The Strength of Bonds

by Arma6792

This is a coming of age story that takes place in the world of "Werewolf: The Apocalypse". Growing up I read the anthology "When Will You Rage?", a collection of short stories from the same universe. My story is written in the spirit of that world. All credit goes to White Wolf publishing. This is my first completed piece of writing so I would be grateful for any reviews. Thanks!

Malachi looked down at the blood on his shirt as he walked along the quiet rural road. He gently touched his throbbing eyebrow and winced. His nose didn't seem to be bleeding anymore, but there was no way he was going be able to hide this. His mom was gonna kill him when she saw he'd gotten into another fight. Then she'd kill him again when she saw the blood stains on his new t-shirt. It was the last day of school before summer break and he couldn't even get through it without getting into a fight.

He ran a hand through his short brown hair as he imagined what his mother would say. Oh, he could hear her voice now. You're going to be 15 in a few months, you can't keep this up! Why are you always getting into fights these days? You have to stay out of trouble Malachi. You can't get far in life if you end up in jail! Son, I don' know whats going on with you anymore. The sad part was she wasn't wrong and he knew it. Malachi had no cause to give her about the fighting besides they start it. For whatever reason bullies were drawn to him like moths to a flame.

It wasn't his fault he had to go to a new school every year to keep up with her stupid Army postings. Three states in the last five years, four new schools, and his mom wondered why he had a hard time making friends. Hell, that's how they'd ended up in this hick town in the ass end of Kentucky in the first place. Whatever Army base his mom was training at was about the only thing keeping the town alive.

He hadn't had a stellar year here but if they moved any more he was pretty sure he'd lose his mind. The thought of being the new kid yet again at a brand new school filled him with a tense dread. At least here he knew who the assholes were. If they did move though, he had no choice. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. His father was a distant memory at best and he didn't have any other close family. Until recently that never bothered him. His life was his mother, him, and the road, for as long as he could remember. Throughout all those years he'd heard his mother say to him countless times, Small family, strong bonds my son. It was almost like their family talisman. She would say it when things got really hard and it always brought him a little peace.

Malachi shook his head to clear his thoughts and shifted his backpack straps higher on his shoulders as picked up his pace. His mom would be waiting at the pavilion in the park they used for his "designated pick up station". She loved giving normal things official sounding titles. He smiled and shook his head at the thought.

He walked for another ten minutes or so in the afternoon sun and reached the bend towards the park's entrance, which was little more than a narrow paved road thick with trees and brush on either side. This was his favorite part of the after school walk, but also the shortest. The forest seemed to close around him. He'd always loved forests. The air was rich, the smells were clean, and the feel of earth instead of concrete underneath his feet made him feel at ease. It seemed like everything changed when you were in the woods, and for a short time Malachi could forget his troubles. As such, he tended to linger here, which lead to his mom laying into the car horn more than a few times.

Inevitably the short path opened up into the parking lot. Only a few random vehicles were parked there today. Malachi walked on towards the pavilion through the parking lot to wait for his mother. Soon he saw a pair of people lounging by a pickup truck. They were an odd couple. At least, he'd always figured they were a couple. "The Odd Couple" was in fact what he called them in his mind.

The man and woman looked about the same age, usually just in jeans or shorts, t-shirts or flannels. Definitely not office workers, or business people, or anything like that. They seemed to hang around the park a lot. They were younger than his mom, but older than him so he figured twenties to thirties or something like that. Every couple of weeks he saw them hanging around the parking lot at the pavilion. Sometimes other people were with them but most of the time it was just them. He had also seen them on the forest trails before, when he walked the paths on occasion, and at least once he'd seen them in town. For some reason they always drew his eye. On more than one occasion he got the vibe that they were watching him. Today that vibe was on high. He wondered if they weren't here yesterday too.

As he walked along they blatantly watched Malachi, their conversation quieting to hushed tones as he drew near. The hair on the back of Malachi's neck rose and he felt a sudden unease. He quickened his pace.

"Hey kid, did you get into another fight?", the man asked as he passed them. It was the first time any of the strangers had actually spoken to him. Malachi glanced at the man but said nothing, walking on. Where the hell was his mom?

"Did you give better than you got?", the woman asked. This time Malachi turned and looked back at the strange couple, but didn't stop walking.

"Fuck off weirdos!"

The woman laughed and playfully punched her companion. He smiled, but said nothing.

Finally Malachi heard the familiar honk of his mother's Jeep as she pulled into the far end of the parking lot. "About damn time," Malachi said to himself as he jogged to the car. He didn't look back.

…..

The drive home was silent. His mom noticed the blood on his shirt almost immediately but said nothing. Malachi didn't have the heart just then to try and justify the fight, so he let the silence hang between them and kept his gaze on the woods outside his window as they drove. Before long they were home. Malachi cleaned himself up and changed clothes while his mother made dinner. By the time he made his way downstairs his mother was sitting at the dining room table waiting for him. The plates were full of food.

