The Blue Werewolf

Part II: The True Hearted

C/By: Kenjaje

Edited by: raVen

Chapter 11: The White Monster

October 31: 9:12 PM: Moonlit Street

Everything was as quick as a flickering candle being blown out; was faster than a heartbeat; but time, being the shady concept that it is, turned nanoseconds into minutes. The bright red flare of Stitch's eyes reflected off of Lilo's and palely turned the dark hue of her face to a matte crimson.

Her heart began to compress, her fingers just barely twitched. His teeth began to close; his weight began to send him down. One by one the strands of her hair rose past the side of her head as she started to fall back. Her heart reached the apex of the beat, and just as she felt it quiver, his teeth closed down on her shoulder.

The pressure of his canines pressed against the fabric of her shirt; his breath was sickly warm. The ridges on the bridge of his snout were thick and divided by deep trenches of shadow. She couldn't see him; all that was in her vision was the dark sky and the vibrant full moon. The second sound of her heartbeat vibrated through her, and the jaws collapsed together, and a yelp of pain erupted from him.

Lilo slammed against the dirt; she gripped her shoulder, sure that she was bit. But she felt no pain, felt no change, and her hands felt no wound. The only injury was to her shirt, and the only change was a small loss of heat. She backed away, clutching the book in her arms, and stood to her feet, and then, as she gazed to the scene before her, the book fumbled in her grasp.

Up until now, the only werewolves she had seen ran on four legs and were only half a foot or so taller than she. But, in front of her was a familiar, and yet not so familiar, werewolf. He was a monstrous figure, standing nearly three times her size on two gargantuan paws. The hair on his body was so white that it nearly reflected the light of the full moon. His tail draped to the ground as if it were a decoration, or an article of clothing, and his teeth and claws glimmered at the ready. His eyes seemed to flicker with an amber flame.

She saw the blue mass of Stitch recovering to a stand, his face rigid and piercing, as though he was both a hero and a villain. Lilo wondered, in that course of a second or two, of what had exactly had happened. Had Stitch leaped to bite her, or was he only trying to get her out of the way of this monster?

Both of the werewolves ignored Lilo. Immediately they began to fight, powerfully. Stitch's body blurred past the brute, and snapped around to attack from behind, but the white monster turned and gripped Stitch by the scruff of his neck, and threw him down to the ground. Lilo expelled a wincing yelp as Stitch hit the ground with a crack. The white monster, as though he just saw her, turned, and began to walk in her direction. Lilo fell, crippled by fear, and watched the giant approach her, but before it was within a foot, it let out a holler of pain and fell forward. Stitch's claws gripped into its back. The monster howled, and before Stitch was thrown from his back, he managed to yell out to Lilo:

"Run!" She rolled to her knees, and her feet scraped the mud as she started to run. She looked back one last time, to see werewolves emerging from the shadows, coming to the white monster's aide. Her fear took over. She ran without direction, without thought, without destination; she merely ran through terror. She ran for minute, after minute, after minute, and finally once her legs were numb, and her breath was staggered, she tripped and fell. As she lied in the middle of the street, she could still hear the fierce battle going on between her companion and the white monster.

"What am I doing?" She thought desperately, "Why did I run away? I can't run—this town is completely cursed, there's nowhere to go! I've got to help him; I've got to help Stitch!" Her eyes burst open and her body erupted to life. She stood as quickly as she could and centered the snout of the headband off of her left eye. She stared at the book, covered in mud, and picked it up. "I'm coming Stitch, hold on!"

What she saw when she arrived, she did not expect; many werewolves had gathered, what seemed like half the number she had seen stampeding through the town. She ducked into the crevice before her haven in the stairs and peered around the wall. She was not afraid, she was cautious. There was too much going on to tell who was where; the white monster, and all the other wolves, seemed to be fighting. But where was Stitch?

It was soon apparent, to her appall, that the werewolves were not fighting against the white monster, they were fighting with it. Even though the sounds of the wolves were overwhelming, she could still hear the cries coming from the only blue werewolf. Her ears ached every time she heard it, and she tried to find where he was from the noise, but there was too much too fast, he was invisible against the glowing hides in the moonlight.

Finally she saw him, he had broken away, and he was running down the street. From the way he looked, she could barely recognize him. Her heart shattered as she saw him, and soon despair took hold as the mass of werewolves chased after him. She gripped the book in her arms, her body trembling, her eyes welling. The worst thing fear can neglect is reason, and so hers was as she ran out into the open.

"Stop!" She yelled, as though the command would be heard. The wolves' voices seemed to grow louder. "Stop!" She combated their growls, their bays, their snarls, his yelps. "Stop!" The white monster picked the blue werewolf up off the ground and held him high into the air. She couldn't take it any longer, she closed her eyes and shouted so loud her voice began to crack, "Stop!"

