I swim in the darkness for what feels like forever, intoxicated by the feeling. Then the memories come flooding in.
I see myself returning from my morning run. I'm in my white trainers, yoga pants, and a tank top. Queen’s ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ blasts in my headphones. I’m happy, loving the feel of the morning breeze slapping my face, and the wide smile on my face does not hide it.
I always run around the estate and go straight into the house to shower, but this time, for some reason, I decide to pass the house and head for the woods. I always thought the planted trees to be well arranged, and the little flowerbeds and bushes my mother added when she still had the strength to move about, add an atmospheric feel to the woods.
I breathe in the cool morning air, ‘today’s going to be a good day,’ I think. A walk in these woods always makes everything better, Father says, and even all Damian has to do when he is in a foul mood is take a walk in the woods.
I always wondered why my father insisted we have a mini forest in our backyard, but I'm not really complaining. With my headphones at full volume, I don’t hear anything until my breath gets knocked out of my lungs with a great force from behind.
The force is so great it throws me forward a couple of feet. I land on my side, scraping the skin of my elbows. Pain shoots from my shoulder, spreading all around my back. I look around me and see nothing, though my sixth sense tells me that whatever attacked me is still in the vicinity.
A scream escapes my lips as I try to move my left hand to investigate the source of pain in my right shoulder. Groaning I force my palm over my shoulder. My hand comes back covered in blood. The pain in my shoulder seems to double with the discovery.
I am reaching into my pocket for my phone when a terrifying animalistic growl makes the hair at the back of my neck stand. A chill runs down my back and my blood runs cold even as I feel my armpits pool with sweat due to the fear.
I hold my breath and freeze in place, hoping that perhaps if I don’t move the creature will leave me be. For a second, I hear nothing, and I almost sigh with relief, until I hear the growl right next to my ear, a cold breath ruffling my hair.
A blood-curdling scream leaves my lips as I turn around to face the creature. I only get a glimpse of bloodshot eyes with so much anger, that I feel the need to apologize before my head gets smashed into the ground, sending jolts of pain shooting from my temple.
“Wilda?” I hear my father's voice shout. “Wilda, are you okay?”
‘Dad!’ I want to shout, but my head is too groggy. The strength is gone from every part of my body. I catch a flash of white as my father's voice moves closer from the corner of my eye.
My head is lifted off the ground again and before, I can scream, it meets the ground with a greater force. The smell of iron and the taste of blood floods my senses.
As I lay on my side on the ground, growls fill my ears flashes of grey and white fill my bleary vision. I see blood pool around my head, the warm liquid making the ground where I lay my head lies soggy. ‘is this how I die?’ I wonder. Will I die without knowing what killed me?
A headache takes over my head. I am just so sleepy.
“Wilda!” someone is calling my name. but I am just so, tired, I will just close my eyes for a second…
“Wilda…” it's Kate’s voice.
I open my eyes to find her looking at me with concern in her eyes. behind her, on either side, is Damian and Fiona. I am propped up on a tree. Their eyes are bloodshot as If they have been crying, and Fiona still has tears in her eyes.
“What happened?” she asks.
I lift my hand to my head, as I realize that I am no longer in pain. My hair is matted with blood, but there is no obvious wound on my head. I lift my hand to my shoulder, finding the same. I look down at myself. My clothes torn to rags, leave me at the mercy of Mother Nature. The grass prickles my skin where my pants are torn. My shoes are gone, replaced by red mud.
And blood. I am covered in blood. I feel my breath come short as the panic kicks in.
“What happened?” I hear my voice ask.
The air I take into my lungs does not have enough oxygen. My heart races to supply oxygen. I look down at my hands to find them shaking. Where did all this blood come from?
“Where is Dad?”
Even as I ask, my frantic eyes meet the curled-up and mauled body of a human being closely resembling my father’s form. No, I say to myself. It cannot be. All that blood…
I crawl on my hands and knees towards the body even as Kate tries to stop me. I push her roughly away, without thinking of what I’m doing. I kneel beside the body and place a hand on my father’s shoulder.
“Dad?” he does not answer.
Why is no one helping him? I turn him around to face me and a gasp escapes my mouth. Blood. So much blood. A lot more blood than I ever saw in my life.
