Dream of Us
Chapter Three

Third Person’s POV.

The man lets out a childish whimper and quakes in his boots. “Um, Wiyot was supposed to be keeping an eye on her, but two months ago, he stopped giving updates. We sent out scouts to check on him, but he was never found, we still don’t know what happened. His position was replaced but your daughter had moved flats and now…”

The man trails off and the king becomes so irate that his face turns a dark shade of puce. “Are you trying to tell me that you don’t know where she is? You have managed to let our worst prisoner escape and you don’t know where my daughter is, the one person said-prisoner cares most about?”

His voice raises so loud that the stained-glass windows rattle with the soundwaves.

“IS THAT WHAT YOU ARE TRYING TO TELL ME?” He bellows.

The deputy general curls in on himself and takes a few steps back, holding his hands in front of his face. “Yes, Your Highness. I am so sorry…”

“You will be. Guards, escort Deputy General Hannuk to the guillotine.”

“NO! Please! You can’t do this; I have a family!”

The king turns his back on the inconsolable man, ignoring his desperate pleas for mercy. There is no room for incompetency in his army.

The throne room falls silent as the door closes behind the guards when they’ve escorted the deputy general out and down to the execution floor. The king takes his seat on the throne again and begins formulating a new plan.

“Guards.”

Immediately, three men come and line up in front of the throne with their heads bowed.

“Find my daughter. Find Denali too. Don’t catch him, keep tabs on him if anyone can track down my daughter, he can. I want to know his every movement,” he barks orders quickly. “Increase the guards around prisoner two and three and inform Lieutenant General Michonne that he is now deputy general.”

The guards scurry off, not wanting to end up like the last man that left this room.

“Find my daughter!” The king shouts after them.

The throne room falls silent again.

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Denali’s POV.

Without the power from the alignment flooding through me, my body is weak with exhaustion. Taking those lives like that has worn me out and I need somewhere to rest. I stagger across the road and back into the trees. I find a suitable trunk to shelter under and give myself an hour or so to sleep and recover.

When I wake, I feel rejuvenated. I strip out of the shorts they left me in and crouch naked on the forest floor. I close my eyes and brace myself for the inevitable, excruciating pain I’m going to have to go through if I want to shift into my wolf again.

Most shifters swap between their forms weekly if not daily. At least once a month, we shift into our animal bodies and run through the forest. This, more often than not, is on the night of the full moon. Our existence is very much linked to the moon, hence why celestial beings always have the power to shift.

It’s been so long since I called on my wolf that it takes a few minutes for my body to respond to my mind. A violent shudder sends me forwards. I drop to my elbows and squeeze my eyes more tightly shut. Stars of pain burst on the back of my eyelids as the first wave of discomfort wracks through my body.

My bones physically pop out of their sockets, joints twist and rearrange. I feel every shred of pain. My tendons stretch and tear, only to heal seconds later in a different position. My face elongates, sending burning sensations across my mouth and up my nose. My eyes water with the shear anguish of it all. It feels as though it will never end. I curl into a ball, folding in on myself as I shake from the torture.

When the sharp darts of pain finally stop, dull aches replace them deep in my bones. I have to blink a few times to focus my eyes. Everything becomes clearer, with higher resolution. It’s a struggle to get off the ground and I wince a lot, but I make it onto four paws. My legs are a bit shaky as I take my first steps, but I survived the shift, that’s what matters.

Each time I shift, it will get easier. The worst one is over; the rest shouldn’t be as bad as that one. I shake out my fur and lift my snout to the air. I can smell water a few miles away, and maybe a city. There are a lot of car fumes on the breeze.

I need to find a city and get my bearings. I have no idea where to start in looking for my mates. I need to get an identity for myself, an alias to hide behind while I search for the rest of my family.

No doubt the king has been alerted of my escape. I’m a wanted man and I know he will be tireless in his efforts to find me. In his eyes, he can’t risk me being loose. He knows I’m going to try and undo all of his hard work.

