The Silver Wolf (Editing)

Prologue

(Edited)

Muraco

Everything was quiet.

My body shivered from the cold as a feeling of numbness seared through my blood. My head was pounding as I tried to sit upright, only to fall back down again on the icy garden slopes.

As I tried to open my eyes, a bright beam of light suddenly blinded me and I had to blink furiously to try and clear the hood of fog sheltering them.

Gravity seemed to have more control over my own body, as my wobbly legs caved underneath me, making me fall head first into the soft snow again.

Knowing it is a battle that can't be won, I stopped with my feeble attempts and rather focused my attention on the area surrounding me. It took a while before the blurriness subsided, but my eyes eventually got used to the sun's bright rays.

It felt like I had woken up from a dream, my subconscious remembering every fine detail about the event that took place, yet my brain rather pushed the memories to the back of my mind.

But my dream soon turned into a nightmare as I took a good look at my surroundings.

Blood.

The dark, crimson colour of blood stained almost every inch of the snow covered forest floor, stripping away the innocence of the once pure, white snow.

Dead wolves littered the ground, blood still tricking out of some of them. I felt sick to the stomach as a pair of lifeless black eyes stared back at me, the corpse laying only a few feet away.

The deathly silence was sickening. All I wanted to do was scream.

My breathing became haggard as my chest tightened. It felt so surreal, like I should also be dead. The throbbing pain in my head only worsened as I tried to recall the memory if what happened, but it seemed to have vanished out of my brain.

I couldn't remember anything.

Not how I got here, nor even who I am.

It was almost like a concrete wall was blocking my thoughts, stowing away the evidence of my past life.

I began to panic as the reality of the situation sunk in. I am all alone in the forest, with no one to help me. No one to guide me.

It is just me, a broken wolf with his memories stolen away from him.

Standing up, I winced at the pain that spreaded from my head to all over my body. My muscles ached as I tried to steady myself, my legs unsteady underneath me.

Slowly and cautiously I walked over towards a small stream, the feeling unknown to me, like it is the first time in my life that I tested out my legs. But somehow, I managed to stay upright.

The crystal clear water soothed a bit of my nerves as I stared at my reflection in the glassy stream. My fur, a rich caramel colour, was stained red as a nasty gash near my ear almost overruled the light blue colour of my eyes.

'Muraco', a small voice at the back of my head suddenly whispered, making me scrunch up my face in confusion.

Muraco? Why did that sound so awfully familiar?

Then, with a start, I suddenly remembered. My name- my name is Muraco.

Shocked by this new piece of information, I stumbled over my own four paws. I didn't know what to think. Would my memory return, or was that just an once off occurrence?

But I couldn't find it inside me to care. It was the first good thing to happen to me since I woke up, and I rather chose to enjoy the moment, because inside, I knew that life was not going to be easy for me.

I may be the only one that had survived, but a part of myself also died that day, and I don't think it will ever return again.

***

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