The title would be Merome, but there's no actual Merome. I also tried to evoke feels cause I fINALLY WROTE SOMETHING YAY. I'll try to post something else soon, I ain't got no school tomorrow. (Ignore any spacing errors, I'm too tired to fix it for the thousandth time.)

Note: The song is "Wolf" by First Aid Kit. The characters used are, well, JeromeASF and BajajajajanCanadian.


Wolf mother, where you been?
You look so worn, so thin

Jerome tumbled out of the forest trees, a squirrel and mouse hanging limply from his jaws. Shaking his fur out, he padded over to his family, quietly approaching his mother before pawing at her back, sitting down as she turned. Her eyes lit up when she saw the prey in his muzzle, frail form moving to sit up. "Son, did you catch that for me and your brother, you sweet thing?" She asked, melodious voice making Jerome smile with pride.

"Yes, mother." The bacca half lied, seeing as he wished to eat with his mother, but gave up his food to his younger brother, who was no more than two months old.

You're a taker, devil's maker
Let me hear you sing, hey ya hey ya

"I'm not trusting anything that devil brings back from the forest." Another bacca walked in. Jerome's father. Hate burned in his eyes, and Jerome gulped, shifting where he sat as coal black irises scorched his fur with mistrust. He curled in on himself, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him for no reason. "Haven't you heard? All the eldest children have gone and poisoned the food."

Wolf father, at the door
You don't smile anymore

"Honey, that's just a rumor. Our sweet little Jerome would never do something-"

"Like hell he wouldn't!" His father interrupted, snarling and showing clear white teeth. "If you wish to die to that thing, then fine, I won't stop you. Just don't come complaining to me when you're dying, because it was your fault!" He barked, causing Jerome's beloved mother to flinch at the harsh words.

Jerome's mother only sighed and said nothing in reply, laying back down. His father grumbled, going to sit a foot or two away from the boy's mother. Jerome stared at his paws, flexing his muscles to sheathe and unsheathe his ebony claws, no shine coming from them because of the dense leaves above.

You're a drifter, shapeshifter
Let me see you run, hey ya hey ya

When dusk fell upon the forest, all of the woolly brown creatures were deep in slumber. All but the young bacca, who was staring at the almost complete silver sphere in the sky.

Holy light, oh, guard the night, oh keep the spirits strong
Watch it grow, child of wolf
Keep holdin' on

Eventually, Jerome got up and shook grass out of his pelt, silently padding out of his family's area. He only stopped to watch his brother's minute chest rise and fall as breaths crept in and out of his lungs, before he sighed and slipped into the dark arms of the forest trees.

When I run through the deep dark forest long after this begun
Where the sun would set, the trees were dead and the rivers were none

Jerome let the woodland sounds sink into his ears as he started to run, fur flying in all directions. He let his worries slip into the night. Trees grew invisible as adrenaline coursed through his body, and Jerome just let his paws lead him.

And I hope for a trace to lead me back home from this place
But there was no sound, there was only me and my disgrace

The bacca soon ended up at a lake, the sapphire water scintillating. It rippled as Jerome stared at himself, addicted to watching the broken image as the water quietly churned it. Was he really this broken? He asked himself, onyx eyes glazing over with sadness before sluggishly closing.

Because to him, it sure did feel like he was broken.

Hey, Hey-Hey, Hey, Hey
Hey, Hey-Hey, Hey, Hey
Hey, Hey-Hey, Hey, Hey
Hey, Hey-Hey, Hey, Ya.

Mitch genuinely didn't care anymore. His life consisted of battling, and it hadn't even reached that point yet. He sparred with his father, whenever the man was actually home, and the rest was polishing his swordsmanship.

His younger brother, who the Canadian expected to follow in his childhood footsteps, beheld his brother brandishing his sword. Connor, for that was his name, would often beg to practice, but Mitch would refuse him the possibility, in trepidation that Connor would nick his skin. His brother was his only beacon in the lackluster world, and Mitch couldn't bare to see him get hurt.

Wolf mother, where you been?
You look so worn, so thin

Stumbling down the stairs, hair scattered everywhere, Mitch found his father standing at the door. Giving the man a blank stare, the Canadian stared at his with his mouth agape. His father scowled at Mitch's slumped body language, messy locks, and crumpled clothes.

"Well I can see who just woke up." His father bit at him, effectively waking the boy up. His face hardened with displeasure, remembering his father's words. "Warriors are always alert, no matter the time. They never show weakness." Roughly shoving a chair out, Mitch forced the words out of his mind.

You're a taken, devil's maker
Let me hear you say, hey ya hey ya

Mitch's mother said nothing, only placing the final plate on the table before having a seat. Connor too came down the stairs, blindly sitting down. Sometimes Mitch wished he could have his brother's ignorance to the savage world around them.

Breakfast was eaten in silence, and everyone left at their own respective times. Hurrying back to his room, Mitch grabbed his sword. After day turned to night, Mitch stared out the window, watching trees sway in the wind. An idea formed in the Canadian's mind.

Wrenching a window up, the brunette slung the sword over his shoulder. Casting a look at his room, Mitch heaved himself out and launched his weight at a tree. Gasping as his chest slammed against the bark, the Canadian tried to keep his coughing down as he shimmed down the trunk.

Wolf father, at the door
You don't smile anymore
You're a drifter, shapeshifter
Let me see you run, hey ya hey ya

Dropping to the ground, Mitch took a moment to breathe. Quickly finding his it, the boy got up and started to run to the forest. It was only once he got through the dense trees he realized what a poor idea this was. He could scarcely see anything, he would be out of breath if he needed to run from danger, and all he had was a stone blade.

Slowing to a stop, Mitch mentally cursed himself. It wasn't too late to turn back, he thought to himself. Until a bush rattled next to him, and Mitch let fear take control of his mind.

He escaped further into the forest.

Wayward winds, the voice that sings of a forgotten land
See it fall, child of wolf
Lend a mending hand

Quickly coming to the edge of a clearing, Mitch halted his running. He wasn't alone. Next to the water sat a creature draped in fur, wind lazily shifting it every so often. Legs tensing, Mitch quietly unsheathed his sword, just in case.

The animal turned its head when it heard the racket of stone scraping against metal. Mitch leaped behind a tree, heart pounding erratically as he hoped not to be found.

When I run through the deep dark forest long after this begun
Where the sun would set, the trees were dead and the rivers were none

Leaning back around the tree, Mitch could feel his guts twisting. Cautiously taking a step towards the beast, the Canadian found his mind not working. He should run. He could be killed. The thing's head twitched as Mitch stepped on a twig, instantly jumping away from the noise.

And I hope for a trace to lead me back home from this place
But there was no sound, there was only me and my disgrace

It took one look at the blade the boy was holding before turning away and running off. Either way, Mitch noticed the hurt and distress in its eyes.

And he would, for sure, never forget it.

Hey, Hey-Hey, Hey, Hey
Hey, Hey-Hey, Hey, Hey
Hey, Hey-Hey, Hey, Hey
Hey, Hey-Hey, Hey, Ya.