He could see well in the dark. It was an odd kind of night-vision, brought about by his curse, or by the channelling of Boomerang, what the particular reason was, he did not know, but it ironically helped him dodge the peaking tips of rocks and stones that jutted from the sand he walked over. Clive's breathing was deep and uneven, every step he took sending a flare of pain up the nerves in his legs, unable to keep himself fully conscious for much longer. It was night, and the sky was overcast, the moon hidden, but even it's veiled presence tried to push away the last human fragments of his mind. Clive was only a fraction away from losing it entirely, knowing that it was just a simple matter of time before he could resist no longer. The horrible, loathsome curse, he couldn't fight it anymore. It was winning.
Clive remembered this sensation from before, a gut-twisting nausea that felt like all his insides were being shifted around, and the joints in his body not working in the way they were supposed to. He still walked through the canyon with an indomitable perseverance, bent over like he was being pushed by unseen hands, with tears running down his cheeks for a reason he could not fathom or remember. Clive could sense exactly where the moon was in the cloudy grey sky, even though he had his back to it and was walking in the opposite direction, he could feel the searing burn of invisible moonbeams into his back, creating a stinging pain that was almost impossible to ignore. The night was cool, but Clive continued to sweat, his breath harsh and rasping.
Cleaning up his rest stop a little while ago, Clive had continued his march with a lowered spirit and a weary yet healed body, the wounds the crustacean had imparted closing up by themselves and leaving little more than a red mark and a bruise. It was nearly amazing how fast his injury had healed. It still hurt, yes, but the physical manifestation of pain had long gone. However, Clive wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, another pain had replaced it, and it was only a precursor to a complete mental degeneration. He knew it would be before long, as soon as the clouds went away, he would become a monster again. He would lose everything, both his heart and his mind. There was nothing he could do to stop it.
The creature of his dream, the lupine version of himself, stained red with blood. That was what he was going to become, fragments of memories connected with that form, all agony, suffering, death and murder, loss of life. His claws had grasped flesh, and tore, his fangs had sunk into a clothed arm, and pulled, the taste of blood was like that of copper, in huge quantities, spilt, all over the stable floors. There had been screaming, and the sound was strangely melodious to his ears, instilling bloodlust and frenzy. Travis had screamed, so too did Pike, one living, the other dead. Clive could remember the slight difference in their own blood, each type of blood was different, just like the difference between scent.
"Oh gods please stop it please stop it stop it NOW!"
Clive cringed, filled with shame. Pike had survived, and that made him the worst casualty of all. That night, he had crawled into a corner, huddled up into a little ball, his sobs and whimpers small, but persistent. The horses whinnied all around him, stamping their hooves and crying as he had ducked underneath their thrashing bulk, heading for the most defenceless target of all. Pike's voice had been high-pitched, his knees drawn up to his chin and pressed into the corner, eyes squeezed shut and denying the outside world.
"… Make it stop, please make it stop… gods… guardians…Guardians please stop it stop it I'm begging you!"
Pike's prayer had increased in intensity as Clive grabbed him, prying the boy out of his fetal position and seizing his leg, revelling in the broken shriek as he twisted the bone in the socket, hearing tendon and cartilage snap. It was wonderful, magical, euphoric. The shedding of blood and the demise of human life, it was all so gruesomely marvellous, he could still feel the blood running down his fur, warm and thrillingly vibrant. It had, Clive smiled on the inside, it had made him so happy…
"NO!" Clive cried out, dropping to his knees and viciously grabbing the sides of his head, shaking fiercely. "It's a lie! It's a LIE! I hate it… I hate it so much… Gods, why won't it end?!" Pressing one hand to his cheek, Clive rubbed away more tears and shivered, a cough melting into his uneven breaths. The sky above him was clearing, and he could no longer stand up under his own volition anymore. Thinning, slowly thinning, the outline of the full moon appeared in the sky, and Clive slammed both palms into the ground as if reacting to a sudden pain, digging his fingers into the sand. Separate from himself, he could hear his own voice talking in his mind, telling him the things he did not wish to know, and the feelings he wouldn't let himself feel. His other half, his sinister half, Clive could imagine the glowing red eyes, his demon half.