His mother was out of her army fatigues and into her casual clothes. Her long brown hair was pulled up and back revealing her blue eyes and kind face. Not the face of a military officer at first glance, but Malachi had seen what she looked like when she meant business. Dinner went smoothly at first and he thought he might be off the hook. They both made small talk about the boring parts of their day. The bomb didn't drop until they were halfway done eating.

"So what happened this time," his mother asked without looking up from her plate. She didn't even stop cutting her grilled chicken. Malachi took a long sip of his soda to buy some time. "Well, funny story," he began. "There were these terrorists,"

She sighed loudly, cutting him off. "Stop Malachi, just stop." She put her fork and knife down and rubbed her temples.

"I was really hoping we were past all of this stuff, ya know? Another fight? I mean, how many other kids could there be left to fight with?"

He kept his eyes down at the table. Arguing with his mom was never fun, but he didn't know how else to tell her what he'd already told her a dozen times over. For whatever reason kids made a mark of him. He tried being nice, he tried being a fly on the wall, and he tried being one of the crowd. Nothing worked. This time Malachi finally just went after the toughest kid in 8th grade. After the first wise crack about his mom he'd decided to let loose. He'd landed a couple of really good shots against the giant before getting his ass kicked. Maybe that would carry into next year and Malachi could finally have a little peace for a change.

Yet all he managed to say was "Sorry mom. I'll try harder not to let the other kids get to me."

His mother seemed to sense his mood and her tone softened. Something in her seemed to give. She took a deep breath and put her face in her hands. Malachi waited for the tirade to begin anew but to his surprise she chuckled and took a bite of chicken.

After a moment she said "It's alright. What the hell, the school year is over. If there was a time to get in a fight, it's now."

He looked up and shot her a crooked smile. She met his with one of her own.

"Did you win?", she asked.

"Sort of. At first I guess, but not so much by the end. He bled though."

"Well at least he didn't mess up both those baby blue eyes of yours. Or any teeth. And that's really good because I'm not even sure we have a dentist in this town."

They both smiled wider and started to laugh. It was a good, hearty, deep laughter. The kind that cleansed the air of tension. After a pause, his mother's tone changed yet again.

"Malachi, there is something serious I need to talk to you about though, and I think you're old enough to hear it."

Malachi had a sudden sense of foreboding. Neither of them were eating anymore. He poked at some of his potatoes with his fork. "What's up mom?"

"I don't know how else to say this to you so I just will." She paused, taking a deep breath.

"Your father got in touch with me recently. We talked for a long time, and he would like to see you. I told him I'd speak to you about it and get back to him."

Malachi was stunned. Beyond stunned. He needed a new word for stunned. For a long moment he didn't speak. He kept his eyes on his half eaten chicken, pushing it around on the plate. "Oh yeah?", was all he finally managed. "Why's that?"

Her brown eyes met his. "To be honest with you, he has gotten a hold of me in the past more than a few times wanting to see but I never thought it was a good idea. You were so young and there was so much other junk going on in our lives, I just, I didn't want to give you the idea that he was staying. He has always led," Her voice wavered until she could continue. "... a strange life. But now you're older. You're growing up. Right in front of me it seems, and I think you are becoming a young man. My point is you are old enough now to decide if you want to see him or not. This time it's up to you Malachi."

His palms were already sweating, damn it all. "Well what does he even want to see me for? I mean we've gone this long, why screw things up now?"

"Honey, it's perfectly fine if you don't want to see him. No one is forcing you. He's in town for the next few days he said, so there's no rush. Maybe just sleep on it?"

…..

As he lay in his bed thinking on what his mother had told him Malachi struggled. What a weird ass day. His last thoughts before finally drifting off to sleep were a mix of vain attempts to recall any memory of his father and trying to figure out why those strangers at the park talked to him today.

As it turned out, that night Malachi's dreams were stranger than his day. First he was fighting the big kid from school, but it was one of those strange dreams where your body feels like it's stuck in slow motion and you can't run or punch or anything. The jerk won again. But then his dream changed.

Abruptly, he was standing outside the woods not far from his house, which seemed very strange. It wasn't a forest like his woods at home. It was the woods at home. A thick fog blanketed the grass and gave the forest an eerie feel, while a nearly full moon gave the night a silver blue glow. At the edge of the treeline there sat a wolf, as if waiting for him. It wasn't like any wolf Malachi had ever seen, heard, or read about. It's fur was dark with red and black hues, it's eyes a glowing yellow, and it was big. Very big. It looked right at Malachi and their eyes locked. He felt compelled to follow. So he did.

Malachi broke into a sprint towards the great wolf. It seemed pleased, then turned and ran, leading him into the forest. Strange he could sense that it was pleased. They ran along a winding trail illuminated by moonlight, twisting and leaping along the pathway. The wolf was always ahead of him but never too far out of sight. The thrill of the run pumped through his veins, his limbs, his very soul. He'd never felt this alive before and yet it seemed a natural thing, giving chase to the great wolf. Malachi felt as if he could have been doing this every day of his life.

