Chapter 4
Derek: Predatory Instinct
The wind whispers her name.
The leaves sighs with her memory.
The ground bears her footprints like sacred script.
And I walk alone, reading the signs, the burden of loneliness the only thing to keep me company.
…
As humiliating as it is to play the part of a blood hound, I keep my nose to the ground and continue. The Change sapped most of my strength, but I won't, I can't, rest without making at least a little bit of progress. I absorb each smell like a sponge, greedy for more, but before long my muscles are quivering with exhaustion. The wolf inside me growls at my weakness, pushing me forward in rage, but it's too late. I fall to the ground, succumbing to the sleep I desperately need.
When I wake, now late into the night, I break into a lope, only to stop dead in my tracks. Something sharp and salty, aged though, invades my nostrils… along with something else, something I can't quite describe. I don't let the last part bother me, so instead I creep forward, letting my senses lead me, until I finally find what I'm looking for. Blood – her blood. I start to panic. A root sticks out of the ground and dry blood speckles the dirt… it doesn't look she lost a lot of blood, but it was a good scrape. I'm relieved that a couple drops of blood is all I find – I didn't even realize until now that I had expected to find a corpse. I still feel guilty though. This is all my fault. Who's going to protect her now? She's stubborn – always telling me she can look out for herself, that she doesn't need me to be her bodyguard, but her actions say what her words cannot. I push my thoughts away, ready to continue, when the other, unfamiliar smell assaults me. I can't place it, and the cold weight of dread drops into my stomach. I can't shake off the ominous feeling; something isn't right here, but I was too distracted to notice before. The hair on my back rises. Clarity comes.
No, no, no, no, no! How could I have ignored this?
I crouch in a defensive stance. This has all gone wrong… I silently curse Chloe. You just HAD to come this way, didn't you? Running away wasn't enough?
I groaned (a difficult feat in my current form) before the sound of paws on the soft earth made its way to my ears. She didn't sound happy. I knew I was screwed. Why?
I was on a wildcat's territory.
That one, small fact rang through my head before I heard the screeching, so loud my ear drums shattered, and massive talons took a chunk out of my right shoulder. I roared, facing my attacker, white canines flashing like knives. I could see the swishing of her tail, the fury in her eyes. She was absolutely terrifying. I could feel the blood oozing out of my wounds, matting in my fur. Growling, we circled each other, eyes locked in a death stare. I lunged for her, feinting at the last second, but she was one step ahead. She swiped at me, but I was faster. It continued, one making a move, the other dodging out of the way, me managing to scratch her up just as much as she scratched me. I, however, had the upper hand. I had just woken up, and the fact that I was well rested put me one peg higher than her. The strain this was putting on her was visible. She slipped, a moment of indecision, and I struck. My teeth sank into flesh, blood running in my mouth. I didn't feel bad because I did it, I felt bad because I enjoyed it. The tastes and the scents made my brain go haywire, processing all the information I could gather about her at once. Pictures and images flashed through the wolf part of my mind, not quite translating into what I could understand, but I had that nagging feeling again in my conscience that something was up.
I didn't have the chance to complete the thoughts I was having when she got up for more. What is going on? Why doesn't she just let me leave? I don't want to fight her… For the second time that day, clarity hit me so hard I almost forgot to dodge her next attack. She had cubs! That was the lingering smell on her, the aftertaste in her blood. I could smell them on her; I could almost see their furry faces, peering at me, silently begging me not to kill their mother. A war raged within me, the wolf said to finish her off, the human said to have mercy. Isn't that the ultimate battle? Man or beast? It would be so easy… her mistakes were more often and progressively getting worse. She was on the brink of exhaustion. I pounced, lips pulled back in a snarl, mouth opening to make the killing blow, aiming for the softness of her throat.
"Derek…" a soft voice crooned in my ear. I jumped back, startled, but I kept my eyes on my prey.
"…you're better than this…" The voice continued, gentle and sweet. My eyes frantically looked around, searching for the source. I turned my head back and yelped.
A small, pale hand was grazing the top of my foe's head. Long strawberry blonde hair fell around her shoulders, framing her delicate face like an angel. She was barefoot, dressed in a pale blue sundress, looking at me with those big, sad eyes. My heart tripped over itself, yanking at the depths of my soul. It couldn't be her. Impossible. I crept back, shutting my eyes and opening them again.
They were both gone.
But at least I had the scars to remember that one of them was real.
Fat raindrops began to fall from the sky, streaking down my face like tears. The sky darkened, threatening me with its dark gloom. It reminded me of another day, in another world, a different me…
Flashback
It was a cold, gloomy morning. The sky overhead seemed to mourn with me, raindrops pitter-pattering on the cement, all the way up to the hard, unforgiving earth of the cemetery. My father and I walked in hateful silence; his unrealistic accusations from the night before rattled around in my brain like the empty bottles of alcohol rolling on the floor of our house.
He's right, I think. It's all my fault. I slip deeper into the sadness that consumes me. I keep thinking that she'll be there when I get home, that this is all a bad dream, but I'm already too smart to believe those fantasies. I wish life was a math equation; with the right rules and properties, you will always reach the right answer. This isn't math. It's something infinitely more complicated and painful, no set outcome or predetermined answer. That's what I hated the most. It was just so unpredictable.
Like how one night you're sitting, listening to a bedtime story, and the next day you're attending a funeral.
I dimly recall the words the priest said at the grave, but I wasn't listening anymore. I just keep my eyes on the casket, willing it to go away. I look down at my handful of dirt, wet with tears, trapped in my hand.
"Honey, you have to cast it onto the grave," a tall woman whispers as she leans down beside me, probably a friend of my mother's. She tosses her handful of dirt as an example. My fat toddler fingers won't budge.
"Your mother would have wanted you to let go," frustration creeps into her voice. She tries to pry open my hand, and the look she gives me… Part of me snaps. I was sick of the pity, the "I'm sorry" and "What a shame" that came out of everyone's lips. I was sick of that silent, judging look on everyone's faces when they saw me and my father.
"You have no idea what Mommy would've wanted!" I spit, throwing the dirt in her face. I don't stay to look at the shocked expression that is no doubt on her face. I run away, feet slick against the wet grass, and I feel the yawning chasm of despair inside me open wider. I was alone now.
Truly alone.
End of flashback
I walked on, bloodied and wounded, to a small creek. I knew she had been here, the forest screamed at me that she had. I am losing my mind. I didn't see her; it was most definitely in my head. Still, she haunted me, her voice snaking through my mind, keeping me awake when all I needed right now was to sleep. There was no way to clean my wounds in this form, they were definitely infected, but all I could think of was how much more painful this was going to make the Change back. My face contorted at the thought.
For the second time, I howled. Rage, frustration, and grief bubbling out of me and to the sky. I felt hot, feverish. Over-exhausted. I sank to the ground, eyes playing tricks on me.
Just before my eyes closed, I could have sworn I felt the feathery whisper of a hand on my back.
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Love,
- Rainbow Cornflake :)