You hate it now, don't you? My friend, this is only the very beginning. Oh, if only you knew what the Guardians have in store for you, it would, perhaps, drive you mad. Heheheh…But look, you are already half mad right now! The moon instils it's own brand of lunacy into an individual soul. Clive, have you thought about this yet? If you do find Kaitlyn, then what will happen?
"I… I will bring her home… to Catherine… so she can be safe." He answered after some strain, beads of sweat caught in his green fringe dripping down to dampen the sand. Clive began to pant slightly, finding it difficult to breath properly through his nose. The change had already begun, and the voices in his head were taking on a frighteningly new reality. He only had a few minutes left, even then starting to feel his skin burn and his stomach churn.
I have never met a more naïve person in my life! Of course, this is myself I am talking about, but still…Heh. Clive, what if you found her during the hours of the night, what would you do? What would the moon have you do? That boy, Pike, he was only a child… and yet you crippled him, forced to live a life of abhorrence and regret of the things he can no longer accomplish. A child…How does it feel to know you destroyed a child? Can you live with the threat of murdering your own flesh and blood? Kaitlyn may die…
"Shut up… just shut up…" Clive growled through clenched teeth, tears beading at the corners of his eyes. He hadn't thought of that, and the voice was partially right. Though he had to rescue Kaitlyn from certain death, he himself was an extreme threat to her life. She was small and looked young for her age, weak, and the slightest pressure on her body with a pair of claws could rend the life from her body, far too easily. Like in his dream. Clive knew that the moon would give him no self-control.
And if she does die, then you will know the truth, that you have killed her. She will die…She is going to die…And you are not only going to watch, you will commit the crime yourself…with a huge smile on your face. Listen to hunger… listen to desire…the girl is yours to do with as you please…
"I said shut the fuck up!" He howled in denial, shaking his head violently. How could he even consider doing that to her? Kaitlyn, he loved her, and would never harm her, not ever. Somehow he knew that when the time came for him to rescue her, he would still be able to maintain just that barest bit of sanity for her, just enough to get her home safely. As long as he could bring her home, that was all that mattered. He had done it before with Catherine, though it nearly cost him his eyesight, and he would do it again. Catherine…
Not only that, The voice continued, acting on Clive's wayward thought, But should you rescue her, should you bring her home…What would occur after that? Catherine, dear sweet Catherine, just like the flowers that grow over a grave, strength in the midst of despair. Look at yourself! You are no longer human, you disgusting vile creature, demon. How can such a woman love you anymore, how can anyone even stand to look at you? Abomination…Fiend of the past…Murderer… You do not deserve to be loved…
"No…" His voice was only a wounded whisper, the pain he felt in his body and the taunts of his own mind weakening the resolutions that held the rest of his sanity together. Clive was breaking. "…love her… lies…not true…" Vocal chords changing, his voice roughened around the edges before shifting entirely to a different frequency, losing his ability of proper speech. No longer able to talk, all Clive could so was cry, tears and sweat running in rivulets down his chin.
You have lost everything now, Clive. Nothing remains but your soul, and that is already soaked in the sins you have committed… yes… The demons will hold you close to their hearts once you die, not regarding the fact that you already are one! Hah! This is the end, your end. Even as you speak to yourself while your body changes, the others are already plotting the best way to kill you. I do not lie. Catherine holds your gun and speaks of the task at hand, it is a fitting way for a beast to die…Or perhaps, you will be the one to slay her, either way, you cannot escape your fate…
Clive growled to the voice, incapable of answering with words anymore. His skin felt like it was on fire, but he was also slightly numbed to the sensation, feeling pain, but not it's entirety, split in half. He could hear his own bones crunching into another shape, and before his hands could have a chance to change, he reached up and carefully removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose, stashing them away in his coat pocket. He didn't want to lose them again. Weakness replaced the pain after a while, and Clive leaned forward and lay down, feeling dizzy. Somehow he was assured that it wouldn't hurt anymore. As long as he gave in, the hurt would eventually go away.
