《Escape The KNIGHT》 Dorians Dorian''s Tchk! The sound reverberates from the metal door as Naomi bursts from within the facility. Barefoot, alone, but already in a sprint, she was now in the open and free to really run. She leans forward into the momentum, her jet-black hair falls from its tidy bun and trails behind her like a scarf of midnight. Her pale skin glows under the moon-light, yet she doesn¡¯t need its guiding hand to find her way; for her destination is anywhere but here. The Kindness Non-Indigenous Growth Hormone Therapy Clinic, or Kindness Clinic as it is more commonly known, has been Naomi¡¯s home for many months now. The beast within has ached for the moonlight, the sky, and the stars above. Resisting one¡¯s natural instincts is bound to take its toll on any man, and Naomi was much more. As she dips into the forest, she takes solace behind the first tree she finds. She waits. She listens. The atmosphere carries no sound, until it does. Naomi dashes from that tree to another. Then another. She keeps herself low, seeing and hearing that which is not. When moving from one tree to the next, the sound of broken branches catches her attention. As high as she was on fear and adrenaline, this small event breaks her mind furthermore. Her fight, and more importantly her flight, instincts come to a halt. In mid-run she halts abruptly, nearly toppling over herself. She focuses her ears, trying to pinpoint the direction. The wolf within whimpers, caught between the desire to come forth and fight, and to cower inside. Her body goes rigid, frayed nerves burn with excited fear. She hears nothing for a moment more until a sound from above shows a winged monster coming down upon her, its talon''s point sparkling within the night sky. Fear abound, Naomi forgets cover and staying low, simply runs away with all her might. The last sound she hears before her heartbeat pounds within her ears is the twittery singsong of a bird from somewhere unknown. She then stumbles across a rushing river. The torrents of this beast washes away all life. The River Styx is unmanned and unused. Yet it was her only path to freedom. Gulping down a lungful of air that sears her lungs, she continues forward and makes the largest leap she can manage, but to no avail. She crashes halfway across the river and a new kind of fear assaults her as gallons of water slip down her throat. She tries to scream but it makes the problem worse. As she flails wildly, a set of strong arms pulls her free from the damnation. She rolls across the ground, gurgling and coughing and vomiting up her body weight worth of water. Through the corner of her eyes she sees the most terrifying thing yet. Men. Not creatures of lore, but honest to god men. So much worse were they that a momentary lapse of judgment had Naomi scrambling back to the watery grave. But the creatures of her nightmares were having none of it as they reach out and grappled her, trying to force her down and still. As terrifying as these beasts are, they do not scare the beast within Naomi and it manifests its fangs and tears into their arms. Warm blood coats her throat and the men stagger backward in fear of her. She takes the chance to stumble away, slowly gaining speed and distance. Her joints burn under the new-found strain as bone scrapes against bone causing memories of a worse and more distant pain to flood her mind. Naomi shakes her head trying to stop the oncoming torrent of memories. She slows to a jog as she starts to realize she is even more lost than before. As much as she tries to ignore the memories and the pain of it all, they still managed to distract her just enough. Naomi slowly comes to a standstill, stumbling and catching herself on a jagged tree. It hurts, and hurts and hurts. She can''t resist it anymore and finally, the dam collapses, spilling forth her tears. She slams her fist into the tree, damning herself and her cowardice. She falls to her knees, dragging now bloodied hands down her prickly comfort. She is torn between the fear of her freedom and the fear of what she left behind. That raspy, dreamy voice thuds within her mind, bringing her back to the past. Her odyssey began many months earlier, a starving woman roamed the streets, no home to call her own, for she preferred it that way. A pack was considered a necessity for her kind, yet no pack ever felt like home to her. It was during one such time when food was particularly scarce that Naomi found that the Kindness Clinic was running one of its charity events, screening the health of the land¡¯s denizens, and giving them the warmth