The forest air of the night was sweet and crisp, and energy seemed to crackle through his body. For once he did not feel weak. He felt downright powerful. Malachi ran hard, but the wolf was always just ahead of him. Good, the wolf sent. Come. Follow. The chase continued. The trees gradually shifted into thicker, taller, gnarled green giants. They exuded a feeling of age. Not just casual age but the weight of many years. These trees felt ancient. In fact they looked very different than the trees he saw with his waking eyes, the trees of his woods. Mossy rocks and vines filled the forest floor now, instead of just dirt, sticks, and dead leaves. Malachi felt imbued with a strength and peace he'd never felt on his own. The thrill of the hunt. Gaia embraces you young one. The sensation was incredible. Malachi could feel the energy of the red wolf urging him on. He thought he could sense... pride?

Then sharply, violently, it changed. The fog turned a sickening brown-green, the old trees seemed to wither and rot around them too quickly to be natural. The air suddenly smelled of decay, rot, and death. Even the ground was turning into a slimy, soft muck. The great wolf stopped and turned back to Malachi, seeming confused. Something was wrong. A paralyzing fear took him. This was not right.

The great red wolf ran back towards him, growling with fangs bared. Go. Now!

Go where? Somehow Malachi reminded himself that he must be dreaming. He could just wake up couldn't he? Wake up. Wake up. Wake up! The great red wolf was running at him now, leaping with his muzzle open. GO! A lurching pain racked him.

Malachi jerked upright in his bed, covered in sweat, breathing as if he'd just run a marathon. Yanking his covers off he swung his legs over the edge and tried to collect himself. What the hell was that? It was just a dream right? Maybe more like a nightmare, but still, just a dream. It seemed he just left the forest seconds ago. But, it was not real. It couldn't be. Could it? He looked at his alarm clock. After 10:00 already? His thoughts were still swimming as he got dressed for the day and headed downstairs.

The smell of pancakes and sausage pleasantly assaulted his nose on the way towards the kitchen. His mother stood in front of the stove and turned to give him a broad smile.

"Good morning mister."

"Morning mom."

"Hey you doing OK? I thought I heard you hollering up there just awhile ago."

Malachi opened a cupboard to grab a couple of plates to set the table.

"Just some weird dreams is all. Nothing to worry about ma."

"Hmm. I hope our conversation over dinner last night didn't have anything to do with it." She kept her gaze on him awaiting an answer while he set the table.

"Yeah about that. I'm still not sure, you know? I mean what if... just... what if? I need some time I think."

"Take your time then. It's a big decision." With that she loaded his plate and they sat down to breakfast, laughing and talking of the coming day.

…..

"Ma, I'm heading to the woods for awhile," he shouted before heading out the door. "I'll be back before dark!"

"All right, be careful, love you!"

"Love you ma!"

With that, Malachi was out the door. He grabbed his mountain bike from behind the shed and pedaled towards the tree line behind his house. He had lots of different paths he would ride through the forest but today he took the toughest one. Lots of hills to go up and creeks to cross, rock and gravel both. If there was anything he liked about living out here it was this nature stuff. It always helped him clear his head.

He rode hard for about twenty minutes to one of his favorite spots; a particularly green and lush ravine overlooking a broad rushing stream. He set his bike down and planted himself on the ground to catch his breath. He needed to think. That weird dream from last night kept coming to mind during his ride but that's not what he needed to think about now. He needed to decide what to do about his father.

For awhile he sat in the grass, idly picking apart dead leaves while pondering the reasons his father might want to see him. Then he laid back, fingers intertwined behind his head. Through the thick foliage he could just make out the contrasting gray of the sky between the dark green of the forest canopy. His eyes felt heavy from the restless sleep the night before. Malachi let his thoughts wander along the gray paths of his mind.

He knew almost nothing about his father. There had been other men here and there in his mother's, and so his, life but none stuck around. On the rare occasions his mother would answer his questions about "dad" she kept the responses vague. Really all he knew is that it was one of those "whirlwind romances" as she put it, and that they met while she was stationed somewhere up in Washington state. The relationship they'd shared had been intense but short. When she found out she was pregnant with him they'd already broken things off and she was headed for another posting in a different state. Malachi came along and the rest was history. His mother had done a really great job of raising him, in Malachi's humble opinion. It wasn't always easy, but it had always been her and him. They were a team. After all there wasn't anything they hadn't been able to get through. Then it hit him. What the hell was he scared of? This dad guy was going to what, somehow wisk his family off somewhere? Separate them? Fat chance. The Army couldn't even do that. His family was his mother, and their bond was solid. Malachi smiled to himself. Small family, strong bonds. Screw it. This guy can't throw anything at us that we can't handle. I'll meet him. Finally satisfied, he let his eyes close as his restless mind found a quiet peace.

…..

