Wolves of Castle Fremont

Hunter

Marrok twirled his spear anxiously as the sunlight began to fade. Logically, he knew he should start going home. The Midnight Forest would quickly become as dark as its namesake once the light stopped streaming in through the tree tops. However, logic was not his current priority; it was finding a proper anima. It was the first day of his seventeenth year, and that meant it was time for him to merge with an animal, and so become an adult. So far, he had caught nothing but a corpse eagle with a broken wing, and his cousins would laugh him out of the clan if he came back with that. Besides, it wasn't nighttime yet. The last remnants of golden sunlight still streamed on to the forest floor giving life to tiny sunbuds. Flowerflies buzzed through the air, displaying their bright colors. A few salamanders sat on rock warming themselves and a caladrius watched them form a young copperwood tree. It was beautiful, and seemed peaceful, and quiet to someone less attuned to its rhythms, but Rok could hear the song of the Wild God playing in the rustling leaves and chittering jackalopes. He reached out with his mind hoping to find something a bit more impressive. He connected to grass, sparkflowers, and a couple mice. Nothing that would be any use as an Anima, nothing except...there! Less than a mile away, Rok sensed a wolf pack, four in number, and at the back, a young, strong wolf, in agony. Rok pushed into its mind. It had been injured in a hunt and was struggling to keep up with its pack. Rok felt a surge of pity for the creature, by all rights it should go home to receive a reward for a well-done hunt. Still it was that wolf or his clan, and Rok knew which was more important. Still, it felt like cheating, going after a wounded animal.

"I won't use weapons," Rok decided, "That should make it fair, at least enough to be honorable."

With this thought he ran toward the sensation, so fast he was nearly flying. When Rok arrived atop a small hill he placing his spear and knife down. As the pack slowly came into view, he got a better look at the wolf that, he hoped, would become his Anima. It was a beautiful creature, dark grey, almost black, with muscles rippling under its coat as it moved, even in its wounded state. Amber eyes peered out from its head, over a mouth of gleaming white fangs, stained red with blood. It was beautiful and terrifying, the perfect Anima, and yet undeserving of such a fate.

"Well," Rok whispered to himself, trying to ignore the nagging guilt in his chest, "Better get on with it before I lose my nerve."

He leapt from his vantage point and landed near his target. The dark wolf's head snapped towards Rok and it with a loud growl it lunged at him. Rok dogged to its injured side, feeling a breeze from its jaws as they clamped shut where his shoulder had been a moment before. Fighting a surge of admiration for the beast, he kicked it in the side, and the wolf yelped in pain. Taking the opportunity, Rok grabbed its neck and squeezed, cutting of its air. For a moment, he had the upper hand, until he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He lost his grip and tumbled to the forest, only to find a white wolf glaring down at him. It lunged at him and Rok barley got out of the way of its claws in time. By now the injured wolf had recovered, and it charged again, but its injured paw slowed it down enough for Rok to vault over its back...and right into the jaws of another wolf. He screamed as this new opponent sunk its teeth into his leg, and removed a sizeable piece of flesh. The white wolf took this as an opportunity to rear on its hind legs and dig its claws into Rok's head. Rok entire body seemed to shake as white-hot pain exploded in his forehead, and he fell to the ground as blood began to drip down, obscuring his vision. He became dimly aware that the pack had begun to circle him.

"Oh Gods" It was halfway between a curse and a prayer. Rok slowly stood up struggling to ignore the pain in his limbs. He mentally cursed himself, first for insisting on hunting by himself, then for not trying to have a fair fight with a pack animal.

"Save your regret for the Reaper" He told himself, desperately trying to think straight. Suddenly he heard an ear-shattering bang. Rok opened his eyes to the wolves scampering away. It took a second for him to realize a sparkflower had just exploded nearby. Steeling himself against the flower's burning pollen, Rok focused on the injured wolf, which was already lagging far behind its pack. He tore his mind away from the flower and connected with the wolf. Rok fought back tears as he tackled it and grabbed its neck.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so sorry." He whispered as he heard the crack and felt the wolf stop struggling. All at once he felt everything, the animal's pain and panic in the moment, the thrill of the hunt from moments earlier, all the joy and sorrow and memories it held. The animal's instinct bubbled up next to his own as its body went limp. Panting, Rok dropped to carcass and stumbled away, falling onto his back. He had just enough time to note the smell of a jackalope before he lost consciousness.