Page 28 of Escape from the Green

There was a guard over his eyes for a long second before he turned away from me, shrugging so that his jacket fell off his shoulders, revealing his horrendously scarred back, a sight that made my stomach drop.

But there was something else.

Something reddish and jagged sticking out of his skin.

Unable to stop myself, I moved closer, hand raising, reaching out, brushing my fingertips over one of the plates that were evidence of his lineage.

Drake's head turned over his shoulder as a shudder racked his system.

"Sorry," I rushed to say, going to snatch my hand back.

"No. It's okay," he rushed to say. "Go ahead," he urged. My curious fingers didn't need any more encouragement. My fingers moved over the plate again, the roughness feeling like it snagged at my much softer skin. "It's just been a long time since I felt anything other than violence," he admitted, making my heart squeeze in my chest as my hand drifted away from the plate that seemed like it was damaged around the sides, maybe making it hard for it to slip back inside his skin. My fingertip found the edges of the scars on his flesh, wide and nearly skin-tone with age.

Images flashed before my eyes of the guards - or even my very father - brandishing whips, canes, tree branches, slamming them relentlessly into Drake's bare back as the man fell to the ground, hunching, face contorted in pain, body tight as he tried to fight the Change.

"I'm sorry for what they did to you," I told him, fighting back a sting in my eyes.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I'm still sorry you had to endure it."

There was a strange, almost overwhelming urge to lean forward, to press my lips into the scars much the way I had seen humans do to their children when they were hurt.

Let me kiss the pain away.

That was what they would say before they did it.

What a sweet concept.

I wished I could do that.

But I knew that no chaste kisses could take away untold years of torture, of enslavement, of imprisonment.

"My clothes won't fit you," I said oddly, pulling my hand away. "I have changes of clothes, but you're too big." He nestled back into his jacket, shrugging. "I could rush ahead to buy you something while you hung back by the tree line," I suggested.

If we end up somewhere near a town, I added silently, wanting to at least keep up the appearances of optimism, not wanting to ruin the idea of the human realm for him before he even got to experience it.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, nodding. We walked for another hour before he stopped suddenly, turning to me. "Tell me what direction," he demanded, eyes encouraging.

The buzzing was strong, strong enough that it was uncomfortable, that I wanted it to stop.

"It's... everywhere."

"Walk around a little," he suggested. "Tell me which way feels the worst."

I did, feeling little prickles move over me toward the right. "There," I declared, waving an arm out.

"Good," he told me, smiling a little. "You ready?" he asked, nodding toward the thick line of trees. "It should be right at the edge of those."

My hand moved outward, drawing his attention, his brows drawing down. "It's better to go through while touching. Or, at least, that was what the guards and attendants always claimed."

"Alright," he agreed, clamping his huge hand to mine, fingers slipping between my fingers, this time free of gloves, curling in, holding tight.

And like that, we braced ourselves against the shocks to our system, the way The Green tried desperately to hold us in.

Going through the veil felt a lot like suction, like we were working against a vacuum.

Beside me, Drake gasped, unused to it.