Burning my skin won't kill the witch

Days passed, and Warrick’s solitary life was suddenly interrupted by Elafi’s unexpected arrival.

The chimera still did not know what to make of his new guest, or how he was supposed to feel about having someone else under his roof. Ever since he had pulled him from that fatal road accident, the orphaned boy had remained with him in the cabin in the woods.

This was not what Warrick had imagined. He had intended to look after Elafi until he recovered from his injuries and then somehow help him return to the city. But the boy refused to go back, insisting that, without his parents, he had no family left to return to.

Elafi was... a strange child. For one thing, he had never been afraid of Warrick. He had never looked at him with secret, judgmental glances either, even after learning what he was.

“I’m not afraid of chimeras,” he had said. “They’re people just like everyone else.”

Indeed, a strange boy.

Because of his broken leg, Elafi spent most of his time in bed, sleeping like a bear in hibernation (How could someone so young sleep so much?). Sometimes Warrick heard him crying in his sleep, calling for his parents and clutching the pillows to his chest, his face wet with tears. The sight always tugged at something deep inside him.

Warrick could not help wondering what it would feel like to be a father.

Chimeras are sterile. As a child, like many other children, Warrick had dreamed of growing up and having a family of his own. He wanted to become a firefighter, marry a beautiful, intelligent woman, and have children. Unfortunately, that future had been taken from him at the unfairly young age of fourteen, when, after a restless night filled with nightmares, he had awakened transformed into something else—something many people no longer considered human.

“It’s a miracle I managed to survive this long,” he sometimes told himself. Many chimeras were not so lucky. Poachers preferred to capture them young, when they were easier to subdue or “domesticate,” and sell them to people who wanted to keep them as pets or slaves. He really had no right to complain. If he had chosen to live alone in the woods, it was precisely so he would not have to deal with anyone.

He finished preparing a bowl of oatmeal with fruit and headed toward Elafi’s room. Even at that hour of the morning, the boy was still buried beneath the quilts, curled up like a caterpillar.

“I brought you breakfast,” Warrick said.

Elafi poked his head out from beneath the covers, revealing watery, irritated eyes. He had spent the night crying again. He was such a crybaby, yet, for some reason, Warrick found that it did not bother him quite as much as it should have.

The boy struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. His hair was tousled and stuck damply to his forehead, and the tip of his nose was red.

“I don’t feel very well,” he murmured, his stuffy voice making his congestion obvious.

“You look like you’ve caught a cold.” Warrick placed the back of his hand against the boy’s forehead and frowned at the heat. “I still think you should go to a hospital.”

“I don’t want to.”

A wet, rattling cough seized Elafi before he could say anything else. He doubled over, coughing until his whole body shook. Warrick immediately steadied him, rubbing his back and giving him a few gentle pats between the shoulders. When the boy finally managed to cough up the thick phlegm caught in his throat, he was left gasping weakly for breath.

Warrick didn’t want the boy to get worse in an environment as unfamiliar as the woods. He never got sick himself, so he had no medicine at home. He would have to go into town to find some, but the thought of leaving Elafi alone while he was burning with fever made him uneasy.

“Drink plenty of water and get some sleep,” he told him, helping him take a few sips from a bottle. “I’ll go into town for a while. I’ll get you some medicine to bring down your fever and help with that horrible cough.”

“Will you be okay?” the boy asked, watching him with concern.

When was the last time anyone had worried about Warrick’s well-being? Perhaps many years ago, before he had decided to leave his parents and younger brother, terrified that his new condition might somehow put them in danger.

“Yes. I’ll be fine,” Warrick replied. He pulled the fresh sheets up around the boy, tucking them beneath his shoulders. “I’ll be gone for a while, but I’ll come back.”

“Do you promise?” Elafi whispered.

Warrick felt a strange flutter in his chest.

"I promise."

Reaching the town was not difficult. Warrick could make the journey in a little over two hours on foot. The problem was what awaited him once he got there.

His last few visits had not exactly been pleasant. Although some of the villagers recognized him after years of living in the woods, not everyone was willing to welcome him or even treat him with basic kindness. Warrick decided not to linger any longer than necessary and headed straight for the nearest pharmacy. The clerk already knew him, so he let him in and served him without questions, even as the other customers watched him with disapproving, sometimes disgusted, looks.

Once he had the medicine, Warrick left, intending to return to Elafi as quickly as possible. However, he had barely made it a few streets away when he stopped dead. Someone was following him. He turned around and found a man several yards behind him, wearing a dark jacket.

“Whoa. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, buddy,” the stranger said, raising both hands.

Warrick stared at him. He could smell the man’s sweat, could practically taste his nervousness in the air. Not a good sign.

Determined not to waste another second in town, Warrick turned and crossed the street, continuing along the opposite sidewalk. But then, something sharp struck the back of his neck. He snarled through clenched teeth and reached behind himself. His fingers closed around a small foreign object, which he yanked free. A dart.

Immediately his vision swam. His legs gave out and he staggered sideways, catching himself against a wall.

“Whoa, careful, buddy.” The same man was suddenly beside him, grabbing his arm to keep him from falling. “Why don’t you rest for a little while?”

