Inayah woke to bitter cold thrashing across her bare cheeks, drying them. She cracked open her fatigued eyes and peered at the slightly lit room. 

A low mournful sound sang across the empty room followed by slight hammering sounds. Another gust of cold crossed the woollen blankets piled over her shivering form, offering little to no heat. She blinked hard and forced her attention towards the source;

The cabin’s front door was gaping open, beating against the wall each time wind surged through from the outside. From where she lay, Inayah was able to make out the whiteness that piled beyond the barrier. Soft flakes having drifted inside and settled on the rags, along with frost spreading like a fog on the wooden door.

Snow.

It was snowing.

How long had she been asleep? 

Inayah struggled to bring a thought to completion but could not, she still felt terribly ill and her mind addled like soup, swilling about the confines of her skull. She considered going back to sleep but the temperature depletion forced her awake, and with consciousness came the first sober thought.

She had been taken by another man.

Inayah remembered him then, a splash of paint forming beneath her dawn coloured eyelids. Silver hair, a starburst scar across his jaw and cheek - pale pink, similar to that of a burn. 

A stranger had taken her.

Mathilde. 

She vaguely remembered Mathilde’s screams after nearly smouldering her flesh off with the poker. Had he killed her? Inayah was wide awake now with thoughts that bespoke of his danger. 

She swallowed, throat jerking greedily at the parchedness. Then with more than needed effort, pushed the blankets aside. A shudder coursed through her as wind skittered across bare skin and she realized then that the man had stripped her of attire, leaving only a thin wad of bandage encompassing her abdomen and underwear. 

With a soft groan, she began to brace her hands on the mattress and with a pained hiss pushed herself into an upright position. Jarring pain surges through her ribcage pulling a soft cry from her. Inayah places a firm palm over her abdomen and leans forward, shutting her eyes to the room and easing each measured breath until the pain abates. 

There is silence broken by the soft wailing wind that whispers around and inside, it stirs the wisps of sweaty hair strands that mat against her pale clammy skin. 

Inayah blinked as her sight focused, then gingerly pushed herself onto her feet. Gripping the bedpost, Inayah leaned heavily against it as her feet wobbled from disuse, blood rushing downwards. Gritting her teeth, she made towards the fur-covered seat where clothes had been placed.

They were not hers, clearly his, but well enough all the same. With one hand cradled against her searing stomach, she uses the other to pull on the large pants that required a rope slipped around the waist to keep it up, then a shirt that stops just short of her knees and finally the woollen jacket. 

Her cheeks are wet when the activity is done, body trembling with the pressure of movement. Her bandage feels sticky and wet but Inayah ignores it, muttering to herself that she could fix it once she got home.

Salem.

Stepping out into the open, Inayah squinted against the blinding white light. Breath pales against the numbing air, she blinked thoughtfully as the frost patiently kissed her face, momentarily captivated by the soft, dusty illusions of light that sat heavily on her eyelashes. 

The snow had fallen in thick wads, blanketing the whole forest floor and rising to her ankles. 

Beautiful as it was, trudging through snow required effort, and she had little in her energy reserves. Despite that, Inayah forced one leg in front of the other, counting each step to ease her mind from the burning sensation that spreads across her torso, a soft trickling that slips down her thighs. 

She stopped intermittently, every twenty steps or so, to lean against a tree and catch her breath. The dizziness ebbed gradually, creeping from the corners of her vision, pressing against her sides such that she swayed like a drunkard. 

“Get home,” Inayah whispered as she stopped again, “get home get home get home get home-” she faltered, surveying the area of white before her as trepidation settled heavily on her chest.

Which was the way home?

Inayah cursed softly. She had been so intent on leaving the cabin, she didn't stop to think of the directions. Nor where they currently stood. She glanced over her shoulder at the path where she had come from and saw nothing. 

She started forward again.

An hour or so passed in between as she forced her limbs to move, struggling to ignore the burn that now spread down her thighs and up her chest, perspiration beaded her forehead and upper lip. 

Exhausted, Inayah slumped against a tree before her knees gave way and she landed on her behind with a hiss. She rested her back against the tree’s frosted bark and timidly rubbed her side while staring blankly at the forest before her.

“Rest,” she whispered comfortingly. Yes, that’s what she needed, a ten minute or so rest. She would have enough energy to continue. But what about nightfall? Inayah shook her head, a futile attempt at ridding herself of such thoughts. 

She sat in the wild silence, listening to the whispering of snow and the steady beating of her heart. Her limbs filled with lead, unwilling to rise, and her eyelids grew heavy with the desire to simply sleep against the soft, cold ground.

It was the sound of footsteps that drew her dozing attention to the left.

Boots that crunched on snow. Purposefully slow, and loud. 

Inayah stared at the space before her, watching as the figure of a man slowly took shape in the near distance. He wore nothing but a simple black shirt and pants, a bow and quiver strapped to his back. He was large in the sense of height, towering at six feet seven and of large build. At least in comparison to Kade. The man’s face, as he languidly closed the distance between them, was perhaps the one thing that stood out the most for Inayah.

Perhaps it was the fever that tweaked her perception of him. The red starburst mark started along the left side of his neck and rose to his jawline, then cheek, stopping just short of his lower left eyelid. His mouth had a cut at the top lip, and something silver flashed on the lower right edge of his lip. A ring. His eyes were light grey, seemingly matching the silver of his hair. 

He was beautiful in a hideous sense. Something monstrous about his features that befitted a handsome ethereal being. It was hard to pinpoint what made him seem more intimidating and less appealing in comparison to Kade and Salem.

The man raised what looked like a cigarette to his lips and took a long drag, his gaze never leaving hers, before flicking the cancer stick into the forest. He stopped before her, large boots gleaming before her own outstretched feet. 

Inayah stared at his knees, unable to raise her head lest another dizzy spell cast over her. He crouched low then and suddenly reached a hand for her face, carefully holding her chin and tipping her head to his. 

“For a wounded human,” the man began, his voice startling deeper than anything she had ever heard. “I’m impressed by the distance you created.” 

Inayah stared at him through bright feverish eyes, sceptical of his words. Was he mocking or praising her? 

His sardonic gaze slowly dropped to her torso which she held tenderly, he clicked his tongue in disapproval. “The stitches have come undone.” 

“How did you find me?” She managed weakly and the hand that held her chin rose to her hair, carefully carding through her wet hair. 

“I followed the scent of your blood.”

The scent of my blood? Inayah blinked then as it finally dawned on her. 

“Lycus?” She whispered and he nodded in mild approval. 

The third brother.