Hi there. I don't own Digimon, the suited dudes at Toei do. So don't sue, You'll only get a few pennies for your troubles. The original story of the hour of the wolf came from an episode of Babylon Five, so I didn't create that either. I have to warn you, this story has rampant character death and is very depressing, so if you don't like that sort of stuff, I suggest you leave now.
Still here? Then enjoy the story.
Flames as always will be fed to my furnace.
The hour of the wolf
The fire crackled and popped in the heath, giving a warm glow. A solitary figure with spiky blond hair and piercing sorrowful blue eyes sat by it, contemplating what had happened.
How it could have happened.
He remembered the scarred battlefield coming to. Being wracked with pain from horrendous injuries that seemed insignificant compared to the incredible horrors he beheld.
The bodies of Tai and Sora locked together in a grisly lover's embrace, together forever in death when they could not be in life. Agumon and Biyomon were not far off, lay crumpled to the ground, together also.
Yamato Ishida saw this, and saw more.
Izzy, still lifelessly clutching his precious computer, unceremoniously draped over Tentomon. Joe and Mimi frozen with looks of utter shock, fists clenched in helpless frustration. Kari, her head bowed in silent prayer. Their Digimon strewn all over the place.
Dead. All dead.
He remembered dodging the corpses of enemy Digimon, looking for Tk and Gabumon. Nothing else mattered but them.
Then he found them.
They looked so peaceful. So innocent. As if they were only in a deep slumber. But Matt knew something was wrong.
He knelt down and stroked his younger brother's face. Was it always this white? This cold? He reached down to shake his brother awake. Nothing. Desperate, bile rising in his throat he tried again. Nothing! Matt let out a scream of anguish that tore the Digiworld in two with its frantic denial. Tk dead? It couldn't be! But the lack of pulse said otherwise, and Tk, with Patamon crooked under one arm, would never wake up again.
With hot tears running down Matt's face, he turned to his best friend. He had already lost his brother; he didn't want to lose the one that was the other half of his soul. He picked up Gabumon gently. His breathing was rapid and shallow, but Gabumon would survive when all the others would not.
Back to the present, Matt watched over his Digimon friend as he recovered, protecting him as Gabumon had done time after time for him. He wanted to kill the one responsible for the tragedy, slowly strangle the life from their bodies, but the ones responsible were dead. The battle had been fought to a stalemate, till all the forces on either side were dead. All except Matt and Gabumon.
Matt scowled to himself. Stupid to remember, you'll only go mad. Matt sighed; he was living in the hour of the wolf. The wolf that brought all the memories, doubts, questions, and fears better left in the past. Ironic really, when the lone wolf was he himself. Matt sighed again and poked the fire with a stick. He had been living in the hour of the wolf since Tk was taken from him, consumed by the memories of that final, terrible battle.
He pushed the memories aside to only be replaced by more horrible memories that welled up, like what in a stream.
Matt winced. The wolf had cubs.
He gazed at Gabumon. Sleeping soundly near the fire, he was healing from his battle wounds as Matt was healing from his. Haunted blue eyes turned back to the fire in all its blazing glory He made an oath to whatever it took to stop the forces of darkness so another brother wouldn't have to lose his sibling too. He settled back and tried to clear his mind again, but the memories still arrived. And then arrived again. As a last resort Matt whipped out his harmonica and began to play. A pure tune of grief floated up into the night sky and was joined by the howl of a lone wolf.
Fin.