“Let... mmm… go...”

Warrick tried to pull away, but his muscles barely responded. A heavy weakness was spreading rapidly through his body, turning his limbs sluggish and his thoughts hazy. The stranger began steering him toward the mouth of a dark alley.

“Let me go,” he mumbled again, louder, shoving the man away with what little strength he had. But it was too late. Five figures stepped out from the shadows, surrounding him from every direction.

“Sorry,” the stranger said, a crooked smile twisting across his face. “But we can’t have wild animals running loose in town, can we?”

Warrick’s answering growl reverberated through his entire body. If he had been in perfect condition, this would have been nothing, he could have taken down every one of these criminals before they even had time to react. But whatever they had shot into his neck was a powerful sedative, and it was stealing his strength by the second. Still, Warrick refused to surrender.

The fight was short, but vicious. He lashed out with claws and kicks, snapping his jaws whenever someone came too close. Even half-drugged, he fought like a cornered beast. He was not going down without a fight, but there were too many of them. A heavy weight crashed onto his back. Another pair of hands seized his arms, as someone grabbed his legs. Within moments, Warrick was face-down on the pavement, several men pinning him down. The bag containing Elafi’s medicine slipped from his fingers and landed near the mouth of the alley, close yet out of reach.

“Big and fierce,” the apparent leader mocked as he crouched beside him. “But in the end, just an animal.”

He reached down and tugged sharply on one of Warrick’s ears. Warrick bared his fangs and snapped at his arm. The poacher jerked back just in time.

“Feisty, aren’t you?” he laughed. “Hurry up and tie him down properly!”

Warrick’s hands were shoved into some kind of thick leather restraints before being forced behind his back. Several zip ties were tightened around his wrists, trapping his long claws inside the restraints and making them useless. His ankles were bound the same way.

Elafi. The thought of the boy waiting alone in the cabin jolted something awake inside him. Using what little strength and lucidity remained to him, Warrick swallowed his pride and said:

“P-please...” His voice came out weak and unsteady. “Someone very important to me is sick... I need to take them this medicine...”

The leader crouched in front of him and grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing his head upward.

“Then perhaps you’ll get lucky,” the man said coldly. “Maybe that person will want to pay a ransom for your hide before we sell you on the black market.”

Warrick was overcome with rage. He roared and lunged forward, once again trying to bite his captor. The man recoiled and reached into his coat, and before Warrick could react, a leather muzzle was pressed firmly over his mouth. The straps were pulled tight behind his head. The thick leather covered his lips, while a hard bit settled between his fangs. Any attempt at pleading, cursing, or even biting was rendered useless.

Warrick thrashed weakly against his restraints. No, he had to get back. Elafi was sick, he had promised he’d be back.

But the sedative was stronger. The hunters began dragging him toward an unknown destination, his body scraping helplessly against the ground. Warrick tried to keep his eyes open, but his eyelids grew heavier and heavier until, at last, the world around him dissolved into darkness.

When Warrick woke, he was surrounded by darkness. His limbs were still bound, and the muzzle remained strapped tightly over his face. As the seconds passed, his eyes gradually adjusted to the shadows, revealing the thick iron bars of a cage surrounding him. He appeared to be in a small basement. A tiny window high on the right wall offered a glimpse of another row of cages, all of them empty for the moment. He was alone.

Warrick struggled against his restraints, but the sedative still left him dizzy and weak. Every movement made his head swim, while the zip ties around his wrists and ankles bit deeper into his skin. Shouting would accomplish nothing, even so, he let out a frustrated growl behind the muzzle.

He had been captured. Hunted. The very thing he had spent years running from had finally happened. What would become of him now?

He twisted and fought against his restraints for several minutes without success. He kicked the iron bars with both legs, once, twice, but the solid bars did not bend. Only his knees were left throbbing with pain.

No. No, no, no. This could not be the end, this could not be how his life was going to end. He had spent so many years hiding from poachers, staying away from every human settlement—even from his own family—just to avoid being captured.

And now, after all those years, he had failed.

Elafi.

What was going to happen to the poor boy? He had no home to return to. He had lost his parents. He was alone and sick in that cabin deep in the forest, waiting for Warrick to come back.

Warrick’s chest tightened painfully, as though an enormous weight were crushing his ribs. He forced himself to breathe slowly through his nose, desperately trying to calm the panic clawing at his throat. But the guilt had already begun gnawing at his heart.

Then he heard footsteps overhead and froze. A moment later, a door at the top of the staircase swung open, spilling a rectangle of light into the basement. A tall silhouette appeared against it before beginning its descent. Heavy boots stirred little clouds of dust with every step.

“Did you enjoy your little hibernation, Winnie the Pooh?”

The three poachers descended one after another, chatting and laughing among themselves. They threw mocking remarks at their subdued prey, clearly enjoying the sight of him trapped and helpless inside the cage. Warrick could do nothing but glare back at them, hatred burning in his eyes.

The men were so focused on insulting and humiliating him that they failed to notice a fourth silhouette appearing at the basement entrance.

A woman.

