A man goes into the woods alone to seek revenge.
|In a lonely moonlit forest, the sound of leaves crunched and snapped. A man covered in his own blood stopped to catch his breath, a fog of warm mist escaping from his lips. The man turned and looked back, too exhausted to keep on running. He could hear them getting closer. His heart pounding loudly, he forced himself onward. Gripping the wound on his side tight, he came close to a small creek, hoping that the water would throw off his pursuers. It was his last hope, for he knew they were following the scent of his blood. Earlier that morning, Logan had entered the woods alone, hoping to claim the head of one of the beasts that he knew resided there. The task had been harder than he expected, and he had accidentally sliced himself on his own dagger. Now, when he had once been the hunter, he was the hunted.
The beasts were said to have been the result of witchcraft, the transformed forms of witches and warlocks, who had used black magic and had made packs with darker evils. However, truth be said, no one really knew their true origins, except for the beasts themselves. If you ever managed to kill such a beast, it was said that it would be redeemed of all its past sins and would be returned to its former human form. The beasts resembled massive black wolves, but stronger than both human and animal alike. To be bitten by one, or even scratched, was said to be a curse. A fate that Logan’s younger sister had recently endured. She was never allowed to make the transition, and was quickly beheaded as soon as she started showing signs of fever, which was the first indication of transformation. Long before the death of his sister, the beasts had terrorized Logan’s village, killing off herds of sheep and goats, and leaving them slaughtered in the fields. At times, even young children would go missing from their beds. This usually happened on nights when the moon was full, and where it was believed the beasts to be at their most powerful.
It was the fear of death that kept most people from entering into what was called the Wolves’ Domain. However on this night, Logan had entered the woods, seeking revenge for his sister. He had failed. Now standing alone and injured, Logan felt helpless. Warm red liquid flowed down between his fingers, and he held the injury tight. Listening to the noises around him, he heard nothing but the sound of rushing water at his feet. He gazed out towards the trees, but could see nothing. In that moment a twig snapped in the nearby brush. Logan turned to face the noise, and grabbed his dagger.
A part of the dagger’s handle had broken off, making it flimsy. Once again, Logan had nearly let it slip out of his hands. Gripping it tighter, he placed it out in front of him. The dagger was small and made of silver. It was the only metal said to be able to fatally wound the beasts, if ever pierced in the heart. Logan knew the chances of making a clean strike was slim.
A deep bellowed howl then sounded from somewhere in the woods. Logan looked towards the trees, barely catching a glimpse of something black as it sped out of view. Logan tensed his muscles, preparing himself to strike. Nothing came, and then out of nowhere, Logan’s body hit the ground. The breath was knocked out of him, and he gasped. Looking up, he found himself looking into wide amber eyes. They were bright and full, almost like the moon itself.
A great wolf stared back at him, its teeth bared. It stood on top of him, and Logan could feel the warmth of its breath hot against his skin. Straining under the wolf's weight, Logan reached for his dagger, and pressed the blade deep into it's bicep. The wolf yelped in pain, making a noise that seemed to reverberate through the forest. It leapt away, giving Logan enough time to pull himself off the ground. Both than stood face to face. It was the first time Logan was able to see the wolf fully. The wolf stood about four to five-feet high, with a body that was sleek and muscular. Its course dark fur seemed to glow under the blue moonlight, and Logan could see that the wolf was bleeding. The silver was doing its job in preventing the wolf from rapidly healing.
The wolf than circled around him, its hackles raised, and its teeth glaring. It dug its massive claws into the wet ground, and prepared for another strike. The wolf howled, then once again leapt, coming within inches of mauling Logan's arm. Logan sliced into the wolf's underside. It gave another high-pitched cry, and then landed on the ground. Logan touched his face. One of the wolf's nails had lightly grazed against his cheek, and a tiny stream of blood ran down his face. In that moment, a wave of fear washed over him. If the legends were true, than he too, would become a wolf.
The wolf stood back up, its broad muscles quivering under its fur. Teeth bared, it once again started to circle. Logan stood himself ready. The jumped towards him, this time managing to sink its teeth deep into Logan’s shoulder. Logan screamed in pain, then shoved the blood covered dagger straight into the wolf's heart. Instantly, the wolf fell to the ground motionless. Still exhausted from the fight, Logan fell to his knees. He knelt down beside the dying wolf, watching as its bright eyes went dim.
The wolf's breathing soon became labored, and Its shape then began to change. Its bloody black fur soon became long dark raven hair, and its claws soon became delicate hands. Where the wolf once laid, there was a beautiful naked young girl, no more than the age of seventeen. She stared up at Logan, her eyes wide with confusion. Feeling disgusted with himself, Logan pulled his dagger out of her chest, and tossed it aside. He held her tight, and watched as her eye's finally closed. In that moment, he began sobbing. He had never realized the implications of his actions, and they seemed to have hit him all at once. Logan stood up. He had gotten his prize, but it had cost him more than he had bargained for. knowing his fate, Logan set out into the forest, and waited for the next full moon.