Short Stories

Running With The Wolves

The wind howled its own song, every tree bowing to its might. The moon slowly rose from the earth that had swallowed it whole hours ago. The night sky tried the best it could to consume the moon’s light, but with the stars’ aid, it was nigh impossible. The darkness fought the light as the trees danced and swayed to the wind’s powerful song. And as the creatures of the night awoke from their slumbers, I did as well.

My pelt was a mix of mercurial white and argent gray with dashes of raven black scattered about. My eyes were a warm muddy brown and held specks of orange and gold that spoke of a will and spirit forged in fire within them. No doubt about it, I was an odd looking wolf, but I took pride in my oddities. I was a bit small for a wolf of my age and was somewhat belittled for it. However, I more than made up for it with my tenacity and body that rippled with muscle.

I haven’t always physically been a wolf; I had been a human with a wolfish heart many years ago in the past and it was by no normal means that I became who I truly was in my heart. As a human I had died a terrible death, one of fire, darkness and hatred. I had been hunted, hunted down by my own people, my own kin, for my odd beliefs. When my wolfish and unfiltered mind was revealed, it had started with angry glares and ended in a dark hatred that took my life. However, I do not blame them for their fear; they were only human and humans generally fear what cannot be explained by simple words.

I stretched my body as I left my comfy den.Tonight we were to hunt a herd of whitetail deer that had been previously spotted a few days ago. I waited for my prestigious and noble alpha to begin the much anticipated hunt. We had already surrounded the unfortunate deer and quickly found the weakest one. Alpha let out a ghostly howl and we charged forward, eager for the kill.

I had been tasked with guarding the right flank to keep the deer in line. The injured doe we were targeting quickly fell behind her herd and my alpha poised to strike. He gracefully leapt and caught the doe’s neck in his massive jaws, killing it instantly. I did not enjoy slaying things, but us carnivorous wolves needed to eat. Such grimly evil things were a necessary part of life. After we took part in the natural order of wolves- alpha to omega- as we ate our kill, we dashed off to offer our thanks to the glorious moon for such a clean and quick hunt.
 
When I was a human my mother and father abandoned my brother and me for a higher lifestyle. My brother and I once shared an inseparable bond as children. We ate, played and learned with each other and occasionally finished each other's sentences. If we got separated, we spent every second we could to find each other. But we were only human and humans changed.

Over time my brother, Samuel, nursed a cold corrupted heart that was born from rejection and madness. Sam was viewed as the village idiot even though that was untrue; every single person we encountered- every man, woman, and child rejected him without a second glance because some bigoted bullies portrayed him as a fool, as if his mere presence was a disease. Sam started having violent nightmares depicting accidents, betrayal and murder. He woke up screaming, sobbing in distress. I stood by him through those dark days, not knowing his mind was infected with whispers encouraging him to do gruesome and unjustifiable actions.

As these events passed I found that my beliefs, morals and reasons to live were different from those around me. I felt an unexplainable urge to speak, to howl with passion all that I believed. I kept the urge to speak out hidden for some time, but the urge grew to strong. It started with crying out at the injustice my brother suffered and shifted to saying my opinion on pretty much everything. On some level I knew that what I said annoyed and angered people, but the pride and honor that I felt when I spoke clouded such thoughts.

I couldn’t help but grin everywhere I went, silently challenging the gazes of all who dared to glare at me. My brother became mad at my happiness and began to frequently argue with me, slowly breaking our bond. One of these arguments turned into a full on fight and drew a large crowd. We yelled at each other, getting angrier and angrier as tension filled the air.

Sammy, my brother, my other half once upon a time, struck me first. He hadn’t noticed our audience until his fist met my face. They cheered and encouraged him on as I fell beneath his blows. I could see the glee for the violence and praise in his eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to hit my kin back so I ran. He chased me through the crowd, screeching and taunting who I was and some of the enemies had made from my preachings of peace and love blocked my path. They were Sammy’s bullies.

I still don’t understand why they helped my brother that day, why they united forces and dragged me through the village. Perhaps it was the shared loving of violence and hate or maybe it was just a spur of the moment decision; I don’t know. They all cackled at my feeble attempts to get them to let go, kicking and pleading for release. They hauled me to some old wooden shack outside of the village and tied me up. I tried one final time to acquire my freedom, but my brother only laughed and said, “Witches like you should burn.”

My murderers stepped out of the shack and threw a flaming torch through the window beside the door. The old shed groaned over the crackling from the flames that circled me like a predator. As it finally reached me I cried out in agonizing pain. The chair I was strapped to fell over and I could then look out the window to see my brother’s face. He was smiling at my demise and was being congratulated by his bullies as if they were old comrades. The roof of the shed crashed onto my burning body. I died with a smile on my face, knowing that my other half was finally happy.

Transmigrating was an odd experience; something unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. There was no god, no gates of heaven or hell or an eternal black void. I couldn’t see, hear or even smell a thing; All that was there was an overpowering sense of comfort, of pure unadulterated love. It was like the moment a mother first see her newborn or when you meet the love of your life. And then it all disappeared as I was reborn as a wolf pup.

A few years have passed since my death and I couldn’t be happier. My pack and I dashed through the woods. I could feel the dirt between my paws, the wind flowing across my fur as we ran. Crickets and other fauna sang the song of the night and I yearned to add my voice to the music. We finally reached a cliff at the peak of the small mountain on which we lived. I raised my muzzle to the sky and howled with all of my might, soul and happiness. This was freedom. This was home.