My father’s lifeless eyes stare back at me. Tears pool in mine as my heart breaks into a million pieces.
“Dad?” I call desperately. Why won’t he smile and tell me he is okay? I shake his shoulder nonetheless.
“Dad?”
Half of his body is missing, and my eyes find one of his legs just a few feet away. His stomach is ripped wide open, intestines pooling at his side. I find myself attempting to collect them and put them back into his stomach, the flesh sliding off my hand and my tears dropping onto his body.
My brother is at my side in seconds.
“Stop.” He says, pulling me away. “He is gone.” His voice is thick with emotion and for once, I get the feeling that he cares about someone other than himself.
Blood pumps in my ears. ‘We cannot leave him like this,’ I want to say, but no sound will come from my mouth. I let my hands go numb at my sides and cry.
“Wilda, what happened?” Damian’s voice is soft.
“I don’t know… I didn’t see…” A headache beats around the back of my head as I try to remember what I saw.
My hand finds my head again. No wound. No pain. My chest constricts, tears streaming down my face carelessly.
Damian turns me away from our father.
“Please tell me what you remember.”
“I was on my run… and then there was this thing… I didn’t see it… and then father called my name, and…” The intensity of my headache increases. I hold my head in my hands, pressing my palms against my temples.
“And what?” Damian presses.
And then blood. Blood, pain, and grey and white fur. And those sound… the growls… and I was wounded, I couldn’t see much… but I cannot say all that. How do I explain the lack of even the scratches I had often on my first fall?
“And then what?”
Even in my disoriented state, something in me feels the need to hide the truth. Either way, what did I even see? What do I know?
“And then I think I passed out, then you were here,” I answer.
I hear sirens from afar.
“Wilda!” someone is calling my name.
My eyes hurt as if I have been reading all day and I need a break. The smell of the blood intensifies, blocking all else from my mind. As I reach into my memories for memories I didn't know were there, I see fangs, a white wolf… with eyes that resemble that of a human… very familiar eyes…
My world rocks and I open my eyes to find myself in the car, Damian and Fiona looking down at me.
“And then what, Wilda, what next?” Damian is asking. The world is still fuzzy, a hammer is pounding mercilessly in my head. I can hear my own pulse in my head. I blink repeatedly in an effort to bring everything into focus. It doesn’t work as my vision remains blurry and my world continues to spin. Everything seems to be pulsing to the rhythm of my heart. “You said you saw grey and white fur, Wilda, and then what?” Damian’s voice says. I can tell he is not shouting, but his voice is still a little too loud. “I did?” my voice asks. I did? Was I talking subconsciously? “Yes, you did.” He sounds frustrated. “And then what? I need to know what happened next.” A cold feeling settles in my stomach. I gag with the need to throw up. My throat burns as bile comes up to my mouth. I swallow the bitter liquid back down. My breath becomes shallow as my heartbeat increases. I need fresh air. “Just leave her be, Damian, you'll break her.” My sister pleads, but I only hear her muffled voice. I
CONAN. “You go on ahead, I'll text you later.” I turn to Dan, my mind on nothing but the familiar scent of anxiety, pheromones, and this time absolute fear. My wolf is restless. “Why?” he asks. “I think the grays are around, you don’t smell that?” He sniffs the air and shrugs. “No.” I try to relax my shoulders and act indifferent as I say, “Oh doesn't matter, either way, I need to turn in. It’s been a long day for this wolf.” He takes the cue quickly. “Alright, I'll text you with any updates…” he pauses for a second and sends me a curious look. “Are you sure you’re, okay? You’ve been off the whole day.” “Yeah,” I hope my voice sounds reassuring. “Totally, probably new environment jitters or something, I’ll be fine.” Anyone that says 'yeah, totally,' is a liar." He says , before turning and leaving with a brisk bye. One reason Dan and I work so well is because he is very good at minding his business, and I am not. Almost polar opposites, we complement each other very well. He
