I don't own Wolf's Rain.
A voice. A laugh. A howl. A song.
Words.
He stared at the sky, unconcerned by the growing clouds. He pressed himself firmly against the bark, allowing one of his legs to hang freely. The scent of water was rapidly filling the clearing, the air cracking with the power of the coming storm.
He shouldn't have been able to smell the rain this clearly. He shouldn't have been able to feel the electricity brewing above him.
He shouldn't have been able to jump the fifty feet necessary to reach the branch.
But he could.
A voice. A laugh. A howl. A song.
Words.
Who was he? What was his name?
When he was younger, they called him monster, and threw things at him until he ran.
But he came back. And he watched.
And when he entered the village again, he had changed, and they cooed and ushered him towards food and fire.
He hated fire.
He didn't know why.
A voice. A laugh. A howl. A song.
Words.
They tried to make him stay, but they disgusted him. He hated their buildings, and their voices, and their petty, mocking eyes. They weren't right.
This heaven of theirs wasn't right.
Nothing was right.
Besides . . . He was looking for someone.
A voice. A laugh. A howl. A song.
Words. Painful words.
He had to find them. He had promised.
And maybe it would help him to live in this hell-hole.
Maybe, even, if he found them, this place would become the paradise it was supposed to be.
Maybe.
But he couldn't remember them. And he couldn't find them.
He couldn't remember anything.
Except…
Painful, familiar words. Words he never wanted to hear.
He opened his eyes.
"Now."
And the rain the fell.
A voice. A laugh. A howl. A song.
Words.
"Let's meet again . . ."