I begin at a slow jog, increasing my pace when the ache fades to a faint background pain. Half an hour in and I’m running through the trees, using them for cover as I hug the main roads.

After an hour, I make it to the outskirts of the city. I only have my shorts, which are held firmly in my mouth. Shifting back is a horrible experience. I have to go through the pain again, although it is ever so slightly less the second time. It’s faster, too.

I pull on the shorts and walk the rest of the way into the city. I recognise it to be Ryton, a city I visited with my parents when I was younger. I have an uncle that I think used to live here, I hope he still does.

My first job is to get to higher ground. I need to try and catch his scent, which will be a nightmare with all these fumes and smells around. There are so many people, there are different aromas from food everywhere, not to mention all the industrial smells from factories and warehouses.

I find a fire escape at the back of a skyrise and jump to reach the bottom rung of the ladder. I pull myself up and climb the rest of the way until I reach the roof. I lean over the edge and inhale deeply, closing my eyes to allow myself to concentrate better. A cacophony of noises interrupt my senses, including swearing cabbies and irritable car honks. It takes a lot of focus, but I manage to drown out the madness and catch the scent of my uncle. Family can recognise each other easily; I only hope that he remembers me.

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Ani’s POV.

My dreams are always the same. Heated, passionate and full of lust. I’m in the middle of three men who remain faceless but blow my mind with their touches. Yet, tonight, everything is different.

For the first time in years, I don’t know how many, maybe ten or so, my dream is different than before. I can’t remember the last time I had a dream that wasn’t about my trio. It takes a while to come into focus, but I recognise that I’m in an airport pretty quickly. There are announcements echoing above my head and endless passengers bustling past me with bags and suitcases.

They walk right through me, as though I were an invisible entity, like a ghost. I don’t understand the purpose of the dream. It makes no sense to me as to why I would dream of myself in an airport, I’ve never even been on a plane before.

“Flight 212 from Ryton is now arriving in terminal 2. Head to arrivals for passenger pick-up.”

In response to the overhead announcement, my feet take over and start walking towards terminal 2. I have no control over what is happening, my body has a mind of its own as it leads me through the crowds and weaves around the queues. The airport is large and extensive, it appears my brain has remembered a lot from the snippets of airports it has watched in movies.

The arrivals section is clearly labelled. There are crowds of people bunched together by the doors, waiting for loved ones to disembark the plane, and come through to this exit. I join the back of the crowd, unsure of who I am waiting for.

The first people start trickling through the door. They are embraced and ushered to one side by their families. I lift up on my tiptoes to see above the shoulders and heads of those in front of me. My eyes scan the passengers, trying to spot someone familiar. The reason for being here is still unclear to me and I want to know who I am supposedly meeting.

All of the passengers from the plane come through the door. There is a long pause as the doorway remains empty. Families gather their things and leave through the exit, heading outside for their vehicles. Little by little, the lobby empties and I am left standing alone by the doors.

I start to turn away, but heavy footsteps make my ears prick up. I spin around and eagerly watch the doorway for someone to come around the corner. The man that appears is incredibly tall and very broad. His face is hidden by a pair of sunglasses, and he has his hood up. I can only see the firm line his full lips are pressed into. His large hand grips the strap of his duffel bag. His hoodie hugs his muscular form.

Something in me recognises him. A delicious tingling feeling starts in my stomach and spreads around my body, giving me a good feeling about the lone passenger. He suddenly stops a couple metres in front of me and stares at my face. I shift from one foot to the other, nerves replacing my positive feelings. I don’t know this man or know what our relation is, but I know that I have been standing here waiting for him.

He doesn’t say anything as he slowly reaches up and grasps the arm of his glasses. He starts to pull them off his face and my breath catches in my throat. For some reason, revealing his identity feels like a big deal. Anticipation bubbles in my stomach and my hands clench at my slides. The shades steadily lower, revealing his eyes…

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