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Werewolves (RP 11): A Mystery Revealed

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The Statue watched the beast leave, eyes unblinking until it had gone out of sight. Then slowly, the matted grey beast turned it's head and swiveled it's ears to meet the familiar voice.  Dull, glassy eyes studied her ally briefly,

"I am fine... where is Ulric? You go with him-I will get Timothy."

She looked at the slope of land they had descended moments ago, where the trees began to toss about. She gestured vaguely with one clawed finger, "He is there."

Tugging free of Jackie's grip, she began forward.

--

Blind eyes, mind your hands. Will he awaken? You keep enough distance to move, yes, but he is not dead yet... what are you looking for? You can't see him.

The blood.. it's on your hands now, from his head. You smell it and taste it and spit it into the snow. You put some hasty bandage there to cover it up.

You need that cape. So why do you take it off and put it on his shoulders? That is well-pick up the staff and go. Why do you linger so?

What sort of foe shall dare the tormentor come, and then mend his broken flesh? Minded, perhaps, but not at all restrained are her hands. She covers broken skin in shallow covering, and shoulders too from the cold. If it is mercy, it is undeserved. If it is compassion, it is thankless. Yes, he stirs at your hand. Yes, he is waking. In a moment his eyes behold you, and immediately your selfless gifts are cast aside. His wounds are unbound, his shoulders and teeth are bare. He does not know you. He does not know you are not his attacker.

*****

In the grove above Jackie and Logan, Timothy was still laying in the snow when the stranger came upon him. His fingers were laid out over the icy white earth, and his head rested on the root of a tree. Twice he had attempted to wake, and twice he was denied by his own mortality. When the stranger came to stand over him, he sensed her presence as one in a dream senses the the impending presence of another. Though wakefulness did not come immediately, his mind already began contriving ways to rouse itself to awareness and self-defense.

Timothy was not aware of anything for a moment, but even before the instant light returned to his eyes he remembered the danger. He thrashed to his feet and tore the spared blanket and bandage from his body! Then he snapped his teeth at the intruder and reached for the tree. In moments he had taken himself up into its boughs and leapt down upon her - gripping his teeth and claws into her back!

Something flared deep in the bright pits of Jackie’s eyes, yet if there was something more she wished to say she did not say it. Instead she merely huffed, flicked some of the dripping blobs of mud from her pelt in what seemed vaguely Logan’s direction, and turned aside.  She did not wait for Logan as she scrambled up the sharp slope.

Even before she had arrived at the top of the ridge, she knew something was wrong.  The smell was wrong.  The sound was wrong.  There was a tension in the air, a snap of movement carrying forward that seemed to stir the wind in strange ways.  Her ears flicked forward, and felt her breath come up faster in anticipation.  As the lip of crest rose before her, her eyes suddenly caught up with what the rest of her senses had told her. 

There was a moment’s pause as she watched onward in awe; Timothy turned against his attacker with ruthless speed and cunning.  Last she had seen Timothy but five minutes ago, he had been unconscious, as animated as a bag of wet sand.  Yet looking at him now, it would be difficult to believe he’d been injured at all.  Then her attention narrowed on what he was attacking.  

A few thoughts crossed her mind, none of which seemed to settle until her arms surged forward.  She tightened the grip on the rope. 

"ENOUGH," she snarled, grabbing Timothy by the ruff of his neck and dragging him with such momentum it would send him sprawling if he did not anticipate it.

"You," she growled at the attacked thing in a savage tone, "Run away, don’t come back.  Storm’s coming and I have better things to do".

****

Sabrina rose, fast and furious, unleashing her aunt from her protective hold. Shoulders squared, ears erect, and head high, her stature dwarfed her human friend. "How dare you," she roared at the Alpha. Then she laughed without gaiety. "More demands. Show you. Tell you. Then perhaps! You know nothing! What have the oak trees or the herb to do with anything? If these are questions you seek, you are late in asking them and always in the wrong place!"

She flung her arm out, gesturing to the door Toby meekly was setting to rights. "This is how you ask? Have you no propriety?" and she spread her arms wide, as though to refer to all the woods around her, shouting, "Come, Mighty Alpha! Come! Lay claim to all you see and it shall bow meekly before you, for awe of your precious rank! No laws shall bind the Mighty Alpha, for is he not the law himself?" Panting hard, she lowered her voice and dropped her arms. "Since the first day, I have given you nothing but my utmost respect and it earned me suspicion. I trusted you, and for what? It takes more than a confident gait and a motley band of followers to make an alpha, Kratos. What have you to show for the six months you have been here? What? Why did you come here?"

The black giant listened impassively as Sabrina belted out her own frustrations. He was an unmoving shadow amidst greater shadows. Then, his ear flicked back as evidenced by a flash of grey above his head, and his face was turned. His yellow eyes glinted, but elsewhere nothing of his face could be seen save the mark above his right eye.

"Look behind you." Kratos said. His gaze suggested the direction where Bianca and Theo were huddled by the house in the darkness. Both were miserably cold and wet. Then his gaze trailed to Toby by the door, and even to Katie standing in the snow.

Kratos looked at Sabrina again. "This pack suffers from one deprivation; and that is who they treat as family. Trust falls on the one hand as on the other. Trust me? You have not trusted me with even the knowledge of your flesh and blood in these hills. Hah."

Kratos turned his head away and growled deeply. "And yet, I leave my own with you. Do not let any harm befall them tonight."

The Alpha hesitated a moment, and then departed. He went into the unyielding darkness and away through the pines, uncontested.

