Chapter Five: "The Strong Die Young"

"This will give you the feeling you've been craving," the gypsy woman whispered; handing him a small pouch; he stared into the powdered mixture of roots and leaves doubtfully, "This?" he asked.

She nodded, "I promise that you will feel as though your soul is on fire this night."

He rummaged through his pockets for a few coins, and gave the old crone nearly everything that he had; she smiled toothily at him, and waved him away from her caravan.
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Phillipe felt a strong sense of euphoria as the drug began its work; a chill was instantly sent up his spine, and his eyes watered warm, salty tears; he felt strong-- powerful-- almost as if he were a wild beast...

He fell to the floor of his cottage, and screamed-- howled...
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Running through the midnight forest, Phillipe felt such an energy as to such he had never experienced before-- something he never knew he had possessed within himself before this night; everything about him was alive and ready for whatever lay within the forest... His heart racing in his chest, he knew that the drug had begun to take its effect on his bloodstream by the way it felt-- as though on fire; his blood was boiling, and his very soul seemed alive, and ready for anything that lay ahead.

Faster and faster he ran; everything seemed to be strangely illuminated; as he entered the center of the dark wood-- and it was extremely dark this evening, but his eyes could see everything for miles on end; That gypsy woman was right, he thought to himself, as he stopped dead in his tracks; something strange was going on-- the wolves of the forest were approaching; along with Fiyero, "What--?" he managed, but something even stranger was going on inside of him-- a sudden fire was quickly igniting within him-- flames of longing and unhappiness were suddenly licking at his soul, and before they had the chance to attack him, he lunged forward, and grabbed Fiyero by the neck; strangling him. Fiyero yelped in pain, "Too quick for you," Phillipe hissed, laughingly, as he pulled out a dagger from his pocket, as the euphoria subsided, and he pinned the helpless animal to the forest floor; the rest had fled by now; without a second's hesitation, he brought the dagger down into the creature's chest with a piercing scream that echoed in the night...
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He awoke sometime later, not remembering the occurrences of the previous night; he was naked-- his clothes had somehow been torn off during his sleep, and he was lying on top of what appeared to be a strange combination of blood, fur, and mud; only after having opened his eyes all the way, did he realize what it was; "Fiyero," he whispered, stroking the creature's fur; staining his hands red with blood, "Who has done this?" he managed as tears once again stung his eyes, The strong die young, a small voice echoed in the back of his mind, but he ignored it, "WHO HAS DONE THIS?" he roared.
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Marie-Christine woke with a start.

"He's angry," she whispered.