of dinner. To be ever wary is to be alive; and Naomi was a survivor. Yet the Kindness Clinic was known all over to represent their name well. It was during one such moment of strife-filled misapprehension that Naomi made the mistake of giving in to her need. For in truth, beneath the surface, the K.N.I.G.H.T Clinic was waiting for just such an event at just such a time. Their real objective was to study the regenerative properties of Homo-Lupine in hopes of finding applications towards the plights of Homosapiens. The food lulled her to sleep quickly and only the pain of the needles woke her from the deep slumber. Slumber, perhaps, is the incorrect word as she felt more tired than ever before. The IV¡¯s cold drops tingle their entrances yet are quickly masked by the pain of another injection. Through the haze of her vision, Naomi sees the masked men nodding to one another over various charts and graphs. What follows is a quick blur as chemical cocktails force Naomi into the twilight of being just out of reach from the sandman¡¯s grasp yet no closer to being awake. It takes hours, perhaps days or weeks, for Naomi to gain some semblance of lucidity. This self-same night she hunches against the wall, the cold-damp steel reminding her she can feel more than pain and fear and betrayal. Betrayal of what, one might ask. Yet betrayal all the same; from the world, from fate, from the men and women with their pokes and prods and stabs and injections. Alone her kind is weak, she knew, but never home were they.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Through the slit in the door, that the guards use to occasionally gibe and tease and stare in wonder, Naomi is able to catch glimpses of small humans, children and the like, pass by. They are, more often than not, accompanied by a regimen of adults all ebbing and flowing through the dull-white hallway. On not one occasion, the processions had to be halted for a moment or more as the children take time to recoup themselves after fatal fits of coughing or seizing. Strange words can be heard through the small slit at times like these, ¡°limited time,¡± ¡°Lupine studies need to be redoubled,¡± ¡°key to saving us all.¡± Things of this nature and more gives pause to the whirlwind of muddled thoughts accosting Naomi¡¯s mind. During these moments she wonders if her suffering is worthwhile; if it will all amount to something for another at some time. But the clanging from the next cell over, draws her mind to more immediate times. ¡°Anyone else out there?¡± A raspy voice echoes down the hall. Raspy and mangled, but beautiful all the same is it, and it makes Naomi¡¯s pulse quicken akin to how one might react to a Siren¡¯s song. ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± Naomi calls out. Or, eventually, she does after great effort. It¡¯s not known to her if she¡¯s had a drink of water since before she was brought here. Her parched throat tears at itself as it struggles to move, to resonate and produce the sounds necessary. ¡°Thank god. I¡¯ve been in here so long that at first, I thought you were nothing more than my imagination as you¡¯ve never responded before. Are you okay?¡± The voice quizzes Naomi in concern. The confusion of it all halts any possible reply. Before long she dismisses the question and asks one of more importance. ¡°Are you one of the doctors, or scientists, or ogres, or demons, or devils that poke and prod and probe and stab and cut and rip and tear into me?¡± Naomi¡¯s words quicken as she lists her fears, all the more scared for the answer they may bring. A small, musical laugh, so unexpected and out of place, rings from the girl. This angers Naomi and the beast within. Who is she, on her high-placed pedestal, to make light of the subjugation therein? Something within forces without, a growl that grows from Naomi¡¯s chest and escapes her lips. ¡°Down girl,¡± the voice tells Naomi before continuing, ¡°But a Lupine eh? How rare. I¡¯ve never met one in person before. I thought your kind were gone.¡± ¡°Not quite!¡± Naomi spits back. ¡°Ey, ey, ey, calm yourself. My name is Evangeline Sayagawa. Just call me ¡®Eve¡¯.¡± The girl introduces herself. Her laissez-faire attitude is infuriating but it would be stupid, Naomi thinks, to squander this moment to learn more of what is going on. ¡°Naomi.¡± ¡°Naomi what?¡± ¡°Naomi.¡± ¡°Naomi it is, nice to meetcha!¡± This girl, ¡°Eve¡± says with too much pep. ¡°Who are you?¡± Naomi asks. ¡°Well I would guess to be another subject, just like you.¡± ¡°And how do you know who I am here?