WILDAI stare at Damian at the door. His massive build blocks the evening light from outside, casting shadows over his features and making his face hard to decipher. The unlit room seems to grow darker the minute he steps into the house. Conan shuffles uncomfortably on the floor. “I’ve been looking for you, dear sister. You ran off on us.” He settles on the sofa opposite me. “I was so worried.” His voice drips with sarcasm. He does not wait for a response from me as he turns to Conan, who is still on the floor at my feet, looking like a child caught with his fingers in the box of chocolate hidden in his parent’s room. “Make me some coffee young wolf, will you? It's rude to keep your visitors thirsty, don’t they teach you that in the woods?” he chuckles as if he said the funniest thing on the planet. Conan stares at my brother for a while. I can tell from his face that my brother’s words have offended him somehow. The debate going on in his head is obvious. Damian watches him close
CONAN. The minute Damian is gone and I’m sure he is out of earshot; I’m flipping the table and screaming into the cushions of my sofa. The glass from the broken coffee table pierces the skin of my bare feet, but my brain barely registers the pain. My wolf, twice as angry as I am, threatens to take over. In this state, I wouldn’t be able to control him once he takes over. ‘A wolf’s power comes from control, the minute you lose it, you’re as good as dead.’ I remember my father’s advice. Control. The one thing I need to be a good leader, and the one thing I may never achieve with my impulsive personality. I attempt a deep breath. ‘Calm down.’ I say to my wolf. But no matter what I keep thinking about, no matter where I try to escape, Damian’s face follows me. How dare he! I take in another deep breath. The ring, still in my hand, burns through my palm, the pain now a welcome distraction from my anger. Something to keep me in the present and prevent my wolf from taking over. Still, m
CONAN.I stand there dumbfounded, staring at the necklace hanging off my fingers like it’s alien technology, unsure if I am entitled to jump to conclusions. So I found her necklace where the sheep were mauled, what exactly did this prove? It is a small town, maybe she came to visit a while ago and dropped it…And I had found her on the opposite side of the forest.‘Are you making excuses for her?’’ my wolf asks.Had she been running towards or away from something? The blood in her hands… was it human or animal blood? I cannot remember. Didn’t I check? Why didn’t I check?She is only human, what am I doing entertaining these thoughts? This is the work of a wolf. A rogue wolf. I remind myself. But she smells nothing like a wolf.But then again, what are these episodes she keeps having? Ending up in the middle of the forest heading to God knows where, then shrugging her shoulders and saying ‘Oh, I do that sometimes,’ as if she's talking about the most ordinary thing in the world?“Are yo
WILDA.Damian does not speak or look at me the whole way. His grip on my arm does not loosen either. It is as if he is afraid I might still run away or something.We walk to the house in silence, my heart beating hard in my chest and my palms dripping with sweat. what will happen to me? What will I say should he ask me what I remembered? What did I remember?Grey fur… yellow eyes… white fur… red eyes… skin turning inside out into fur… the sound of bones crushing… my father… am I going crazy? Why did no one tell me I was there? Why did no one tell me I was the reason for my father’s death?My eyes begin to tear up as my chest grows heavier. No. I will not cry. Not in front of my sadistic brother. I sneak a look at him walking beside me, eyes locked on our house in the distance, there is a troubled expression on his face I have never seen before. It disappears the minute he notices me watching him and I look away immediately.Somehow, I get the feeling he will not continue his interrog
WILDA.I'm running in the woods. It's dark and I can't tell what time of the night it is. The woods are dark as midnight on a moonless night, but somehow, I can still see the shadows of bushes and trees. The night is quiet, the only sound that of my footsteps and behind me… panting…panting… like the sound of a dog… or a wolf.My heart pounds in my chest. ‘Run faster,’ My brain pleads. Despite my efforts, I do not seem to be moving at all. I feel as if I'm running on a treadmill, all effort but no distance.Branches break behind me, fallen twigs snap under the weight of my pursuer's feet, dry fallen leaves crunch under shoes, the sound coming closer and closer, each sound making my heart race faster and my efforts seem pointless.“Wildaaaa...” A voice sings, the familiarity of the sound making the cold air catch in my throat. Goosebumps grow on my bare arms, nothing to do with the cold that makes the air I exhale visible before me.‘I need to get away.’ I think, willing my legs to move
