Chapter 8
Citegrene stepped through the dark threshold. She felt the black wolf brush past her, and heard him say softly, "Wait here." He stalked forward, the darkness enveloping him as he went. Anxiously, Citegrene waited, shivering as a draft ruffled through her thick fur. Though it wasn't entirely from the cold.
There was a rustling sound, and light flooded into the room. Citegrene drew back from the light, squinting, her lip curling in a snarl. In a flash, the black wolf was back at her side, nudging her forward. Citegrene almost turned around and snapped at him, but checked her anger and stepped into the light.
"Ahhh . . . so there's a beauty I've never seen before." Two cunning eyes flashed in the darkness as the smooth voice sounded. "You look depressed . . . now, now, there's no need for the long face when in the presence of one such as myself," the voice cooed. "You should be honored to be sought after by so many, especially the First Wolf." Citegrene looked at her escort. Glaring, anger flared up in her chest. One of them is lying . . . but I don't know which. A stab of guilt pierced her heart for actually believing either one of them. There was something about the black one that made her angry, but yet . . . she had felt like she could trust him.
Purring, the voice spoke again. "Oh, did your little friend here tell you otherwise? You must know that I am the First Wolf, right?" Citegrene thought she saw the eyes spark evilly.
"Stop toying with me and get to the point," Citegrene snarled, her accented voice bouncing around the room.
"Oooh, a little fire in you. I like that." She stiffened, rage coursing through her. "However, do you really believe that your little . . ." the voice fished around for a word, "girlfriend escaped the flames unscathed? Do you really . . . want to know . . . who started it all . . ." The eyes shifted their intense gaze from Citegrene to the black wolf.
Anger built up further in her blood as she gazed into the shadows into those eyes, full of cunning and . . . insanity. Citegrene then turned to face the lupine at her side. If she couldn't trust him, why should she trust this sweet-talking voice in the shadows? But it didn't matter now, because she couldn't stop her blood rising, the rage threatening to overcome her, even as the smooth voice spoke again, gleefully. "Would you like to know . . . what he did to her before she died? They say that her screams still echo around her deathbed . . ."
The next instants went by in a flash. Citegrene sprang towards the shadows, hate burning in her eyes. Her mouth chomped down on something that felt like fur, while high-pitched laughter sounded by her ears. In a frenzy, she slashed and bit, tore and gouged, and even when she was dragged away from her enemy by the black wolf, she kept on going. Turning around, the bloodlust was all that existed in her mind, was all that existed in her whole being. The she-wolf viciously savaged the black wolf, tossing his body back outside the stone house, leaping after him.
His blood was seeping into the dingy water of a puddle, dying it a ruddy metallic hue. Citegrene landed lightly next to him, snarling, then reared back her head. An unfathomable fire was in her eyes; a fire fueled by many years of guilt; a fire that was about to have its thirst for blood slaked as she killed this wolf who had taken all she held dear. She lunged, her sharp-toothed maw gaping open.
"Don't!" The plea was soft, but managed to pierce through the blood haze in Citegrene's mind. Her eyes opened wide as the full moon. Quickly, she backed away, shaking her head to escape the voice.
"No . . . it can't be . . ." In the blood-red puddle swam the image of a white wolf, as pure as snow, with the gentlest, most compassionate eyes; eyes full of love for the world and everything in it. Citegrene felt tears well up in her own as she whispered the name. "Larka?"
"Citegrene, do not do this. The world is corrupt enough without one more killer in it, especially you. You know who you truly are, and this is not it. Don't let the past determine your actions in the present, for one of pure spirit and one of pure body are needed to open the way to Paradise. You know which one you are . . ." Larka's soothing voice began to fade away.
"Wait! How can I shake off the past? I've done terrible things! I killed her! I killed her, Larka!! How can I be forgiven for that . . ." Tears started to pour out of Citegrene's eyes. It had been so long since she had last let it all go that they felt alien to her, streaking down her furry cheeks, leaving trails of grief and sorrow. In the puddle, the beautiful she-wolf smiled, a smile full of love, compassion, and forgiveness.
