Noah
Time flew and I am now a grown woman but still disguised as a guy. To the public, I'm male and in private, I'm female. My father didn't banish me like he wanted because male children are highly esteemed and valuable but he did make me join the army. We captured the 'feralkins' as we call them and sell them off as commodity with the help of the witches.
The air smelled of iron and smoke. Dawn hadn't broken yet but the human camp was already alive. The sound of boots thudding, blades clanging, banners snapping in the cold wind echoed in our territory as we prepared for what is to come.
We were preparing to invade the camp of those beasts and bring their offspring since the market demand young blood. I put on my helmet, my hair already growing past my neck which made the other soldiers tease me a lot that I look like a woman. I didn't want to cut it anyway. It's the only thing that reminded me of who I am.
I carried my gun and went to join the formation. I adjusted the leather strap across my chest, hiding the slight curves that would one day betray me. My armour hung loosely on my shoulders, deliberately oversized. Thank goodness no one in the barracks suspected a thing, not the commander or the soldiers I sparred and lost to just Marcus, my best friend who stood by me sharpening his blade in silence.
Years has passed since I defied orders and released the beast. I barely remember those memories but I knew what I did just didn't remember faces. I wonder where he is now. He could be dead for all I care.
Because of him, I served penance for that mistake. My father's mercy came with a price- a soldier's life, a man's name and taking the full embodiment as a woman burying the truth that I am a woman to a race that despised weakness.
And weakness was exactly what I was known for.
I wasn't the best in the rank and I was poor in everything there is but I try harder than anyone to make a name for myself.
"Formation ready!" The commander's voice boomed through the camp snapping me out of my reverie. "The witches have set the wards. By nightfall, we invade the Blood Moon territory."
The witches –pale, hollow-eyed women stood in a circle, chanting under their breaths. Runes glowed faintly in the air, swirling with forbidden power. The humans had learned to wield dark magic and sorcery, binding the magic of their ancestors into blood-soaked charms and burning sigils. They believed it could cripple a werewolf's strength and weaken its senses.
But I knew better. This was uncomfortable to watch and I could feel it.
The spells they chanted gnawed in me like claws scratching beneath my skin, stirring something buried within my veins. I felt a hand on my shoulders.
"You okay, private?" The commander asked. I gave a sheepish smile and nod. "The scent of the sage keeps giving me headaches." He glanced at me with a frown on his face. "You should have stayed back after all you are weak."
I grimaced turning my head to the side. "I am fine commander."
As the soldiers sparred among themselves, I sharpened the blades with Marcus. Just like me, Marcus doesn't like trainings. He wanted to be a chef but his parents wanted to put him to good use since he is mute. He found out in the worst way possible. He found me naked, by the lake washing up while the others used the public bathroom. And we became friends ever since.
The soldiers marched into the forest, the shadows thickening; the witches' lights began to flicker. And then, the silence shattered. A howl, low and dangerous rolled through the trees. They were here and they had us surrounded.
One moment, the forest was silent. The next, it screamed. A howl rippled through the air, deep enough to shake the marrow in my bone. The shadows moved too fast we could barely see figures.
Figures lunged from the mist, half man, half beast- the Feralkin. Their eyes of different colour and their bronze skins like honey, their claws slicing through armours as if it were butter.
"Form the lines!" The commander roared but there was no one, only chaos. The first wolf hit their front rank like a storm. Swords clanged and bodies fell, both human and beast. The witches chanted spells, their lights went dark immediately consumed by raw power.
The Feralkin didn't just fight, they tore, bit, ripped, fighting with an animal precision that no soldier's training could match. They learned combat while we boasted that they were no match for us.
A wolf lunged at me. I slashed wildly in terror, my blade finding flesh. Hot blood sprayed across my face. To my left, there laid Marcus struggling with a beast who had his hands wrapped around his neck. I picked up a rock and smashed it to its head without thinking. It fell to the ground and Marcus crawled away. I wanted to kill it but somehow, I couldn't. The wound on Marcus's thigh seeped blood. My shoulders burned from the wolf's teeth that grazed there.
The smell of blood thickened in the air. The ground was slick with it. Many of our soldiers laid there injured, dead or in comatose and a few of those beasts too. Marcus groaned, clutching his leg, the wound deep and the bone visible beneath the torn flesh.
He gasped, his expression pained. "I won't leave you," I whispered even as my vision blurred.
I looked around, examining the place for any more beast but it looks like they have cleared out too. But somewhere beyond the horizon, a figure stood from the ridgeline, tall, broad-shouldered and silent. I turned to the more important issue at hand.
We would bleed out if we stayed. I forced myself to move, tearing a fabric out of my uniform to bind his wound. I had my female gown underneath so I have to do the one thing I was forbidden to. I took off my uniform, stripping down to my female undergarments and I removed the ribbon from my hair letting it fall. I stripped Marcus of his uniform as well and out of sheer will,
I dragged him through the forest, step by step, blood trailing behind us until the scent of smoke led me to the edge of a small settlement near the pack borders. It was dangerous and reckless but I had no choice.
I found a dress and pulled it over my bloodied frame. It clung to my body but it would do. I disguised Marcus in a villager's tunic, then dragged him towards the settlement gate. When the guards saw me, I collapsed at their feet, clutching Marcus's hand.
"Please," I rasped, my voice trembling. "We were caught at crossfire between the humans and the werewolves. We... we're just trying...to get home."
The guards exchanged wary glances. My face was smeared with ash and blood, unrecognisable after all. One of them hesitated, and then called for help.
And just like that, help came.
But in all, I can't help but think back to who stood beyond the smoke during the fight. He didn't move or join in the fight. He just observed like the god of war scanning the battlefield with unreadable calm.
Who was he?