Wolt the Werewolf
"The battle will be by night."
The thought sent icy poison through my very veins. A worse night simply couldn't have been picked. I almost wanted to disappear for the night-wake up with blood on my muzzle and death on my claws.
Running away is not what a man would do! The voice of Lord Eliwood was always deep and masculine, even in my head.
You didn't know me after the attack, sir. Things are different. I could hurt my comrades! I could kill them! I wish Sue were nearer me. She is so calm and steady.
One could argue Roy knows you not also. Eliwood rumbled. In fact, no one here knows you.
It was true-Roy and I had drifted so far apart since the attack, which had been barely before the war.
Wolt, you've been gaining more control these moons. Surely no harm can come if you help. He'd been like a second father, and this was why his voice advised me inwardly.
They have SILVER. My mother Rebecca had told me tales of werewolves, most ending in brave souls shooting, stabbing, or slicing them dead with weapons of the gray metal. Her stories now brought shivers to my spine and panic in my heart.
I can't leave. I can't stay.
I went to my tent-I share it with Bors, who laughs as much awake as he snores asleep. Sometimes he'll tell scary stories about creatures like me. It is hard to act placid.
One lucky thing about Bors is how deep a sleeper he is. Then it's easy to sneak out of the tent, rush to somewhere quiet and empty. Here is where I howl at my dastardly archer's moon.
In the days before-which was most of my life, honestly-I liked to sit out and watch it. If there were owls, they hooted repeatedly-though often they were away. Hunting, I suppose. The small creatures always chirped and made their scratchy, imperfect noises over and over. When I was small, Mom made it the archer's moon- a light-giving companion, wherever you be and whatever you do as long as you are within her softly glowing sight. She always looked out at her hanging in the eternal black sky with affection. "Beautiful archer's moon."
Everyone is quiet and sleeping-except for the sentries. We are conserving our strength. I yawn and decide to blend in. I nuzzle up to my blankets despite the heat. But choices are chasing me like a shining silver arrow.
It is a dark place before my eyes adjust, just flat black. Then the leaves turn gray, so still, and the trunks are black with silver edges. I feel cold metal in my hand, yet familiar and slender. My bow, and she will give me safety. The archer's moon is up, and though she is unmoving, I know she approves, and will grant me her strength.
I watch myself, and feel a sting of fear. For this night…a night where the moon gives power to more than me…
There's a howl close by, a shuffling in the gray trees, a wall of drab un-color. I am me again, and I want to run-claws scrabbling on the ground-
My boots fly over the black fallen leaves, I am breathing so hard, I never did run well-
Panting, and ragged half-human breathing. I don't know what the creature is, and I really don't want to.
The animal topples into me, I fall like a shot bird, on my face, my arms the broken wings. They are snuffling in my hair. I begin to twist around, using my hands and feeling leaves cold, wet, dead-morbidly thinking Will I soon be like them?
I scream-teeth in my shoulder, sharp, sharp and something that is wet but hot meandering down my shoulder-I wish in a panic it'd go faster, that this'd be over quickly, not draw out-I punch the creature wildly. The removal of teeth hurts more, I scream again-I must be so far away to not be heard-and want to once more but am all out when I see the animal. Upright but with silvery-gray fur and clawed hands, wolf ears but a face uncannily human. And teeth that are danger, gleaming in the archer's moon-not fangs anymore, but swords, silver swords. Dieck, Roy, Lance, Zealot holding them aloft-a cloud of silver lances behind. Sue steps forward, nocking a silver bow-
I wake up breathing so fast I am probably blinking in rhythm. Bors came into the tent while I was asleep, still not awake himself.
I should run. Run before they murder me with their moon weapons, run before they turn against me. No…the creature that used to be me, tainting my actions and words in their minds. I get up and seize my bow, slip on my quiver. The sentries won't ask why I'm leaving, I hope.
The sun is setting, a beautiful cloak ripped into strips of oranges, pinks, and yellows. Lugh and Tate are the guards today, but barely look at me once, don't talk about twice as I walk hurriedly into the field of yellow-brown grass. The tree line is where I need to be.
The army needs you! STOP! Not even my mother's voice, father's or Lord Eliwood's will make me return-return to a place of delicate flesh and the warm, choking taste of blood.
The burning yellow orb is sinking, and soon the merely glowing one will rise. The grass is tall, but the trees are visible by the gray of their trunks and the lack of rustling, possessing silent leaves.
"That's it…Wolt! The attack is NOW!"
I freeze, though there is still noise in the dull blades. She shouldn't…why is she coming back for me?!
"WOLT!" She is drawing nearer. I know her too well.
Sue sees me from atop her horse. "Why are you here?" She grabs my hand. "Ride with me. We need to get going."
