Heart [ON HOLD]

Chapter 1: The Wolf

Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;

Breath's a ware that will not keep.

Up, lad: when the journey's over

There'll be time enough to sleep.

- A. E. Housman

The assassin still remembered the time when he'd had a name.

Before the Queen of Hearts, before the Burning, before the Wolf, they called him by a pretty pairing of words. Two, obsolete words they had Burned out of him.

After the Burning his eyes had died. The fire extinguished, all that was left were ashes, the slate grey ashes of his heart, mirrored in his irises.

But now they were burning again.

The Wolf was roaring forward, surging across the detritus of the forest floor, his auburn pelt rippling with each stride. He was a blaze of fire. He ran with his mouth in an open, displaying an arsenal of ivory knives.

The girl ahead was a clumsy runner. She crashed through the forest like a bear, and was just as slow. A silky banner of black hair streamed out behind her. He could hear the wild thrash of her heart through his paws, the gasps for air sucked in too heavily. The Wolf whipped across the ground, gaining with every instant. Hares sprang up and veered wildly into the woods and falcons screamed overhead. Let the birds have them. The Wolf had his eyes on a bigger prize.

A brown blur shot from the bushes in front of the girl and she shrieked. She stumbled and pitched forward into the dirt. The doe bolted. The Wolf flew.

He caught up to the girl and launched himself over her. The deer zigzagged through the bushes, but the Wolf kept on its tail, beating the ground mercilessly. He could keep up, but the doe was kicking, forcing the Wolf to dance while he ran, looking for a better opening. The doe lashed out with her hind legs, black eyes huge. Her hoof careened straight for the Wolf's head-

-and he caught it in his jaws.

It was over in a matter of seconds. The Wolf wrenched her to the ground in one swift movement and lunged for her neck. Warm blood filled his mouth as he gave the doe's head one swift yank. The break was clean and the doe went limp. Quick, just as it always was.

The Wolf unclenched his jaws and stepped back from the kill, panting. His drool was pink and he spat it out as best he could, running his tongue over his teeth to rid them of the iron taste. He looked around.

No one was here yet, but then, no one else was as fast as he was. Still, maybe the girl with the black hair...

The Wolf rolled his shoulders and rose up to his hind legs. He shrugged off his skin with ease, the fur of his animal form vanishing in instants. An assassin with hair three shades darker than auburn stood in the Wolf's place, clad in the uniform of a close fitting, obsidian black, leather jerkin and pants. He was barefoot, but the soles of his feet were thick. He slid a thin knife from its sheath and sliced with fluid motions. The cuts were so efficient and effortless that the doe's flesh parted like water under the blade.

It was quick work getting the heart out. Once upon a time he might have gotten gore under his fingernails doing the job, but now it was simple business, after the rib cage anyway. The bones always gave him a bit of trouble to pry apart. After a few more moments of work - and drenching his arms up to his elbows in blood - he emerged triumphant with the heart. It's was a funny thing, how slippery it was. Also funny that the black haired girl hadn't caught up yet. Or anyone else.

The assassin stood up, glancing back at his surroundings. There was forest everywhere of course, but hardly any noise. Too much death for the birds to be cheery. Crows excluded of course.