¡± ¡°No one else would be down here. Trust me, I¡¯ve been here a looooong time.¡± Naomi realizes, for the first time since coming here, that sleep, actual sleep, is making itself known. Her head droops, but she quickly picks it up. She can¡¯t afford to pass up the chance to learn more about her situation. ¡°How long?¡± She asks. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Time flows differently when you¡¯re in hell. But if I were to believe I¡¯m taken away once a day, then given once a day to rest, then I have been in here for one-thousand, ninety-six days.¡± Naomi¡¯s head dips again before she shakes the sand from her eyes, using some quick mental math to stave off sleep a moment longer. ¡°Eve, that¡¯s... three¡­ years¡­¡± Naomi¡¯s sleepy voice trails off near the end. ¡°Sleep well Naomi," is the last comforting thing she hears. And what she does. At least, she does before the next set of pain awakens her. The mask around her mouth muffles her screams, a likely enjoyed side-effect for the people in the room. One woman slices through Naomi¡¯s tendons on her left wrist. Immediately Naomi freezes with fear. The pain alone would be one thing but with the sliced tendons, she has lost control of the major motor functions in her hand. The doctors make note of her quickening heart rate and dilated pupils. One such woman falls backward in fear over the beast within pressing against the surface of Naomi. Yet a calm man, perhaps in his fifties, with short-cropped hair, peppered gray, and a nice suit, orders another man to release another injection. From her right, Naomi feels another needle serpentine into her veins. The burning sensation takes but a moment to run its course throughout the entirety of her body. With this, the beast is lulled to sleep and Naomi laments her one possible chance of escape. The suited-man adjusts his black tie and orders the woman up and to continue her exercise. This man, Dorian Grey we¡¯ll call him, towers over everyone else. His physical form is irrelevant for his persona places him twenty feet tall. With a quick-wit and well adjustments to real-time information, he is able to quickly assimilate all the information and regurgitate it as an order. No sooner than the woman arriving back at Naomi¡¯s side, did she gasp. She talks with passion and scrawls across her clipboard about the amazing healing Naomi, or ¡°Lupine-655321¡± as they call her, exhibits. From their fervored-conversation, Naomi is able to gather that she regenerates at a higher rate than previous Lupines. This moment of pride is quickly quelled when another man, from behind, jabs a scalpel into her jugular. All sans Dorian Grey are quick to a tizzy. Yet his eyes, alone, focus on Naomi¡¯s, pulling her spirit out. The pain from her wound is so great as to overwhelm the rest of her nerves, effectively leaving her numb. Yet a part of her is sure it is his will. And she knows neither of which is true. A quick few minutes later and the wound heals like any other non-lethal injury. The men and women here nearly dance in their ecstatic displays of joviality. Dorian Grey orders prisoner 655321 to be put under as she is looking pale from the loss of blood. It is in these final moments that Naomi stares deep into Dorian Grey, hoping with all hope, that both she and her wolf are able to dive deep into those cobalt eyes of his. Within, she tears and eviscerates and brings forth a reckoning unto his very soul. Yet, of course, she is able to do nothing of the sort for he is law. As the false slumber takes her, however, she notices one more point of pride. During this transaction, Dorian Grey has, infinitesimally small it may be, taken a step back. And so falls the god. Eyes Eyes Naomi awakes to a small humming. Within this dreary world a beautiful melody like none-other echoes around her. ¡°Good morning,¡± Eve tells her. ¡°...¡± ¡°Cat got your tongue? The irony.¡± ¡°How could you possibly of known I was awake?¡± Naomi asks. ¡°The sound of your dreams changed to those of an awakened chorus,¡± Eve says. "Whatever." Naomi proclaims while sliding herself up and against the wall for support. "You sound rough." Eve states. "Thanks. You don''t." "You get used to it-" Whatever else she might have said is quickly cut off by the sound of approaching boots. Within the silence, Naomi hears the tink of metal breaking against metal. Naomi hears Eve being snarky and the guards having none of it. The sound of a strong thud and a hiss of pain from Eve causes Naomi to quickly push herself against the door of her prison. She tries her hardest to catch some small glimpse of what is going on but the slit is too narrow and the angle too shallow. Before long the sounds of scuffling ends and a thudding door is all Naomi is left with. A crack forms in her heart as she imagines what awaits Eve in Tartarus. That man is sure to be there, siphoning the girl''s soul. Those eyes pierce deep into Naomi even from afar, scaring her into a corner of her cell, protecting herself by wrapping into a ball. As she rocks back and forth for an apparent eternity, a violent coughing fit startles her. Glancing through the tiny bit of freedom she possesses, shows another parade of small, sickly people.