He had woken up on the shores of the Northern Summerland Kingdom. He didn't remember how he had gotten there. They were in the middle of the sea when he last checked. It was night. He must have blacked out.
He clutched his right arm as he got up. He must have been laying on it for some time. He drug himself from the water's edge and checked himself… His clothes had been slightly torn from the ocean's abuse. He felt scratches on his face from the waves constant pattern of throwing him back onto the shore. The same went for his hands.
He limped towards the nearest town. His left leg was in bad shape but he figured, he could still try and get help in some way.
He spied himself in a pool and instantly regretted his decision. He looked rough. His hair was going everywhere. He was covered in sand and dirt. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Those months of working on that boat had not been kind.
Those months of fighting it back had not been kind. All those months of hiding from the light of the moon wore him out. Every time he fought the change, his head ached. He gripped his right arm, holding his chest, and looked at the shore of the small stream.
He fell to his knees and clutched his head with his left arm. Memories- memories of what had happened flashed before his eyes. Everything was red. The ship members were running away from him. Wood went flying. He remembered the feeling of tearing a plank from the deck. He remembered charging after anything that moved, breathed, or even looked at him.
And he did so with inhuman speed. He remembered clawing into something… squishy- like human flesh. And it was all in the darkest of red as if his own vision was stained with the blood of his victims. He felt his breath catch on his throat. He felt his stomach turn. He felt the bile rise at the very thought of his actions. He held it back as he looked at his reflection again.
His teal coat was clean. His shirt was clean. Everything… Everything was clean.
Perhaps it was a nightmare? Perhaps it was a storm he was remembering?
But then the screams came back. The screams of the crew. Some called his name to try and stay him. Some tried to stand their ground and fight him- the ones who met their untimely death. It had been a blood bath from what he could make out from his muddled memory.
He finally lost it. He threw up and after retching into the stream for what felt like an eternity he lied on his side and began to sob quietly to himself.
"Why?! Why this," he cried. "I'm already powerless- a disgrace to Hamelin itself… This…" He couldn't finish his sentence. I might as well die. This is the final nail in the coffin. I… I can never go back… was what he thought. I'm my own family's natural enemy. A monster… He held his knees close to his chest. What place would I have now…? Surely… He shook. Father would be so disgraced… And Marcassin… Even his little brother would despise him now, realized. He had ended the lives of the entire crew- so he thought.
He cried there next to the river for hours. No one came to comfort him. No one knew he was even there. He eventually rose, a leg bent and another lying alongside the shore of the river. He still shook from the left-over adrenaline, but his eyes had since glazed over. He crossed his arms in an attempt to still his trembling.
"Pathetic," he spat as he looked down at his legs. He couldn't fight the urge to find something to eat. He had wanted to die. "I can't even let myself starve." But he was a man of his word. He made a promise to his dear little brother- a promise that came with one specific clause. He could not die.
He looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set.
He laughed. For the first time that day, he let a smile creep onto his face. "I'm really pathetic if I'm going to give up that easily…" He scoffed. He shook his head. To think he had constantly berated his brother for giving up his practices on numerous occasions.
He got up and looked at the town he had started to venture to. I made a promise, didn't I? I will go back home- monster or no. He cracked a grin at the town surrounded by a moat. I still have that training to do, don't I? He held his head high, his nose slightly angled to the pink-hued clouds. "One day, Marcassin, I'll come back stronger than ever," he whispered.
He still felt sick to his stomach. He could never let anyone find out. This was his terrible curse.
How wrong he was that he could keep it hidden. When small jobs and theft couldn't feed him, it only made it worse. It made the beast in him cry out in anguish. He thought he could hear it moan and whimper. He thought he could hear it snap and growl. It longed for the hunt.
One evening when he was particularly hungry, he felt it call to him. It was tired of waiting.
The moon sang to him and he could feel the change in his body happening. He could feel the ache of his bones shifting and stretching. He could feel his skin itch and sting as hair started to form.
Don't kill anyone… Not again... Please just leave these people alone, he pleaded with it as he grabbed at the top of his hair. The good people of Ding Dong Dell didn't need to suffer losses of their own number. He had killed enough, he realized. He threw himself against a wall under a canopy to slow the process down. Don't do it! Stop! He clenched his teeth but found they were fitting oddly.
He bolted towards the city exit, hiding in the shadows when he could. He felt his fingernails shifting, sharpening. His hands and feet ached, and he winced and grunted whenever the moon shown on him. Just before he reached the entrance, he realized the itching had stopped on his arms and he took notice the dark short fur all over them. He felt his jaw stretch, his nose morphing with it.
This is really happening! I really am cursed! He wrapped his hands around the newly formed dark brown hair covered muzzle.
He quickly hid in the shadows when he saw the guards at the front gate.
His consciousness was just hanging by a thread. Everything was blurry and red. He couldn't let it go. Not now. Please. Don't do it. Don't you dare…He tried to convince himself. He tried to whisper it, but all he could hear was breaths and the whines of a dog.
He peered around to look at the wall of the city. Something made him wonder if he could jump over it. Something… primal.
You want to escape, too, huh, he asked the force he felt. That makes two of us. He readied himself to get a head start. Remember…
He bounded toward the wall on all fours. Don't hurt anyone…
He felt a long furry thing pop out from the back of his jacket- a tail having wriggled its way out of his trousers as he made haste towards the wall.
He blacked out. He lost control. Whatever had control of him now was acting on its own- borrowing his body once again.
He leaped and hung on the edge. He scrambled on top of the stone wall and jumped down from it.
