Fated reborn - Chapter 74: Chapter 74

This could not be happening, was I screwed?
"He wants to banish me? How sure are you about this? Where did you hear it?"
"Calm down."
But I couldn't. I felt my blood bubbling at the surface of my skin, ready to burst out of its veins. My mind was reeking with a million things at once, what was I going to do?
"Stop panicking."
"I can't okay! I can't. My life in this damned pack is hanging in the balance and all you can say is I should calm down and stop panicking?" My breaths were laboured, whether from the pain in my ribs, or the fear I felt, I didn't know. My anger was irrational, but at this moment, everything was hitting all at once and all I could do was react to it.
Trent's eyes flared, before settling into a look of sadness.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Now you're even more worried. I'm so stupid," he scolded himself fiercely, and I felt even worse than before.
"Don't apologize," I croaked, my throat scratchy.
"Hey, do you have some water on you." I couldn't bear the way my throat clawed and scratched itself.
"Sure." Trent brought out a pouch from his jacket and opened it. It was a pretty hefty pouch, yet I scarfed its content down like a man in a dry desert.
"Better?" He asked as I wiped the water drops from my mouth, and I nodded.
"Let me see your wounds."
I stretched my arms out, because that was the worst of it. The sting in them was beyond me, and now, I couldn't feel them anymore. The other parts of my body just had swellings which would go away easily with a mild ointment, but the clawed flesh of my arm wouldn't do the same as easily.
"Okay, at least the bleeding has stopped," he said, as he inspected my arms. He brought out some first aid materials from his jacket, and I just now noticed how bulky his jacket truly was.
"Um Trent, do you know what you're doing?" He was poking and prodding my arm in a bid to treat it.
"Of course. I know basic first aid because I'm a guard, but I also asked the pack doctor for some extra directions," he looked down at the gauze and other materials laid out in front of him, "and supplies too."
Trent finished wrapping up my arm, then applied a light ointment on my closed eye. The swelling had gone down but it still hurt like a bitch.
"Won't my Father be furious?" Because as far as I knew, he hadn't authorized for me to get treated.
"He will be."
I gasped, "Trent, you shouldn't have. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."
"But I won't get into trouble because it's pack rules. Rule 64 to be exact. A person kept prisoner is allowed simple health care so they won't die before their trial is concluded."
"But my Father could still hurt you."
"He won't. He asked well as all guards, warriors and what not know these rules very well, especially the ones catering to prisoners. He won't do anything because it will make him take a blow to his already fragile ego."
"Fragile?"
"Well, you did blow his ego into smithereens last night, and right now he's trying to salvage what he has left, so I know he won't risk his ego plummeting further."
Trent's explanation put my mind to a stand still, because I couldn't be at ease. My Father could be unpredictable sometimes, but for Trent's sake, I hope he was too busy licking his wounds to care.
"I have to go now, I've been down here too long and it will start getting suspicious."
"Alright, go."
Trent stood to his feet, then casted one last glance at me.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Anytime." With that, he walked into the darkness. I listened to his departing footsteps until they faded into nothing. Once again, I was alone.
A little easier than before, I moved back to my spot against the bench and waited, what for, I wasn't sure. My eyes dropped shut and I caught in some much needed sleep. My body hurt less than before, so it was easier to stay asleep.
It was the sound of a tang against the metal bars that got my tired eyes lifting up.
"Here's your meal." The guard had shaggy brown hair and eyes, and I watched him drop the plate at the bars before heading off.
Porridge, and a generous portion of it too. My gut told me it was Trent's doing because I had heard of the non existent portions served to people locked up. My Father would never do special treatment for me, even if he did, it would be in the negative sense.
I scarfed it down, not bothered about the taste before gulping down the water in the pouch Trent had cleverly hidden. I wiped my mouth, then retreated into the recesses of the cell to recuperate.
My head lolled back, and I went back to sleep. It was the only other thing I could do besides think.
I was in a meadow, moon flowers fluttering from the sky and littering the ground with its pale hue. Stars splattered across the brilliant night, and stood at the centre of the speckled sky was a full moon.
The wind ripped my hair as I turned every which way to observe my surroundings. I had never been there before but my gut said I had.
There was a line tree in the meadow, it's branches hanging low as its leaves were intertwined with the moonflowers.
My feet carried me towards it as if it were in a trance of it's own. I stopped at the tree's trunk then looked around it. Nothing.
The moon had casted a silver glow in the meadow, but the tree provided cover, and I stood in the shadows and waited.
"Lunawyn."
My neck craned in the direction of that voice. A voice I hadn't heard in so many years, the voice all my good memories were filled of. My eyes watered, and I mouthed the words I hadn't said often because it brought me so much pain.
"Grandfather."
But there was another growing feeling in my chest.
I was dead.