A/N: Not sure how I like this chapter... But. Anyway. There it is. XP And the illustration of this scene can also be found on my DA profile.
Chapter 3:
Awakened
Light slowly filtered through the deep darkness. Silver light. Dim light. Then his eyelid lifted, and he blinked – once, twice, three times – before his vision was able to bring the woods about him into focus. Moonlight glittered on the snow-laden branches. And all was still.
His gaze darted about; what had happened? He'd killed the wolf, and then… Light. And darkness. And now?
A pungent scent made him wrinkle his nose; the clearing reeked of blood! Stronger than anything he'd ever encountered. It made his stomach churn uncomfortably. He attempted to push himself up, and met with resistance. What… What was this? What… Why couldn't he move freely? Something constricted him… He flailed – perhaps he was glad no one was around… - and felt, again, something cut his movement short, and caught a glimpse of white cloth.
His… jacket?
It sounded like an immature practical joke – something Oz-kun would do. Stitch the jacket shut, and tighten the seams to make it impossible to move in… But Oz-kun wasn't here. Nobody was. And… he hadn't been unconscious for that long… had he?
He writhed against the fabric, which didn't feel right… Something was definitely amiss. It felt too taught at his shoulders, and too loose at the collar. A wave of a sort of claustrophobic instinct hit him, and he clawed at what bound him. He tried to wriggle out, tried to escape this strange new prison, but it was all in vain.
He paused, stilling himself, when he noticed something… He was biting the collar. And pulling at it, tearing at it. His teeth tore right through it. What was going on here?
An unnatural yelp fled his lips as he released the cloth, and tried to leap away from it. But it continued to entangle him on all sides, not letting go. Minutes that felt like hours ticked by as he fought against its hold, biting, ripping, mauling. It still did not give, and he soon exhausted himself in his frantic efforts.
He did not know why that foreign panic welled in his throat and made him struggle so – Xerxes Break never lost his head. Everyone knew that. Not like this, anyway… He'd faced children more intimidating than a flimsy jacket… And yet, here he was, toiling on without a plan as if the article of clothing would eat him at any moment! If there was any time that he felt pitiful, it was now.
"Come on, now, Xerxes…" he muttered to himself. "Calm down… Look around, and assess the situation."
And so he did so. And caught sight of another body not three feet from him. Covered in white fur, mangled with blood… and deathly still.
The wolf. He lifted his head in an attempt to get a closer look, but without standing up, he couldn't be sure if it was actually dead… Then, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned just as a snarl broke the night silence, and a blur of silver-grey fell upon him.
Colors blurred in a whirl of struggling figures and flashing teeth. The grey wolf snapped the fabric about him in its jaws and, with fluid motions, began tearing it apart.
Rip! Shred! Tear!
Despite Break's struggling under its massive weight – he fought and kicked and scratched at it – no fabric could ever be a match for a wolf's iron jaws. They tore it like paper, and he soon found himself freed. Leaping to his feet… All fours? He didn't know what was going on, but nothing felt right. Hair on the back of his neck bristled, and his lips unconsciously pulled back to reveal his teeth. A guttural growl rumbled in his throat.
What has happened to me?
He shook, and snow flew from his body. From… a coat of white hair. Looking down at his hands, his eye widened at the sight of not fingers, but long arched toes that came to sinister points at the end of ivory claws, half buried in the snow.
"Gah!"
He tried and, of course, failed to jump away from himself, head turning back and forth in order to get full view of himself. From the white fur, to four legs, to stiff pointed ears, and a long bushy tail… He was a wolf. It was as simple as that.
His gaze darted back to the wolf that had freed him. The great grey beast stood tall over the pile of fabric that lay torn and strewn about the snow. He saw now that the dead wolf's blood spattered it, staining both white and purple cloth red. Glancing back and forth from the dead one to the live one, he finally found his voice again and attempted to recompose himself.
"You… You know what's happened, so tell me!" he barked. It felt odd knowing that his voice was coming from a long, toothy snout. Involuntarily, he ran his tongue over the insides of his teeth, feeling the point of each and every one…
The grey one stared at him a long moment. Never had he seen a gaze so unnerving… He'd always been the master of that. No other person could ever come close to his practiced manic grin and crimson glare. But these golden eyes… So deep. So bright. So… full of wisdom, and pain. Particularly now; the sorrow was ever so clear…
It turned its grey head toward the dead wolf – who, now by comparison, looked very young – and let a sigh escape its black nose in a puff of white. "He had done no wrong… And yet, you did not spare him your blade, human."
Break frowned; he felt the fur on the scruff of his neck bristling again. "He was a threat-"
"And to him, so were you." The wolf turned his gaze back to him, eyes flashing. "And yet I did not see him go for your throat. Which he could have done so easily – he was a soldier. Young, but strong. You never would have survived, had he decided to unleash his fury as you have."
The somber wisdom and quiet anger in the wolf's voice silenced him immediately, and he unconsciously took a single step backward.
Then, realization dawned on him. Ah! I'm dreaming – of course! No real animal reasons so deeply; it's a dream, and soon, I'll wake up again. Back in the mansion. Perhaps even the scene at the balcony was nothing more than a figment of my imagination…
The recognition of this situation for what it really was brought instant relaxation, and it must have showed on his countenance, for the larger wolf stiffened.
"This is no game, human," said he, bristling as well. "Perhaps I should bite you – then see how serious all this really is."
"No, no." Break cocked his head, letting his characteristic smile stretch his mouth. "That won't be necessary."
Those golden eyes narrowed, and then the wolf turned his head to the east, where the moon was hanging low in the sky, casting its silver shafts of light over the great landscape. From here, at the crest of the hill, Break could look out over the entirety of the Rainsworth property, including much of the gardens, and the west wing of the house. By memory, he could trace the extent of the brick wall that signified the border of the land belonging to the dukedom, and that which did not.
When he looked back to the grey wolf, he noted that it had moved over to stand by the dead one, and was hanging its head low over the neck of the other. Its piercing eyes were now closed.
"He was like a son to me…" Its voice was barely a whisper. "So young, he was… In his prime." Snorting icy breath, it lifted its head again. "But now, I shall have to wait for the golden shores to see him again…" It slowly lifted its gaze back to Break, and the pain in its eyes was as real as ever.
"Why must young ones like him die… and the old and fading like me continue on?"
The unanswerable but oh so real question hit him like a physical blow, halted his current thoughts, and stopped him in his tracks. That… was such a good question.
The old wolf returned to his feet, and turned away, back to the moon and face toward the shrouded underbrush. "Come, human. It would seem that you are, for the moment, trapped – in a form that very much does not belong to you. Until we can find a way to help you… it is safer with the rest of us."
Break watched as the creature began a slow walk back into the woods, all the while, the sober question running laps in his mind.
What sort of a world had he stumbled into?
"My name… is… Xerxes."
The wolf paused, turning back toward him once more. Its once sharp gaze softened as he stared long and hard at the white wolf before him. Finally, the slightest hint of a smile tilted its black lips upward.
"I am Gianaval."