The Snow Spirit and the Werewolf
The wet snow scrunched and spattered underneath the quick steps of the small ice spirit, violet eyes flashing in fear as he flew over the frozen slush and closer to his home, his family. The sky quietly continued shining, small pinpoints of light hiding behind the harsh glow of the moon that blinded the scarfed spirit as he squinted past the glare snarling into his eyes. His white hair flashed by the startled squirrels nesting in the bushes, sparking the flight of a grumpy owl, and the confused blinking of fairies whose eyes tracked him down the trampled path he forged.
As he rushed down the path he instinctively knew would lead him to the tiny burrow he shared with his sisters, he cursed that stupid jinx that got him caught in that flame bush, the one that sat back and howled while he spent hours trying to peel him and his priceless scarf out of the flame bush without setting himself on fire. The red-eyed jinx, with its unusual white color and always present smirk, had zipped off to its own burrow as soon as the sun sank from the sky, leaving the ice spirit alone, in the dark, to be subject to the snarling Night Creatures that roamed the forest when the moon sighed its light on the cold earth. Stupid jinx, always picking on me, he grumbled internally as he raced down the past as far as his pitiful human form legs could carry him, tripping over begrudging rocks and devious roots that grabbed his ankles as the Mother Tree slapped them down. The more he ran, the less the world made sense, and the less he knew where he was. That tree there, the one with the growing branches that spewed fresh moonflowers, did he pass that before? What about that boulder that shuddered and groaned while it hobbled around its tiny spot in the leering forest? Did that burrow house thousands of fairies that grinned at his unprotected magic? Did the creep of the falling snow that slowed to an impossible speed and swirled around screaming animals smile at him while he flickered past?
The young ice spirit lurched deeper into the forest, frigid air whipping past him as the wind whirled and howled in his ears, trying to get him to slow down and greet the unforgiving earth mites the chattered below his blurred feet. Finally, when the creatures and sights that still grinned back whenever he closed his eyes were far, far behind him, he came to the sullen fork in the light path he clung to. Sighing in relief, he prepared to go left, to his safe haven, to a fresh meal and warm clothes, when he jolted to a stop. Was it left? He backed up, eyes shifting between the two directions the path took, identical in all ways but one. One led to home. Another led to the stomachs of creatures that would make the ones he flew past seem like cute bunnies. So. Was it left?
He racked his brain, silent while he tried to remember the brief instructions that his older sister had drilled into him. Yes, he decided, nodding in confidence. It was left. He had to go left. Smiling, he prepared to strut down the left fork when he stopped again. Did his sister say left? Didn't she tell him to go right this morning? And to never go near the path next to the fairies? See, right now they were chattering to his left! Was he wrong? Perhaps he should check the right, just to be safe. Yes, that was the safest option, he decided turning away from his previous choice and hesitantly putting his light foot on the right-sided path, his magic whispering about the creatures before him in a language he never learned. Swallowing, he followed the muttering darkness, passing the squinting trees and leering shadows. His back turned to the world as the ice spirit disappeared into the deep, he didn't see the fairies floating over to their nest on the tree beside the fork in the path, whizzing to the right side and vanishing.
The dirt snapped and the ancient leaves crinkled under his worried feet, the heavy snow that coated the entirety of the forest unable to penetrate the roof of clawed branches the snarling trees built for themselves and leaving simple patches of white here or there. The path twisted right and left, up and around, down and down and down into the underbrush, with the ice spirit following obediently, occasionally stopping to look behind him. His magic protested violently against every step he took down the ominous road, whipping his cheeks pink and ringing his ears sore, ice trailing his feet and twisting into deadly daggers undercutting moonlight. Something isn't right, it whispered, gently pushing him towards away, away from whatever lied ahead. A scent of something dangerous is on that rock, it explained. Danger, the trees sigh danger, the fairies blink danger, the rocks mumble danger. It smells of danger, his magic fruitlessly muttered into his ears.
It was no use. The young spirit was dazzled by the floating fairies that whizzed by, hypnotized by the sapphire will-o-wisps that invited him off the path, offering safety and adventure. The earth mites below his feet shifted and twirled into a million shapes, here a rock, there a clump of dirt, another a patch of starving dandelions. The stars lit the path ahead of him, the moon led him down the murky path, and the nightlife of the dark forest stared in wonder as the ice spirit, a shining magician of the dayside, stumbled onto their turf. Entranced, he continued down, deeper into the brush, ignoring the cutting ice that followed closely on his heels or the deathly cold that choked nearby hazards in worry, pulling, begging him to turn away.