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. She hears a doctor, presumably, telling the children that it will be okay. That the experiments are proceeding apace and making breakthroughs. He assures them that before long the lupinic regenerative properties will save them just the same. Undeserved guilt pangs at Naomi''s heart. Why must she feel this way? Why must the quelled beast within whimper for the pain of these strangers? Were she asked, she might have even agreed to help these people. So why, why must she be in this position with all of this humiliation and pain and yet even still, feeling guilt of one so wholesome? She wants to leave this world before the two dimensions of emotions tear her asunder. What she needs now, unknowingly why, is to hear the melody of Eve''s voice. Naomi can''t fathom why such a small piece of angelic reverence exists within this place and why it affects her so. But she prays, for the first time, perhaps the last time, to whatever there may be in this universe to bring Eve back to her. All so she can selfishly hear that melodic humming yet again. Her prayers are answered as much as anyones'' can be and months pass with idle chatter between the two women, between bouts of insurmountable suffering. Dorian Grey never did again appear before her. This time between them is theirs and theirs alone. That attitude of Eve''s that once riled Naomi so, quickly became a bastion of peace for her. The small quips between the two paradoxically hardens and softens Naomi''s heart. A pillar of jello she imagines it to be. "Do you have a home to return to?" Eve asks one day seemingly out of nowhere. ¡°Nothing that can be called so.¡± ¡°I see.¡± ¡°Do you?¡± Naomi asks in turn. ¡°Being here, talking to you, listening to you, this is the closest I¡¯ve ever come to having a real home.¡± She coyly says, causing a quickening of Naomi¡¯s heart. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Naomi questions with some hope lingering on each syllable. ¡°Hah. Come on, you know.¡± She teases, perhaps with a small amount of bashfulness sneaking through. Naomi can no longer run from the breathless way she reacts to Eve¡¯s words. No longer can she snuff down the way Eve has taken precedence over the pain of it all. When Dorian Grey reaches inside of her, to rend her soul from flesh, what he sees instead is the flame of Eve inside her. Are Are The memories of Eve shakes Naomi to her core as her guilty, wandering mind returns to the moonlit sky. Her four paws stomp across the dew-stained grass as she makes quick over the field some few miles away from the K.N.I.G.H.T Clinic. Faster and faster her legs carry her, running from the treachery of it all more so than the Clinic itself. She came to realize the love she harbored for Eve only to turn her back on it all. She was a coward who, given the moment to escape, took it all upon herself to hungrily, greedily, partake of the freedom she was offered, as is the nature of the beast. Back in the past, The Maginot Line sat before her, and she pushed forward into the hall. As Plato, as Naomi. The dank, quietness of it all assaulted her ears before anything else. Never before, thought Naomi, had a guard so haphazardly forgotten to lock the cell behind them. Of course, her first line of thought was to search for Eve. The hallway was as long as the sea is wide, as tall as any mountain, and as dark as the void of space. The echoes of her breathing alone confused her sense of direction, to say nothing of the direction Eve¡¯s voice traveled from. Above and in front of her pit, hangs a loudspeaker, likely to be used for broadcasts in the advent of emergencies. Behind her, ingrained into the walls, were rows of deep, dark pits. Inside the maws of desperation and disillusioned lies empty rooms. Rows and rows of rooms, with nary a trace of Eve. The tension of being in the open, the fear of those eyes spotting her causes her fight or flight instinct to activate with obstinate severity. It tugs at her, for she is a survivor. It carries her legs against her will through the labyrinthine corridors and hallways and lobbies and more. She paces herself, checking every which way for some sign of life, some oni around a bend, some ghastly ghoul waiting just out of sight. Yet even Dorian Grey¡¯s eyes remain shut to Naomi¡¯s sudden, inexplicable success at scampering away. Every step towards the exit brings bliss to Naomi. Every step condemns her to a lifetime of guilt and despair and sorrow. Every step makes her reconsider the faith she never had for such a fortuitous moment. With every step she takes she blasphemes against the world and at herself all at once.