III / Wolves and Girls

At the head of their group of Grisha and soldiers, the darkling rode with such an unforgiving pace at Vera would've most likely fallen clean off her horse and just curled up on the ground, if she hadn't been used to riding so much. Still, she can feel the effects mercilessly on her body after spending so much time in the Summoner coach on the way to Kribirsk.

Even long before the black coach comes into her line of sight, she knows something is wrong.

It's in the say the Darkling's figure ahead of her tenses and that his speed picks up even more, even though she hadn't thought it physically possible of the horse until this moment. Then, she starts hearing the clamor of battle just a moment before she can see the coach.

It has come to a stillstand and all around it, oprichniki and Grisha are fighting. The men are dressed in the unassuming clothes of Ravkan peasants and not in their black and silver uniforms, but Vera recognizes them for who they are.

Sending a quick look around, Vera scans the fighting crowd for the girl. For Alina. When she can't see her, a small sliver of relief floods through her. If she isn't here, then she's still safe in the coach their people are defending.

The relief doesn't last long when she sees the open doors of the battered coach.

Ahead of her, the Darkling leaps off his horse and brings his hands together in a familiar boom, shadows shooting out from them.

Only just giving the horse time to slow down, Vera slides off the animal's back and hits the floor. Telling herself to remember thanking Botkin for practicing this very thing over and over throughout the past years and successfully preventing her from twisting her ankle, or letting the impact slow her down, Vera flings out a plume of fire to the first Fjerdan she sees.

The Drüskelle, who had stared at the Darkling only moments before, now screamed, blindly whirling around. Vera knows that they will not see a single thing when death comes to take them today.

As the fire envelops the man, Vera pulls out one of her long knives strapped to her back, throwing it at another Fjerdan. It hits him square in the chest and Vera sends a quick glance around, trying to assess who to hit next. She can see Fedyor taking down two more Drüskelle, one of his arms trembling slightly. Her gut twists at the sight and the realization that an injury must've caused it.

It's then that a strangled cry sounds from somewhere to Vera's left, away from the fighting. "I'm here!"

Vera's head snaps into the direction the Alina's call had come from. Within a heartbeat, she sees the girl on the ground, pinned down by the Fjerdan above her. The man stares at the Darkling just behind her, and, Vera realizes with a start, at her too.

Their eyes meet. Blue meet blue and for a moment, shock registers in his gaze. Vera doesn't know what he'll see. His eyes are a clear sky-blue, so unlike the piercing pale ice of hers; so bright they are like the ice in the North of Fjerda. Like the glaciers, not the water.

The ice does not forgive.

Her eyes are the eyes of her mother's line. Her mother has them, her siblings have them, her cousin has them.

His lips form a word Vera can't hear but understands just the same. Vera rears back as if he'd struck her, surprise shooting through her like lightning.

Wolfkiller.

In Fjerda, wolves were sacred. The Drüskelle were the warriors of Djel. To kill a wolf was to commit one of the most atrocious crimes imagineable.

Wolfkiller. She has carried many names by many people, none of them as hateful as those of her own. Witch. Vera bares her teeth at him.

No. She thinks. Wolfsbane.

To this day she has no idea where the name came from. How they knew she was Fjerdan. But somehow in the last six years rumor had spread to the Ice Court that the redheaded Inferni had been a Fjerdan. It wasn't uncommon for the Little Palace to house Grisha from omewhere other than Ravka and Vera was not the only Fjerdan Grisha among their ranks but somehow, she had stuck with them

They'd heard it first two years ago. When she'd been eighteen and had gone with the Darkling to a mission on the Northern borders. She had only been outside Os Alta a few times since her arrival there but she'd already had a confrontation with Drüskelle once before at that point and she had no doubt that they had intelligence that might've reported her to them as well.

They'd called her that name then. Wolfsbane.

Wolf's Bane. Wolfkiller. Witch. Vera had been accused of many treasons by her own people.

The Fjerdan's eyes snap to where the Darkling has stepped to her side, his hands held up. "Nej! I don't need to see to put my knife through her heart!"

Vera stiffens. He's speaking the truth, and the Darkling knows it. He drops his hand.

"You must realize that you're surrounded," The Darkling says, sending her a look so quick it probably wasn't even visible from where the Fjerdan stood. Vera's chin rises just a fraction. Through the line of the trees, Vera can see the rest of their group, the soldiers, emerging with their rifles raised.

As the man looks around frantically for a moment, the Darkling etches another step closer to him.

"No closer!"

This wasn't good. Dying men did desperate thinks when they knew their end was inevitable.

"Give her to me, and I'll let you scurry back to your king."

Vera can see in his eyes that he won't. Even without the Drüskelle and Fjerdan's superstitions she can see it.

"Oh no, oh no, I don't think so. The Darkling doesn't spare lives." The Drüskelle says with a giggle of pure desperation before he turns back to Alina. Vera thinks she might've seen him say something else, but if he did, the sound is swallowed by the others around her.

