The Boy and the Animal

Patt I | Thirty

A thousand years ago our ancestor stood before an injured wolf.

"Give to me your paw, that I may take pity upon a creature of the wild and set its spirit free."

She healed the wolf and nursed him to walk again, and when he was strong enough the animal fled from her without a word. Many years passed, and our ancestor found herself at death's ear. The wold came upon her.

"Human with the heart of the wild, who hath pity for those under its dominion, bow before Enicrih, for I shall give you and your seed my blessing!"

She bowed, and from thenceforth her blood became infected with Enicrih's own. She became the wild. Her kin, directly descended from her, carried out his bidding all their lives. But only one every generation was his true servant. Upon them came the voice of the wild god. It commanded them, guided them. They were the Wolf of LaBane.

And I, carrying the title that so many before me had born- my final albatross that I held around my neck so that my brother would not- sent down the fury of Enicrih upon the prince. In the forest that had raised Jesiter, that had set the rise and downfall of my family, every creature within stopped to hear the scream of a man who had met his greatest fear.

It was the fear of order. It was the fear of the ironic order that the chaos of the wild, of nature, held in that balanced the world. It was the same fear that all enemies of Enicrih held deep in the bedlam of their hearts- the fear of death. They were mortals who dared try to breach their status, and they deserved to be put down.

In one fell swoop, I melted into the form of a wolf and tore into his neck with my teeth, tearing out his jugular vein. He couldn't even scream as he vomited blood, the hot red fluid spilling from the man's throat in a flood of burning spurts.

The prince held his throat and stumbled back. His steps only reached so far, however, until he tripped over the body of Tobis and plummeted to the ground on his back with a slam. Even as his body had stopped twitching, and his blood ran dry, the man stared me in the eyes- forbidding death. I shifted my spirit back into its original form and crouched down beside him.

"When you're dead, the souls of every innocent blood you're responsible for spilling will give you eternal and unending pain. So tell me," I leaned into his ear, "what does death taste like?"

With that, I felt a chill of horror spill across his body, and his final breath left his lips.

Dark stood from the ground and took a step toward me. Turning, I could see the mixed pain and yearning in his eyes, but he was stuck- unsure whether or not he should approach me. I stood, as well, and gave a grin with a goofy wave. He snorted and wiped his eyes. Then, he perked up, shooting me an urgent look. I nodded.

"Jesiter is waiting for us," I said. "Both of them."

That was all Dark needed to take off running into the woods. He had to find the kid before he got himself hurt; he needed to find him before he got himself hurt. Just the thought of something happening to the boy he'd grown so close to made his heart pound and his adrenaline course across his body to his feet.

After all they had been through, after every hit they took for each other and touches they shared, the only future he could see for himself was with him. As he ran, he panted, but it wasn't because he was trying to catch his breath. A desperate feeling of needing to hear his voice again, needing to see those real, honest eyes and beautiful smile, took over his very being.

He loved him. He loved him now and before, and he would love them forever. Now he clutched it without doubt, and he used it to find the boy without any signs. Not by scent, not by sight or hearing- his scent was engulfed by the iron of blood running from his nose; his sight was a blur of sticks and trees; his hearing was filled was the hard, pounding, slams of the instrument in his chest.