When Malachi awoke, the forest around him was darker. He must have nodded off. Sitting up he rubbed his eyes and tried to gauge the time. The sun was almost down. He got onto his bike and began the tedious trip toward home. Before long, thunder rolled in the distance and the air smelled of rain. A storm was brewing. Despite it all, he was eager to tell his mother the good news of his decision.

When he finally reached their backyard the sky was the purple gray of twilight mingled with storm clouds. Drops of rain already began to fall and the wind was picking up. Sweating after the hard ride, he ditched his bike and ran to the back door. That's when he noticed something was very wrong. The back door wasn't on it's hinges anymore. It was ripped off. Splinters of wood and door frame marked the violence of it's departure. Malachi spotted the storm door some thirty feet away. His stomach sank.

What the hell is this? His heart, already beating fast from the ride home, now pounded in his chest. He tentatively stepped towards the opening and entered. He heard nothing. No sound, no shouts for help. The house was dead silent. Should he call out for his mother?

Who rips a door off it's hinges? Fear was setting in, cold and real. He looked each way down the hall and carefully crept toward the living room.

"Mom?", he chanced as he crept. It was barely more than a whisper. Nothing.

"Mom?" No response.

Malachi wiped his sweating palms on the front of his jeans. Then at last he heard something. A very strange sound. It was faint. Almost like gurgling. No. It was gurgling. The sound of it sent ice down his spine. He broke into a run around the corner into the hallway and looked directly into a nightmare.

The scene unfolded before his eyes all at once and yet slowly, each detail fighting to be recognized by his shocked mind. The couch was overturned. Lamp broken. The center of the living room floor was soaked with dark red blood. So much blood. Lying in the middle of it all in a crumpled heap was his mother. She wasn't moving. Malachi stopped breathing.

Looming over her, not yet looking at him, was a monster. It's massive head was bowed to accommodate the ceiling. It turned to look over it's broad shoulders. The thing was huge. Green malevolent eyes met Malachi's. It stepped over his dead mother and turned to face him. A fearsome looking muzzle was coated in blood. It was covered in dark, dirty matted fur with intermittent bald patches. Pink scars streaked it's body in seemingly random, thick, sinuous lines. Long powerful looking arms ended in claw tipped fingers. And it stank. Like rotting flesh. Around it's neck hung a strange necklace of sorts, no more than a thick leather band tied to what looked like a huge black fang. It was then he noticed a kitchen knife sunk nearly to the handle in the monster's chest. As if in after thought the monster pulled out the knife without so much as a flinch and tossed it aside. Malachi stood frozen, staring at this monster that should not exist. Words tugged at his mind but he struggled to give them meaning. Werewolf? It seemed close, but no. No. This thing before him was a monster. And it murdered his mother. It turned. Then the beast smiled at him.

That moment seemed to last forever. Malachi heard the now steady patter of the rain on the windows slowly die out, replaced by a strange ringing in his ears. His face felt hot. His left eyelid twitched. His vision blurred at the edges as grayness tried to dominate his sight. His legs trembled. A maelstrom of fear and confusion threatened to wrench him into oblivion, sweep him into madness.

No...

No.

And at once, the maelstrom stopped pulling.

In two breaths Malachi pushed away the strange feeling. In three breaths what was an intensely maddening sensation seconds before was now only a distraction.

Breathe Malachi. Think.

He bolted.

Sprinting down the hallway behind him he made for the stairway leading to his mother's room as fast as his legs would allow. He felt more than heard the thundering of the beast coming after him. The weight of it's footfalls shook the entire house. Just as he whipped around the corner leading up the stairs Malachi felt the rush of wind as the monster just missed slamming into him.

He sprinted up the stairs taking two at a time. Running into his mother's room he slammed the door behind him.

Where is it? He crouched to the floor reaching underneath his mother's bed searching for the metal box. He could barely reach it, but he managed to pull it out. 4735. Just like she told him. His fingers felt like lead as he tried to punch the code. 4735. Damn. 4735.

Vibrations thumping through the floor felt stronger with each passing second.

It's coming up the stairs. Oh God it's coming up the stairs. After what felt like an eternity the metal box finally clicked open.

There was a loud crash of breaking wood. Splinters sprayed against Malachi's face. The wolf-like monster ducked it's head as it walked through the doorway where the door stood only a moment ago. It was in no hurry. It's massive form towered over Malachi.

He still sat on his knees, the open metal box in his lap, looking up at the thing that should not be. The beast took one step towards him. Malachi, feeling very much a young boy, grabbed a hold of the always loaded Springfield .45 laying in the metal box with both hands, just the way his mother taught him. Just like when she took him to the firing ranges. He aimed. The creature tilted it's head as if curious. He squeezed the trigger.

Malachi saw the black spray of blood appear simultaneously with the loud crack of the gun. The beast staggered back a step, anger taking over it's wild face. It clearly was not expecting this. Malachi was glad. He squeezed the trigger again. Again, black blood and an ear piercing crack. He pulled the trigger again. And again. With each shot the beast staggered backward, trying to avoid the pain. Over and over until the gun gave only clicks and no jolting discharge. By the last shot the beast had shied far away enough from the assault that it missed a step and fell backward down the stairway.