"I can't-I have to get to the forest!" Her grip is strong, and that and the blue-black sky remind me too much of the attack, the scars it left in my mind and on my shoulder. I tug, and she looks befuddled-only slightly.
"Wolt, you are no coward. Come." She's using both hands to try hoisting me onto the horse.
"That's not it!" Those words are a lie. "I have to tell you something."
"This is no time for that! We have to go." Sue's horse neighs. I feel my feet and ankles getting warmer as fur sprouts from them.
"Sue, I'm a-"
"What's wrong with your hair? It's turning…gray…" Her voice is deadly cool. She lets go of my hand as the nails lengthen into claws. My teeth grow long and sharp. I can't talk for long-the fangs stop me when they get big enough, partially from the threat of having my tongue sliced.
"Were-w-ol…!" I shake my head, my teeth too large. Hunter's teeth. Sue's horse backs up a few paces, tossing her head nervously and snorting often. Sue's eyes are wide, and her horse only stays because she hasn't uttered a command. She hasn't said anything since my hair grayed and sunk low to my skull, turning soft and silky.
The seams of my clothes rip partly as rippling muscles erupt into place. I smell fear, so strong and delicious…
No! That's Sue! You know her!
Something hits me and falls to the ground. A steel arrow. I bare my fangs, growling. I shouldn't let something do that-thinking they can punish me with their weak metal weapons, puny and dull.
DON'T attack Sue. Goddamn it, don't attack!
There is more meat past this field. I smell it, confident and oblivious. Archer's moon feels my anticipation, for a hunt of warmth and tearing.
I howl, my blunt snout finding it hard, my pointed ears back. My claws rip the grass, and I feel such joy at the night breeze as I glide in its current.
You're not hurting anyone. Any of my comrades. Just the people in red! Red is so painful yet beautiful a color. A color for the hunt, and everything the wolf of me wants. It will not kill them, not make them like me in an existence of night dread and fear. I burst upon our camp, my ears sharp in hearing and detecting their cries, small as the mewl of a pup. I whimper at the clashing of two blades. So jarring to me now.
You see? There was nothing to worry about. You can help like you always do!
I smell horse, the giant carcasses too swift for their own good, and swipe my tongue around my jaws.
Wait, that's Sue.
She's thundering towards me, and I lope along until she draws level, running with them. A silent silver shadow-but she spots me. I let my tongue loll out-docile and dog-like, I hope. She nocks an arrow and takes aim. I grit my teeth, which looks more like I'm about to growl or pounce in this form-but she just stares with her finger on the string.
She lowers her bow.
Defenseless-I want to eat, to feel that water that is life, no matter how choking that water is. I concentrate on my claws skimming the ground. No food tonight-at least, I will kill no one I know.
I look up-there is the blue cape of Roy, the green armor of Lance. A golden-haired comrade with the wide eyes of someone younger approaches, and I see how the archer's moon gleams off his arrows-tipped in silver. I back up, and Klein's gaze darts to me. He's already nocked-Sue is dismounting-I close my eyes. And they snap open. With a snarl I dart out of the way, continuing to growl even as the glinting arrow flies past me.
Sue is moving her hands and mouth a lot, and at first all I hear is garbled and meaningless, squawks and breaths.
"…That's him, I saw it! He won't hurt you, Klein." Sue keeps pointing at me; it is the most frantic I have ever seen her. My claws twitch and I flick one ear. Itchy, I scratch it roughly, then get up on my hind paws.
Sue's horse stamps the ground, looking sweaty with panic. I have eaten creatures seasoned with sweat, chasing them through gray trees and shadowy grass. It always ends with a squeal or a snap. I grin widely at the memory.
Is that Roy coming over here?! Quick, stand up straight-
"You say this is Wolt?" He's making a thinly veiled skeptical expression that I recognize from many times long ago.
"I saw him transform before my very eyes, sir. Surely he passed the sentries on his way out. Why not ask them?" Sue inclines her head toward the fight, voice cool.
"You and Klein will have to substitute for them." He waves them off, a lightning strike of anger crossing his face. Roy casts an eye at me. I sink to all fours, ears back. I sniff the air absentmindedly, eyes widening. I spin around and leap for a shrub slightly behind me. My keen eyes catch red armor and fear overwhelms the wind.
Enemy.
I pounce, claws slashing and blood raining around me, refreshing rain, and my teeth sink into his neck. I have closed my eyes, not needing them, and an object hits me but doesn't hurt. A lance. He is gasping and keeps trying to hit me with his lance, yet I claw his face and chest as he tries-I catch the lance in my teeth. CRUNCH. A last breath leaves him as the iron shards fall as gray snowflakes over a red winter.
I step back, growling at the ravaged corpse for good measure. I walk to Roy with my tongue out and a doggish expression.