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The stairs were long and drawn out but she couldn¡¯t chance using an elevator. She approached the door, the final door to the heavens that await. Hesitantly she places her hand on its knob, stricken with indecision. She could leave now and find a new life, a new love, a new home. In doing so, she gives up the quasi-life she had come to know, a love she wishes desperately to bring with her, and a home to reside beside her. But what was she to do? She was no saint, no hero, no martyr or soldier. The cells contained no prisoners she could find. No lab she passed contained a scientist or doctor. They were lonely with unused devices of overabundant healing and hurting. No corridor hid a cowering Eve tucked away in a ball, waiting to be held. Empty, empty, empty, everything was empty. Why would this facility, with its god-like Dorian Grey be so, so empty? Perhaps this is his wrath stricken upon a world who could not claim a cure fast enough? Another pang of sorrow and reticence takes over, causing tremors within Naomi. So many times now had she seen, or heard, or witnessed, or chanced a glance upon, the sick and the dying small ones. At times she would caution a glance at the same red-headed little boy stricken with fits of seizure. It would solemnly walk to and from, guided by the herders of adults. Then one day his fit fought its last and the boy never chance upon Naomi¡¯s sight again. Then there was the cute little girl with those rosy cheeks and the blondest hair you ever did see. She was all smiles any time Naomi witnessed her, even after, or perhaps especially after, a cough mixed with blood. That smile never did fade, even after her permanent absence from this life. Those first few weeks after those children were the hardest for Naomi. Dorian Grey¡¯s powers had diminished greatly on her after that day she defeated him. Yes, he was still strong, but the pull he had, and the chemicals that burned, all seemed as nothing in deference to them. In staying here, Naomi¡¯s hand falls off the doorknob, she could make a difference that, in the outside world, she never would, never could. Her hand wavers now in its own twilight state; with equal chances saint and sinner at the same time, Naomi is stuck existing between two realms. One realm, she stays and through her sacrifice, she brings some semblance of peace to the world. The other realm, she pushes that door open and rushing into that infinite sky. She loses her Eve, but gains her life back. Slowly, oh so slowly, her hand drifts further from the knob. Her conscious mind persists in a tumultuous state even as her subconscious can¡¯t seem to let Eve go. It is then, perhaps in a jest from Dorian Grey himself, that Naomi catches Eve¡¯s whispers on the wind, a wind that has no place and no way to exist within this steel confinement. ¡°Run,¡± it tells her. ¡°Run and never look back.¡± And so the scales tipped and Schrodinger¡¯s choice was made. She slams the door open, breathing in the taste of freedom. Always Always Tired, ragged, breathless, and beaten, Naomi stumbles through the woods. She had heard before being trafficked to hell, while roaming the world alone, whispers of a pack¡¯s location somewhere upon the coast. A small pack family, who are slow to trust and slower still in staying their killing blows, remnants of Lupine societal structure. Her kind had been hunted, as Eve asserted, to practical extinction long before the bills and laws were put into place to forbid such a thing. The energy required to hold the beast quickly left her and both decided it was time for him to sleep. As she stumbled forward, bones shifted, joints changed, and teeth shortened. Before long a naked Naomi catches herself on a tree. Now outside, alone and bare without her fur, she realizes the frigid wind saps what little heat and energy remains. She hesitates to rest against the rough bark of