North

There is a sense of direction in every creature. Break your wings and sell you to a wealthy pauper.

The subtle hiss of fresh blood on virgin snow made Wolf open his jaws wider than a human should have been able to and suck the clean winter air into his lungs and expel it in a sudden huff. His slanted summer eyes turned toward his prey and he smiled his frightening wolf smile. All sharp angles and grossly exaggerated human features.

There is no heroism in revenge.

The hunter that had flushed his parents from their den was weeping, moving what was left of his arms in an attempt to hold his daughter, who tried to move towards him. She screamed when she discovered that warm entrails stick to ice.

The archer that had shot his father in the leg was now missing the same appendage, his head crushed in with its bones. He was an old man, they had been brittle.

The three villagers that had helped to set his home aflame were now bound inside their own miniature versions of hell. He watched them burn with sunny yellow eyes and grinned.

The four that had beat his freshly crippled father to death had been disfigured enough from the time, so Wolf had simple stared at them while he finished nibbling on the livers of their wives and the hearts of their children. He tied all four to trees that grew conveniently close by with strong intestines, freshly cleaned.

The women that had flayed his mother and the men that had raped her were already dead, half taken by a fever and half by a rabid wolf cub. All he could do now was remember their names and remove the headstones from their graves. Nameless now, nothing but bones and wasted flesh under layers of frozen earth.

The rest of the small village fled, but the moon was up and goading him on. Wolf always enjoyed a good chase.

You are unwell, my son. It was a breath of wind against his ear, stirring hair strands into words.

He looked up at the moon amidst the wreckage of the village and howled in his language, There is no one left, and I have solved nothing! My parents have not been returned to me, there have been no words of thanks for their killers that I have killed.

And you feel no better than you did when you started. This is a hollow business, and one that is best left alone. A sigh of rustling leaves this time, the scrape of twigs jostling together.

But I have dreamed of this day! I have always wanted to avenge my parents, I have always wanted to reclaim what was mine. I should be joyful! He was screaming more than howling, fat tears shining at the edges of his eyes.

It would have happened sooner or later, but it's better that it's sooner. Quickly now, before that person appears. Get your revenge good and over with.

That person? Soft snowflakes covered his tracks and his hair, temporarily erasing the blood from the world. He stared at the sky. Who is that person?

You will see in time. Hurry now, run as fast and as far as you can. Find sheep, kill one. It would be better to be thrown in jail for sheep worrying than for murder.

Wolf ran North.

"What are you?"

I am the son of a dead man, I am the cruelty of man with the efficiency of a wolf.

A smile, felt more than seen, and the answer came slick and heavy in his head:

Yes.

AN: I'm not sure if we ever found out what happened to Wolf's parents, but I'm willing to bet they were killed when he was young.