Brilliant blue eyes gleamed beneath the dim light, and a pair of furry ears stood atop her head.

Warrick stared at her in confusion, then surprise.

She was a chimera.

The woman raised a thick wooden staff and, with one powerful swing, she brought it crashing against the nearest poacher’s head, making the man dropped instantly. The other two barely had time to react, cause the woman was already upon them.

She moved with astonishing speed, her claws flashing as she struck, her enormous fangs sinking into flesh whenever an opponent came too close. The basement erupted in screams, while Warrick could only watch, still trapped.

The last poacher finally collapsed, leaving all three criminals bleeding across the floor. Only then did the woman turn toward Warrick.

Her eyes were the color of a stormy sea. She was an adult woman with long, unruly silver hair, matching the fur of her ears and the long, fluffy tail swaying behind her.

“I’m getting you out of there,” she said.

She searched through the unconscious men until she found a key and hurried to unlock the cage. Warrick barely had time to register that he was free before she knelt beside him and began cutting through the restraints immobilizing his wrists and ankles. The moment his hands were free, Warrick tore the muzzle from his face and hurled it across the basement as though it were radioactive.

“Thank you,” he gasped.

His wrists were raw and red beneath the restraints, and his legs trembled when he tried to stand. The woman immediately offered him a hand.

“Easy.”

Warrick accepted it reluctantly and allowed her to pull him upright. His knees nearly buckled beneath him, forcing him to catch himself against the bars.

“Let’s get out of here before one of them wakes up.”

They left the building together. Outside, night was already beginning to fall. Warrick stopped. How long had he been unconscious? His stomach dropped. He had left Elafi alone for the entire day!

“Thank you for helping me,” he said, forcing himself to keep moving despite the weakness still weighing down his body. “But I need to leave as fast as possible. There’s someone who needs me.”

“I know,” the chimera woman replied calmly. Her posture was completely relaxed, as though she had not beaten three criminals half to death only moments earlier. She casually spun her wooden staff between her hands, revealing the carved head of a wolf at its tip. “That’s exactly why I came to save you.”

Warrick stared at her. He understood absolutely nothing.

“Who are you?” he asked cautiously. “Do you know me?”

“My name is Lupita.” The woman gave him a small smile. “And I’m a witch. A witch, and a wolf chimera, too.” She tapped the carved wolf’s head against the ground. “Last night, I had a premonition. I saw a bear trapped in a cage. And today, by complete chance, I witnessed those idiots capturing you. So I followed them.”

If Warrick had been confused before, he was now completely bewildered.

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he admitted. “But I have to leave. Right now.”

“May I come with you?” she asked. “Maybe I can help. I know a little medicine, too.”

Warrick hesitated. The wolf woman carried a soothing scent, something reminiscent of rosemary and jasmine. There was nothing threatening in her expression, and she did not seem to be lying.

Besides, the medicine was gone, and if Elafi’s condition had worsened while he was away...

“All right,” he said at last. “You can come.”

The two chimeras made their way back through the forest, and some hours later, they finally reached the cabin. Warrick barely gave himself time to catch his breath before rushing toward Elafi’s room.

His heart nearly stopped. The boy was lying on the floor beside the bed, the blankets scattered around him.

“Elafi! Are you okay?! What happened?!”

The boy let out a weak groan. His cheeks were flushed bright red, whether from the fever or embarrassment, Warrick could not tell.

“I was... hungry...” he murmured. “But I was also really sleepy...”

Warrick exhaled shakily. He had been so afraid. He hurried to help Elafi back into bed, carefully lifting him beneath the arms and settling him against the pillows. Lupita, meanwhile, disappeared into the kitchen to prepare something for him.

“This should help bring his fever down and soothe his throat,” she assured Warrick as she returned with a steaming cup of tea.

Elafi took the cup with both hands and drank it slowly, taking small, careful sips until he had emptied it. From the way he kept glancing at Warrick, it was obvious he was waiting for an explanation. But Warrick could not bring himself to speak.

How could he tell the boy that he had been captured by poachers? That they had nearly sold him on the black market? That all of it had happened because he had made one careless mistake and let his guard down?

“I’m sorry I took so long,” was all he managed to say.

Elafi studied him for a moment.

“You came back,” he said softly. “That’s what matters most.”

A faint smile appeared on his feverish face. It was obvious the boy was not satisfied with such a vague explanation. Elafi was perceptive enough to know that something had happened, but he was also wise enough to realize that this was not the right moment to press him for answers.

That warm feeling returned to Warrick’s heart, the same feeling when Elafi had asked if he would be okay. For some reason, those words meant more to Warrick than they should have.

Lupita appeared a moment later and held out another cup.

“This one is for you.”

The tea smelled of cinnamon, eucalyptus, and cloves. Warrick accepted it hesitantly and took a sip. Warmth spread slowly through his chest, easing the tension he had been carrying for hours. His shoulders finally relaxed, and for the first time since leaving the cabin that morning, he felt like he could breathe.

When was the last time he had felt this way? Safe and at peace. Not alone.

Warrick lowered his eyes to the steaming cup in his hands. Whatever happened from here on, he silently promised himself that he would never forget this feeling.

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