"You know which one you are . . ." It felt so good to just let the tears come, for her spirit needed respite and refreshment. Each tear seemed to lighten a burden of guilt in her mind, until the stream slowed, and finally, stopped, leaving her feeling better than she had felt in years. All of her anger at herself and at the world seemed to disappear, until there was a completely different Citegrene standing over the body of the black wolf.
"You know which one you are . . ." And with that, the voice was gone. The she-wolf stared into the puddle where Larka's face had been, but instead she saw a monster: her own reflection of a beautiful golden muzzle, covered with blood. She tore her gaze away, and saw him.
His once glorious pelt was mangled with many, many cuts and scratches. She thanked Tor and Fenris that most were shallow. They would heal in a short amount of time. But the cuts that she could see on his soul would take far longer, for he gazed up at her with a horrible, life-consuming fear in his eyes. Citegrene dropped to her paws, staring at him with the horror at what she had done. Almost nervously, she leaned forward, gently rubbing her face against his. "Oh, I am so sorry . . ." Slowly, the fear drained from his eyes, replaced by a new emotion.
Citegrene saw that in him, and she felt a confused tug at her heart. Part of her wanted to follow him into the depths of that feeling, but part of her shied back from him. The things she had thought he had done, was there any truth in them at all? She snapped her head around to look into the house as she remembered Rekoj.
He was standing in the shadows, trembling with silent laughter. Gently, savoring time itself, he placed one paw out of the darkness. "You've got fight in you . . . I like that." Another paw emerged. The light slowly slid over his muzzle, up to his dark, piercing eyes. Fear; true, horrifying fear stabbed through Citegrene's heart. Rekoj laughed evilly. He would enjoy this.
And then he was gone under a pile of rubble and dust, rocks tumbling down on him. A huge rumbling noise shook the earth, making pebbles jitter off of the ground and kicking up more dust. Out of the cloud appeared a huge war machine. It's laser eyes locked onto Citegrene, and there was much clinking as a gun appeared from the shell of metal, firing a machine gun burst. She screamed to the prone wolf, "Get up!" and together they leapt into the trees. The black machine trucked after them, blowing up trees and driving over them in its pursuit of the enemy.
The wolves burst into the valley clearing, only to find chaos all around. Hounds bayed as they attacked the Balkar, and armored humans gunned them down from a distance. The wolves put up a good fight, but were horribly outnumbered both by numbers and by wits. The air was dark with dirt, and the lake was turning red with blood as dogs and wolves alike were slaughtered on its banks. Looking every which way, the only scent Citegrene could smell was one of fear and adrenaline.
Behind her, a huge crunching signaled the arrival of the machine. It burst through the trees, almost plowing right over Citegrene and the black wolf. Hastily, they leaped out of the way, sprinting alongside the treeline towards the gently sloping side of the bowl valley. They could hear the machine ready itself to fire, and then a huge burst of shrapnel hit Citegrene in the flank. She howled in agony, but sprinted right through the line of humans guarding the valley entrance. They were so surprised that they didn't react until both of the wolves were free and clear, over the lip of the hill and running off to freedom.
Citegrene and the black wolf ran, side by side, down the hill and off through the woods. She was surprised at how well he was keeping up with his injuries, and she felt pity for him, but she didn't want to risk slowing until they were well away from the humans. After several tense minutes of awkward silence, he started to lag behind. Citegrene slowed them down to an easy jog. The black wolf looked blankly ahead for a while, then he opened his mouth.
"Thank you . . . for saving me back there, even though I did not deserve it for what I've put you through."
Citegrene replied, "Every creature deserves a second chance. The fault is my own . . . I . . . I haven't been the same since . . . that night . . ." She stopped, then took a deep breath. "Did you really . . . cause it all? Did you hurt Eneres?"
"No. That's just a pack of lies Rekoj made up to piss you off. But you aren't the only victim of his lies."
Citegrene slowed to a halt in a clearing on the edge of the forest. "So . . . he was lying about him being First Wolf, right?"
"No, that one was the truth."
"Then why did you lie to me."
"I didn't . . . you are First Wolf in the minds of many Balkar." Citegrene stared hard at him. After a thoughtful silence, she decided that she could trust him.
"Either way, you are going to be First Wolf in the end. Rekoj . . . he, well, he came to us one night, beaten and broken. We took him in, thinking that he would be a great new addition to our pack." A fire lit up in his eyes as he continued.
