My Fated Mate Can Have Her-Chapter 205: A Helping Hand

Rowan

I was scanning for anywhere that might offer temporary refuge when I spotted a bent over old woman. Grey-haired, small, and struggling with a wooden crate that was clearly too heavy for her. She had set it down on the street and was trying to catch her breath, one hand pressed to her lower back.

No one stopped to help.

Wolves moved past her without a glance, absorbed in their own concerns. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

’Well, that’s harsh.’

I slowed my pace.

"Rowan?" Violet’s voice was quiet.

"Come."

I crossed the street quickly.

The woman looked up as I approached, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. Up close, I could see the deep lines carved into her face, and the weathered texture of her skin. She had lived a long time and worked hard for most of it.

"Need some help with that?" I asked.

She studied me for a long moment. Her gaze swept over our clothes and faces before stopping at the bags.

"You’re not from here," she said flatly.

’Well, this is a serious problem...’

I was already thinking of how to mask this situation, but there was also no point in lying. "No."

What to do...

The best bet would be to have her keep talking, and she did.

"From the lower levels, are you?" she said. It did not sound like a question for some reason.

"Yes. It was a long way up here," I sighed, my eyes drifting towards Violet with a tired smile.

Sure enough, the sharp old lady noticed it like I had made sure she did and her hardened features softened.

Just a tiny bit.

This place was large, it did make sense to use the excuse of coming from another area should anyone ask.

She nodded like this confirmed something, but the faint suspicious look lingered on her face. "Thought so."

"It is different," I agreed, keeping my voice neutral.

She hesitated, staring at us before eyeing the crate on the ground. Her thin lips thinned even further with a hard glimmer.

"Don’t you both have anything better to do?"

Whatever kind of wolves lived in the lower levels, from her demeanour they either had an unpleasant reputation or she had a sour mood at the moment. Regardless, it would be best sticking to that detail of us being from the lower levels until we got our bearings about this strange place.

And this old lady would be the first step.

I eyed the crate. "I would still like to help if you’ll let me."

She considered this. Then her eyes flicked past me to where Violet stood waiting, and she sighed.

"Well." She straightened up with a small grunt, pressing her hand to her back again. "I won’t say no to young arms. These old bones aren’t what they used to be. And I will not be paying for a rack when the distance isn’t far." She gestured at the crate. "Follow me."

I smiled and lifted the crate easily. It was nearly weightless, especially seeing how it was packed with what looked like root vegetables.

"It’s not far. Just up that bridge and around the corner." She pointed with a gnarled finger. "Don’t expect payment. I don’t have much."

I chuckled lightheartedly. "Payment is not necessary. That’s not why I’m helping."

I smiled, genuine. Turning up any charm might not be necessary. I wouldn’t blame her for her temperament, especially when having to deal with an aging body along with whatever reputation the place she presumed we were from, had.

She paused to look up at me surprised. Then with a huff, she turned and started trotting.

"Walk in front of me," she clipped.

I obeyed her bidding with a smile.

[ - ]

We had barely even gotten to her place when the woman mellowed immensely.

And strangely enough, I hadn’t been the one to do it.

Violet had turned out to be quite the charmer.

It had started when the old woman stumbled.

Her foot caught on a stone jutting out of the earth, and before I could react, Violet was already at her side. She caught the old lady’s arm gently, steadying her with care.

"Are you alright?" Violet asked softly.

The woman stiffened at first, clearly not liking the contact, but Violet’s gentle tone, and likely her grip too, made her relax.

She grumbled and huffed. "Just these old legs. They don’t listen like they used to."

"Do you have a cane?" Violet asked. "For support?"

"I don’t need one!" The woman let out a dry laugh. "The one I had. Broke it over my grandson’s head when he tried to steal my coin purse!"

Violet’s lips twitched. "Did it work?"

"He doesn’t visit anymore." The woman’s eyes crinkled. "So yes."

A soft sound escaped Violet. Not quite a laugh, but close.

I watched them from a few paces ahead, the crate balanced easily in my arms.

Violet had such a gentle, tender look on her face.

"My grandmother used to say she didn’t need one either," she said so softly that it was almost a whisper.

The trial came back with a sad, unpleasant reminder. When she had spoken of her past, she had mentioned having a grandmother. The only person in that wretched pack who had shown her any kindness before she died.

A sad feeling lingered in my chest.

I might be wrong, but she was likely seeing her grandmother through this woman and remembering who she had lost.

I glanced back again and caught the expression on her face. A faint, gentle smile. Wistful. Like she was looking at something far away that existed only in memory.

[ - ]

The old woman who still hadn’t given us her name, led us through winding streets until we reached an area with lower rising buildings. The towering structures were still scattered around amidst houses of two to three stories.

The living space we stopped at was larger than the ones nearby. The earthen walls were smooth and adorned with solid stone doors and window frames.

The crystals embedded near the entrance glowed bright and steady.

From what I have seen and compared with other structures, this woman was not poor.

The door swung open before we reached it.