After a few seconds Malachi stood up, the smoking gun shaking in his hands. He crept toward the top of the stairs to look down. He saw it there at the bottom, it's torso a mass of black blood and ragged holes where flesh and fur once were. But it's glowing green eyes were not closed. In fact it was still moving. And even as Malachi watched, the huge holes he'd just put into the beast began closing in front of him. Gunshot wounds closing?

Shit. That's not fair. Malachi ran back into his mother's room. There was nowhere to hide and noway he could get past that thing lying at the bottom of the stairs. The gun obviously was not a solution so he tossed it aside. There was a window though. It was a two story drop, and a long run to the woods but he thought if he could get a head start maybe he could lose the thing in the woods. Urgently, Malachi climbed out the window. He used his arms to lower himself as much as possible, then dangled as his hands clung painfully to the windowsill. He tried to judge the distance. It was a long drop, but this was as close as he could get. He let go.

After a long moment the ground crashed into him. Sharp pain jolted through his legs and he fell onto his side. As quickly as he could, he rolled and got his feet underneath him, testing their strength. Surprisingly they seemed fine, only sore. Rain pelted him in thick sheets, driven by the wind. The sky was almost completely dark now. The storm had arrived. As if on cue, a booming clap of thunder rang out, echoing across the night. Malachi ran for his life toward the treeline. The rain and wind drove at him mercilessly as he tried to keep panic at bay. Keep running. Just keep running. If he made it to the woods maybe he could hide from this nightmare trying to kill him. But before long his legs were feeling like rubber. How far could he go really?

The treeline was almost in reach when he heard the howl. It filled the air; ragged, ice cold, full of anger and frustration, and somehow profoundly wrong. Yet, against all his common sense, Malachi stopped running and turned towards the house. Towards the howl.

Silhouetted in the faint storm light, he made out the explosion of the huge beast from the confines of the window as it crashed through it, sending a shower of debris into the night air. The monster landed on it's feet and crouched. It looked up at Malachi, and seemed to spot him instantly despite the distance and the storm. It went to all fours and galloped toward him.

Malachi turned to the forest and ran, his skin and clothing thoroughly soaked now. I'm dead. I'm dead just like mom. In spite of his sore legs they carried him into the forest with the speed of panic although he had no idea where he'd ended up. He had to fight his way through more than one thick row of brush, frantically thrashing. He quickly realized the noise he was making made him easy to find. Idiot. He hoped his movements were muffled by the rain and thunder but he still forced himself to slow down and focus. He changed direction often, moving as silently as he could at random angles away from his path instead of keeping to his loud blundering trajectory.

A few quick flashes of lightning bolts revealed the immediate forest around him. He wasn't sure where he was exactly, but the lightning revealed a large fallen tree in the middle of a clearing. It seemed as good a place as any to hide. He scrambled as quickly and quietly as he could toward the hollowed end and crawled in, feet first so he could see the entry way. The wood was soft and rotted, and gave way easily as he dug in. He tried not to think about the squirmy things he could feel underneath himself as he lay face down, hoping the beast would not find him.

He hoped in vain.

There was a brief moment of calm, the only noise was the persistent thumping of rain on his soft, makeshift wooden ceiling while he thought he might actually be safe. Malachi waited. He tried holding his breath, but found he could only slow it. In only a few seconds, he saw the monster appear at the edge of the clearing. It stopped after clearing the treeline and stood up straight, sniffing the air, looking about. Malachi shuddered.

In the dark, he could barely make out the creature's large outline, but it was unmistakable. Again, lighting flashed, quickly followed by rumbling thunder. The light showed the same scarred, matted-hair covered monstrosity that had killed his mother only a short time ago. He swore he could still see the blood on it's muzzle. And for the first time tonight, fear and sorrow were replaced by anger. Malachi fixed his gaze on the beast. Something stirred in his chest at the sight of this thing. His head was swimming. Only a little while ago his life was complicated, but not devastated. As much as a nightmare as this night seemed, and as much as he wished it, he knew it was not a dream. This beast killed his mother and it would kill him if he let it. His failure to protect her fanned the flames of his anger.

The monster raised it's face to the night sky and howled, the same painfully loud, cringing, foul cry he'd heard earlier. Then another, nearly identical howl came from his right, eerily close. Then a third, just slightly further away. More? There's more of them? His anger didn't fade, but his heart quickened.

The monster lowered it's gaze and began slowly walking in Malachi's general direction. It swept it's head back and forth in a sweeping motion as it crept forward, cautious, nose to the air. It can smell me, Malachi realized. He twisted his face as the wind brought the smell of rotting meat, telling him he was not downwind.

The stench only stoked his anger. Part of him wanted to be found. His anger was hot and his head was spinning. His grief for his mother's death had finally hit home and he despaired. This thing deserved to die but Malachi had no weapons and no way to fight it, let alone kill it. Part of him felt he should hide and wait, that he should let the storm blow over and hope this thing would move on and forget about him.