He is staring with horror at my silver-gray body, doubtlessly splattered with excessive blood. He eyes the day's sentries next to him-Lugh, yellow robes a little shabby but spotless; and Tate, worried with messy hair and her pegasus' wings folded, looking tired.
"Did you see Wolt leave camp a short time before our departure?" Roy asks sharply.
Tate nods. Lugh is staring at me, frozen except for trembling.
"Lugh!" The lord with red hair snaps his fingers at the sage. I chuckle inside. Roy was always more childish as a kid, but it has faded dramatically. Or so I thought.
I watch Lugh, who nods jerkily. Hopefully my eyes looking comforting and placid instead of murderous and eager. Roy crosses his arms for a few moments.
"I propose a test. We'll all go up to this-this wolf, who is apparently Wolt -" Roy rolls his eyes, and my mouth twinges in annoyance. "-And pet him."
Lugh takes a few seconds, then looks at Roy mutely with an expression of absolute terror. Tate's eyes dart from me to her Pegasus.
"N-no offense, Lord R-roy…BUT ISN'T THAT JUST A LITTLE CRAZY?!" Lugh starts out quiet but erupts, glaring at a highly shocked Roy. "DID YOU SEE-"
Tate rolls her eyes. I breath deeply, then pad briskly over to the arguing boys. I lower Lugh's hand with my snout, then shove my head under it.
He's gone rigid again. I just hope this is proof enough. Roy narrows his eyes minutely, but crouches and beckons me over. His deep blue gaze is so trusting-a Roy before the war. I walk toward him, determinedly keeping my mouth shut as his hair reminds me of blood and the taste of the man I killed so viciously. He pats my head.
Lastly is Tate. She tells her Pegasus to stay, and I watch its delicately muscled legs move. My mouth waters, but I shake my head.
Soon. Soon you'll have a lot of hunting. Just-hold on.
Tate pets me very hesitantly, then steps back, holding her shoulders and hunching them.
"He will fight with us. I will explain to the others."
Sue's horse sped back to her when I killed the enemy soldier, so only the three and I march to the field of carnage. Of red soldiers, twigs with blood and fear and corpses in the end.
Roy points to the knight being fought by Lance. I nod and run again, leaping at the thick armor and slashing my claws down it. My green-haired comrade gapes, but I sink my teeth into the metal plating and rip it away with squeaks and harsh tears. Now is when he starts screaming. I soon drag him out of the defense by the shoulder, and his armor is redder inside than out, trails and puddles and fresh fingerprints. Lance is still staring, face twisted in disgust and terror, but his horse snorts loudly and he turns to fight another, away from this monster.
I finally sever his throat with precision, a single claw. I quickly scent similar feelings nearby-an enemy swordsman from the artificial tang of his weapon. He isn't looking in my direction, and topples when I pounce at his shoulder, growling. The wolf is fully in control, a hunger not for food barely satisfied. All these humans do is scream, and perhaps that is why it is so satisfying to end it. And they are fountains, so much blood in one frail body…
The archer's moon illuminates the bloody prints I leave behind, looking like strangely elongated fingers due to my claws. They are not as clean and silver as they once were, before acceptance.
I snap my head up to see an enemy paladin, faceless to me, charging with a lance. I jump with my jaws open-
Just to see the gleaming metal on the lance's tip.
And this time it hurts. I howl in agony, with my own life-water pouring out, the staff stuck in my chest. My downy fur crusted over by almost auburn topography.
"He's here-"
A hand reaches toward me. I barely see it through swiftly blurring vision, and it smells too much of people, too clean, a tiny instrument capable of such pain-I bite, fast but immersing my teeth.
"ELLEN! Oh my god, Wolt bit you-" Saul.
Holy SHIT. Ellen?!
"Saul, we need to heal him, he's worse off than me-look at that lance-"
"But-"
"FUCKING DO IT!" I've never heard Ellen swear. I've given her suffering, such suffering. I let myself get away…
I feel the warmth of healing, but it is very faint and stops fast.
"What the-? Why did you stop? WHY DID YOU STOP, SAUL?!"
"I don't think it works…on werewolves." I hear a gulp. "When they're wolves."
"Then how are we going to save him?!" Ellen's hysterical. Oh my god…and if I bit her…
"Why do you want to save him, he FUCKING BIT YOU!"
Saul's a priest…Priests swear?
"He's still part of our army. He's still our comrade. He just looks a little different. We pledged to heal this army, and he is part of it." Though Ellen sounds steady, I can hear her shaky breaths.
"Morning is close. He'll make it." Surprisingly, Saul speaks.
"Morning?"
"Werewolves turn back in the morning."
Yes…back. I want to go back.
Before…this night…no.
Before the attack, when the archer's moon was a beautiful thing.