First+Person+Secondary+Character

All was quiet. Nathaniel and I stood poised at the back entrance of the small apartment complex, each of us keeping still and silent. His lavender eyes glinted in the guttering lamplight of the street as he moved his stoney gaze to me. I nodded, and we both slunk soundlessly from the urban ally and into the run-down building. I could see the anxiety in Nathaniel's eyes, regarded the stiffness of his gait as he lead the way through the dark, filthy apartment. He was nervous. A trait unfamiliar to him, but completely acceptable, given the situation. I could tell his nerves would not let him go a second longer without seeing her, without seeing if she was unharmed. His tan, elongated ears had not moved from their flattened, apprehensive position where they poked out of his shaggy white hair. My own were inclined to flatten with my mood of thinly veiled anger, and restless need to insure her well being.

A noise ahead of us in the hall caused us to pause in alarm. Nate bristled as he held a tattooed arm to indicate a halt.

"Samson," he whispered, in low tone, "Can you hear their voices?" My Hadrynth ears swiveled slightly as I focused hard on a conversation that was occurring about two floors up. Nathaniel's own elf-like ears were finally moved from their distressed position to focus on the sound of voices. I closed my eyes in concentration.

"They have her in the basement..." I paused, listening. "Locked up for the night... The Zaronyths are coming to get her first thing in the morning." I could practically hear Nate's pulse rocket in relief. His lilac eyes burned from behind his locks of ivory as he started again at a brisk pace. I slithered after him.

"We will have her back in Gadorath before then. Just as long as we don't pick up the radar of too many Angels." My blood ran hot with refreshed anger as I thought of the hideous Zaronyths, with their deceptive nickname. It was with a bitter irony that their race were referred to in short as angels, and ours as demons. The roles were thoroughly confused.

We ducked left, then a sharp right to descend a flight of decrepit stairs, our feet making no noise as we glided to the basement level of the complex. Nathaniel's hand was quivering when he peered down the next hallway. Two figures stood guard outside of a locked door, mumbling a drowsy conversation. I had to hold onto Nathaniel's arm to keep him from bolting down the hall in blind fury as we picked up on the subject of their conversation.

"...I know, right? Sucks that we can't touch the girl. Gotta keep her... //unspoiled.//"

"Yeah. Its still fun to shake her up a little, though."

I had to bodily pin Nate to the wall in order to formulate a rational plan with him. His lavender eyes were alight with a fiery rage as I tried to have a hushed discussion on how to dispatch the guards. His skin rippled slightly under my grip as his rage caused him to start shifting.

"Nate, we can take them out, but it has to be //quiet,"// I urged, my own body beginning to change as I shift in preparation to control Nathaniel.

"If they've hurt her-"

"I know. I'm livid too. But we'll never get her to Gadorath if those two alert anyone else. We need speed, and silence." Nate's form quivered as he controlled his emotions, and I was relieved when he shifted into a wolf, instead of his usual lumbering, beastly form. I let my anger fuel a quick shift, and the familiar wash of power shot through my body as I shifted silently to a panther.

"I've got the one on the left, Samson," Nate's voice floated roughly from the snowy wolf's jowls. Before I could reply in agreement, he was off in a streak of white. Suppressing a feral growl, I advanced in his wake, going straight for the throat of the first watchman. We made quick work of the two guards, and Nate produced a key from one of the corpses. Shifting back to our natural forms to utilize opposable thumbs, we were soon ducking silently into the room while dragging the bodies of the two guards in behind us.

The room was dimly lit, with a low ceiling and cracked, peeling wallpaper. A choking smell of must and mildew hit us instantly upon arrival. The only furniture to occupy the small room was a wooden table, which was bare. Curled in the corner, with her back to us, was our Sable, her slight form quivering. Her dusty copper-toned hair spilled in messy waves around her head, and goose bumps covered her bare shoulders and arms from the ill-heated room. Nathaniel made an instant beeline for her.

"Sable," he cried, and her body gave a jolt the moment his hands made contact with her. She shot up and spun around, her slate-colored eyes wide and frantic. Her lightly freckled cheeks were smudged with dirt. Her look of alarm quickly morphed into elation at the sight of Nathaniel. I silently stood my distance, my own heart swelling at the sight of her, well and unharmed. I watched her slate blue eyes well up and become glassy, but before any tears could spill, she flung herself into Nate's waiting arms, sending him to his knees as she buried her face in his neck, his snowy hair, her arms clutched desperately around him. Her form shook as he held her tightly, and Nate himself pressed his face into her hair to hide his emotion. I cleared the distance between them and myself, and dropped to my knees to place my own hands on her, stroke her hair in reassurance, feel her back to prove to my eyes that she really was in our grasp again.

"Samson," her voice shakily floated from Nate's neck.

"I'm here," I murmured, wrapping one arm around her and Nathaniel while placing my forehead to rest on her shoulder.

"We've got you," Nate whispered, and I used my free arm to rub her back. "You're safe, now." Her body shook with relieved sobs as she clung to Nathaniel. Softly, as I continued to rub her back in comfort, I said,

"Let's get you home."