Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)-Chapter 399 - The Ghostliness Of Inner Character & Magic Containers

Chapter 399: Chapter 399 - The Ghostliness Of Inner Character & Magic Containers
"Richard Barnes. I have a mission for you."
"I sure as hell bet you do, but I’m kind of running on fumes and hate right now. So it had better be to finish what I started - or else I don’t think I can agree to jump back into your authoritarian operation."
Looking away from the snowbank which the Sandhowl Alpha moved behind a half a minute ago, I turn my snout toward the combative man and huffed. As if he has any leverage in this scenario.
Is it the ’testosterone’ in both of them? Is that the problem?
He certainly doesn’t have enough direct gratefulness for saving his life. I know these certain humans think they are such great killers of the supernatural, but if they really were *so great* then the species would have died out long ago.
"Sorry, but it won’t involve throwing your life away. With any luck. There is a cave system a bit north of the other side of this pass. Seventeen humans have taken shelter there. They need your protection, especially if there are werewolves who have forgotten their... humanity."
"Babysitting, then. While letting him get away."
Her voice was a bit contrite before, but it hardens when he continues being petulant.
"I’m suggesting you have a purpose beyond this doomed standoff. He was whittling down your ammunition. You would have needed to get very lucky with that axeblade... that you think you’ve hidden so well in your crossbow."
"Fucking wolves."
Tilting my head, I’m usually inclined to agree with that statement... but also kind of want to growl at this part of his exchange with her. What I *was* or *am* right now aside - he is disparaging what my sleeping son was born to be.
> So rude, right in front of him. A nip on his shoulder is probably too much. <
Even if my child doesn’t understand human language yet, I settle the score anyway by scraping my claws on the ice... and flinging shards of it at the man’s pants. I’m not sure she understands why I did it, but Kyrie laughs.
And my stupid tail starts *acting out* again.
"Those people... they need someone with your skills. It’s what you were already doing. Staying neutral and helping the people who refused to come in for shelter those first days. Please, see to them until we can send more aid."
"And why would I trust you anymore?"
"Because while it might be hard to see with what you’ve been through, not all of us have abandoned our principles. This is going to be a long fight, Richard. The world is changing - but I won’t let it end."
Hearing her certainty and conviction makes my tail stop in reality, while flicking violently in my soul. Because... everything has an end.
I thought I knew that so clearly.
Yet, the only thing really close to being clear since I’ve met her has been... that I am entirely *unhappy* with that belief. That I have never been happy with it. I’d just kept going on because it was how the order of the world was shown to be.
A mantra sounding out from my soul and seeping back in, like a bitter medicine. One I kept eating to douse the symptoms of the very same hope that I ’just know’ is going to damage me some day.
However, it’s not a prescription I ever want to be written for her, or my son, to take.
> I want her to believe she is right. Even if she is not. Though it would be nice if she is. A lot of things would be nice if she could have her way. <
The system given to me... really, really should have been given to her. I don’t understand why Chad. Why me. Why anyone other than those with deeply positive ambitions and the sort of ethical leadership that the humans needing ’shepherded’ deserved.
The Lunar Goddess suggested that it was her counterpart, the Solar God, who was responsible for ’borrowing’ the system. Did he even look at it closely? Or was he already too far gone to understand what he was agreeing to...
"Citra?"
Fingers are reaching up and curled under my chin to gently get my attention. I realize I’ve been missing conversation while lost in my thoughts.
My nose tilts down into the pouch on her stomach and I breathe in. Crisp snow, bloody iron, and of course the milky smell that exudes from my pup’s main diet.
It centers me again in now. Away from futures and what ifs. For about five seconds, until anxiety trickles back in.
"I’ve never seen one of you at that size in a wolf form. Let alone one immune to silver. Do we need to watch out for that across the board?"
"Can’t say no, as a lot of things are hard to see coming lately. But to me, she and this child are special. So don’t spread it around and create more fear and suspicion. That’s not what we need right now."
"No. It’s not. But it’s what we’re going to get when some werewolves are showing that their true colors are not on their fur, but in their black souls."
Hearing and feeling her chuckle, all while hugging herself onto my skull - like she had sensed such excessive contact was somehow needed... I start to really wish she was not blocking my view.
As it is, this man still has weapons! Did I miss the part of the conversation where he apologized and bent the knee?
"I forgot how poetic you could be, Barnes."
"For a few moments there, I forgot everything you’ve ever stood for since you took charge. So we’re even, Voss."
> Nope, there it is. As indirect as can be. <
"Be careful. I’ll make sure my wolves know to announce themselves if approaching."
I hear a set of crunches on the ice before he suddenly stops.
"Wait. I just realized, you’re making me tromp hours through the snow by myself and leave most of my gear. With a broken arm. I’m starting to think your soul is a bit darker than your white fur, too."
Twisting my face away from directly next to my son, I bark at him while scratching firmly at the ground again. At the same time, I access the second little square that my... companion can use to store things away.
Shipping container now instantly right beside us, I watch as he shuffles away from the *insanity* of that. With saucers for eyes, a dropped crossbow on the snow, and a finger shaking and pointing like he’d seen a ’g-g-ghost’.
Helene has strange memories of old cartoons during the brief period she was allowed to watch them.
"Maybe you’re right about me. I could have moved on after seeing your state. I’ve seen hunters in worse condition."
Speaking while opening the door, she goes straight inside like she has a ’planogram’ of the interior stored in her mind. A bottle of painkillers, a box of silver-tipped ammo, one of those heating adhesive patches, a high calorie MRE and bottle of unfrozen water...
"But lucky for you, her soul is a lot brighter than her black fur suggests."
"...So we’re just not going to talk about where the hell that came from?"
Dropping everything into his good arm, before dragging the half-frozen saddle into the metal box, I see her grab a couple more things while trying to mentally deal with... what she just said.
"You can get an explanation - or a splint. Pick."
"If you can set the arm, do it. I’ll probably live without questioning everything right away. But I might pass out and freeze if I fall on this wrong right now."
I am nowhere near the optimistic sort of person that could be called *bright* souled... though she seems content enough with pretending to be the ’bad cop’. Facing him with the pup just... there in between them while her hands are busy, though...
> It makes me nervous. And kind of hungry. <
My eyes tick over to the horse. I don’t really want to stuff it in the shipping container as it is. But it would be a shame to let it go to waste...