Inhumane

004

PAIGE

Much later that same night, I was curled up in my bed beneath a mound of blankets, listening to those wolves howl. There was a sick feeling in my gut when I realized... I had stabbed something. Maybe it was a flesh wound, but potential death to a creature I had no contempt for. 

The sick feeling I got when I killed that old wolf so long ago returned to me like a tidal wave and I dry heaved over the side of my bed. Nothing came out. I slumped back onto my matress and held my sweaty face. 

He would survive, I knew that much. Or did I?

The unknown was gripping me by the hair, willing me to find out. Curiosity would kill me. Back and forth, my head fought my heart over right and wrong. There was a pull for him, that wolf, one that was becoming harder and harder to resist as the days dragged on. One that was forbidden by my hunt-loving father. One that was against the nature of who I was raised to be.

I gathered a coat and my boots before my head could stop me, sneaking off into the nighttime forest with hopes of helping what I hurt. There was an ache in my chest that dutifully persisted throughout the hours since I had run away. Was it guilt?

My heart had won, I was trekking alone in the pressing night. There was urgency beneath my boots, but I didn't walk any faster. That would mean the dream- nightmare- was real, and I would have to face my actions. A dead wolf, the best listener I ever could've known. It was stupid reasoning, I felt so childish even thinking these thoughts.

The trees were dark and ominous, looking even more haunting as my flashlight passed over them, scouting for traps. I took the path I usually did, because I knew it best, and fear was creeping along my spine to make it all the more daunting.

In my room, I had felt tough and assured, now I just felt stupid. It was dark and I was alone. The air had a chill to it that made its way through my parka and many layers beneath. Even the atmosphere crawled with disquiet. No birds chirped, no crickets sang, no trees rustled because there was no breeze.

Still, I made my journey further, back to the creek where I sat. The yellow colored beam of my flashlight caught a half dried scarlet puddle on the ground, but no wolf in sight.

The howls had long since stopped and the cold began to seep into my bones, slowing my pace and my heart rate. I turned back and headed home with a heaviness I had never experienced before.

Days later, after spending the entirety of daylight hours by the river, waiting for the Beta, I finally saw him. He didn't look scuffed up or bloodied. He walked with his normal, proud prance and let his head hang low as he regarded me. My eyes found his left side, expecting a gnarly, infected gash, but seeing nothing but clean, uninterrupted fur. It baffled me, I kept staring at his side. How was this possible? I was sure I had at least cut him. Yet... It looked as if he had never been touched.

He snorted at me, as if well aware of what I was thinking about. I shook my head, feeling my light hair fall against my red cheeks, pinched by the cold. I heaved a heavy sigh and slid off the rock. He looked like he wanted me to hold him again, I could read it in his eyes and body language as he dipped closer, looming over my knelt form. And then he skirted away, tail swishing low, full of anger and hurt. I had hurt him.

But I was scared; of the pull, the Alpha, my father, myself.

That was the worst one. Looking into those yellow eyes, I realized that. With every fiber of my being, I was scared of myself. Who I had become, where my anger was slotted, what I was doing. Killing things. A murderer.

I had returned home with the approaching winter's cold nipping at my exposed neck where my stocking cap did not reach.

Snow began to fall, it was early November, and not the least bit surprising. In the mountains, the snow would soon become limitless, the drifts compiling against the bases of boulders and rock hangs. Trees would soon adorn the thick, white coats of the cold. Everything would fall into deep slumber. Or so one would hope, as Spring's equinox promised rebirth in a season that seemed millions of years away.