Chapter 228: Mud and Stone

Rhydor’s POV

We sat side by side on the damp grass near the riverbank, the steady rush of the water filling the warm afternoon air.

The little girl was busy eating a fresh loaf of warm bread I had quietly stolen from the pack house kitchen right before heading down the trail.

She was munching away without a single care in the world, tearing off large chunks with her small hands and stuffing them straight into her mouth as if she had not seen real food in days.

I leaned back against a smooth gray boulder, quietly watching her eat.

Over the past five days that we had been meeting at this spot, a single detail kept nagging at the back of my mind.

Every single day she showed up, she looked entirely covered in grime. Her clothes were permanently stained with dark earth, her hands were constantly coated in dry dirt, and her hair was a thick, tangled mess of mud and dried leaves.

"Do you not bathe in your house at all?" I asked, my voice flat and blunt.

She stopped munching instantly, her jaw freezing mid-chew. She turned her head and looked at me, her grey eyes wide with sudden confusion.

I reached out and pointed a finger down at the dirty fabric of her dress.

"You are always covered in dirt. Your clothes are completely filthy every time I see you. Do you seriously not wash yourself?"

Her posture stiffened, a defensive edge settling into her small shoulders.

"I do bathe!"

"Then is it that you simply do not know how to wash your own clothes properly?" I asked, my brow furrowing as I studied her.

"Or is there something else going on?"

She slowly lowered the piece of bread back to her lap, staring down at her muddy knees.

Her small teeth chewed carefully on the food in her mouth before she finally swallowed.

"It keeps me safe," she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the sound of the stream.

My frown deepened.

"How in the world does being filthy keep you safe from anything?"

"Remember those mean bullies I told you about?" she mumbled, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the ground between her feet.

I gave her a small nod. "Yeah, I remember."

"If I look like this, they do not notice me," she said, her voice dropping even lower.

"They just walk right past without giving me a second look."

"How can bullies choose not to bother you just because you are dirty?" I asked, skeptical of her logic.

"Do you not think being dirty is the exact reason they would pick on you in the first place?"

She shook her head side to side, her tangled locks moving stiffly around her neck.

"No. When they see my actual hair, that is when they start bullying me. They gather around and call me terrible names."

She reached up with a small hand, gently touching the dark, muddy strands plastered against her forehead.

"That is why I always rub thick mud into it," she said softly.

"So it looks normal to everyone passing by. When it is covered in mud like this, nobody bothers to bully me because I just look like any other normal kid running around the woods."

My jaw tightened, a sudden flare of anger sparking inside my chest.

"Wait, they bully you just because of your hair?"

She gave a tiny, quiet nod, resuming her eating with small, slow bites.

"What is even wrong with your hair in the first place?" I asked, keeping my tone softer this time so I wouldn’t scare her away.

Her hand lingered on her scalp, her fingers curling slightly into her dark hair. She lowered her head even further, hiding her face from my view.

"Can we please not talk about it?" she asked quietly.

"I feel like if you notice what is wrong with it, you will turn out just like them and treat me badly too."

"I will not," I said, my voice firm and uncompromising. "Are we not friends?"

She paused, lifting her chin just enough to peek up at me through her messy fringe.

"Are we?"

"Of course we are friends," I said, giving her an obvious nod. "We hang out here every day. We teach each other things, and we learn from each other. That is exactly what real friends do."

A tiny, hesitant smile touched her lips, her eyes softening as she looked at me.

"I have never had a real friend before," she confessed softly, staring back down at the half-eaten bread in her hands.

"No parents around here want their children playing with me. The other kids at the orphanage do not like having me around either."

"When they saw me sitting by this river one afternoon, they told me this spot belonged to me because I had already ruined it just by being here."

"I was actually really shocked when I walked over and saw you sitting in the same place."

My eyebrows drew together in a heavy scowl.

"That is incredibly mean of them."

She shrugged her small shoulders carelessly, as if pushing the weight of the memory away.

"I am used to it by now. It does not really bother me anymore."

I looked at her dirty, calm face for a long moment, feeling a strange tug of pity and respect in my chest.

"What is your actual name?" I asked, keeping my voice cautious.

She snapped her head up, narrowing her eyes at me with a sudden spark of playfulness.

"You have to tell me your real name first."

I paused, my frown returning as I considered her demand.

If I handed over my actual name, she would figure out immediately that I was the Alpha’s son. The second the children in the territory realized who my family was, they instantly changed.

They either became terrified of making a mistake around me, or they bowed their heads and acted completely fake just to gain favor.

I did not want her to start acting like everyone else.

"No," I said, shaking my head defensively.

"I cannot tell you my name. It is a big secret."

She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, letting out a dramatic huff.

"Well, if you refuse to tell me your name, then I am definitely not going to tell you mine."

I let out a long breath, staring up at the bright sky for a second as I searched my mind for a solution.

A sudden smirk spread across my face.

"Fine," I said, turning back to her with a wide grin.

"Why don’t I just call you Mud?"

She tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Mud?"

"Yes," I said, nodding emphatically as I raised my fingers to spell it out in the air.

"M-U-D. Mud."

Her small face lit up with a bright, amused smile.

"Then I will call you Stone," she said, her gap-toothed grin growing even wider.

I smiled back at her, feeling a genuine warmth spread through my chest that I had not felt in a very long time.

"I will be your friend, Mud," I said gently.

"I guess you are my very first friend, Stone," she replied, her tone full of quiet happiness.

She beamed at me, her missing front tooth standing out clearly in her bright smile.

Looking at her dirty face, her messy hair, and that big, gap-toothed expression, I could not hold it in any longer. A loud, genuine laugh burst right out of my chest, echoing off the rocks and carrying over the sound of the rushing stream.

As the sun began its slow descent behind the tall trees, casting deep golden light across the water, Mud stood up and brushed the breadcrumbs off her dirty dress.

She gave me a quick wave before turning around and disappearing into the thick bushes, rushing back toward the village before anyone noticed her absence.

I stayed by the riverbank for a few extra minutes, watching the quiet spot where she had been sitting.

The heavy, suffocating weight that usually rested on my shoulders whenever I was at the pack house felt completely absent out here.

For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was not thinking about my duties, my brother’s training, or my father’s endless expectations.

I picked up a flat stone from the ground, flicked my wrist the way Mud had taught me, and watched it skip twice across the water before sinking into the stream.

A small smile touched my lips as I turned around and began the walk back up the hill.

I could already feel the impatience building inside me, wondering what new words I would teach her when the sun rose tomorrow.

I was still walking away from the riverbank.

Then I heard it.

BOOM!

A deafening explosion echoed through the trees, originating from the direction of the pack house.

Shockwaves rattled the ground beneath my feet, sending birds scattering into the sky.

I did not think. I ran.

I sprinted up the dirt trail as fast as my legs could carry me.

My heart was pounding frantically against my ribs, and my legs were burning with every desperate stride, but I didn’t slow down for a second.

When I broke through the tree line, thick black smoke was trailing out of the pack house into the clear afternoon air.

Total chaos had taken over the courtyard. People were running around in pure panic, screaming, shouting, and coughing through the rising soot.

Then I heard her.

"Nicholas! Nicholas!"

My mother’s voice pierced through the noise, sharp and filled with pure terror.

I skidded to a dead stop in the middle of the yard.

My blood went cold.

Nicholas. He was still inside.