"Ah," one of the guards yelped at the site of the beast. He had nearly drifted to sleep at his post when he saw the creature.
"Huh? What is it," the other guard prodded. He had been looking at the forest.
"You didn't see it," the guard asked with mild panic and fear. "It was like a big dog! Only it was wearing clothes!" He gestured to where the dog had landed. "It ran off towards the hills!"
His companion put a hand above his head. He attempted to look out into the distance. "I don't see it. You must be seeing things, mate!"
The guard leaned forward, his eyes now completely widened. "It was there! It leaped over the wall!"
The other guard squinted at his partner. "Sorry. I didn't see any dog." He shook his head. "You really need to get more sleep."
The guard cursed under his breath. "I know what I saw," he muttered, crossing his arms defiantly.
He woke up in the middle of a clearing. He seemed to be curled up into a ball. He looked up at the now blue sky. He braced himself for whatever horrors he had done.
He sat up and leaned against a tree. He groaned tiredly, his body sore from the abuse. He looked at his now furless hands. He pressed them to his face to find it was back to normal. Then he looked to his legs. The tips of his red socks had holes from the claws that had formed the night before.
"Damn it," he swore. He looked for his shoes- the plain brown flats he had been wearing before. They had been lost during his prowling under the light of the moon. He heaved an annoyed sigh as he leaned his head back against the tree.
What exactly did the wolf do? His memory wasn't as violent as before. It seemed… fuzzy. He didn't encounter any humans… At least, he thought he didn't.
"Wolf… man now," a voice asked. He jumped at the sound of it. He looked up to see a forest dweller pointing a spear at him. "Beast man. Cursed man."
He raised his hands in surrender and flashed an understanding smile. "Look, I don't mean any harm." He slowly got up. "If you'd just let me lea-!"
"No. You threat," the forest dweller accused. "You scare food away!"
He shook his head. "I can't control myself in that form!" He nodded and gulped. "Look, I'll go back to Ding Dong Dell, right? I just need to get a pair of shoes, so I can leave the area," he attempted to negotiate.
The tribesman raised an eyebrow. "You promise to leave tonight," he asked him. "You scare not only food but child as well," he shouted, shoving the stick further into the traveler's face.
He flinched at it. "Yeah! Of course! Promise!" He looked at the spear. "Just don't kill me before I get the chance!"
The tribesman lowered his weapon. He nodded curtly. "Good. Leave." He directed to an opening in the forest with a wave of a hand. The traveler followed suit.
He did a lot of traveling after that- never staying in town and steering clear of forest dweller settlements. He had cut it too close in Ding Dong Dell.
That thing- that beast that made its home inside him wouldn't be given the satisfaction of robbing him of his humanity. He found uninhabited woods when he saw the moon was full and eventually started keeping time through the lunar cycle.
The moon's call was strong and with it the urge to bask its glow- to hunt and feed as a wolf would.
He considered himself stronger. He counted himself more persistent. He counted himself more than the feral creature that clawed at the back of his soul.
On nights when it was strongest, he called on his familiar.
"Keep me in check, will you," he asked him with a wry smile.
The small, stout, and red soldier nodded and pounded its chest, confirming his master's order. That was its main duty- for now. He had found the creature when the ship he had boarded stopped off at an island for a routine cargo check.
At first, he had simply made eye contact with the Hurley. They just stared at each other until the exchange got too awkward and the man broke contact. It wasn't until they were knots away that they found the little stowaway. The captain threatened to throw the creature overboard- he didn't want it eating their rations. That's when he took responsibility for the creature.
"I'll take him. He seems pretty useful," he remembered saying to the captain after finding the thing cowering in corner of the crew's quarters surrounded by much burlier men. They looked at him as if he had just spouted nonsense. "Look, it hasn't done anything, yet. It got curious is all and wandered on board."
He leaned against a tree as he recalled how he received his first and only familiar. He was taking shelter again from the moonlight. "You're sure boy? This is a beast you're dealing with," a crew member reminded him. Replaying memories in his head helped distract him from the curse. "The lad's crazy! Let him get killed." He recalled that crew member being hit in the back of the head by the captain and severely berated for such talk.
"I'll be fine," he echoed the memory when he saw the concerned look on his familiar's face.
He finally got impatient and pushed his crewmates out of the way. He knelt down to the beast. "Hey. Hey, boy," he whispered to the beast. He recalled dredging up childhood memories of visiting farms with his father and learning how to approach farm animals- pigs especially. It was part of his "training". He recalled remembering the treats Milites preferred the best- chocolate.
He remembered digging in his short red coat at the time, looking for a scrap of chocolate he had been saving for later. "Want some chocolate," he cooed as he unwrapped the bar. The creature looked at the bar curiously and then at the man offering it. The Hurley looked back at the chocolate again. He slowly approached, watching the man cautiously. A fist connected with the man's gut before the candy was liberated from his grasp. "Agh… Why you little-," he recalled rasping as he keeled towards the side.
"Tch, told you," a crew member responded in his memory. He chuckled at the memory. The Hurley actually really enjoyed the chocolate from what he recalled. Gunthur enjoyed the chocolate he corrected himself. He remembered it hugging the hell out of him after it finished, rubbing against the pendant under his chest- the pendant that now was home to his only friend.
"I suppose there's something good that came out of all this after all, huh, boy," he asked the Milite keeping watch in front his relaxed form. It grunted in response. "Shame what happe-," he started to say. He winced, the thought of his unconscious actions turning his stomach once more. He never wanted that to happen again.
His nights, especially nights where the moon threatened to turn him, were often spent like that. He would recall simpler times. He would recall better times. It kept him sane. It kept him human.