WILDA Before logic can convince me otherwise, I wrap my small towel around my body and step out of the shower, sparing a moment to wipe the steam off the mirror, just to make sure I look as best as I can considering the circumstances. The bags under my eyes are still visible, but the red in my eyes is gone and I am flushed enough that, thanks to the hot shower... or maybe the man in my room, I no longer look like a ghost. I freeze in place the minute I step out of the bathroom and catch a glimpse of him, closing the door behind me to stop the steam from following me into the room. His head lifts at the sound of the door closing and a second later, blue eyes stare back at mine with such intensity my legs almost turn to spaghetti. Cooked spaghetti. I find myself unable to move, breathe or think as his gaze drops to the towel around me, down to my legs,lingering for a second before meeting my eyes and dropping to the towel again. I get the feeling that he wants it off, that he wan
CONAN The guilt I feel as I leave Wilda's room is overwhelming. 'I did what I has to do to get to the truth.' I try to convince myself. 'And it's not like my feelings were fake.' I say to myself. I just used them to manipulate her. Which sounds really bad, now that I think about it. But then again, the whole point of finding the prophesied wolf was to manipulate it to be on our side. It was never expected that the wolf would come with us willingly. I just never expected to feel any amount of guilt over the methods. 'Any other person would do the same.' I tell myself. And I don't even know Wilda enough to feel like I'm betraying her... I already have a degree of her trust, I should be glad over the advantage I have over anyone else who would try to manipulate her. I should be glad. I'm doing exactly what I came here to do. So why is my heart heavy? Why in The Moon goddess's name did I get involved with her? I look around the majestic corridors of the Gray's mansion to distract
WILDA Before logic can convince me otherwise, I wrap my small towel around my body and step out of the shower, sparing a moment to wipe the steam off the mirror, just to make sure I look as best as I can considering the circumstances. The bags under my eyes are still visible, but the red in my eyes is gone and I am flushed enough that, thanks to the hot shower... or maybe the man in my room, I no longer look like a ghost. I freeze in place the minute I step out of the bathroom and catch a glimpse of him, closing the door behind me to stop the steam from following me into the room. His head lifts at the sound of the door closing and a second later, blue eyes stare back at mine with such intensity my legs almost turn to spaghetti. Cooked spaghetti. I find myself unable to move, breathe or think as his gaze drops to the towel around me, down to my legs,lingering for a second before meeting my eyes and dropping to the towel again. I get the feeling that he wants it off, that he wan
WILDA.I'm running in the woods. It's dark and I can't tell what time of the night it is. The woods are dark as midnight on a moonless night, but somehow, I can still see the shadows of bushes and trees. The night is quiet, the only sound that of my footsteps and behind me… panting…panting… like the sound of a dog… or a wolf.My heart pounds in my chest. ‘Run faster,’ My brain pleads. Despite my efforts, I do not seem to be moving at all. I feel as if I'm running on a treadmill, all effort but no distance.Branches break behind me, fallen twigs snap under the weight of my pursuer's feet, dry fallen leaves crunch under shoes, the sound coming closer and closer, each sound making my heart race faster and my efforts seem pointless.“Wildaaaa...” A voice sings, the familiarity of the sound making the cold air catch in my throat. Goosebumps grow on my bare arms, nothing to do with the cold that makes the air I exhale visible before me.‘I need to get away.’ I think, willing my legs to move
WILDA.Damian does not speak or look at me the whole way. His grip on my arm does not loosen either. It is as if he is afraid I might still run away or something.We walk to the house in silence, my heart beating hard in my chest and my palms dripping with sweat. what will happen to me? What will I say should he ask me what I remembered? What did I remember?Grey fur… yellow eyes… white fur… red eyes… skin turning inside out into fur… the sound of bones crushing… my father… am I going crazy? Why did no one tell me I was there? Why did no one tell me I was the reason for my father’s death?My eyes begin to tear up as my chest grows heavier. No. I will not cry. Not in front of my sadistic brother. I sneak a look at him walking beside me, eyes locked on our house in the distance, there is a troubled expression on his face I have never seen before. It disappears the minute he notices me watching him and I look away immediately.Somehow, I get the feeling he will not continue his interrog
