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Wolf
It was almost midnight, and the curtains were drawn in Wolf's room. It was pitch black, but he could still clearly make out the stocky black and white furniture. If he was in the mood, he could probably have read a book. But tonight, he knew he'd never be able to focus enough to read, or do anything other than pace and wait for the right time, because behind those curtains was a slowly rising disk of glowing silver light, just waiting to cast its cold glow over Wolf.
Heaving a sigh, he checked his watch. It was half-past eleven at night. Time to go.
Wolf grabbed his werewolf tag and fastened the chain around his neck before gently opening his door. He cautiously looked up and down the hallway. No-one in sight. But there hadn't been when Jacin followed him either. His eyes were good, but evidently not good enough, and the last thing he needed was for even more people to find out his secret.
He inhaled deeply through his nose, but could smell only carpet and stone. He pricked his ears, but could hear only the distant hooting of owls. This time at least, there didn't seem to be anyone ready to follow him.
Silently closing the door behind him, Wolf made his way down the hall.
Normally, Wolf liked the fresh air. It calmed him down and cleared his head. Outside, he could pretend that he was just a normal kid who'd go back to live with his family during the holidays, who didn't have scars all over his skin and sharp teeth that earned him an almost painful nickname within the first week of school, and who spent every night sleeping happily in his bed. But not tonight, or whenever a full moon was rising. Then, the fresh air was just a reminder that, soon, he would no longer be a human.
Wolf ran unsteadily between the gnarled trees of the Black Woods, trying and failing to ignore the moonlight prickling his skin, slowly spreading its magic over him. His breaths starting coming in short gasps and his legs kept getting caught on roots and rocks. His brain was screaming at him that his feet were the wrong shape, that his hands shouldn't look like that, he should be balancing with his tail.
Stumbling to an unsteady halt, he gripped a nearby willow, trying to shove away the thoughts. His feet werethe right shape, his hands shouldlook like this, he didn't have a tail to balance with. But the thoughts were too strong, too loud. They seemed to fill him up head to toe, screaming at his body that it was the wrong shape, it should have fur, it should have claws, it should have fangs.
A burning rawness spread up Wolf's throat, and his gasps for air turned to whines. His skin prickled uncomfortable as long, coarse brown fur suddenly grew to cover it. Hot pain raced up the bones of his arms as they stretched and snapped into a new shape and his fingers fused together. His feet ached and his legs wobbled under his weight and he fell forward, barely catching himself on his arms. Pained growls rose up through his throat as his face lengthened. Agony sliced through his jaw as his teeth grew into fangs, and his ears felt as though they were being torn off his head. What felt like a red-hot poker was being driven into the base of Wolf's spine and he thrashed about in agony.
It felt like an eternity before the pain finally faded. Whimpering, Wolf lifted his face to look up at the moon. It seemed to be looking down on him with pride, pride for what he was under its gaze.
Suddenly fearful, Wolf looked away and stretched his still-aching limbs. He felt tired, so, so tired. He wanted nothing more than to flop down right where he stood and sleep for the rest of the night. But that would let the supervisors know that he had taken his potion without being ordered. It would mark him as insubordinate and he would be punished severely.
Wolf sniffed the air and picked up a trace of his fellow werewolves among the gross smells of decay that filled this part of the forest. Huffing with resignation, he followed the trail.
The werewolf pack of Artemisia was a sight to behold, if you had the courage to actually look at it. Dozens of wolves in all shapes and sizes wove between the trees, snarling and snapping at each-other. Fights were breaking out at an almost constant rate, with werewolves doing their best to tear their opponent to pieces in an attempt to secure their dominance and satiate their bloodlust. The only thing keeping them from killing each other were the wizards firing sparks at the battlers to break them up, and on occasion the more peaceful werewolves to further agitate them. Some werewolves paced around the wizards, hunger and savagery gleaming in their wild eyes, and occasionally one would launch themselves at the humans. When that happened, fractured lines of burning light would spread over a previously invisible dome and the unfortunate werewolf was sent flying, the distinct smell of singed fur clinging to them as they whimpered in agony on the ground.
Forcing a feral snarl, Wolf leapt into the chaotic mess, snapping his jaws at all the werewolves with the misfortune to be near him. They pranced out of reach and bared their teeth but didn't move. They remembered him from the other nights, after all. They bore scars from his teeth and claws.
Wolf lifted his face to the sky and howled at the moon, announcing his arrival. One by one, the other werewolves turned to look at him. Some cowered, some bristled, and some even growled. But none approached. Because, of all the werewolves present, Wolf was the strongest. Wolf was the Alpha.
Sparks struck Wolf between his shoulder blades and he yelped, whirling to growl at the offender. Jael smirked back at him, black eyes taunting, identical to the way they were four years ago, when he got Wolf bitten.
Ze'ev shuddered and rubbed his arms, wishing for possibly the millionth time that he'd thought to bring a coat. "How much farther do we need to go Mister Jael?"
The auror turned to smile at Ze'ev. "Not far at all young man. Why? Are you tired?"
Ze'ev shook his head. "No Mister Jael, but I don't like to be out at night. Mother and Father say that's when the monsters come out."
