I Who Should Not Be
Chapter 7
Arya looked up to see Eragon walking past her without a glance her way, his shoulders tense.
"Eragon?"
The younger Rider jumped and turned to face the elf princess. His face relaxed slightly, but she noticed that his anxiety hadn't left him completely at all. She motioned for him to keep walking and kept pace with him. She raised her eyebrows when she saw his bloody sleeve, blood dripping off his fingertips to the stone floor.
"Why are you going to the prison? What happened to your arm?"
Eragon sighed and explained the situation as quickly as he could as they walked, already his sharp ears picking up the low howls that he knew came from Onika as she sat in her cell. The guards put up a token resistance to their demands to be allowed into the cell with the 'wild girl'. Finally they unlocked the door and let Eragon pass. He spoke quickly to the girl in the cell, putting only his head past the door.
"Onika, is it alright if Arya comes in too?"
Arya heard a low whuffing sound and Eragon gave her a small nod before going in. Arya followed, pushing her long dark hair behind her shoulders. To her surprise, the girl in the cell was as beautiful as an elf, but far more wild than any elf or human could hope to be. Then, she felt a touch on her mind that felt sad and afraid.
'Did Murtagh stay with the dark skinned one? Will you ask Eragon for me?'
Arya relayed the message and the younger Rider shrugged his shoulders.
"He was still there when I left. He may have left, he may not have."
The girl crept toward Eragon after he had sat down on her hands and knees, making a small whining noise. Eragon smiled and held out his arm to her and let her sniff the wound she had inflicted on him.
……………………….
Onika sniffed at the blood soaked sleeve, forgetting that the elf was in the room as more guilt washed over her. It was a terrible sin amongst her people to attack members of their pack. The Wolfborn were born fighters and were a warlike people, but to attack family was worse than running away from battle.
She scooted closer to Eragon and pushed back his sleeve and carefully licked the wound, ignoring the look of disgust that both the elf and Eragon let pass over their faces. She knew that if she didn't clean the wound, there would be no forgiveness from him. At least, that was how she understood things. Now if only she had water to finish the ritual. Oh well.
'Tell him that I am sorry. I want to repent as best I can as soon as I am free.'
Arya spoke her word and Eragon shook his head.
"You didn't mean to, Onika. There is nothing to forgive."
Onika sighed and nudged his shoulder with her forehead, to show that she was still feeling guilty and, while pleased that he was not angry with her, that she would try to fix it somehow. All three looked up when the door opened and Murtagh walked in, his face unreadable. Onika was confused by the odd mix of scents coming from him. Anger, relief, confusion, fear… It made her head spin.
"Arya, could you please leave us?"
The elf looked at the trio and stood, nodding.
"I will come to see you later, Wolf-sister."
Onika nodded, but didn't look away from Murtagh.
:I'll leave. Once they let me out I will leave. It's what you're here to say, right? That I have to leave?:
Murtagh looked down and heaved a sigh. Then he looked up and took her face in his hands and smiled, Eragon momentarily forgotten.
:No. You go, I go too.: