessed, and proceeded to scrub her body, peeling off layer upon layer of blood, sweat and dirt in the process. When she was done, about an hour had passed, and her skin was rubbed raw and pink, but she was cleaner than she had ever remembered being.
Natasha stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around herself. She walked barefoot, the rug tickling her underfoot. She walked to her bed, finding herself not-so surprised to find that the pile of tattered clothes she wore had already disappeared, never to be seen again, she suspected.
Natasha sat down on the bed, picking up the golden hair brush that lay on the table. Whoever Ashier was in the werewolf pack, one thing was sure, he was very rich, maybe even a billionaire, but she shook her head, only the Alphas and some betas could have such wealth, and she would have heard of such a young Alpha. That left the question, who was he to have this much wealth?
Natasha shook her head, unintentionally causing water droplets to fall on the bed, it didn't matter who he was, as long as he got her the chance for her mother's vengeance. She thought, stroking her wet hair with the brush.
After a while, she decided to try on the gold dress. It was a long, sleeveless gown that stopped just short of her ankles. It wasn't particularly loose or tight, instead, it fit just right, hugging and embracing every curve in her body. Natasha adjusted it, and grimaced, was this his idea of a joke. How exactly was she supposed to fight in a dress like this? Still, a small part of her liked the way it was on her body, the smooth feel of it on her skin.
She walked over to the mirror, anxious to see herself, and then angry to be anxious, what was wrong with her? When she got to the mirror, she gasped.
She has never before thought of herself as beautiful, but now, in the way the gold of the dress caught the sunlight from a nearby window, and sparkled in connection to the gold of her eyes, the way it embraced her body, leaving very little to the imagination, she had to admit, she looked like a goddess.
I wonder what Ashier will think when he sees me? She thought, then crushed that thought, why would she care what he thinks?
Natasha looked at herself a moment longer, and then tore her eyes away, she had more important things to deal with. Now was time for business. She found a pair of golden soft slippers by the door. She wore them and they were a fit, although not perfect. She opened the door, took a deep breath for the challenges to come and stepped back into reality.