ppgzxrrbz call of the wolves

new wolf in town

A stinging pain awoke a young redheaded boy. He felt dizzy, opening his eyes slowly. He realized that only one of this eyes were working, and it scared him. Why is that? "Ugh..." he murmured, rubbing his eyes and trying to get both of them to work. He felt panicked. "Mom? Dad? Where am I?"

"You're safe."

Sitting up in the bed he was apparently lying in, he blinked as he noticed the man sitting beside him. The older male had dark blue-black hair and golden-brown eyes. His skin was a golden tan.

"Who are you?" the boy asked, before bending forward because a sharp pain suddenly shot through his eye and he let out a painful cry. He grabbed for his hurting eye, but all he could feel was a pad of some sort.

The man reached out and touched the boy's padded eye gently, looking concerned. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You lost your eye. I...I had to fix it up and put an eye-patch over it. It was in pretty bad shape."

Suddenly, the memories of what had happened before he had lost consciousness swam through the boy's mind. This time his scream symbolized a different kind of pain. My parents died in a car crash. They died. And I lost my eye.

"I'm sorry," the man repeated.

The boy trembled. "Why..." He turned to his saviour, tears pooling from his eyes. "Why did you save me!? I should've died with my parents!"

"That's not what they would've wanted!" the man retorted. "I had to at least try and save you."

The boy let out another sob, his throat closing up and making a choking noise. He curled up into a ball.

"If it helps you any, I managed to implant an eye into your...empty socket," the man said.

"It'll just be some stupid fake glass eye. As if it'd help," the boy said sullenly. He felt as if his innocence had completely vanished in the fire that had overtaken the car. He could only think about the thieves and hope that they had perished too.

The man sighed, standing up and shoving away a tray of tools. "Not this eye. It's special. It works like a real eye, but...with other features." The boy stared at him, but the man made no further comment. Instead, he turned his back to the boy and started busying himself with something. "Actually, I had to add something else to you too," the man continued.

"What?" the boy said suspiciously.

"You were weak. You were dying. I did something to save you. You'll find out soon enough. I changed something within you and gave you enough power to keep you alive."

The boy wondered what it was that the man had done. "I've always been weak," he said quietly. "My body's always been more frail than other kids. I got an illness as an infant."

"Not so much anymore," the man murmured back. His patient looked confused, but the man had moved on again: "Tell me, boy—what's your name?"

"...My name..." The boy paused, wondering if he should say. Even if this man had saved him, could he really trust him?

"You can trust me," the man said, turning around as if he'd sensed what the boy had been thinking.

"...My name is Vix," the boy finally said. He shifted. "And what about you, Mister?"