But Malachi was tired of waiting. He was tired of not fighting. Tired of being the victim. Something primal drove him forward and his heart craved this confrontation. Despite this his mind told him the fight would kill him, and he paused. So what? Now he had nothing left. In such a short time, his world had been shattered. He truly had nothing to lose. Fuck it all. And fuck him.

Malachi crawled forward out of the log that had sheltered him.

"Hey you asshole! Looking for me?" His mother always tried to curb his bad language. It never took.

The wind whipped at his clothes as sharp rain drops pelted his face through the forest cover. He hardly noticed. The monster turned towards him. It had known he was close.

"That's right, I'm here shit head. You and me have a score to settle."

To Malachi's surprise, the beast spoke. "Stupid pup. You have no idea what awaits you. But we'll teach you." It's voice was deep and guttural, difficult to make out. He took the rasping gasps it made then as a laugh.

"So you can talk. I figured you just went around sniffing asses and humping legs." It took a few menacing steps toward him and continued in it's rasping voice.

"You're brave for a lost pup. Mostly stupid, but brave. Never the less, the Wyrm wants you, and it's my job to bring you to Him. To be a Black Spiral Dancer is to know real power. You'll walk the Labyrinth, just like I did. It will hurt.

The mangy creature paused to laugh again, it's voice filthy and unnatural.

"Look at the bright side. A brand new world is opening it's doors to you. Embrace it! Why wouldn't you? I was like you once, and I know you've always felt alone. I know you always felt different. There are more like us and we all know your pain. We share it. We will give you the strength to gut everyone that's ever wronged you boy, everyone that's ever insulted you, everyone that's ever laid an angry hand on you. But I warn you, if you decide to fight like a pouty little prick because of the grief you feel for your worthless human mother don't think that death is an escape. You aren't the first lost pup we've claimed, but trust me, we'd rather kill you than lose you. And there are ways to make your death linger for a very, very long time. If you defy me yours will not be slow, but it will be painful. I promise you. Before the end you'll see the Black Spiral Dance is the only choice. And in that end, you will serve the Wyrm like it or not, as you were born to. So the truth is cur, you have only one choice. Submit to me to serve the Wyrm and save yourself a world of unending pain." It shrugged. "Or don't"

Malachi's gut wrenched at the beast's words. It spoke like a human but was obviously something more, and yet less. He had no idea what it wanted him to serve or to dance or what this "worm" even was, but obviously he wanted nothing to do with any of it. All he knew for sure was this monster killed his mom. And he wanted blood for it. He'd never been this angry in all his life. Another lightning flash illuminated the forest. The dark beast stood full on in front of Malachi. He was looking up at a towering mass of muscle and patchy matted fur that was a death machine. It's glowing green eyes bored a hole into Malachi, but he stood defiantly. They were only a few feet away from each other now.

The deep stirring of... something more than anger continued to grow as the monster had spoken to him, rising in swells. The conflict of his emotions weren't lost on Malachi. He wanted to jump on this unnatural beast like some kind of animal, rip it limb from limb, feel his teeth around it's throat, cut it down in mid-sentence, but he knew he didn't have the strength to even come close. More than a boy but less than a man, he was no match for the wolf beast.

So he spoke in the only way he knew how. The way he'd dealt with bullies all his life. Show them weakness and you were theirs forever. Show them strength, show them violence, then they left you alone. Malachi was sure his measure of violence against this thing would be insufficient, but he honestly didn't care anymore. Death wish? Maybe. Take all of this madness laying down? Not a chance.

Standing several feet away from the beast, eyes locked, he made his decision. He ran at the monster as fast and hard as he could, looking to jump onto it and gouge it's eyes out with his thumbs or die trying.

The violent blow that knocked him aside wracked him with pain and sent him slamming into a nearby tree. The crunch of his ribs was followed by more pain that told him the story of his injury. He hadn't even come close.

"Stupid.. We'll do this the hard way then whelp," it muttered in it's guttural rasping voice.

Malachi tried to pull himself upright from the wet forest floor but found he could barely manage to roll onto his back. The strength of that blow was worse than when he'd been hit by a car a few years back. He struggled to breathe. Yet somehow, his anger was not diminished by his pain. If anything, his anger grew. He forced himself upright with his body screaming in protest, but managed to stand straight backed to face the angry beast before him.

"More?" It backhanded him then, sending Malachi sprawling through the air before grinding to a stop on the forest floor. Pain surged around his face and head where the blow landed. God it hurt. He tried to shake away the pain and confusion that strove to master his thoughts. He lay on his back, struggling to catch his breath. It was then, not too far off in the forest he heard a commotion. There was snarling, the sound of heavy things colliding, and animalistic whining.

More howls rang out nearby, but these were different. Clear, crisp, and rich. Beautiful and angry. His vision still swam from the blows he'd suffered but it looked like there were more beasts entering the clearing. One's that looked a lot like the one who'd murdered his mother. Three, he thought all together. They formed a circle, backs to each other, and kept wary eyes on the borders of the forest.