the tree but finds herself powerless to resist. Her vision hazes from exposure and tiredness. She wavers momentarily between passing out and remaining awake. Suddenly, a twig snaps, forcing Naomi alert and awake. But she¡¯s too slow, too wary, to avoid the net casted at her. She screams what little she can, and stumbles, crashing headfirst into the tree she was using as support. The blow is enough to disperse what little energy she had left, causing her to collapse like a listless marionette whose strings have been cut. The jovial sound of laughs and cheers awakens Naomi. Her first instinct is to enter defense mode, afraid to be back in hell. But no quicker than she sits up and throws the covers off herself, does the chastising voice of an old woman scold her. ¡°Settle down young one.¡± This woman says, directing it toward Naomi. The beast within releases a howl, and Naomi bares her fangs. Lightning quick, the woman extends a wooden stave and bops her on the head. Confused at the subtle pain, Naomi whimpers and rubs her fingers across her crown.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Don¡¯t bare your fangs at me, pup,¡± the woman again scolds. ¡°Do you have a name? You have a name don¡¯t you? Of course you do, out with it.¡± ¡°Where am I?¡± Naomi asks. ¡°Stupid question child. You came to find us yes? We followed you for miles to acquiesce your intent. We are who you seeked. We are the children of Fenris¨²lfr.¡± ¡°You all do exist? I had assumed it rumors at this point.¡± Naomi says puzzling over the revelation. ¡°You ventured far and wide for nothing but rumors child? But yes, we are real. And yes, as far as we know, we are the last tribe of Lupins, for we are the purest of them all. We are the children of Fenrir-..." sigh, "saying his other name is too much work,¡± the old one chuckles at the end. ¡°I¡¯m bewildered.¡± ¡°No you are not. Who are you really?¡± The old woman states matter-of-factly. ¡°I¡¯m Naomi. I ran with all my strength and all my power to find you all.¡± ¡°Naomi¡­ an old name. A rare name. We¡¯ve heard rumors of you as well. The lone pup who settles down with none. We thought if they contained any truth behind them, that you would be long dead.¡± ¡°But I am alive, but barely.¡± Naomi takes a moment to look around the room. It¡¯s a small shack, but with a cozy, homey feeling. A fireplace runs at the opposite end, providing much warmth. The front door is cracked, letting in the light from outside. The happy sounds from before occasionally leak in through it. ¡°Well I-¡± the woman begins to get up before having to strain herself to stand. Without thinking, Naomi rushes to her side to assist her. ¡°I am not so feeble, Pup.¡± She scolds Naomi again, yet this time it carries very little sting. ¡°As I was saying, I am Ailen. And this-¡± she moves to the door and opens it, ¡°Is home.¡± Beyond the door is a world so much unlike the one Naomi came from. The bright atmosphere is hard to look at as Naomi¡¯s soul is stained black. She¡¯s glad, ecstatic even, to have found this place. But the sacrifices¡­ were they worth it? Present Present Naomi stands around the campfire, witnessing the jovial atmosphere to be sure, but it¡¯s the fire that captures her attention most. She sees herself reflected in it, and sees the consequences of her actions. This place will offer her solitude by way of group protection, a different kind than she has lived before. But thoughts of Eve are ever spewing into her mind. Why did that woman have such an effect on Naomi? She does not know, no one would. It¡¯s been two months now since that fateful day Naomi escaped from the K.N.I.G.H.T Clinic. The people here have been the best to her. She still wakes up at night near-screaming from the transgressions the past delivered unto her. Yet even now, no one questions the details of what she went through. They simply offer themselves as bastions to catch her where she falls. Life is simpler here than in the cities she was used to. Here, technology is kept at a minimum to reduce any risk of being found out. Most foods are grown or hunted by the pack as to keep the reserves high. On the occasion that certain things are required but only obtainable from outside sources, the pack village quickly learned to rely on Naomi as she had significantly more experience in dealing with humans. She is, as they all are, very cautious in her return. Some trips may take weeks if she feels as if she is being followed. But no human would follow her for long or too great a distance, as they are much more vulnerable in nature. Naomi made sure to keep herself attuned to local gossip related to the ¡°Kindness Clinic¡± she had been taken to. At some point, it was discovered by locals to have been closed down and abandoned. That is to say, the headquarters are still around. Just this specific facility was shut down supposedly for all kinds of violations. Naomi can believe that wholeheartedly. ¡°Naomi.