Then the path stopped. It simply stopped. The ice spirit whipped around, trying to squint through the darkness. There! Another fork in the path! Grinning at his cleverness, he pushed through the veil of darkness that had settled over his eyes and strutted towards the left-sided path, following the harmless and safe will-o-wisps that beckoned him closer. Ignoring the screams of his magic, he followed those violet flames, and they would whisper him closer and closer until the ice spirit feet crunched soft snow, and the moon glowed over the white plain of powder unfiltered.
Come to us, the will-o-wisps whispered, inching him farther and farther away, and the young spirit smiled and obeyed, shoulders relaxed under the trance of those beautiful indigo flames, happily stepping where they led him. Step by step his followed the wisps, too hypnotized to notice the leering spirits that nudged him ever closer to the straggly cliffs, pushing away all of the craggy rocks that might stumble him and ruin his path. That's the way, the lost spirits smiled, and the ice spirit stepped closer to the jagged rocks that awaited him.
Then the will-o-wisps froze, flicking flames no longer inching for the drop as an aura sank into the air, one of power and clashed teeth. They twinkled in indecision at the dazed boy, and at the approaching monster that the flames have met once before. As the lost ghosts huddled together in discussion, the air crackled once more, and a beast stepped out of the gloom.
The beast was shaped like a wolf, dark bronze fur flashing in the moonlight, with dark spots of midnight trampling its way in between the beast's eyes. It stepped with an arrogance only known to the monsters that had jagged teeth and a vicious glare, monstrous paws smashing the snow as the beast stepped closer, its white teeth standing out sharply with the onyx head that was now raised, sniffing for intruders. The trees whimpered back, leaves curling away from the beast as its fur easily bristled by their top branches, keeping close to the woods and away from the wide, exposing plain of white that sighed to its left. It followed an old path, known to the wolf creatures of the forest for as the long as the first tree bristled and the first splatter of blood sank into the frozen ground. The monster followed its daily path, letting its magic pierce into the air and warn all enemies that this lone wolf was not one you should even consider messing with, not if you ever wanted to see the rising of the painted sky once again.
The monster continued on its way, licking his chops at the prospect of an early night dinner when a flicker of flame caught his eye. Growling, he marched over to the will-o-wisps that had invaded his land time and time again, seemingly immune to his threats and snaps of teeth. Fully prepared to tell off those spirits once and for all, he burst into the rocky overhang, landing on all fours and snarling at the startled will-o-wisps, still locked in a discussion. One look at the snapping monster ahead of them, the flames glimmered out of existence, leaving the dazed prey standing with a small smile still on his face, kicking at the ground.
Now that's interesting, the titan mused, stepping closer to the ice spirit that was just starting to break out of his trance. Those blasted spirits almost never leave me gifts. Oh well, I'll just eat that, whatever it is, and get back on my way.
The ice spirit's magic had had enough and finally slammed the young boy to the ground, smashing his face on jagged rocks that popped back into existence once the will-o-wisps had fled. The beast sat there stunned as the air screamed with frustration, smacking the boy side to side with snow that clustered in thin air and flew into the now whimpering boy's face.
Finally, after a very stern talking to about going down paths that were filled with night beasts translated by the huge pile of snow and rocks that sat around the crying boy, the magic of the ice spirit finally realized that someone, a very powerful someone, was watching it in amusement.
The boy whipped its head towards the wolf, who calmly stepped over and loomed over the ice spirit with something that could almost be described as an expression on its charcoal face. The boy scurried back, mind foggy with will-o-wisp magic and the heavy aura the monster was wearing like a cloak. The wolf made no move to go after the small ice spirit, simply putting its head to the side, and waiting for the spirit to do something. The air crackled with its magic as it shoved its way to the boy in a strange, foreign pattern. It was almost like the beast was trying to, well, trying to talk to him.
"I-I'm sorry, I don't know Animal tongue," he confessed, and the monster nodded its head in understanding. A blot of magic jolted the air, and the ice spirit shielded his eyes as a flash of light sliced through the white plain and shadowy overhang the pair found themselves.
"Do not worry, young, uh, spirit. I speak your language just as well," chuckled a deep voice that came from the place the wolf used to be. In its place was a tall man, teeth elongated and golden eyes still slitted, smirking at the wide-eyed boy in amusement. He strutted over to the small boy and knelt down until he was eye to eye with the petrified boy, a fur cloak wrapped around his shoulders and dark clothing shrouded over his lean frame.
"Y-you-" the boy stuttered.
"Yes, I am a wolf and a human. You will find a lot of stranger things in this forest. Now boy, why is a day spirit such as yourself in this part of woods?" The wolf watched the boy with his slitted eyes, and the ice spirit could feel slimmers of fear sink into his heart. His magic screamed at him to get away from this beast, this monster that would devour them whole. But, as usual, the boy's curiosity deafened him to his magic's frustrated cries.
