Wolf's Path (Monstrous Hearts: The Short Stories)

Damnation to Beast

Author's Note: Decades before he met Alice, the black wolf found shelter in an ancient forest that had known more of his kind. Soon, his presence was spoken of in whispers among the people of nearby villages. Some said he was malevolence, itself, and that to see his glowing eyes was to catch sight of your own death. Others claimed he could act as a guardian of sorts, a guide through the treacherous woods. Which was true? One never knew until one met him face-to-face...

Even in human form, the black wolf smelled freshly-spilled blood long before he saw lamps winking in between the shaggy shapes of trees. When he drew a little closer, his hunter's curiosity roused, voices flickered into hearing. Male. Angry even when words dipped into short barks of laughter. One whined for mercy, though, choking out syllables whenever the dull smack of fist or boot driving into flesh fell into a lull.

The wolf paused in the shadows, taking in the harsh smell of gasoline and hot metal from a vehicle. Taking in how the shut-off engine still ticked from a grueling drive through wildland. The air lacked the oiliness of gun-metal, though, and the hints of tobacco smelled stale and thin, nothing like the army-issued cigarettes that immediately alerted him to soldiers or deserters. Ever since the war had reached the Isles, all sorts of humans had found their way to this forest, each heart holding its own reason for braving a path through gnarled oak and bristling holly.

Sometimes, the black wolf let them pass through in peace. Sometimes, he let them catch sight of his glowing eyes to hurry their steps. And on occasion, he tore them open at the belly and let scavengers scatter the remains until they were nothing more than bones buried by undergrowth.

The wolf moved closer, now, keeping close to the shadows of trunks to hide his presence. These humans had been in the woods for some time, and he didn't like that. He liked even less the idea that they might leave a body behind. A final row of beech and then he saw the intruders in full: three of them surrounded a fourth crumpled on the ground. The wolf's ears twitched at the panicked breathing of this fourth man. He still lived.

One among the other three spat at his shaking form. "Think we're stupid, yeah? Think we didn't know what sort of weasel you were?"

"Dominic, please..."

"Shut up." The words came with a kick to the downed man's side. Ribs cracked, and the man had to raise his voice over a scream of agony. "You know what they used to do to thieves?"

Then a knife flashed in his hand, blade yet unbloodied.

At that, the black wolf broke his silence and growled. He had always hated daggers and their edged ilk, though the shadows of his past had never quite sharpened enough for him to remember why. Each wink of the blade stirred his rage, and his jaws already slavered as he slipped closer, another growl rumbling from his chest.

"Christ, did you hear that?" One of the men looked around, the whites of his eyes visible in the stark moonlight.

From his expression, the man with the knife had, but his face hardened again when the beaten man tried crawling away, and his boot pinned him by the neck. "It's just an animal. Brighten your lamps to scare it away."

"It's a full moon out. You know the stories about that..."

"Stories, Stan, so stop sniveling."

Had countryside whispers fallen so quiet? Had the old ways become so forgotten against the roar of war? The wolf bared his teeth. He was nothing to be sneered at. In an instant, he shifted form and shook the useless clothing from his fur. Then he lunged for the men, already snarling.

They shrieked like rabbits when he emerged from the shadows, and again at the first flash of his eyes. Two ran for their truck, but the one with the knife was brave enough to stay and stab at him, sweat rolling down his neck. The wolf was used to the nimbleness of elk and the viciousness of boar, and avoided the clumsy swipe without even losing fur. Then his jaws locked around the outstretched arm. He bit once to shatter bone, and then again to tear off some meat. The forest echoed with screams.