Chapter 1: Tumultuous Origins

The wind swirls around an alluring feminine figure, forcing the rain into her face so that it slaps at her cheeks. She is small, short and slender, her eyes a dazzling green that glows like emeralds. However, large spectacles cover their amazing beauty, with lenses that reduce her eyes' brilliance and hue. Her silky, wavy hair is a stunning red, cutting off abruptly at the shoulders, giving her a youthful face to match her juvenile figure.

She is seated, her thin clothing sticking to her moist flesh as the rain pounds even more determinedly on her shape, on the muddy ground. Thunder roars over her head, crackles of lightning striking the air. All she sees is darkness. For her, there is nothing but darkness.

She knows she is at risk of dying. The lightning is close, and if one tree catches on fire, the whole forest will burn. She has nowhere to hide if that happens, no one to call for aid. Her cell phone lies beside her, dead from the steady shower of water. However, it is easy for her to keep calm.

Life is not essential to her anymore, though, so she does not care if she sizzles away.

A solitary tear evacuates her eye, gliding down her face, joining the torrents of water that rushes down her body. A living nightmare surrounds her, the awful breeze pounding the rain into random destinations, the plants trembling. A tree is near to toppling on her, leaning her way, uncomfortably close to breaking free from its trunk.

She scarcely recognizes that she is crying heavily, her tears accompanying the storm's efforts to make her as uncomfortable as possible. She feels dirty, the muck giving her a horrible feeling in her stomach. On a whim, she desires for a hot shower, with warm steam engulfing her.

Movement is impossible for her.

She wants to finish it here. Right now. It would be so easy... so pleasant as the miseries of life would slip away. She wonders why God had to give her the ugly face, the infantile figure, and the snooty attitude that made so many people detest her.

Why does she have to be the unlucky one?

Now she cannot see, the rain blinding her. Her spectacles drop off her nose, sliding to the ground, the glass immediately sinking into the dirt. Unbelievably, the water starts to pour even harder from the frenzied heavens, temperature lowering by the second. Goosebumps develop on her arm. Her breaths become apparent, clouds emerging in wisps just in front of her.

The cold grows worse.

She glances at the ground, uncertainty on her features. Is she really ready to let herself die here? Is it time for her to exit this world?

A little sliver of fear enters her thoughts.

She understands instantly that these may be her last breaths. She tries to relish each of them, reaching with a delicate hand to attempt to grab the clouds that lingered before her. The question pounds in her skull, making her dizzy.

Is she actually ready to die?

The thunder draws closer, the clouds overhead splitting a little. Through the crack in the clouds, she can sight a full moon. She stares at it, astonishment blazing through her at its beauty. It certainly is a magnificent sight, the perfect circle illuminated by pure white light, the only incandescence currently in her universe. It is symbolic of hope to her, hope that she will carry on. Hope that everything will be okay.

Suddenly a hard rock pounds on her shoulder. She gasps in pain, her shoulder hurting from the collision.

The moon evaporates as the gloomy clouds steal it away from her.

Another object lands on her knee, the same discomfort reoccurring. The child remains in her position, pain etched in her face. She grabs the unusual pebble, holding it near to her eyes so she can view it. Her eyes expand.

"Hail," she whispers as another rock comes rushing towards her. It is large, roughly the size of a nickel, plummeting at an unbelievable pace. It is aimed towards her head.

She sees it approaching, an astonishing ball of energy, ready to give the fatal blow. She is frozen. Death is finally coming to take her away. This is what she wants, right? She should be happy. Deliverance from the pain, the continuous suffering, has arrived.

The fear is the thing that is taking away her happiness.

There is a brief quiet, and then there is a howl in the night as the awful ice rock clamors to reach its goal.

                 

                                                                        *** 

He can hear it. Its increased respiration pounds in his ears, suggesting its close proximity.

He ventures closer to the presence, the creature that dares to be in his area at this time. It is a horrible time for the intruder, whatever it is, for tonight he is at his strongest.

Tonight is the night of the wolf.

He is alone, but that is just right. He works better while alone.

It really is a horrific storm, the rain hitting on his back, nearly driving him to collapse. He wonders why it is trying to trespass in this dreadful weather. The wind rips leaves from their perches on trees and hurls them furiously into the air, lightning flashing over his head. There is practically a constant roar, almost breaking his focus. He shakes his head, trying to wave away the storm’s efforts to distract him. His paws crunch the grass beneath him as he ventures farther into the jungle. Trees loom before him, throwing their dark shadows across his furry figure. Danger is in every direction. But he does not hesitate.

He is fearless.