CONAN.I stand there dumbfounded, staring at the necklace hanging off my fingers like it’s alien technology, unsure if I am entitled to jump to conclusions. So I found her necklace where the sheep were mauled, what exactly did this prove? It is a small town, maybe she came to visit a while ago and dropped it…And I had found her on the opposite side of the forest.‘Are you making excuses for her?’’ my wolf asks.Had she been running towards or away from something? The blood in her hands… was it human or animal blood? I cannot remember. Didn’t I check? Why didn’t I check?She is only human, what am I doing entertaining these thoughts? This is the work of a wolf. A rogue wolf. I remind myself. But she smells nothing like a wolf.But then again, what are these episodes she keeps having? Ending up in the middle of the forest heading to God knows where, then shrugging her shoulders and saying ‘Oh, I do that sometimes,’ as if she's talking about the most ordinary thing in the world?“Are yo
CONAN. The minute Damian is gone and I’m sure he is out of earshot; I’m flipping the table and screaming into the cushions of my sofa. The glass from the broken coffee table pierces the skin of my bare feet, but my brain barely registers the pain. My wolf, twice as angry as I am, threatens to take over. In this state, I wouldn’t be able to control him once he takes over. ‘A wolf’s power comes from control, the minute you lose it, you’re as good as dead.’ I remember my father’s advice. Control. The one thing I need to be a good leader, and the one thing I may never achieve with my impulsive personality. I attempt a deep breath. ‘Calm down.’ I say to my wolf. But no matter what I keep thinking about, no matter where I try to escape, Damian’s face follows me. How dare he! I take in another deep breath. The ring, still in my hand, burns through my palm, the pain now a welcome distraction from my anger. Something to keep me in the present and prevent my wolf from taking over. Still, m
WILDAI stare at Damian at the door. His massive build blocks the evening light from outside, casting shadows over his features and making his face hard to decipher. The unlit room seems to grow darker the minute he steps into the house. Conan shuffles uncomfortably on the floor. “I’ve been looking for you, dear sister. You ran off on us.” He settles on the sofa opposite me. “I was so worried.” His voice drips with sarcasm. He does not wait for a response from me as he turns to Conan, who is still on the floor at my feet, looking like a child caught with his fingers in the box of chocolate hidden in his parent’s room. “Make me some coffee young wolf, will you? It's rude to keep your visitors thirsty, don’t they teach you that in the woods?” he chuckles as if he said the funniest thing on the planet. Conan stares at my brother for a while. I can tell from his face that my brother’s words have offended him somehow. The debate going on in his head is obvious. Damian watches him close
CONAN. “You go on ahead, I'll text you later.” I turn to Dan, my mind on nothing but the familiar scent of anxiety, pheromones, and this time absolute fear. My wolf is restless. “Why?” he asks. “I think the grays are around, you don’t smell that?” He sniffs the air and shrugs. “No.” I try to relax my shoulders and act indifferent as I say, “Oh doesn't matter, either way, I need to turn in. It’s been a long day for this wolf.” He takes the cue quickly. “Alright, I'll text you with any updates…” he pauses for a second and sends me a curious look. “Are you sure you’re, okay? You’ve been off the whole day.” “Yeah,” I hope my voice sounds reassuring. “Totally, probably new environment jitters or something, I’ll be fine.” Anyone that says 'yeah, totally,' is a liar." He says , before turning and leaving with a brisk bye. One reason Dan and I work so well is because he is very good at minding his business, and I am not. Almost polar opposites, we complement each other very well. He
“And then what, Wilda, what next?” Damian is asking. The world is still fuzzy, a hammer is pounding mercilessly in my head. I can hear my own pulse in my head. I blink repeatedly in an effort to bring everything into focus. It doesn’t work as my vision remains blurry and my world continues to spin. Everything seems to be pulsing to the rhythm of my heart. “You said you saw grey and white fur, Wilda, and then what?” Damian’s voice says. I can tell he is not shouting, but his voice is still a little too loud. “I did?” my voice asks. I did? Was I talking subconsciously? “Yes, you did.” He sounds frustrated. “And then what? I need to know what happened next.” A cold feeling settles in my stomach. I gag with the need to throw up. My throat burns as bile comes up to my mouth. I swallow the bitter liquid back down. My breath becomes shallow as my heartbeat increases. I need fresh air. “Just leave her be, Damian, you'll break her.” My sister pleads, but I only hear her muffled voice. I