"If they truly believed that, then they wouldn't have sent you on this errand now, would they?"
Ze'ev frowned. Mister Jael had told him that his parents wanted him to go to the outskirts of the village to catch some stray sheep, but Ze'ev wasn't entirely convinced. Mother and Father always hated it when he went that far, so why would they send him out there? But Mister Jael was an auror. Aurors were good, weren't they? He'd been taught to trust them.
Wolf lunged for the closest werewolf, trying to seem like the unfeeling monster he was supposed to be. He sank his fangs into the other wolf's shoulder, swallowing back the rush of bile that rose in his throat as the blood coated his tongue. The other wolf was wailing in pain, and Jael was laughing.
Jael was laughing.
Ze'ev clutched at his arm in a vain attempt to stop the gush of blood. Tears were pouring down his cheeks and sobs tore from his throat. The werewolf was dead in front of him, its prone body still burning from Jael's spell. A part of him wished he'd been the one hit instead.
He'd been bitten. The werewolf had bitten him. He and his family would be cast out of the village, left to fend for themselves in the monster-infested wilderness. They were going to die, of hunger and thirst, if the monsters didn't kill them first. If Ze'ev didn't kill them first. And Jael was laughing.
Wolf threw the conquered wolf away and howled in victory. All the while his stomach was turning with disgust and fear. Disgust at the taste of the blood coating his tongue. Fear of the wizards surrounding the giant pack.
Ze'ev had never been more afraid in his life. Jael was smirking as he led Ze'ev across the rocky plains and small hillocks, and further and further away from his village.
He cast a miserable glance at the disgusting scar on his arm. Jael had sealed the wound with some sort of potion, but the memory remained.
"Where are you taking me?" Ze'ev asked quietly.
"To your new home." Jael said proudly.
"But I already have a home. I have the village, I have my family!"
Jael laughed mockingly. "Oh Ze'ev, are you forgetting your own customs? I know that those peasants will have cast you out the moment they saw that wound on your arm, and your family with too. That mudhole is no longer your home, Ze'ev. But there is a new place, a better place for you."
"What about my family?" Ze'ev demanded.
"They aren't coming."
"But do they know that I'm going?"
"No, and they aren't going to. Honestly Ze'ev, do you honestly think they would want you, now that you're a monster?"
A challenging growl from behind was Wolf's only warning. Whirling around, Wolf reared up to meet the challenger as it charged at him. It dragged its sharp claws across his chest, ripping through what was left of his shirt and drawing five bloody lines across the flesh.
Ze'ev struggled against the grip of the Alpha, flailing pathetically against the bigger, stronger wolf's grip. With an air of disdain, the Alpha released him, letting Ze'ev fall in a heap to the dirt.
The Alpha snarled with disgust and turned his back on Ze'ev. He supposed the gesture was supposed to be insulting, but he was mostly just glad that the Alpha's attention wasn't on him anymore.
Struggling to his feet, he limped away to the outer circle of the werewolves. For over a year he had lived in this training camp, and he still couldn't decide which was worse: when the supervisors let the wolves keep their minds and forced them to fight, or when they were just mindless beasts for the night, and sometimes day. Either way, they suffered.
Jael walked over, clapping his hands in a satisfied way. "Good work Ze'ev, you're getting stronger by the day. Brock, please, don't play with your food."
The Alpha glared at Ze'ev and he shrank down to the ground in fear.
"Anyway, I have an announcement to make!" Jael continued cheerfully, "We have a new addition to our pack!"
The wolves gave no reaction. All a new pack member meant was yet another monster to fight against for rank.
Jael snapped his fingers and whistled, and the new wolf crept forward tentatively, eying their new packmates with trepidation.
Ze'ev raised his muzzle and sniffed the air, frowning at the newcomer's scent. It was… familiar, somehow. But from what? Where had Ze'ev smelled this scent before?
Jael gestured to the wolf dramatically. "Meet your new pack member: Ran Kesley!"
A strangled bark erupted from Ze'ev's throat, and the other wolves whined in laughter. Jael smirked at him. "Ah, yes, you would recognise that name wouldn't you Ze'ev? After all, who could forget their own brother?"
Ran's eyes widened with shock as he stared at Ze'ev. What had he thought had happened to him all those years ago when he first disappeared? Had he thought he was dead? Did his parents think he was dead? Did they think Ran was dead too?
Ran was the first to look away, shakily approaching the crowd of werewolves, studying the beasts with wide eyes. They looked at him too, though their gazes were cold and calculating, already figuring how easy Ran would be to beat in a fight.
Brock was the first to make a move, striking Ran across the muzzle with a giant paw. The smaller wolf yelped in pain and was sent tumbling into the dirt while Brock looked on arrogantly.
A surge of protective rage rushed through Ze'ev. With a ferocious snarl, he leapt onto Brock's back, digging his claws into the skin and sinking his fangs into Brock's shoulder. The Alpha growled and reached around to pluck Ze'ev from his back as if he was no more than an irritating tick, throwing him to the ground hard.
Ze'ev struggled clumsily to his feet eying the Alpha warily, but the other wolf paid him no attention. Instead, he sauntered away from the ring, the wolves parting around him.
