BRYNMORE

Chapter One

Present Day: Bryn

I can hear the leaves rustling through the trees, a faint whistling, a soothing lullaby. The leaves are turned upwards, signaling an incoming rainfall. The silence of the cavern is almost menacing, no trace of the others since dawn first broke. The unfamiliar silence is abruptly replaced by the crackling of a branch, to which my head snaps backwards, peering into the depths of the cavity along the towering mountain. I can hear the tattered straw we sleep on being gnawed on by something I cannot see. I lean closer when the dirt scrapes with a flash, out bolting a bushy tailed rodent, cheeks puffed with the berries I had hidden away for supper. Damn squirrel...

My ears are fixed upwards, listening to the smallest sounds. I've been on edge since I woke up, not able to let go of this sinking feeling of being stalked. I know realistically I have nothing to worry about, at least while the wolves are around, but none of them could be heard within miles. Not even Rumi, the youngest of the four, who I usually depend on for companionship come winter. I suppose she's getting to the maturity of joining in on hunts, something I could never partake in without slowing them down. I wasn't sure why they took me in as their own. I wasn't like them. I didn't have the powerful muzzles they have to tear and pick apart flesh. I didn't have the anatomy to run as fast as they could in a chase. As far as I'm concerned, I'm nothing close. 

I sit along the water, a boundless creek that winds through the mountains. I've never found where it ends, if it even does, but I like to imagine it leads into civilization, something I've never dared to search for. In fact, the only proof of it I have is this odd box that plays sounds. Written on the back of it in white marker, reads the words "To my Brynmore". I never knew how I came into possession of the device. It's been with me since before I could remember, before I could walk. If it weren't for these strangely satisfying choruses, my vocabulary would be nothing but the whines and howls of my family. I'm not the most literate being out there, I'll say that, but the words I do know pave way for thoughts and feelings most of us could never dream of. 

I wonder what I am nearly every waking day. I wonder if men appeared as sharp toothed and canine as I. I wonder how they live, if they too are as inferior as I am. Enough.

I decide to search eastward for any small fruits or mushrooms, following the babbling creek closely as to not get lost on my way back to the den. With me is my elk hide pouch, empty as can be, hanging from the tunic I've fashioned from the pelts of foxes and hares. The fleece isn't nearly as warm as the others' thick fur, but it's the best I could find.

Finally, I come across a salmonberry bush. Not quite ripe, but I pluck them off their stems regardless, tucking them into my pouch. Should I keep going? I'm sure there's more I haven't scavenged, there has to be... Since the long winter, nothing has dared to peak their heads up. Even the most highly trained predator had tribulations preparing for the heavy snow. The feeling comes back. The sensation of eyes, targeting my vulnerable presence. 

Just as I manage to pick the last berry, a sinister bellow echoes out from across the creek, dangerously close. I dart my head to the sound, causing a small tinge in my neck. Silence.

A grunt escapes from behind a patch of trees, thick menacing spikes drenched in scarlet red, the velvet hanging loosely like a sinister wound. My eyes grew three sizes, jaw tensed as I'm struck with the sense of impending demise. My knife... where is my knife? I pat down my body, searching every crevice for the sharpened stone. The moose peaks its head around the tree, watching my every move closely. I stumble backwards several feet, my heart thumping against my chest. It leaps.

My feet steer me out of the unknown territory, kicking rapidly as the thick grass begins to envelope my legs. But the moose was much faster than I. With a swift plunge, my waist is pierced against the trunk of a spruce tree. All of the air I didn't know I was holding in, puffs out at once. The angered steam from the moose's snout raining down my feet. It releases me, pulling backwards with force as I collapse to the dirt beneath the leaves. It glares at me, watching as the blood seeps through my punctures, staining the pelt I had wrapped around my hips. As if this were just a mere warning, it disappears beyond the mountain. 

I place my hand against the holes in my skin. The flesh is torn and tender, as the blood continues to ooze. The fierce creature's antlers, however mighty they were, were not going to be the end of me. My head begins to spin, growing faint with the trauma. The vast expanse of trees and brushes, turns to nothing but darkness, as my eyes begin to fade. 

I wasn't sure where I had ended up, or how far I had run north from the water. I wasn't even sure if I'd see the water again. The wolves, my family. The den, my home; a place that might be gone for good. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing exists but the soul fighting against my ribs to escape. Nothing at all, but the darkest black known to man. 

"H-hello?"