Chapter 33: Alex The Outcast
In a small makeshift camp, tucked away in the farthest corner, isolated from all other tents, a boy sat alone. The crude shelter was built from the coarse furs of slain monsters, stitched together in haste. Morning sunlight crept over the horizon, casting a golden hue on the blood-stained fabric. The chill of dawn clung to the air, sharp and biting.
Alex sat still, white hair bound behind his back, his fur clothes tattered and stained. He was was sitting legs crossed in meditation position, trying to mend the wounds scattered across his body. Fresh claw marks marred his arms, bruises darkened his ribs, and dried blood clung to his fingers. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, evidence of the sleep he hadn't known for days.
He had arrived at the encampment one week ago. Since then, Rina and Selene hadn't visited once. He wasn't expecting them to. He didn't save them for gratitude or friendship. He saved them because, in that moment, he wanted to.
The camp leaders had given him night watch duty the very day he arrived. And every night since, he stood guard while others slept. Tonight was no different. He fought off a pack of Lunar Wolves under the pale moonlight, barely surviving.
Sleep had become a luxury he could no longer afford.
The people in this camp made their hatred known. They didn't allow him to pitch his camp near anyone else. His exile wasn't silent—it was painted in distance and disgust.
Whispers stalked him like shadows:
"A dirty commoner traveling with the Ice Princess..."
"A peasant trying to sit with a goddess..."