In the inner Inn

It seemed the people in this Pack knew Phyllis so well. What was I saying? Of course, they should know her; it was not possible for such a skilled beauty to be ignored. I instinctively concluded that just like the Moon gazers Pack, the Wolves in the Fire-pall Pack did not also like strangers, and only wanted a small opportunity to pounce on them. However, Phyllis’ presence prevented them from doing that to me; it seemed that they feared her so much.

 

            She sat on the bed, leaning down to pull off her boots before placing them aside and proceeding to cross her legs on the bed. “Are you not having a bath too?” I asked, even if she looked like she was not ready to have one.

 

            “After you,” she replied simply. I shrugged and made my way to the bathroom. Just as the bedroom looked simple and spacious, so was the bathroom. I sank into the bath after stripping, satisfied at the cold, tingling feeling it gave my skin.

 

            For a moment, I rested my head on the rim of the Bath and thought about my family; how Lucerne was, how Damien felt and how Coral shore fared without a Leader. I also wondered how they took my sudden disappearance, if they were looking for me. I hope all these will be over the moment I have done as Rakia asked; I just wanted the safety of the Shore and nothing more.

 

            I did not realize I had spent more than an hour in the bathroom until I heard a mass of loud banging on the door, along with a yell that was subdued by the heavy patter of rain on the roof. I lifted my head from the Bath rim, rubbing my eyes as I noted that I had been sleeping since. Well I would not blame myself for falling asleep in the water. After all, I could not get a good sleep at the Moon gazers forest either.

 

            I rose on my feet and stepped out of the tub, making sure not to slip to the even floor. Looking around, I found a towel, which hung on the towel rack, and took it as another banging came on the door. I ignored.

 

            After reaching for my clothes, I realized it was not worth wearing after a bath, as it stunk so badly and had dirt clinging to it. Therefore, I had no choice but to tie the towel around my waist before slowly opening the door, wary of a fist jabbing my nose the moment I came out.

 

            I found Phyllis standing before me, fuming. I had the urge to sigh and walk past her, but when I saw her eyes wander to my lower torso, I instantly swallowed that urge. I gulped, watching her as she trailed her eyes to my bare, hairy chest before taking them to my wet hair that fell loose over my waist. Then those cold, piercing orbs, which sparked a tingling sensation in my stomach, wandered back to my waist and stuck there.

 

            I could not read the mind; I could not tell precisely what Phyllis thought. Nevertheless, I could tell she was staring at the towel, maybe even deeper. I followed her gaze only to realize that I was earlier wrong, now my brows subconsciously jerked when I realized what she literally stared.

 

            Her expression was indifferent, but I would not have known that she was intrigued by the quite big, pierced drawing of a Manticore at the side of my belly if I did not notice the short twitch of her lip. You see, I was one of the types who had a huge spot for Dragons since I was a boy and despite growing up, things remained the same. Only that I was now more obsessed with this Lion-dragon creature called the Manticore.

 

            Her countenance suddenly aired tranquility as she looked up at me with a smile crossing her lips. “Next time, you should ask for a pair of new clothes before running into the bathroom,” She pronounced, leaning her spear against the wall and tugging me out of the bathroom. She got in and locked the door while I shrugged as I glanced down at my belly.

 

            Passing that, I strolled to the bed and realized I had neatly folded fresh clothes laid out for me on the bed. I proceeded to put them on; it was a black pair of pants, a black long-sleeved shirt, a black trench coat and a black pair of cavalion boots; all leather. I wondered why this witch was all about leather and black as I wore the clothing and tucked in.

 

            Phyllis came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, as I strode to stand by the window. She took her spear, approached and stood in front of me, regarding me with scrutiny. “Did you see the waist belt?” She moved to the bed and crouched to wear on her pair of gloves, which she had taken off back at the stream. I watched her as her spear vanished from her hand, then immediately looked away when she rose and turned to me. I did not find a waist belt anywhere.

 

            “Check in the wardrobe,” Phyllis uttered without even being asked and I did as she said. I found the leather belt that lay next to a neat pair of gloves and a long, steel, sheathed sword, more of a Katana sword and belt.

 

             I picked the belt, flicking my eyes from Phyllis’ own belt to mine. There was a huge difference between the two; the width of hers was wide enough to have covered a huge part of her waist. Mine on the other hand was no better than a thick rope. I shrugged, hurriedly crossing the belt around my lower belly and buckling it at a side.

 

            Phyllis huffed, “Put on the gloves, pick the sword and meet me at the restaurant hall,” she ordered, rushing out of the room as her words did her mouth.

 

            I wore the gloves, having a double thought about the sword. Anyhow, I took it and dressed my ponytail to a neat braid, leaving the room after. I found Phyllis leaning on the attendant counter with a tray of food in front of her when I reached the restaurant. As soon as she noticed me, she picked the tray and moved to a table to sit and I followed her, tugging at the shirt.

                                                                                                                                   

            “You should have gotten me better clothing. I hate skin tight clothes,” I complained as I took my seat. Phyllis, whose eyes were once peering into her food, looked up at me with a glare.

 

            “These clothes make you look dominant. You get a lesser chance of encountering bullies,” she stated, looking back at her meal as she began to eat. I rolled my eyes and placed my hands on the table, crossing my fingers under my chin before looking around to note that there was something off about this inn.

 

             I mean, why does it seem like some of the men sitting around the tables did not look like they were actually customers here? They seemed to me like spies from the way they whispered to themselves and looked around. In addition, the attendant still stared at me in an awkward way.

 

            “Go to the attendant and order your meal,” Phyllis said curtly.

 

            I stood up and approached the counter. The older man regarded me for a moment and went ahead to serve me a plate of beef and another of onion sausages. It was not what I wanted, but what was I to do. The attendant did not look so friendly after all. “A purse of coins for the meal,” he told me and I nodded absentmindedly, my eyes drifting to stare at Phyllis.

 

             I caught her giving the attendant, who later nodded, a gesture. “You can keep it, daft,” The man muttered reluctantly, causing me to withdraw my attention from Phyllis and carry my food. Even if I was to pay, I obviously did not have the money to.

 

            With my sword held tightly in my right hand and my tray balanced on my left palm, I went to have my seat. Phyllis’ eyes stayed on my sword after I had sat down and I saw her shake her head as she shoved a piece of thin sliced roast fish into her mouth.

 

             “Why did you not buckle the scabbard to its belt?” She asked with her eyes still on my sword. I dropped my tray and rolled my eyes, here we go again! I then gawked at the Katana, steel sword, having no idea where to place it, or even how to use it.

 

              I had never thought of training with a sword, nor have I imagined of being a swordsman one day. The demons preferred making use of handy fighting tools that they easily could hide; tools like darts, daggers, and so many others. This was because they never use tools after transformation, so it was easy to take out their clothing and the tool with their mind when transforming, and keep it somewhere easy to remember in their memory for when they change back.  

 

            “Look here,” I heard Phyllis call curtly and I returned my attention to her. “Fix the two flaps of the scabbard to the belt. That is all. You are so dump for my liking.” I ignored her latter words and did as she said before beginning to devour my meal.