"Who are you?"
"That's not a very nice thing to ask. Names are quite powerful things after all. You can call me Munkhbat," he smiled, putting his hand in the air to be shaken and then putting it down again as the spirit continued to cower. "What about you? You still didn't answer my question, tiny rabbit."
"T-tiny rabbit?" the spirit repeated, eyes growing wider as the wolf's smile grew.
"You shiver like a rabbit, so you are one. And you might end up as food if you don't answer my questions," the monster grinned, leaning in closer to the quivering spirit.
"PLEASE DON'T EAT ME!" the boy cried, collapsing on the ground.
"I won't if you answer the question," Munkhbat explained, raising an eyebrow and the cowering boy.
The ice spirit took a deep breath and blurted out his explanation to the alarmed werewolf. "Okay you see there's the jinx called Gilbert and he hates my guts and he picks on me all the time and one of these days I swear I'm going to crush his head but anyway he put me in a flame bush and it took me a long time to get out and I got hurt a lot because I'm an ice spirit and the bush was a FLAME bush so I got really hurt and I went into a river to cool off and put the fire out but Gilbert the stupid jinx left me alone in the dark so I went to go back home when I saw the fork in the road and went right instead of left which I'm guessing was the wrong choice but I was walking down the path and I got really scared but the night time is also super pretty so I just continued walking and then the path just stopped and I followed the pretty blue lights because they were pretty and shiny which I now understand isn't really a logical basis for following magic things out of a safe path but they were like SUPER pretty and I followed them here to this cliff and then you rescued me." The spirit finally finished and gasped for air, and the wolf sat there in shock as the boy doubled over.
"Okay. That was, well, thorough to say the least." The man shook his head in wonder. He grabbed the ice spirit's scarf and dragged him up, standing up to his full height and dangling the boy off the cliff. The ice spirit yelped and clung to the arm that was the only thing standing between him and a death marked by the jagged rocks below. The man rattled him over the cliff for a couple seconds, before pointing down at the rocks below. "See that?"
"S-see what?" the boy stuttered, clutching the man's arm and pulling himself into a ball at the sight of the grinning death below him.
"That's the path you WOULD have followed. The will-o-wisps are nasty little creatures, always trying to drown things and leading people off paths to be eaten, but they, in the end, they do lead to where you want to go. Just not in the way you want to." The cloaked man again pointed at a small indented in the dirt below to the terrified spirit. "I'm guessing that is the path you choose, correct?"
The boy peered down, finally squinting past the layer of darkness and dread to see the few trees he remembered from his previous walks back home. There! That was the small frozen lake his sisters always played in! And there, in the distance, you could see a small burrow of dirt with light pouring out of it. There it was. There was home. "That's my home."
"I thought so. Now, you can either go all the way back, no doubt either get caught by more will-o-wisps or getting eaten by something else, or you can take a shortcut." The werewolf pointed at the burrow below, then hanging him even farther over the edge.
"B-but that would-"
"Kill you? Doubt it. You're an ice spirit, right? Just conjure up a pile of snow to leap into."
"But I don't want to jump over a cliff! I want to go home!" the boy cried, clutching tighter to the man's arm, wide eyes glancing at the mask the werewolf now had glue on. After a couple of seconds, the man brought him back down to the ground on the overhang, prying him off his arm and shrugging,
"Well, if you don't want to take the shortcut, by all means." He turned to walk away, appearing to be bored with the conversation. "Just remember, go left next time." The air was once again sliced by a radiant light, and the cloaked man before him was exchanged for a grinning wolf. The bronze titan seemed to walk away, stepping awfully slowly past the pebbles that now dug into the ground.
"WAIT!" the boy cried out, reaching towards the only night creature that had been even remotely nice to him. "Please don't leave me alone. Can't you take me home?"
The monster shifted its head to the side at that, almost like he was pondering the value of helping the lost ice spirit. He gave a breathy sigh and walked over to the boy, looming over him and pushing the spirit closer to the cliff edge as he scurried to get away from the wolf. The ice spirit again had the short feeling that the wolf was trying to talk to him before the grinning beast placed a powerful paw to his forehead and pushed him off the cliff.
The feeling of weightlessness consumed his body as the world whipped past, whirling and howling into his ears as the small head of a wolf smirked back at him. The world jolted itself black, and the last thing the spirit saw was the flicker of fur vanishing from the cliffside and the crackling magical laughter that howled in the air. The world went cold, and the werewolf was gone.