When Tables Turn Series: Iris

The forest used to be my sanctuary, a place where I felt at peace. The wind caressing my skin, the vibrant green trees surrounding me—it was a euphoric experience. But today, I couldn’t enjoy the beauty of my home. I was fleeing from it.

I was leaving behind everything I held dear. Today, I was becoming what I had always despised. I was going rogue. I had no home, no friends, no love.

Love. That word used to mean so much to me. It was painful to let it go. Love had led me to this point—so much hatred, so much betrayal. Alexander was my everything, but now he was my downfall. He chose her over me, that raven-haired girl. I vowed to return and destroy them all.

Behind me, I could hear the war I had started. There was so much death, so much blood. This was what I wanted, but it wasn’t supposed to end like this. The sounds faded as I leaped from tree to tree, ensuring no one could trace my path. Werewolves were excellent hunters, so the trees provided perfect cover. I moved with lightning speed to mask my scent, and although I had covered myself in mud, I knew I could never be too careful.

I felt it—the severing of my bond to the pack as I crossed into another territory. I was a rogue now, an outsider, a threat to any other territory I entered. But I was still close enough to be hunted, so I kept running.

There was a time when I believed I would always be loved and cherished. I thought my beauty would be enough for him to never let go. I was so much more than that raven-haired girl he fell for, but I guess I underestimated him and the power of the mate bond.

I scoffed as I gnawed on the raw flesh of a deer I had caught. I probably looked like a typical rogue now, with my clothes ripped and torn. My hair, usually a vibrant red, was covered in mud and looked brown. And my skin was filthy.

I closed my eyes as I rested on the top branch of a baobab tree. I had to get far enough away that they wouldn’t find me, which meant crossing through the Deadlands. Few survived there, but then again, I wasn’t exactly human. I let exhaustion take over until all I saw was darkness.

I woke to the sound of birds chirping. I jumped from the branch, letting gravity pull me to the ground. I landed perfectly and sniffed the air, ensuring I was the only non-human around.

It took me about seven and a half hours to reach the Deadlands. For a normal human, it would take three to four days, maybe even a week with breaks. The place was easy to find, and I hated it already. It was a literal desert, with a bright, hot sun.

I took a deep breath as I stepped out of the forest and into the Deadlands. I knew I was exposed and vulnerable to any dangers that lay ahead. But those dangers were preferable to the ones I had left behind. I was a natural leader, born ready to face any challenge.

The heat from the ground seeped into my boots, making it feel like I was walking on hot coals. No wonder humans died before they could get anywhere in this land. I had no choice but to walk—running would lead to quick dehydration.

At first, I had hope. Maybe I could find water out here. But the red sand stretched on endlessly. I had never hated the color red so much. It was driving me insane. I couldn’t believe I had run to save my life, only to end up dying of dehydration. I fell to my knees, unable to go on. The Deadlands were worse than a desert. It was a literal hell.

But I wasn’t giving up that easily. I stood up, took a deep breath, and swallowed my saliva. I needed to stay alive for my revenge. My legs felt like jelly, but I forced myself to take another step. There was no going back.

It felt like an eternity as I stumbled forward. My skin was sunburned and it hurt like hell. I was too weak to heal myself properly. This was no place for a werewolf. I regretted not thinking this through, but it was too late to turn back now. I would just get lost. Once you’re in the Deadlands, there’s no going back. That was one rule I knew. Everything looked the same from here on out. The only way was forward.

My skin was parched, my lips cracked and sore. I took off my torn blouse and tossed it aside. The material chafed against my sunburned skin. I coughed, my senses dulling. But then I smelled it—water.

I quickened my pace, falling to the ground but forcing myself back up. I was almost there, just one more step. Then, a sharp pain at the back of my head, and everything went black.

“You’re one lucky girl,” a woman’s voice said, sounding distant.

I tried to open my eyes, but everything was blurry. After a few minutes, my vision cleared, and I saw an old woman with snow-white hair. She was beautiful for her age, which could only mean one thing—she was a werewolf. I didn’t need to smell her to know that.

She stood up, holding a silver cup with a straw. “Here, you should drink this.”

I eyed her suspiciously but didn’t refuse. I needed the water. If she wanted me dead, I would be by now. But I knew she was a threat. She was the one who had hit me.

After drinking the water, I cleared my throat. My body was starting to heal. I assessed my situation. I was tied to a chair with chains, covered in deer’s blood and my own from my sunburn wounds. I was filthy and smelled terrible.

“Where am I?” I asked the woman.

She smirked, twirling a silver dagger in her hands. “You’re in the Deadlands. Welcome to Roman’s territory, little wolf.”