The Boy and the Animal

Part I | Twenty-Nine

As Jesiter fled down through the forest, breaking through brush and dense forest branches that had yet to be disturbed in centuries, the scary woman was fast behind. He could feel her heavy presence on his heels, snaking up his spine like her very shadow was weighing down on him.

The woman withdrew a dagger from her boot between lightening strides. His ear twitched with the sickening hiss of the cold steel sliding against its metal sheath; he could feel the point of it inching closer with every pound of his feet against the ground. She was closing in on him. He could feel it.

"Look for the wolf," a voice suddenly called.

Jesiter wavered for a moment at the sound of the alien voice. In his brief hesitation, the woman leaped forward and let her dagger fling to slice him across his back.  The boy cried out at the gnawing ache that cut into him, darting passed once more. He was faster than her- but only if he ran his very fastest.

Look for the wolf, Jesiter reminded himself of the voice. His eyes scanned the blur of green and brown around him for any sign of life, but all he could see was his own breath spilling out into the crisp air. He whimpered. His legs were getting tired; he didn't want to run from the scary girl anymore. All he wanted was to go home.

Suddenly, just as his knees began to wane, a wolf appeared from the blur, snarling and jumping at him. He was running too fast to evade it, but, when it smacked into him, there was a flash, and Jesiter skidded to a halt to find that the creature had disappeared. In its absence was a small, rusted sword clenched in his hand.

He examined the blade, eyes widening as he realized its presence had not been there just seconds ago. And then, his heart fluttered. The decaying thing, looking as if it had been left to rot for some time, even so gleamed in the curtains of light that poured in through the cracks in the peaks of the trees. On it's blade, written in the letters Dark had taught him, was Cyrus.

Furrowing his brows, Jesiter snapped around to face the woman and met her dagger with the sword in his hand. The steel blades sliced against each other with a spark of electric heat, clashing with such a force that the very ground shook. He had never held a weapon in his life, but as he withdrew it and sent it flying back down at her he suddenly felt as if he had all his life.

It was almost like someone was holding his hand, guiding it against the onslaught of steel malice raining down on him. He held it in a perfect horizon, even at his nose and as much an extension of his arm as his fingers; held it, clutching its hilt yet loose in the bicep, like a soldier. The boy met each and every one of the woman's strikes, and she soon found that she stood no chance.

And yet, the woman pondered in the back of her cold mind, deep in the pit of it where a glimmer of herself remained asleep. The force of the blade, the way it swung and clashed against her own- it was a voice in and of itself, and it was one she had heard so many times before. She dreamed of it, but outside where the dreams could not reach she only felt fear.

What was this familiarity?

Outside of that forest, Dark shivered. A cold feeling wash over him from behind, icier than the tail of winter that swam between them. He turned his head to face the presence, when a force suddenly slammed against him and sent him flying into the river.

Dark kicked up to the surface and gasped out for air. Before he was taken by the current, he slammed his fist onto a rock and dragged himself to the bank of the river. His saturated, soggy frame crawled back onto the surface, and once he was on his hands and knees he peered up at where the prince had been lying to find the man who'd caused his grief staring dead into his eyes.

Tobis, skin torn and left scarred and charred from the flames that reduced his inn to ashes, stood where he had been with the prince in his arms, and, in his hand, was an amulet of Enicrih- glowing with the unholy magic of a blasphemous potion.

"Really, my prince, you're not immortal just yet," Tobis scolded the younger man he held. Titus smirked.

"You've finished the amulet?" He asked. The older man nodded.

"My best science, perfected by the witches' sacrilegious magic. Nature trembles before it," he assured him, gazing into his eyes. The prince chuckled and leaned up, their faces meeting in a warm kiss. Tobis shuddered.

Suddenly, the prince lodged  his broken cutlass into the older man's neck. Tobis froze, dropping the prince- who simply caught his feet and ripped the amulet from his hand with a bitter glare. Not a shred of remorse made a mark in those fiery irises, and Tobis, stumbling back as he held a wound almost as agonizing as the breaking in his chest, realized what his love had been the last few years.

Those eyes. The passion he'd mistaken for a mutual love and admiration, for loyalty- for the warmth of friendship- was obsession. But that obsession was for only one thing: immortality. He was but a pawn in his conquest for the ultimate power- that over death.

Dark watched as a single tear fell from the man's eyes, and he dropped dead. He almost felt sorry for the bastard, but seeing his lifeless body squirm on the ground as its wound pooled around it felt too good to feel bad. Even he, however, felt more for him than the prince, as Titus turned back to the other man the moment the elder hit the ground.

Titus wasted no time, and, in an instant, he clenched the amulet in his fists and darted at him. Dark jumped to his feet. Without his weapon, all he could do was brace himself for the man's impact. He soon found, however, that his intentions were not to fight.

"Taste the years of true turmoil and dedication!" He screamed, thrusting the amulet out in front of him. Nothing. A long silence shuffled passed. The amulet remained docile in his hand, and Dark raised his brow at the other man, unscathed and waiting for something to happen. Titus's eyes widened. "What?! Y... You're not the servant of Enicrih? But then- th-then... Who is?!"

In his terror, I burst in front of him, blocking my brother from his sight and casting a black, ravenous wolf's shadow over him. His eyes welled with horror.

"Me," I hissed, "and you've fucked up, bitch!"