Isla's Writing Island

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Writing Content
1. Northern Fire (pg. 2)
2. Her Soul (pg. 3)​

 

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Northern Fire
by Isla

"No! No! Let me go! Let me go!" The screams of a young girl with fiery red hair filled the training grounds of Castle Black. Men who were once attacking each other with wooden swords and young ladies who were once washing clothes all stopped to gaze curiously at the wild child endlessly flailing her wrists about and being dragged across the dirt. "Shut up, wildling bitch."

"Let me go!"

The doors to the common hall were open and the girl persistently failed in becoming free of her chains. "Get up! The lord commander wants to see you," the ranger growled. "I don't give a flying fuck if your lord commander wants to see me!" she spat, glaring up at the man whom they called Lerris. "Let me-!"

Suddenly, Myrda was thrust forward onto the grounds of the common hall, cutting off her speech and leaving her gasping for air. "Lerris, Camren," Jon greeted calmly. "Who is this?" he inquired, gesturing towards the fiery red haired girl in the center of the common hall. "We found her, Lord Snow," Lerris spoke. "A wildling at the South Wall," Camren interjected.

Jon sat up and leaned forward, intrigued by Camren's words. "The South Wall? What would a wildling be doing at the South Wall?" he queried. "Don't know, Lord Snow. We were hoping she'd tell you," Lerris replied, grasping Myrda's upper arm and pulling her to her feet. "What is your name?" Jon questioned. Myrda pursed her lips, refusing to speak.

"The lord commander asked your name," Camren hissed under his breath, tightly squeezing Myrda's arm. "You'd be wise to say it." Myrda lifted her chin up, indignantly eyeing the lord commander as she replied with a voice sweet like honey, "My name is Myrda."

"Myrda, why were you at the South Wall? The Gift is where your people lie, not here."

"I don't want to spill," Myrda muttered under her breath. More silence crept in the room as Lerris pinched Myrda, trying to prompt her to speak through indirect means. "Camren," Jon spoke. "Take her to Hardin Tower and keep her there until she decides to speak," he commanded, standing up and stepping down from the stage. He made his way towards the rangers. "I don't have time to wait for her," he muttered as he passed by. Lerris and Camren bent their heads in acknowledgement to Jon's words as he passed them.

"You heard what Lord Snow said. We're taking you to Hardin Tower. Move it," Lerris ordered rudely. Myrda spat in his face. "I know what he said," she groused, then kicked him in the back of the leg before beginning to move forward. Lerris, caught off guard by her actions, stumbled forward, almost falling towards the ground. Camren sniggered at the sight and the men around them laughed. "That little bitch," Lerris exclaimed under his breath. Myrda smirked at his words as she left him with Camren. She looked back at Lerris, giving him a devilish grin, "So long, Lerris."

Camren and Myrda exited the common hall, walking in silence over to Hardin Tower.

 

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Her Soul
by Isla

Tara wasn't going to lie. She'd seen more death in the hospital than she had anywhere else. This was just another patient. Breathing was difficult, though. Tara could barely breathe. His ash brown locks brushed her skin lightly, constricting her chest. Was she even allowed to cry? An involuntary inhalation followed and suddenly she couldn't see him anymore. He was a blur. He was gone right before her eyes. She could feel her nose begin to run. "Aengus..."

It's all my fault.

She cradled herself in her arms, uncontrollable spasms and tears beginning to surface. Tara couldn't believe how stupid she'd been. She was a terrible mother, a terrible protector. "I'm sorry," she weeped hysterically, crawling onto the hospital bed, next to his dying body. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you." She wrapped her large hands around his. They were cold, lifeless. She squeezed them tightly, in denial about her son's death, hoping that she'd get some form of warmth.

Tara stayed in the hospital room for hours before Trojan came just a few minutes before the mortician took her son away. He pulled her up into his arms, gently prying her body away from the small boy. A spot on the Alpha's shirt became soaked with a river of tears. He embraced her closely, his nose buried in her blonde hair. Tara's scent was the only thing that kept him calm in the riot that had accumulated this morning. It was taxing, to say the least.

Long after the mortician took away Aengus, the sun had already disappeared from the sky. It was getting dark. Tara stood silently in Trojan's arms, numb and void of any emotion. Her eyes were red and puffy, extremely bloodshot from all the crying she'd done. Trojan stood with her a while longer, his large hand stroking the back of her head. Tara sniffed, snuggling closer to Trojan. His warmth comforted her and put her body at ease.

Trojan slowly pulled away from the young woman, wiping away the last tear that accumulated at the corner of Tara's left eye. "It's time to go home," he murmured gently, his fingers brushing her soft cheeks. "The pack is waiting. We'll find out who did this. I promise." She closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Okay," she whispered, her voice quiet and timid. Tara left the room where Aengus fell into a deep sleep and the couple left the hospital.

She could only pray that the vampire who attacked her son would be found.