¡± A strong voice cuts through her reverie and she redirects her attention towards the young man, one older than herself however. ¡°Bartholum. It is good to see you have returned. I trust your hunt went well?¡± Quickly in the coming couple months, the pack came to trust Naomi. She was wise beyond her years they would say, as if something shaped her. They whisper how rain can shape mountains, and so too must something natural have shaped her. She, herself, thought little of such things. Though it was true she could deal with the humans better and that is why she was their go-to for those interactions now. Reaching out to grasp her forearm, he tells her the hunt was as good as ever, but that he had other news. ¡°I heard from passing hunters-¡± ¡°You know you shouldn¡¯t be around the humans. It is dangerous!¡± Naomi can¡¯t help but chastise him. Ailen rubs off on her more and more every day. For that reason, and many others, some speak of Naomi taking over the tribe within the next decade or so as their current leader, Ailen, continues to age. Bartholum winces, and lets a whimper escape his throat. ¡°But they passed through the old trail while I was on a hunt. I hid, I promise. But they were boisterous and made no show to hide their conversation. And they spoke of people, survivors apparently, of the Kindness Clinic you are so fixated on. Apparently they are being spread out far and wide amongst the human cities, basically anywhere that will take them. The mention of the Clinic, however good the news, makes Naomi internally wince. For just a moment, her eyes dart to the overhead sky. Even during the daylight, it has become customary for Naomi to occasionally check overhead, to see if Dorian Grey¡¯s eyes were upon her. However, beyond that primal fear of the devil, lies a hope spoken. Survivors! Survivors they said! Eve could be out there! Perhaps that is why she could never be found! Mayhap something occurred and it was Naomi who had actually been the one left behind! Oh so joyous the news! Naomi would never, ever hold it against Eve if she was the one left behind. She would find Eve, reunite with Eve, and thank Eve for saving herself!Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Something in her countenance must have given her away, as Bartholum turns very giddy at Naomi¡¯s reaction. Yet as with every question and reaction from the others to the interest she has in the Kindness Clinic, she dismisses him. But now, Naomi sat at another crossroads. Once again, a fifty-fifty split lays before her, both paths playing out endlessly within her mind. She abandoned not just Eve, but the small ones when she ran away from there. While she could never make it up to the small ones, or to the world, she could perhaps make it up to Eve. She would have no problem spending the rest of her long life with Eve; indeed, she would outlive Eve so it would be more appropriate to say she would live out the rest of Eve¡¯s life with her. The thought of that makes her elated. The gods, Ailen must be correct in that they smile down on Naomi. Her Home¡­ she could chase after it, and find it. She could settle in it, and be content. But then there is the other choice. To look for Eve, she would have to leave, go on an adventure, one that may take the rest of her long life, one that she may not return to due to the dangers still present in the world. Disregarding the humans who still have contempt for her ilk, there is the K.N.I.G.H.T Clinic to worry about even still. Sure, if hearsay is to be believed, her corner of hell was misappropriated and disbanded. But¡­ Naomi casts her eyes to the sinking sun. Something still tingles at her. She still feels, even now, those eyes upon her. Sono me, dare no me. ¡°Who¡¯s eyes are those eyes,¡± the saying goes within the pack¡¯s ancient tongue. But she knew¡­ they were his. They couldn¡¯t be, but they were. There may never come a day that she doesn¡¯t feel that odious stare. That feeling she had that first day, perhaps it really was him siphoning her soul away. In the coming months she had questioned a lot of what transpired during her time in that facility and she can¡¯t be sure even now, how much of those cocktails still cycle throughout her body. Dorian Grey, that man, that monster. Who was he? She never saw him again after that first time. But the impact he left will last for time immemorial. She can never right the wrongs done to the others, but she could make it up to Eve. But then again, she would have to wrong the pack and the home of now. So many would suffer without her. None of them can interact with humans well; and with their intent on her taking pack leadership eventually, she has an obligation to them. But again she has to decide if being selfish outweighs hurting so many others. Lost in this train of thought, Ailen approaches Naomi¡¯s side. ¡°You have to go, you know.