"He rose quickly through the ranks. Too quickly. I saw it coming, but I was powerless to stop it. Then, one night, we found our leader, dead." The black wolf spat with rage, "And Rekoj was standing over his body with our dead leader's bloody heart hanging out of his unworthy mouth."
Citegrene rubbed her head against him comfortingly, but he pulled away. She could see in him that awful guilt that had clung to her so long was now consuming him.
"Do you know the ways that the First Wolf can be succeeded? Well, first is if the leader dies naturally. Whoever he has chosen is the one to take his place. Second, is if he is killed. Then, his slayer can succeed him." He glanced at Citegrene. She shook her great head in denial. "But, if he is exiled, then one can take his place as well." At this, he turned to face her. "You are already heralded as the next First Wolf, and Rekoj knows that. He will do anything to get you out of his way, but at the same time he wants you at his side. Citegrene, you need to watch out. Rekoj is completely insane, and no one knows what he is going to do next. Not even I."
"You believe Rekoj is still alive?"
"There is no way in hell that he's dead."
"How do you know all of this?" Citegrene tried to ask in a strong voice, but instead it came out a whisper.
"You have figured it out already, haven't you?"
She gulped. "So, then, it's true?"
He gave her a half-smile, then turned away. Citegrene cried, "That's how you always know what I'm going to do next in battle! That's how you knew the humans were coming to the valley! You didn't smell them, " Seeing him walk away, his hindquarters swaying painfully side to side, she yelled, "Wait!" Turning back, he already knew what was on her mind, but she said it anyways. "Why are all of the males . . . so . . ."
"So keen to be with you? Haven't you heard the prophecy?"
"Only the part that matters most."
He gave her a strange look, then sat down gingerly, clearing his throat as if for a long story. He took a deep breath, then started in a deep, powerful voice, "'This is how it was passed down to me, and so, I now pass it down to you:
When the world is burnt and dying;
When there's no refuge to be found
From past sins and fatal lying,
Then great evil shall abound.
The masked one shall heed his calling
To dark deeds and evil ways.
He shall keep the world forestalling
From the future's bliss-filled days.
Second journey, now begun,
Will be far harder than the last.
For now, instead of four and one,
Two will need to complete the task.
Gold and silver, passion and fire,
Born to save the world from sin.
Learn to love, to live, to die,
For what's worth believing in.
One of pure soul, heart and mind,
Shall open up the gates of fate.
Power, who will redefine
The laws of nature, as her mate.
One of pure body, flesh and blood,
Will lead wolves down the path of life.
Her mate: his past as dark as mud,
Who's seen much suff'ring, pain and strife.
Both pure body and soul combined,
Will open up true Paradise.
But they will need to cross the line:
One dead body will suffice.
As powers beyond reckoning
Watch the last upheaval,
Time will be beckoning
For good to conquer evil.
Paradise, the open door,
What mighty wolves protected,
Is so much grander, so much more,
Than ever was expected.'"
His last words rang about the quiet clearing. After hearing the Prophecy, Citegrene grew uncomfortable in his presence. She had heard the stanza about how both one of pure body and one of pure soul were needed to open Paradise, but she never had any idea that there was an entire prophecy dedicated to her. That storyteller had been right, many years ago, when she had told Eneres and Citegrene that they were to be the openers of Paradise . . .
A twig snapped. The male wolf jumped up and sniffed the breeze. "Dammit! How could I not have scented them!?" Just then, a dart whistled through the trees and pierced his flank. Howling, he fell onto his side as the poison seeped into his veins and quickly took over. Citegrene looked around wildly, snarling ferociously. Something pricked her side, and she looked down to see a gold feathered dart sticking out of her chest. Instantly, the substance in it worked its way through her body, cutting off her muscles from her nervous system. Her great head flopped onto the ground as she woozily saw figures spring out of the trees, grabbing onto her fur and throwing her into some kind of crate.
"Heh, Lord Darcia's going to be pleased with this one! Look, she's golden! I've never even heard of a golden wolf in my entire life!"
"You've hardly heard of any wolf in your entire life."
"Bah, that's beside the point . . ." Citegrene's eyes closed as the drug overwhelmed her.