Her eyes flicker to the Darkling and she can see the resolve in him, too. Alina Starkov would not die today. Not if he had anything to say in the matter. She goes utterly still.

Then, the Fjerdan raises his knife. "Skerden Fjerda!"

He moves to plunge the blade into the girl's chest and Vera can see her turn her head to the side, squeezing her eyes shot. Braced for the pain. Before she ever gets to feel it, the Darkling's shadows lash out, cutting the Drüskelle in two.

━━━━━━━━━━

On the fifth night of their travel to the capital, Vera finds herself sitting around a small fire with a few of the other riders from their group of just under two dozen, among her. They've gathered around the fire in the broken down barn they chose to stay in for the night and now, after eating the miserable excuse of a dinner that were the tiny scraps of the grouse they'd all gotten, they were passing around a flask of kvas.

Vera isn't sure who exactly has first procured it from their bag, but she finds herself glas nonetheless when the familiar burn of the liquor courses down her throat before she hands it to Fedyor, who sits next to her.

Around her, the Grisha and the orpichniki and the Darkling have started a low conversation but Vera doesn't join it. Nobody around her seems surprised about that little fact. Fedyor, by habit or by instinct, however makes up for it and joins the conversation flawlessly in a way Vera admires and envies to equal parts. Vera isn't a particularly talkative person and they know it.

What catches her attention, however, is the weight of Alina's attention on their group. The girl hasn't made a motion of joining their side, only sitting near the fire in silence as she ate her share of the animal.

Vera turns her head and finds Alina starting at her.

The moment her glacier eyes meet her dark ones, Alina turns bright red and quickly looks away. Before Vera can stop herself, one corner of her lips tips up just barley.

Alina seems to shrink in on herself even more.

Fedyor nudges her slightly. "Be nice," he says softly with an encouraging nod to Alina.

Vera sends him a dark look. Then she turns to where the girl is still sitting, slowly looking back at their group with palpable uncertainty. She makes herself smiles at her.

One of the oprichniki, the one closest to her, chokes on the flask of kvas at his lips as he tries not to laugh. And fails. "That's terrifying." He points out as the rest of their group turn to him, a few joining in.

Vera flashes him a single look and the laughter dies off.

Well. At least there was enough respect for her in those men to at least do that. She thinks bitterly before pausing. But that wasn't quite right, was it? They'd shared their kvas and their stories and their company with her like she was one of them – and not a girl barely twenty and only out a few times from the Little Palace.

But it had always been like this. Unlike in the Little Palace, out here the Grisha and the oprichniki had always kept each others company and had integrated Vera into it without effort.

She'd always thought it normal until Fedyor had told her it wasn't. Usually, Grisha or a new orpichnik, or any other soldiers had to earn their place in the group. Their respect and trust. Vera had done so without even realizing it.

We are all soldiers, Vera thinks. And I am no different.

Of course, her place was among them.

She sends a look back to Alina, sitting alone and unsure.

Taking in a long breath, Vera pats Fedyor on the back before she stands up and makes her way to Alina. The girl watches her approach, and her eyes widen the closer Vera gets. Almost like a deer watching a wolf prowl closer.

For Alina's sake, Vera decides not to think to closely about the accuracy of that comparison.

As she settles down next to her, Vera musters her briefly. "How are you feeling?"

"I..." Alina blinks, surprised. "Fine."

Vera looks at her, drawing up an eyebrow. She doesn't believe her at all. She can see the lie in her face, hear it in her voice. She can still see the attack. Alina went from thinking she wasn't Grisha to seeing a man cut down by shadows right in front of her within a short span of time. Nobody would be fine after that.

But she can respect that Alina doesn't feel inclined to talk about it with a stranger and so she just nods.

After a long moment of staring into the flames, dancing and singing in front of her, their heat and light caressing Vera's skin, the redhead turns back to Alina. "Did you get a weapon?"

Alina looks back at her and after a moment she nods, before she shakes her head. Sends her a small shrug. "Fedyor gave me a knife but when..." She breaks off and a shudder runs through her body. "I lost it."

Vera nods and pulls out one of her knives. Alina's eyes widen at the action.

Flipping it over in her hand so she is gripping the blade, Vera hold the weapon out to Alina. "Take it," She says and, after a short moment of hesitation, she does. "And if everyone ever seeks to harm you again, use it. Do you understand?"

Alina musters the weapon, turning it in her hands before she looks back up at Vera and nods.

"Good."

If Vera were different, she might've stayed with the soldiers and laughed with them, she might've invited Alina to sit closer and not so far away from the group.

But Vera wasn't different.

Without another word, Vera rises from her seat on the ground and walks into the dark of the barn to settle down for at least a bit of sleep.

AUTHOR'S NOTE
Fedyor: 🤗
Vera: 😑