An excerpt from my mira/rumi/zoey werewolf au fanfic that has a bit of a darker take on Mira!
I'm currently working on the next chapter and am experimenting with Mira's character. This part will definitely end up being cut down and edited, but I freakin love writing in her head.
Not putting the link at the top this time because I don't want to force advertisement down your guys' throats.
"You have the empty eyes of a killer," the man says.
Mira blinks at him lazily.
The air is still between them. Technically, Mira has already paid. She doesn’t have to stand here. She shouldn’t be. Precious minutes of daylight are going to waste.
He tightens his grip on the bag. "My niece teaches at the elementary school. Says four kids haven't shown up to class this week. I have a younger son. He's starting next year. I don't need vermin running along the edge of our town, taking any more of them kids, you hear? They're kids. Kids."
Her nose twitches. She can smell it now, his fear. If there really are packless wolves taking children, she'll have to find them—for the good of her own kind. Too many dead children, and they'll send more hunters east. The forest will swarm. With rifles. Loaded with silver bullets.
"I see your kind all the time,” he says firmly. "You think I don't know what you are?"
Mira stills, ice forming in her veins. Her knuckles whiten on the bag. I know what you are, he’s telling her, I know that you’re a wolf. I see you. I’ve always seen you.
If he knows, if he reaches under the counter, pulls out a knife or a gun, she could grab the display case, throw it at his head, roll behind the shelves—
The release sends her scrambling back. She hadn't realized she'd been pulling, and has to quickly regain her balance, setting her stance a little wider to keep herself on axis. But the man makes no move for a weapon. He is calmly placing the extra packs of bullets back in their case.
"There's two types of hunters," he says. “Ones who kill for survival and ones who kill for satisfaction.” He turns back toward her. "And I’ve met plenty of killers before. I know what their eyes look like. I know that if there were no wolves to hunt, you’d satisfy that craving somewhere else. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself, would you? Without killing."
Killer. Killer. Killer. Mira’s stomach lurches. She adjusts the gun bag over her shoulder. The weight of it has her swaying.
“How many?” the man asks with a smile that makes Mira feel small, childlike. She hates that smile—it’s her father’s smile—and if she were not so worn down, so stunned, she would bristle at it. Instead, she just shakes her head, helpless, not understanding. He takes pity on her. “How many wolves have you killed?”
“Four.” The lie comes out of her so seamlessly that she realizes she hasn’t told a lie at all. She has killed four wolves. Four of her own kind, among a handful of hunters.
“And you’re what?” the man snorts. “Twenty? Not even? Some hunters are proud to kill one.”
Eighteen. Mira is eighteen—March twenty-second; Zoey had gifted Mira a flower crown and a leather journal she binded herself. Zoey had kissed Mira’s temple and braided her hair. Zoey had fallen asleep with Mira next to her and had woken up without. Mira is a scout now. Mira is protecting her soulmate, and her job isn’t over, not yet. Maybe not ever.
And no matter how much she misses Zoey, how much she longs for the warmth of her soulmate's hand on her cheek, she can't go back to her until it is.
Rating: Mature - Graphic Depictions of Violence
Established zoemira with eventual polytrix. Werewolf and Soulmate AU
We who die hungry (Always bite the feeding hand)