I cannot escape… my fate…
A short while passed as Clive let the rest of the metamorphosis wash over him like a series of soft waves, the pain lessening with each surge. He felt entirely numb now, but as his cheek was pressed against a smooth flat rock, an obstinate little ant crawled onto his face and Clive instinctively raised a hand and brushed it away, his hands thicker and larger now, equipped with razor sharp nails. The change was finally over, and Clive closed his eyes and sighed, overwhelmed by the fatigue that clung to him, even in the form of a lycanthrope. Unlike the night before, something vaguely human stayed with Clive in his mind, a subtle reminder, though he could not remember what it was. A kind of temporary amnesia overtook him like a cloud, and he struggled to remember why he was here. He had a desire, but it was not impure. If only… he could remember… what it was…
Hunt… hunt… something. Find? Find something… something… hunt for something… can't… remember…
He pushed himself up from the ground again, trying to stand up properly and nearly tripping over his tail that annoyingly got in the way, struggling to maintain his center of balance. It didn't feel right to walk on two legs anymore, although he could not remember doing it in any other way. Clive automatically hunched himself over, his body too far into the lupine structure to stand up perfectly straight. Using all his mental processes, he tried to remember his mission, his desire. He was doing something very important, he knew that, but what it was, he just didn't know.
Then he smelt something. Something familiar.
He dug his claw into one pocket, going over all he had in there and ignoring it, searching for the one thing that radiated a familiar scent. It had a tie to his mission, Clive strongly knew that. Roughly, he pulled out Kaitlyn's ribbon and looked at it through his night vision, the soft light blue colour somehow making a calming effect on his soul. It was short lived, though, as Clive remembered the reason why he was carrying it. She was gone, missing. His daughter was gone. Dropping back down to all fours, Clive held the ribbon in one claw and sniffed it inquisitively, re-memorizing the scent. His eyes, glowing bright red from the curse and sheer anger, narrowed in ferocity.
Find! … Missing… girl… cub… Find cub and bring back to mate… yes… find. Kill who… take cub away… hunt. Hunt…
Clive moved forward a little bit, sniffing at the ground. He put the ribbon back in his pocket and sensed no other animals nearby, including humans. They were far away from here, and he had to get close to them before he could begin his hunt. No longer crazed for human flesh, the lycanthrope now had a different desire driving him, a powerful paternal instinct yelling at him to bring his daughter home. Rolling back the sleeve of one arm, Clive unexpectedly sunk his teeth into the flesh and forced dark blood to ooze out, inwardly recoiling from the pain but allowing the taste of blood to sharpen his senses even more, because he had no other animals around to do that for him. It was a small self-sacrifice, bolstering his chances to find the humans he sought. He would kill the ones who had taken his cub away, with gruesome pleasure.
Suddenly he sensed it, a small gathering of humans only a mile or so away to the northeast. The land was flat in that direction, and he could smell the smoke of a long-burning campfire. Trying his best mimicry of a smile, Clive uttered a barking growl and loped off in that direction, moving faster than a human ever could have done. Rocks and sand passed him like a disregarded blur, he moved downhill and silently swore revenge, the most horrible kind a monster could provide. In his current form, Clive had no problem killing those who needed to be killed, innocent or not. It was a bestial insanity, and he was stuck in the midst of it.
Reveling in the euphoria of the hunt, he uttered out a long and mournful howl, ambient and dragging in the night air, able to be heard by every occupant of the canyon, all at once. Whoever had taken Kaitlyn was going to meet death incarnate, and it was going to happen soon.