Ze'ev didn't bother to watch him go, instead rushing to his brother, who was painfully struggling back to his feet. He moved to help Ran up, but he stepped out of Ze'ev's reach. He didn't think too much of it. Ran had always been independent. But when he snapped his head around to growl at Ze'ev… that had been surprising.
Taking a startled step back, Ze'ev searched his brother's gaze, trying to find why he was acting this way, why he was growling at Ze'ev. He was only trying to help! Why would Ran be mad?
But he didn't see relief, or gratitude. Just anger, and… hate. Ran hated him. His own brother hated him.
Wolf forcibly shoved the challenger away from him, gripping it by the scruff of its neck with his teeth and throwing it at a nearby wolf. He had to suppress a cringe as they immediately started tearing chunks out of each-other. Never mind that Wolf was the one who had used one of them as a weapon against the other. All they cared about was defeating the other wolf, so they could raise their rank.
Ze'ev ran his tongue over his teeth, wincing slightly as he encountered his fangs. They'd been gradually growing over the last three years, as if the frequent transformations were affecting even his human form.
Jael walked along the line of assembled boys, pausing at each one. Whenever he paused, he would fish out a jar of glowing silver light from his pocket and stick his wand inside. As he retracted his wand, a shining silver orb followed the tip. Jael twirled his wand around in a circle, and the orb would become more of a silver ribbon. With a flick of his wrist, the ribbon would swirl around the boy he paused at. Then Ze'ev had to fight to keep himself from cringing as the boy howled and screamed with pain as he transformed into his werewolf form.
One by one, with each boy, Jael repeated this process, turning them each in turn into the beasts they should only become during a night of a full moon.
Finally, they had all been changed. Ze'ev shifted uncomfortably under the sunlight, every instinct screaming at him the wrongness of the light warming his fur.
"Alright wolves." Jael announced, pocketing his wand. "Non-lethal sparring matches today. No claws and no teeth are to be used, only brute strength and your own ingenuity. You may begin."
The wolves sauntered off to find their opponents. Ran growled and snapped at them, trying to pick a fight, but they passed him by as if he wasn't even there. After all, what attention does the Omega deserve?
A growl sounded in Ze'ev's ear and he huffed, already knowing who the challenger was before he even turned to look.
Brock had been challenging him a lot lately. But though he won every fight, he no longer acted triumphant and arrogant. Instead, he just kept on challenging Ze'ev. Over and over and over. And Ze'ev knew why. He was bigger than him now. He was bigger than all the wolves, and the wizards. And the biggest wolf was usually Alpha. In Ze'ev's personal opinion. Brock was just being paranoid, but what could he do? Brock wasn't really the type to listen to reason.
Ze'ev widened his stance and narrowed his eyes at Brock, waiting for him to make the first move. His ear flicked back briefly. He was going to pounce.
Just in time, Ze'ev dodged out of the way, fastening his teeth into Brock's scruff and tossing him away. The Alpha snarled and his claws twitched. He was going to go for Ze'ev's legs.
Again, Ze'ev dodged, swinging his paw around to land a blow on Brock's skull. Brock yelped and growled in frustration. He lunged, and swung, and kicked and pounced. And every time Ze'ev dodged and blocked. He knew what to look for. He could see the signs, the little things that told which attack Brock was going for. He knew them from years of fighting and watching. He knew everyone's signs. He could find them, and he could beat them.
Suddenly, Brock slashed at Ze'ev's face, drawing a weeping scratch along his forehead. He looked over at Jael, wondering whether he saw the infraction. Jael was watching, he saw. But he did nothing.
Brock lunged again, giant teeth flashing, and Ze'ev ducked out of the way, darting in to bite down on Brock's leg. He howled in pain, instinctively leaning on his good leg. Ze'ev used it to barrel into his side, knocking the other wolf off balance and sending him tumbling into the dirt. He planted his paws between Brock's shoulder blades, pinning him, and looked again at Jael. This was the part where Jael declared the winner, where the fight ended. But Jael didn't move.
A searing pain tore through Ze'ev's shoulder, and he looked down to see Brock had fastened his claws in the flesh, a challenge in his eyes. There was only one way he was going to give up. Ze'ev squared his shoulders, steeling himself for what he was about to do, and lunged for Brock's throat.
Sparks rained down on the werewolf pack, scattering them and sending them running through the trees to escape their tormentors. Wolf ran too, deliberately choosing the path that was closest to the castle. The moon was starting to dip, and the faint glow of sunrise could just be seen. But there was something Wolf had to do before he transformed back into human form.
The orbs of silver light on the Star Tree were still glowing brightly, despite the dawning of the new day. Wolf gripped one of the vines between his teeth, grinding his sharp fangs together until it snapped and came loose. He whined with relief when the orbs continued to glow just as bright. He stuffed the vine in his mouth, and trotted back into the woods to change form.
A/N: Man, this was a long one! But worth it.
Wolf's backstory everyone! As well as a glimpse into the life of a werewolf. But what's he planning on doing with that vine? And does anyone else think Ran is an ungrateful little weasel?
Please review!
