Marrok

Chapter 25

"Marrok," Mary called out as she recognised the eyes she had come to know so well.

He dropped his head down in shame and turned away, quickly utilising his newfound strength and bolted down the darkened passway. Finding the staircase he easily descended several steps at a time and within moments skidded onto the landing of the second floor. Seeing the moonlight streaming through a stained glass window he ran towards it and crashed through, sending delicate glass shards through the air. Landing with ease on the damp ground several feet below he ignored the barking and howling of the hounds near the stable block and made off at speed through the courtyard and into the pasture land beyond. The night air was cool and his coat of jet-black fur blew back as he ran out into the darkness beyond Shyreton.

After several leagues, Marrok finally stopped and came to rest at the foot of a mountain pass. The starry night above was cloudless and the moon shone brightly casting everything below the mountain into shadow. Lifting up his muzzle he sniffed the air and caught the scent of a goat. An instinct to track and take chase took over his senses and without further thought, he made his way onto the track and followed the scent with ease. As he drew closer he could hear the scuff of the goat's hooves against the rock as it moved. Marrok instinctively slowed, lowering his body as he stalked his prey, positioning himself so that he remained in the shadow of boulders and thickets as the goat came into view. Its pale hair glowed in the moonlight as it grazed on fresh shoots of bracken from an outcrop of rocks. Marrok leapt through the air and sank his teeth into the goat's neck. Blood pooled onto the ground beneath them. The animal lay lifeless beneath him as he tore through its hide and gorged himself on its warm heart before feasting on its flesh.

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Marrok awoke, sunlight bright in his eyes, hard ground beneath his naked body. He looked around, dazed, to find himself looking out from a mountaintop onto pastureland and woodland below. His head throbbed and he ran his fingers through his hair. He sat himself up and pulled his knees to his chest, shivering. He noticed his hands were stained with blood and memories of the previous night flooded his mind.

His stomach heaved and he threw up half-digested raw meat and intestines. He heaved again, horrified at the sight before him and at what he had done. Hatred of himself engulfed him and he cried out. His agony echoed across the valley, answered only by the birds that encircled above. He found the hide and carcass of the goat nearby. He picked it up and flung it through the air, screaming in rage.

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Exhausted and broken, Marrok curled up on the ground and cried himself to sleep. When he woke the sun had already set and the sky was a dark, steely blue. The moon had already risen high into the sky surrounded by stars that shone like diamonds. His body was stiff, aching, and cold and he was shivering uncontrollably. He had resigned himself to stay on the mountain and hoped his body would soon give in to cold and exhaustion so that death would take him. He thought back to Mary and how close he had been to giving in to the urge to kill her. The stench of the goat he had killed lingered in his nostrils and his stomach tightened as he watched the shadows created by the moonlight shift as the crops of vegetation moved with the wind that blew across the plateau.

His muscles became taught and his body shifted into a crouch position involuntarily. His back arched, his limbs stretched out and his head was thrown back as the cursed change took hold of his body. His hands mutated into large padded paws with claws that were digging into the ground, as black fur once again covered his skin and his face contorted into a long muzzle with sharp white teeth.

He howled into the empty expanse and a wolf in the distance howled in response as Marrok propelled himself down the mountain tracks into the valley below.

Marrok was aware of every living creature that crossed his path as he picked up their scent with his heightened sense of smell. He tried to fight the urge to feed on their flesh, but when he encountered a doe as he approached an expanse of woodland he could resist no longer. The graceful creature took flight as it sensed danger approaching but Marrok's reactions and speed seemed limitless. He bore on the doe, its neck breaking under the pressure of Marrok's bite. After eating his prey he sniffed the air and headed towards an ancient woodland. He soon came across a stream and stopped to drink before wading into the icy water and out onto the bank flanked with long grass and weeds. He shook himself and crossed the strip of meadowland that was cast in the shadow of the looming trees. An owl hooted nearby and he could hear the scurry of small animals as they scattered across the woodland floor, trying to escape the danger they sensed as Marrok encroached upon them.

Little moonlight escaped through the canopy of the woodland but Marrok found his eyes quickly adjusted to the near darkness. He scanned his surroundings, able to clearly see the trees and foliage that surrounded him, and the tiny creatures that ran to take refuge in nearby burrows and bracken. The air was musty and there was a strong smell of wild garlic.

As his hunger was already satisfied, he found it easier to ignore the scent of potential prey as he meandered through the trees. His keen hearing took note of every rustle in the undergrowth, of twigs snapping and tree boughs creaking. Even in the darkness, the woodland was full of life and Marrok started to feel a sense of calm.

The ancient woodland was vast and after an hour or so of delving deeper into its depths, it showed no sign of giving way to pastureland or meadow. He felt the eyes of inquisitive birds looking down as he passed by and his mind wandered to stories he had been told as a child about a cursed wood. Wondering if these memories had sparked something within his imagination, he doubted his senses as he felt something strange within the woodland's atmosphere.

As he continued to move onwards he heard the faint sound of voices in the distance. Lifting his head into the air he sniffed and picked up a subtle and familiar scent laced with something even his newfound senses couldn't place. He moved with stealth in its direction, the voices now silent.

Marrok knew he was now near, and his movement slowed to a silent crawl, carefully padding upon the soft ground.

"Enough," exclaimed a woman's voice.

A scuffle was now clearly audible to all nearby as the woman screamed in obvious protest. Marrok bared down on his hind legs and thrust himself into the air, landing in a small clearing. A woman, surrounded by an aura of light, with raven black hair and a pale complexion, stood against the trunk of a chestnut tree, her arms restrained by a man of broad and sturdy stature. She looked directly at Marrok and her attacker turned his head to look back.

Marrok bared his sharp teeth and gave a low, menacing growl as he moved slowly towards them. The man cried out in fear and immediately let go of the woman who remained calm standing against the tree. The man reached for the sword that hung in a sheath at his side and drew it in the hope of deterring the huge wolf that stood before him. Marrok continued to advance, ignoring the cold steel pointing in his direction.

The man suddenly bolted, but within a few strides Marrok was upon him and blood quickly pooled onto the leafy floor. After the frenzy of the kill waned, Marrok turned back to the woman who still stood calmly beneath the chestnut tree, seemingly undeterred by the violent scene before her.

Her jet-black hair brought visions of Mary to Marrok's mind and he took a step back, not fully trusting himself.

"You have been cursed," she spoke in a soothing tone, her voice steady. "Who caste an enchantment upon you?"

Marrok shook his head. Despite the overwhelming scent of the dead man's blood that now dripped from his jaws, he could smell her sweetness. He pictured Mary's pleading gaze as she had looked upon him as a wolf and remembered his silent vow to her, to Jane and Saul. He remembered the tonic within the terracotta jar and the pull of the moonlight. "Seren," he replied, his head bowed in shame.