The beast glanced in the direction of the howls, and continued it's speech. He forced himself to look up at the monster. "I should kill you instead of bringing you to the glory of the Wyrm. Your whore bitch mother put up a better fight than you have piss pup."

At last, something deep in Malachi broke loose. His simmering anger finally boiled over. Except this wasn't anger any more. This was Rage. He could feel it in his veins, as if hot lava was surging through him. Yet the Rage brought strength and Malachi forced himself to his feet. He would gut this bastard. Before he could move further a new pain wracked his body. He gasped as he felt his bones twisting and popping, growing larger. Confusion and surprise took hold. His breathing came in ragged gasps as itching skin gave way to dark gray fur sprouting all over his body. The muscles of his chest and back grew in thick layers, his face lengthened into a fang filled muzzle. Newly muscled arms now ended in massive claw tipped hands, and he stood on what seemed tree trunks instead of legs. He could no longer feel his earlier injuries. Malachi looked down at his strange new form. If his new shape met any definition he knew of, it was werewolf.

The smells of the forest exploded into a maze of intense new scents he could not discern. It was disorienting. He heard the sounds of struggle clearly now, many bodies fighting in the surrounding forest. Sight came very clearly in the dark and he could see as if it were daytime. The storm was at its crescendo. Wind whipped through the branches and stirred little tornadoes of dead leaves that lay upon the forest floor. Amidst all of this he saw his prey, standing in the clearing snarling at something still in the forest. His Rage surged. He needed to kill his enemy. His thoughts were garbled as he tried to keep from losing control and simultaneously understand the fight raging around him. Despite this, his enemy was clear. Malachi ran at the monster that killed his mother and unleashed his Rage.

He sprinted across the clearing slamming into his opponent while it was focused on the fighting just outside the clearing. He snapped, clawed, wrenched at anything that felt like flesh, and was thrilled at the taste of his enemies bitter blood in his mouth. The monster struck back though, throwing Malachi off of him. He quickly regained his footing and charged again. This time the beast was ready and lashed out with practiced precision. Fire lanced through Malachi's side. He didn't care, and lunged again. Claws shredded his flesh, slashing his chest, then shoulder, sending him spinning. Then the monster was on him. It slammed into Malachi with the power of a freight train and sent him sprawling to the ground. It pounced and ground him into the earth with it's weight. Malachi felt teeth and jaws on his shoulder, then wrenching pain. The beast's companions howled and laughed in delight. He felt his collar bone crush under the power of the beast and smelled his own blood spray into the night. His Rage held, but he was chest down, the weight of his enemy keeping him pinned. The claws of it's hind legs gripped Malachi at the hips and back, slashing rivers of fire down his body. He couldn't break free. Still it slashed. It was killing him.

As his vision began to dim, the wolf from his dreams leaped into the clearing right in front of him. It's red hued black fur was clear to see in his newfound night vision. It was enough to shock Malachi into a moment of lucidity. The red wolf shifted then, growing into a large, powerful looking werewolf in mere seconds. Werewolf was the only word that fit, he knew that now. Whereas the beast he was fighting seemed a corrupt tainted thing, the red wolf was the opposite. Pure, clean, and somehow right.

"Release him! The pup isn't yours Dancer," the wolf roared at the beast in a ragged voice.

"Take him from us then. I don't fear your bloated reputation Red One."

The so called "Dancer" seemed uninterested in Malachi now and stepped forward, blocking the red wolf's path. The other two took positions behind, surrounding him.

"My pack is finishing off yours right now," the red wolf snarled. "You aren't far behind. Leave him to us traitor. He is ours."

Foul raspy laughter filled the night again. "Is he? Come on then. Take the whelp from me if you can, whore of Gaia. The slut you took to birth him couldn't stop me and neither will you."

Reeling from his injuries Malachi lay helpless on the ground as he watched the scene unfold. The Red wolf charged the Dancers, who fell on him together, turning into a storm of blood and fur, fang and claw.

Who was this red wolf? Obviously he was trying to help, and Malachi was just laying here. A victim. Still a victim. No more. The Rage in him surged again, stronger this time, and it overtook him. He could feel his body mending itself as he fanned the flames of his anger. He forced himself to his knees, fur still soaked with blood but flesh and bone knitting together with each passing second. He watched the fight. One of the Dancer's fell to the ground with his belly opened and did not rise. More howls rang out from the forest as the battle spilled into the clearing. More mangy Dancer's. More werewolves like the red wolf fighting.

Rage.

Death.

Kill...

His body surged with the same lava in his veins as before, but now it was an eruption. Black and red colored the edges of his sight as his body tensed to leap into the fray. He had one foot on the ground now.

Two of the original Dancer's now lay dead, but more had joined and were overwhelming the big red wolf, snapping and slashing at any part left exposed. Malachi's thoughts were clouding as he watched his defender rip a third Dancer's throat out.

