Chapter 4 Stable Boy

• Huge flies danced around the dirt buckets, before settling on a large chunk of dried blood closest to the entrance that no one bothered to clean.
• Rhaeven’s body dripped with sweat as she dumped the last bucket of horse dung in its place, and stood to wipe her face with the back of her palms, wincing at the pain she felt from her blistered palms.
• Her shoulders hurt from carrying feed sacks that were almost twice her size, her waist felt like it had been broken in two, and her palms burned with every move she made.
• The sun wasn’t out yet, but she’d been cursed at, yelled at repeatedly, and kicked in the ribs by a boy who for no reason at all wouldn’t stop bumping into her as she carried the feed bags.
• She leaned against a wooden plank, laying her head to rest for a bit as her thoughts drifted to her father.
• Rhaeven made a silent prayer to the heavens that if there was the tiniest chance that he was alive, he should’ve the common sense to stay hidden and never look for her so that the moonstone Alpha could never find him.
• And if it was the opposite, and he was lying somewhere dead. Rhaeven nodded her head.
• Unable to picture her father dead.
• But if that was it and the gods spared her life, she’d avenge him. He had been her only family, she owed it to him.
• And Kalil…
• She closed her eyes, not wanting to picture the pain she’d seen on his face as he passed.
• He’d betrayed her in the worst way possible, but he didn’t deserve to die like a coward.
• “Jackal’s boy, take the first stall!” yelled the stable master, who stood a few feet away.
• He was a huge man with few teeth and a scar that sliced across his left blind eye.
• He leaned against the entrance door with a water jug he never gave anyone, and stared at her with his one good eye, as if daring her to disobey him.
• Rhaeven simply nodded and picked up a pitchfork, literally dragging herself towards the stall.
• She froze.
• Twisting her face at the sight that awaited her.
• An immature baby horse that had died the day before lay stiffly in the stall, the smell of rot and something else she couldn’t make out was heavy in the air, choking her.
• Her stomach threatened to empty its contents, but Rhaeven closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe, in and then out.
• She couldn’t protest, it was not in her place.
• So she bent forward and stuck the pitchfork underneath the animal, throwing it into a large bin right outside the stall as huge flies buzzed, disturbed by her action.
• She turned to go back in, but a shadow stood in her way.
• She looked up to see that it was the same boy who had kept bumping into her earlier, hitting her in the ribs.
• She sighed, wondering what it was he wanted now.
• “You missed a spot, human filth.” He barked.
• Rhaeven inhaled deeply, she just wanted to complete her chores in peace.
• “Well, I'm not done, as you can see. If only you’d give way so I can continue with my chore?”
• She asked calculatingly, forcing herself not to scream her lungs out.
• He wasn’t worth her time anyway.
• “You know what they say about his kind, foolish lot,” a boy who looked exactly like the first one said as he stepped forward.
• Rhaeven gasped, They were twins, two very hideous ones!
• She should’ve known.
• Rhaeven’s hands tightened on the pitchfork, wincing again at its pain on her reddened palms.
• “Say something, human boy, or have you suddenly gone daft?” The first boy said, and she turned towards him.
• “I’ve only got time to clean off dung, not mice.” She said, looking into his eyes.
• “What did the little twat say? He must think he is better than the rest of us.”
• His twin said again as he shoved her, clapping his hands as he stepped forward.
• Suddenly, he pulled back, holding his nose.
• “My goodness, he stinks, Luther! Away from him!” He screamed.
• Rhaeven turned towards him and rolled her eyes.
• “Well, so do you. But you do not hear me complain.”
• The other boys burst into laughter and Rhaeven took it as her cue to move past Luther, but he wasn’t having it.
• Instead, he grabbed her arm.
• “Not so fast, pretty boy.”
• Rhaeven stiffened as her fingers searched her thigh for a knife she no longer had.
• “Apologize to him,” Luther said, pointing toward his twin.
• Too stunned to talk, she simply stared at him.
• “Not so soft-spoken now, are you?” He said as he drew closer to her, holding her tightly with a dumb looking smile plastered across his face. “Apologize to him and bow to me while you’re at it.”
• Rhaeven stood unmoving, and her head didn’t go down.
• Luther’s twin nodded towards him as his hands tightened around her arm.
• His fingers began to stretch and twist, changing into claws that tore into her arm.
• Her eyes widened.
• Was he…shifting?
• Before she could process what she saw, Luther threw a fist, leaving her no room to think.
• Blood trickled as he struck Rhaeven’s jaw, knocking her straight into the stinky stall.
• The handle of the door hit her head as she fell, and pain rushed through it.
• The boys burst into another round of uncontrollable laughter.
• She shut her eyes, in pain, refusing to cry out. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of mocking her, her father had taught her better than that, and boys do not cry.
• “Hold it in, Rhaevena, do not show weakness,” he’d say.
• And so, she opened her eyes slowly, she tried to speak but her lower lip burst.
• Too tired to move, she sat still, as her chest rose and fell.
• “Serves him right!” One boy shouted.
• She tasted blood and spat on the dirty ground.
• Then held onto the wooden handle to push herself up.
• “The foolish boy is rising. Hit him again, Luther, now!” His twin yelled.
• Encouraged, Luther took a step towards her and slapped her hard across the face.
• She staggered backwards before falling to her knees.
• Still, she didn’t yell.
• Not for help, not for sympathy.
• Then Luther’s twin grabbed her by the neck and drew her closer to himself, just as they heard the stable doors open.
• And a call for everyone to bow their heads.