The inner voice

The night had fallen into an eerie silence, enveloping  John in an otherworldly tranquillity deep within the heart of the forest. Once more, he was thrust into a situation that had frequently left him with the discomfiting sensation of being an outcast, branded by a peculiar and unfathomable capability. This peculiar gift, which set him apart from the rest, was his astonishing ability to see with crystal clarity in the midst of darkness—a trait that transcended the boundaries of human ordinarity. Now, coupled with his newfound, almost unnaturally swift healing, John  couldn't escape the harsh contemplation of just how much of an anomaly he might truly be. The question continuously danced through his mind: what in the world was happening to him?

Alongside this, let's dub it a "gift" for now, was the steady company of a voice, a perpetual murmur in the depths of his consciousness over the course of the past week.This was the very same voice that had asked him to abandon his troubled existence, urging him to set forth on an journey toward an undisclosed destination. 

Typically, its tones had been gentle and ethereal, but now, an unmistakable urgency coloured each whispered word. "Let me through," the voice murmured, its plea laced with both pressing urgency and a gentle, haunting tenderness that sent electric shivers coursing through John's entire being. His heart raced, and for a brief moment, he faltered, attempting to grasp the surreal essence of this voice that reached into the very depths of his soul. It was unlike any experience he had ever had, as if it had emerged from an obscure recess of his own being.

In his exhaustion, John sought to brush it aside as a mere byproduct of his weary mind, a mirage born of the prolonged and arduous night. Yet, the voice remained unyielding, and rather than fading, it grew increasingly persistent with each passing step, its resonance reverberating throughout the core of his being.

"Who are you?" John whispered aloud, his voice scarcely audible in the profound stillness of the night, a question that had been gnawing at his thoughts ever since the voice had initially revealed itself.

"I am a part of you," the voice replied, its words echoing through the labyrinth of his thoughts. "I can be your salvation, your escape from this nightmare, but you must grant me access and accept me completely. Let me in, John." The voice's plea held an undeniable earnestness, resonating with a subtle, irresistible pull, tugging at John's curiosity and fear in equal measure.

John's thoughts raced as he grappled with the enigma that was the voice. Could it possibly be real, or was it merely an aberration of his own mind? In the eyes of society, such experiences were often relegated to the realm of delusion and madness. But this night, this inexplicable connection with the voice defied the ordinary, leaving John no choice but to confront it.

With a wariness that came naturally in the face of the unknown, he permitted himself to acknowledge the presence that had become a relentless companion. He ventured to ask, "In what way can you assist me?"

The voice unravelled its purpose with convinced determination, "You bear the essence of a shifter, John, akin to those who pursued you in the night. I am a fragment of your shifter lineage, a guardian, a mentor. If you permit my entry into your being and accept your innate nature, I can help you escape from this imminent danger and empower you to endure."

John's head swam with disbelief. A shifter? He had long regarded tales of such beings as mere folklore and mythology. However, the irrefutable presence of the werewolves and the insistent voice that resonated within him left no room for scepticism. It was a revelation that upended his beliefs, propelling him into an unfamiliar reality that challenged everything he had ever known.

With a mixture of fear and curiosity, he cautiously agreed, "Alright, how do I let you in..."

The moment those words escaped his lips, a surge of vitality surged within him. It was as though a dormant aspect of his being had stirred from its slumber, revealing a latent power he had never fathomed. His perceptions sharpened, painting his surroundings with a vivid and crystalline clarity. The foreboding darkness, once oppressive, now appeared less formidable, as he glided through the forest with newfound grace.

The voice became his guiding light, imparting invaluable wisdom about the wilderness and the art of survival. John's bond with this newfound side of himself deepened with each passing moment. He pondered whether he might undergo a transformation akin to the wolves he had encountered. Yet, the origin of the voice remained a shrouded mystery, leaving him with a myriad of unanswered questions.

As the realisation dawned upon him that he was no longer at the mercy of the tenacious pursuers, the weight of the night's tumultuous events bore down upon his shoulders. In his reverie, he recalled the cryptic words of the wolves. Could it be possible that they were on a grim quest to locate him? It was a perplexing thought, for it was a life in which nobody had ever shown genuine care—neither the impersonal orphanage nor the supposed foster parents who had never provided him with the warmth of true family.

Lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, he tripped over an unseen obstacle on the forest floor, and the sudden impact sent a searing jolt of pain through his leg. The voice within him urged him to persist, yet he could sense his strength waning, and his vision began to blur. The realisation gripped him that he could not endure for much longer.

As he struggled to continue, his consciousness began to fade, and he collapsed to the forest floor. The voice called out to him, a distant echo in his fading awareness, "Hold on, John. You can't give up now."

In the depths of his unconsciousness, the inner beast forced its way out, and John felt a transformation begin. The pain in his leg and the weariness in his body started to recede. "Do not fight me," the voice inside him urged, "let it all go, John!"

John didn't know how, but he felt like the last bit of the wall he had been keeping up crumbled. His bones snapped and realigned, his body reshaped painfully, and he suddenly felt a surge of power and vitality. With a sudden start, he looked down at his hands and was met with a bewildering sight. He had undergone a remarkable transformation, and in the place of his once-human hands, there were now undeniably the elegant contours of feline paws. His once familiar human form had entirely vanished, replaced by that of a diminutive, agile, and strikingly independent creature.

The voice within him spoke once more, now with a deeper resonance, "You are a lynx. Embrace your true nature. Embrace me. You are no longer alone."

With his newfound lynx form, John resumed his journey, feeling a profound connection to the beast. The pain that had gripped his leg was now but a distant memory, and his inner beast served as his obstinate guide through the untamed wilderness. He seemed to be a passenger in his own body, there but not quite, as the enigmatic connection between him and the voice deepened.

Had John been in his human form, his eyes would have welled with tears. For so long, he had yearned for companionship, family, anyone who might stand beside him. All along, he had not been alone, but he questioned why this presence had only now revealed itself. "Why now?" John pondered.

In response, the voice in his mind offered an answer, "You have much to discover, much to understand," it stated, its tone filled with care. As John moved farther away from the dangers of the wolves chasing him, the voice continued to guide him through the dense wilderness, ensuring that he remained concealed from the stop-at-nothing pursuers.

****

Not far from the base of the cliff where John had his miraculous escape, deep within the thick forest, a werewolf shifted back into his human form. Naked and exposed, he found himself encircled by his packmates, who watched his every move with bated breath. In his trembling hands, he clutched a mobile phone, his fingers racing against the screen. A hand running through his silver dishevelled hair, anxiety etched deeply across his face, he felt the heavy burden of the message he was about to deliver.

The phone call connected, and a voice, seething with anger, reverberated through the device, "What?!" The harsh tone made the hair on the back of the werewolf's neck stand on end. He gulped before admitting, "Alpha, we've lost him." His words sent a shiver down the spines of the other werewolves, fearing the wrath of their alpha.

The voice on the other end of the line barked furiously, "What do you mean, Arlo?" His authority was unquestionable, and he made no effort to conceal his anger. "You were supposed to have taken the best trackers! You better not return without him if you value your life." The ultimatum hung in the air as the fear in Arlo's eyes was visible. He gritted his teeth and managed a terse response, "Understood, Lex," before hastily hanging up, the dread of failure weighing heavily on him.

The werewolves exchanged uneasy glances, a collective realisation that their leader's orders were not to be taken lightly. The man who had spoken to their Alpha looked at his packmates with a fierce determination. "You all heard Lex. Let's go," he declared, and, in a fluid motion, he leaped into the air, shifting back into his wolf form. 

As one, the wolf pack embarked on their mission, a tense sense of purpose fueling their determined chase of the elusive human. They moved together with an unspoken agreement, their thoughts intertwining through their mind link, their collective conversation honing in on Lex's  obsession with capturing the human. "Hush!" Arlo's voice growled over their link, enforcing a silence that weighed heavily with the urgency of their pursuit. The question lingered in the minds of every wolf: where had the human disappeared to, and how had he masterfully evaded their pursuit, leaving behind no trace of his passage?