Not a faster silence spread. Amber eyes that glowed like candles all stared at her. For a moment, she realized what she had done, and felt herself victim to the same punishment they had given the blue werewolf. But they stood still. For a full minute, there was no movement.

"L…let him go." She finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. The white monster, which held the blue werewolf by the scruff of its neck, set him gently down on his side. She stepped forward, hesitantly, and every wolf stepped back. As she drew near, they receded, and formed a half-circle around her, lining the streets and shadows. She gazed around, and watched as they all leaned down, and stared up at her as though they were bowing.

Tears fell on the edge of the book, and seeped into the cracks of the pages. Lilo dropped her possession and ran toward the werewolf, his body riddled with bites and wounds. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and lied atop his back to feel his heartbeat. She gazed at his wounds, which were slowly healing; slow like the sun sets, how every few minutes seems like no change occurs at all, but every ten or so it gets darker and darker.

"Li…" Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at his mouth. "L…i…" His voice was severely distorted; it rose and fell to every pitch, and he could barely pronounce the letters right, but somehow she understood.

"It's ok Stitch," she stifled tears, "you'll be ok."

"Can't…g…o…ba…ack." He told her.

"Don't speak; you're losing your voice."

"Sti…i…tch—" He tried to speak, but he could only let out a soft bark.

"You what…what? Tell me…tell me you can talk…you have to talk to go back…say something!" She began to panic. Stitch tried to speak again, but only barks left his snout. "I…I'm too late…"

From all around, every werewolf seemed to react; a murmur of whimpers, slow and low, fell over all of them. One by one, tears fell down her cheeks. She sat rigged, staring at the blue werewolf without a word. She was startled only by the touch of a gleaming claw to her face. At first she flinched with fear, but the claw calmly lifted away.

The white monster slowly moved his hand, and Lilo saw that he had a drop of her tear on the tip of his claw. In his other hand, was the book, now opened. The werewolf tilted it toward her, and she watched as he let the tear drop from his claw to the page below, and as it hit the paper, a strange, feint light glimmered.

The white monster then handed her the book. She stared down at it, stray tears still falling on from her cheeks onto the paper. Each drop that broke, seemed to give off a light, and quickly she saw that bright lines were taking shape. Though no more tears fell onto the page, there was enough already to work the magic, and within moments, letters, words, sentences, and stanzas, formed atop the page in an ancient writing.

Lilo stared with both amazement and curiosity; she tried to turn the page to see if it had happened anywhere else, but the page would not turn. The corner lifted, but it was as though the bright words were too heavy to lift. She brushed her hand across the page, and yet another strange thing; though her hands passed over the bright letters, they did not disappear with the page. They merely jumped up on her hand, as though they were not actually on the page but gleaming right in her eyes.

"Moonlight…" She said, her eyes passing a series of letters. "Hallows…Eve—All Hallows Eve. …I can read this?" She looked up to where the white monster once stood, but it was no longer there. She looked around for it, but all she could see were the amber eyes of the distant werewolves, watching her. She held the book in her hands, and, to her amazement, she began to read the words, though she had never seen them before, as though a voice inside were reading for her.

"When moonlight bathes the tops of trees,

And many howl, and whimper with plea;

On this sacred night, All Hallows Eve,

Will I, True of Heart, set all werewolves free."

There was a long moment of silence after she had read the verse; clouds began to fill the sky as though someone were calling them forth. The moon was swiftly covered, and its light was blown away. Bolts of lightning raced across the sky, but it did not rain, nor did it thunder. They seemed to grow more intense and brighter, until finally one of them struck down from the sky, and hit the book in Lilo's hands. She yelled with fright, throwing the book to the ground and backing away, tripping over her own feet.

Around her, all of the werewolves began to howl. First one, then another, and then a few more—steadily more and more joined in, and even though they were all presently baying, more howls still started, as though every cursed werewolf on the planet were rejoicing. The wind also began to howl, but not the deep howl of a werewolf, the loud and flowing moan that carries rain and snow and hail. But it seemed as though this wind were carrying the weather of howls.

One by one the wolves disappeared around her, like figures in a dream fading as the dreamer awakens. Everything around her that was involved with them seemed to be fading as well—their paw prints in the mud, and the destruction of the street. As the wind died, so did the howls, and the lightning, and soon even the clouds were swept away. And as the light came on the street, everything appeared back to normal, but with the same silence as it possessed before, when she first ran into town.

She thought she was all alone. All the werewolves were gone, but those that were cursed were now returned, possibly sleeping. She walked forward to the book, closed in the middle of the street, and reached out to pick it up to walk home, but a noise behind her made her turn. The last cloud dissipated, and in the moonlight stood the silhouette that she had thought she would never see again.