The commotion outside the cabin drew the beasts within its walls attention. His rich dark brown eyes were now fixed on the front door that was agape, the figures outside barely able to be seen. Saber could feel someone approach, and so instinctively he began to withdraw from the open kitchen and find himself a hiding place as far away from the front door as possible.
The beasts body continued to shake. He was still weak and in no shape to fight. So Saber’s wolf took the opportunity to plopped down on the floor to rest, his hot breath escaping from his nostrils at his labored breathing. All his senses were now tuned in to watching Toby closely as the omega attempted to repair the front door.

*****

Some hurts do not fade with time, they are only buried at the back of the mind.
~
Timothy released his opponent at Jackie's tug and behest, and shied away from her touch like a beaten dog. Then he lifted his eyes, and for a moment forgot where he stood. He saw the blind werewolf and knew she was not the beast from his nightmares. He saw Jackie standing nearby, and knew her, but she was not his family.

In that moment, Timothy was fully awake for the first time. He stood up on his back legs and breathed deeply. His animal-like face moved with human expression; he appeared confused, afraid, and lost all at once. He looked at the werewolves, then down the mountain longingly. His fingers curled inward, and his body followed. He bowed and crumbled into a trembling mass.

A feeling of deep hunger moved through Timothy's body. It was a hunger for home that left his mind blank; A hunger for family that left his heart empty; A hunger for control that made his hands feel weak; A hunger for the flesh of the beast that spread from his belly to the rest of his being, promising all he lacked.

Timothy stopped trembling. A low growl began soft and slow. The wakeful moment had passed. Timothy came uncoiled and snapped his maw! Then down the mountain he took, straight in the path wherewith the beast had fled.
~
The purpose of the mind is to live. That hurt which is too great to be healed all at once, must be concealed, lest the soul bleed out through it. So, the mind draws a black curtain over the pain, and waits to bring it forward at a moment unforeseen. For the soul must mourn to heal, and every mourning moment is given solatium for the aching heart. Yet, should mourning be too long and too powerful, the will to live goes swiftly. Thus, only for a moment does the mind bring forth pain from shadows, and allow the soul to bleed.

Logan watched Timothy from  her place, but a few yards behind Jackie and the blind stranger. On the surface it seemed she looked upon the scene with cold indifference. Behind her eyes stirred such intense emotions of helplessness at Timothy's meager plight against his senses.

She was willing in spirit and mind to go after him, whatever it might entail. Turning sharply to lurch in his direction, she felt a strange pressure and sharp pain in her chest which caught her mid stance.

Slower she tried to turn after him, and still she was met with an impenetrable wall of pain and breathlessness that all but stole away her vision.

Shuddering to her knees, Logan stared off in Timothy's direction for several long moments, before her maw curled into a snarl.

"GO!" she shouted, slamming her good fist on the ground. "GO AND DIE! LEAVE THOSE WHO CALL YOU FAMILY!" she slammed her fist again into the earth, so furiously skin bruised and the earth was dented below it. "I was such A FOOL!" again she slammed her hand into the earth, this time crouching over and leaning on her arm with her head turned downwards and mouth just above the ground.

Kratos climbed the mountain following the same trail that led him to Katie's house; ascending among the pines to the open wind and stream, which now flowed beyond its bounds. Kratos paused. The landscape was a breathless hallow without scent or sound - the howling wind and creaking branches, the torrents of water and the moaning height made noise incomprehensible. The wind, which threatened to bow the trees and bring them up by the root, was not shy of bashing the Alpha's heel and hide. It was altogether impossible to climb the mountain in these conditions.

Kratos turned from his decided course and began following the river. It was not a straight path. The river tore away the bank and trees as it descended. To follow it too closely was a terrible risk. So, Kratos varied his course, going down amid thickets not so open to the wind, and thus found himself among tight briars.
"A man could not travel in these conditions," The Alpha warned himself. "And a beast would not ... unless provoked out of hiding. No animal enjoys nature's difficulties, and many are found victims of it as a matter of course."

Notwithstanding the danger, the Alpha continued. Himself a creature of little speed, yet he had great stamina, and descended alongside the water rapidly. Not long after leaving Katie's house, he came where Deadman's trail intersected the stream. There, he stopped to survey the crossing.

Under regular circumstances, the bridge was higher than twelve feet above the stream, spanning a wide riverbed. Now, the magnitude of the channel's capacity was filled. The runoff from the height compounded downstream and became a sweeping  flood exceeding three inches over the bridge's landing.

At an earlier visit, Kratos surveyed the arching stone bridge carefully, and wondered at the stubbornness of its abutments. Now, he wondered no more. The bridge was made for such battles with nature, yet even this battle seemed peculiar in many ways. For one, Kratos noticed the bank above the bed was overgrown, and the plants, being weakly rooted to the soil in absence of this unusual condition, were being torn away. For another, evidences suggested that trees were never found to lodge against the bridge, as they did now. At this later observation, Kratos was caused to believe that the banisters were of more recent date than the bridge itself, which seemed to be built impassively to the torrents that must necessarily be carried over it. For this reason, he hesitated, lest the logs break the banisters before he could cross.

Bind Eyes, do you flinch? No, you stay, unmoving, even when he has gone away.  Who is it now that speaks to you in the tones of a beast? It doesn't matter. None of them are who you seek.

Your features are changing, and the once placid expression is melting away; your paws cup your ears, nails digging into your skull and something not quite a whine, not quite a cry begins to bubble up from your throat. You don't run... you go forward, or you do not move at all. But you never, never run.

Curled back on your haunches, you stare up towards the unfamiliar voice, lips curled back and fur bristling.

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