The presence is growing stronger, the breeze carrying the aroma to his nose. It is a lovely aroma, one he has never smelt before; a peculiar mix of strawberries, bananas, some taste he cannot distinguish, and a tiny dash of mint. The thing is a thrill, an irresistible smell that he will remember forever, even when this "it" is long dead. He had never experienced this odor near a werewolf before.

This smell is so lovely, he wonders if a human could have actually come into their midst. Humans often have wonderful odors, although none as delightful as this one.

He feels like something is... connecting him to this smell. A longing suddenly starts to fill him, a want to edge closer to the source. This pull is persistent, and he feels himself sliding even harder into the domain of lust. He begins to crave this peculiar smell, and his paws start to move by themselves. He does not need to track it, for something about the fragrance is driving him directly towards it. He begins to suspect that this beast would be a difficult thing to destroy.

In fact, killing it might not even be an option, for he believes that if he does, he will lose his sanity.

It already entices him, and asks him to approach closer. The smell invigorates him even more as he comes closer to his prey, creating a web around him till he would never be able to escape. He is the fly, and it is the spider. A sad sensation gathers in the pit of his stomach as he realizes that he is helpless.

What sort of prank is this wily creature playing?

The perfume is extraordinarily strong now, nearly overwhelming him with its loveliness. To werewolves, fragrance is everything, and he experiences lovely aromas every day. Nothing, though, amounts to this exquisite emanation that makes his head whirl with dizzy ecstasy. He feels like he is getting near.

Suddenly, the aroma turns bittersweet, a harsh note distorting the song. Fear and terror infiltrate the aroma, making the sugary quality go away and polluting the smell he craves so deeply. Now, a foul stink permeates the air, and the horror the creature is feeling fills him also.

Somehow, he can detect the feelings it is experiencing from its smell. However, the terrible aspect is that he begins to feel the same feelings it does. The smell now is still intoxicating, but filled with need. It needs him. 

Want soon penetrates his body. He wants to experience that smell once again, but not the one it was currently releasing. He wants to make it happy, so the taste of dread would fade from the perfume. He desires that specific sweetness with a passion he never knew he possessed.

His paws start to blur as they race through the woodland so fast that even he can hardly see them move. The need is surging through him, intensely distorting his thoughts till all he can think of is the scent. He needs to have it.

He finds a little clearing, near to a thin brook that spills into Lake Felix a couple kilometers away. It is a gorgeous little place, with exquisite flowers and green plants, the trees graceful and towering. The perfume is strong here. The creature must be in this vicinity.

His eyes hunt for it, looking for the wicked thing that managed to emit such an enticing smell. At first, it was nowhere to be seen. But once he adjusts his eyes a little, he detects a figure in the mud. It is a tiny thing, a small form covered in the thick muck, only a slender back seen from his angle.

He suspiciously circles the thing, attempting to make out its features. It is hard to detect, the muck camouflaging it in the dirt. When he travels right in front of it, though, his heart stops beating.

Though not an extraordinarily gorgeous creature, it is nonetheless the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

It is a human female, with dazzling green eyes that has a captivating appeal to them, pulling at him, never releasing his stare. Her hair is a ruby red, flowing to her shoulders, the rain making it moist and lustrous. Her figure is petite, but shapely, the rain merging her ragged garment to her form.

A searing flash of pain encircles his heart as he realizes what is happening, the beats getting quicker. He begins to become panicked. Is this really happening? Why now? Why, with a human like her?

But nature refuses to listen to his appeals, binding him even closer to the young woman. This could not be true.

A flash of bright light pours forth, engulfing his being, then racing to meet the female. It seeps into her skin, drenching her with the white light. She doesn't notice, her eyes clouded with tears, peering at her toes.

He is affected, however. The awareness that he has just done something terribly, horribly wrong shocks him, making his whole body shiver.

Shock, as much as rage and frustration, runs through his body. Nothing good can come of this. Nothing at all.

However, the hesitancy evaporates as he watches her. As it begins to take effect, he feels himself slipping into a bottomless pit of everlasting love. There is no going back. He is entangled in the enticing spider's web forever.

Suddenly, another taste of dread explodes in the scent. Hail is beginning to fall, and he can tell that she has been hit. Her eyes, as she looks up, are listless. She stares beyond him, as if she doesn't notice he is even there. Painful tears escape her, spilling down her form. A little wound on her leg emits dark beads of blood. He suddenly feels the desire to protect her, to guard her. What is he doing, just standing here? He needs to move!

A little scream escapes her, screaming into the night as a large piece of hail comes rushing towards her. Her eyes slam shut, horror engulfing her. The scent is engulfed by terror, terror he has to erase if he wants to feel that pleasure again. He jumps immediately, trying as fast as he can to land over her figure. To protect her.

He makes a primal cry as he soars to be her shield.