Author's note: This is a sequel to 'Wolf and Red'. It's not as good as that one but I like it okay so here it is! :D Still inspired by the same pictures. Hope you like it.
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Red and Wolf
By: Istalindir
I am freedom. The freedom of death and a joy men aren't meant to know.
I grew up innocent and bright of eye in my tiny village home. For me there was nothing more to life than father's strong hands and mother's soothing voice. My world was small and green and so very joyous. Looking back on those days cause bile to rise in my throat.
I was nothing.
Pitiful, weak and nothing at all.
Change comes swift in this world and so it was for me. My world, my tiny and pitiful world of childhood was ripped open. I was the bug torn too early from my cocoon, an egg smashed open by fate's careless hand.
My death would have flown on swift wings had it not been for him.
Master, father and lover.
He of the dark knowledge and blood rites. I grew and learned and devoured. He became nothing. A hollow shell to be tossed aside.
I needed more. My body bloomed and so too did my power. Men were nothing. Toys to be played with. Greed walked my mind-scape like starving wolves. I feasted. Life, blood and flesh were my nourishment. It amused me to wear a cloak as red as the blood I was bathed in and still did they come. Now I was fate's careless hand. I was the one who ripped apart worlds. Power my only goal.
Tales came to me. The wind whispered them into my ear. A wolf. A wolf twice the size of his brethren who lived alone in a deep wood. What power might such a creature grant me? My first sight of it brought with it a change, a story, a could-have-should-have been. Oh. This wolf was to have been my death.
A story for the centuries.
This is why little girls shouldn't talk to strangers.
Even now a laugh bubbles within me at the very thought. My would have been killer. I began to draw him close. Nothing so crude as a spell. Simply myself, feral and deadly. I came again and again and danced and killed and paid him little mind. The wolf drew close and closer and closer still until he was mine.
Mine in every way.
Dark rituals slithered through my thoughts like snakes. Power willingly, no joyfully, given. He danced for me, killed for me and would die for me. Come, my wolf, come. One last dance, the first of many transformations and the sweet, sweet taste of willing blood.
Ah, so very willing, my wolf was.
Years hence and still the taste of his blood lingers on my lips. Truly a feast to end all. A love and form that is and will be forever mine.
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Death takes the form of a girl in a cloak of red.