Death.

Hate...

He howled his Rage into the night. His howl was cut short as something massive and strong leapt onto his back pinning him. He snarled and fought. More strong restraining arms. He felt smothered, and then a dull pain in his head. And then he saw nothing.

…..

Fog swirled at the edges of Malachi's vision when he opened his eyes again. He heard the dull mumble of strange voices that slowly became recognizable.

A woman's voice became clear. "Either way it looks like he'll live. His Frenzy probably saved his life, with the accelerated healing."

"Heavy price to pay though," a rough voice replied. "Hope he's worth it." A chuckle.

"He almost ripped my arm off when I tackled him."

Sensation was slowly creeping back into Malachi. He could hear now but his vision was still blurry. He thought he was looking at, clouds? A blue sky and clouds, yes. He was on his back. He felt the rumble of an engine underneath him and a gentle rush of wind around him.

"The boy is worth it Render. Getting back a lost pup is always worth it," the woman said.

"Yeah but losing Blood Mane to get him? A hero for a pup?" There was pain in that voice.

"Blood Mane died with honor. His deeds will be sung about forever with the hurting he put against the Wyrm. He took five renowned Black Spirals with him and brought us to the Fetish that's been leading them to lost pups. He saved Gaia only knows how many new ones from being forced to dance the Black Spiral, and what's more he saved his son's life. You know how important the boy was to Blood Mane. Maybe you can try to keep in mind this kid lost both his parents and found out he's a werewolf in the span of a few hours. Pretty sure his day has been worse than ours."

The other voice, Render, grunted assent.

"Quiet, he's coming to."

"No need to be quiet. He's been listening," a second woman's gentle voice said.

Malachi glanced to the side. It looked like he was in the back of a pick up truck. Three blurry figures sat around him, looking down. He made to sit up to get a look at the driver. That was a mistake. Pain lanced through his body and he laid back with a groan.

"Try not to move big guy," Render said. "Probably feel like you fell off a building huh? Not much difference really, with all the punishment you took. Don't worry, the Change gets easier with time. You'll be back on your feet in a couple of days."

Malachi could sense a false cheeriness in the man's voice. His memories were jumbled and confused but in a few short moments it all came slamming home with the power of a sledge hammer. His mother was dead. The forest. The storm. The wolves. The blood. He choked back a sob. The new found ember of Rage waited outside his feelings, beckoning to him. His anger swelled as memory returned.

"Peace Malachi, we will not harm you," the gentle voice said, as if sensing his growing Rage.

"We tried to save your mother but we were too late. I am truly sorry. She was Kinfolk, and a loss to us as well as our cause." There was reassurance in this soothing voice he could not explain, and his anger remained a low simmer.

His vision cleared a little more and a face came into focus. More shock somehow managed to hit Malachi. He recognized two of them. It was the odd couple from the park who always seemed to be watching him. The other woman he did not recognize. She was older, with long gray hair loosely bound back with leather strips. Her face was tan and weathered.

The group looked down at him with concern on their faces. And weariness. He could guess they were the ones helping in the forest.

"Your father led our pack as Alpha and bade us to watch you," the older woman continued. "He suspected you might be one of us, and so for a long time he stayed away. It was to protect you from enemies like the ones you saw last night. But he watched. As the age of your First Change approached he no longer had any choice. You showed all the signs. All the fighting, the anger, the isolation... all of it. But the Wyrm's agents were drawn to you as well, sensing your impending Change. They used an artifact to track you down, and killed another of our pack set as your guard.

His mind reeled as he tried to piece it all together. He remembered the Black Spiral Dancer that wore the black fang around it's neck, but knew about no guard. Someone else dead because of him.

"The time has come to learn the truth. You are Garou Malachi. The same as us. It means 'The People'. Werewolf if it suits you, but it's nothing like you've seen in the movies. Time and myth have clouded our nature. It was your father that came to you in your dreams, with my aid. Search your memories. In your mind you would know him as the great red wolf."

"My father? Werewolves... is this, nightmare real? What am I supposed to do? My life is ruined."

She reached down and gently caressed his brow. Genuine compassion shone in her eyes. He knew then that everything he was hearing was true.

"I know you're confused and you have many questions. Trust that in time, we will answer as many as we can. Your old life is ended. Your new life is just beginning. For now, know that we are taking you someplace safe. You are with your people and we will help you find your way. Despite all your losses, you are with family."

Malachi looked back up at the crisp blue sky as his Rage finally extinguished, replaced now by bottomless grief and exhaustion. He closed his eyes. His mother's voice came unbidden to his mind, haunting. Small family, strong bonds my son.

His father was someone he'd never known, but he died to save him. His mother had raised him, but now she was gone. He drew a sliver of content knowing his last words to her were those of love. As for his future, there would be no more room for love. A name danced in the recesses of his tired thoughts. There was a force to blame for all of his sorrow, and Malachi swore to himself he would have his vengeance against it. One day, the Wyrm would pay.