The next three don’t die so easily. They actually get the chance to fight, spitting green fire and uttering curses in runic Eldritch so that even the wood of my tower turns against me temporarily, shifting and striking out at me. I am stabbed by the walls, cut by the ceiling, and my legs are entrapped by the floor’s twisting bone-wood for the wolves to gnaw at me. 

I find that laughing helps me ignore the pain at times. So, I do that as the wolves feast on me. One takes a liking to my face. It rips red, strippy chunks of flesh from my ear and cheek. 

I hate this. I hate all of this. 

I want to be numb. I want to die. 

I want to be free. Hui. Hui I hope to everything in this universe that you actually make well on your promise. I hope you don’t abandon me this time. 

I hate that I think about her. I never used to rely on her. Not in my fifteen years here — nothing’s changed. With that realization, I go back to laughing. Because I know something the wolves don’t — the tower has only temporarily turned against me. When it heals itself, as it does every dozen minutes, it heals all curses placed upon it. 

So, I endure thirty more seconds of pain. My body confounds the wolves, for it too heals itself. My cheek regrows. My left eye reforms. My guts are reborn. 

My hand goes out. I finally manage to clutch the broken antler that fell from my grasp earlier, thanks to the tower loosening its grip on my legs. 

I strike out at the wolf eating my face. It doesn’t expect the blow — so when the antler goes through the side of its neck with a wet crunch, it keeps chewing for a few seconds. Then, its mouth hardens on my face — a death grip. I scream and the tower finally lets go of me fully. 

The two other wolves stop eating once the wood of the tower retreats from my legs, leaving them free. That momentary hesitation grants me the opportunity to kick one wolf away and tear away from the other, dead wolf. 

I roll and twist —spring forward, pouncing on the two other wolves, antler in hand. 

I have never had a formal education in combat: never was I taught the Adachi Clan’s warrior style of sword arts and spear styles. I learned my combat from beasts and monsters. So I fight on all fours and I grapple and growl and strike out like a mountain lion. 

It is a brutal and twisted battle. The wolves try again and again to re-utter their eldritch curse — to make the tower turn against me once more. I don’t give them the chance, striking at them each time before they can do so. 

In the end, it is fatigue that kills them. They simply aren’t able to keep up with my pace. 

One slows to dodge. I stick the antler between its eyes. The other spits a weak, slow ball of green flame at me. I roll to dodge and my hands snatch the fur of the wolf. With a great effort I pick it up, carrying it over my head with a roar. It writhes and thrashes, jaw snapping, claws slashing air. If it was smart, it would’ve espoused the runic curse upon the tower once more. But I can feel its visceral panic. Especially once I walk towards to the antlered edge of my tower. 

It roars and howls, thrashing more violently. My bloodied grip on its fur tightens and I bear some of its weight on my shoulder, pushing forward. Then, with a strong heave, I fling the wolf off into the darkness of night. It howls all the way down. Then, it stops as the ground meets the creature with a low thump. The creature spasms and twitches. I watch its last moments with mild interest, breath heavy and frosting in the cold air. 

There is little satisfaction in this victory. 

I stumble back into the tower. 

I don’t cry much anymore. I used to a lot in the first few years. Then, as I got settled into my position, as I accepted my circumstances, I stopped. 

Today I cry. I am tired. I am weak. Pain slithers through my body like a virus. 

I weep because I hate this now. I cannot get the vision of freedom out of my head — it is pervasive. Sickening. This is the first time I have hoped so and I hate that it is Hui who has given me this hope. 

Yet, still, for some reason, some deeper part of me believes in her. It believes that she will save me this time. 

My body has re-healed itself too much in this battle. Now the healing will come slower. So, I must use the chipped antlers of the wolves to cut into their fur and wrap their outer skin around my wounds, to help them close faster. I can’t sleep thanks to the pain. So I take the pot back to the eternal flame. Then, I cut the leg off one of the wolves and set it boiling. The tears dry eventually. I am left staring at my pot, waiting for the meat to warm. It tastes like wood and bark and old chicken. Depressingly, I had fought through the night. The sun rises above my tower. I try to sleep as the wounds heal. 

But then I hear voices from the outside of my tower. I check, and from the open windows, I see two figures walking back from clan territory. No… three figures. Squinting, I make out Hui, her lover, and an old man with a rope around his mouth. 

I smile ever-so slightly. 

She did make good on her promise. 

The smile vanishes as I think about how much I’m supposed to hate her again. 

Still, for once in my life, freedom can be attained. 

For once, I no longer have to live with this hell. 

Well, that’s if she frees me. I think, somewhat bitterly. After all, this is the woman who left you in the claws of the clan for 15 years. Who is to say she’s not angry after our battle? 

Who’s to say she’s not here to gloat? 

So, my fingers curl into a fist as I wait for the group to slowly approach my bloodied abode.