¡± She brings up. Shocked, Naomi questions her meaning and intentions. ¡°You¡¯re looking for someone aren¡¯t you Naomi? We can see it you know. That small wanting twinkle in your eye. We¡¯ve all known there may come a time when you would leave us. And that time is now.¡± ¡°But-¡± Naomi tries to protest but is met with a bop on the head from Ailen¡¯s stave. ¡°Just promise you will be safe, and to return with your Luna when all is said and done. There is much work to do. I may be old but I will have no problem holding out until my rightful heir has returned.¡± She tells Naomi, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her face is craggy, showing years longer than the deepest valleys. Her hunched posture tells of so much work throughout her life. So much so that not even our regenerative powers could curb the onset of a bent and broken stance. Yet within her green eyes is a youth spilling forth. Naomi wants nothing more than to argue with her. To demand she tells Naomi to stay. Naomi knows the correct choice here and she needs to be told to do it. But this mother of theirs, pushes her down the wrong path, the incorrect path, the selfish path. There is nothing to be gained from this, Naomi knows. For in truth, it is impossible that she will return before this old woman¡¯s end. Yet the way she speaks, all Naomi can do is nod. For in truth, she told a small lie a moment ago. There is something she wants more than to argue to stay; she wants to go. Night approaches quickly while Naomi packs all her belongings, the very many articles she owns. So much so, that she surprises herself when she realizes much will have to stay. A few months is not enough time to collect much, yet it is more than she has ever had. With more joy, more elation, more happiness than she has ever had before, she steps out of that cozy hut, leaving behind those precious memories, all in the hope of creating even more precious ones. And so, she closes the door behind her, and begins her walk, her escape into the night¡­ Or so it could go, and so we wish it so. But before she even leaves the campground, an unusual sound strikes the within. At first, no one can place it for it was that rare. At no point in the few centuries here, has this sound been heard before. Stamping feet surround the village suddenly. Hundreds, perhaps more, of boots meet clotted earth. Twigs break, trees topple, and people scream. Some shift and try to run, others cower in their huts, hoping to weather the storm. But Naomi? Naomi can only look to the sky, and stare into the moon, and the twinkling of the stars that surround it. Within the moon, He stares back, with but one question upon his lips: ¡°Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moon-light?¡± Epilogue Kindness Non-Indigenous Growth Hormone Therapy Clinic Cure discovered. Eradication of all diseases possible with new advancements: ¡°I stand here today, many years later, amongst you all, as just another person. One such person am I, to have been part of a team to bring about the biggest, and greatest endeavor humankind has ever borne witness to. I now hand the mic over to the lead researcher at our firm.¡± The aforementioned man stands just a few feet away, staring up at the clouds as they pass by. The man who just spoke approaches this head researcher, this man who stands above all others; but finds him to be in a daze, enamored with that lonely blue sky. The researcher seems to come back down to our realm, and hesitantly takes hold of the mic, prepared to head out to the stage. But he stands stock-still for a moment more, and asks the announcer a question: ¡°Do you ever feel eyes upon you?¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°We found it, through much luck, we did. It was given to us, fallen into our laps really. But let me introduce myself first, I am¡­¡± In progress press release: October 31, 20xx. Federal case 655321. Homo-Lupine official classification status: Extinct.