Curing Kyro

Chapter One: An Ordinary Day

The day everything changed had, at first, been exactly like any other day I can recall. Everything had been how it should have been.
I remember the sun shining its light down upon and over the tall grass that laid outside my home that constantly swayed from side-to-side because of how it let the passing breeze gently push it to-and-fro.
Nothing was out of the ordinary at first. Not until I decided to look at life a little harder. My intuition could sense that something was out of place, I just couldn't quite put my finger on what.
I went about my day as usual; running errands for my mother, but on the way home, I could hear what only could have been absurd rumours.
Unusual ones.

"Have you heard?" the voice of a stranger had begun in the distance. Without awaiting the response of whoever they were speaking to, they had continued, "Mistiki's going to be attacked, our mayor assassinated."
At the time, I couldn't help but gasp, despite how unlikely this rumour was to be true.
I could feel their gaze fixating on the back of my head, so I picked up the pace and continued to walk on.
That was only one of several rumours I had heard of Mistiki being attacked.
Mistiki is the name of the town I was born and raised in, the town I'd been living in my whole life.
Until...the day everything changed.

I had rushed home that day; paranoid, slamming all my blinds shut in swift, harsh movements.
"Something wrong?" Mother had said.
"Oh...it's nothing." I reassured, as she proceeded to open the blinds again.
"Ah, I see what you mean. It's getting dark out." she smiled as though she thought she knew, but she didn't.
I was glad she misunderstood my behaviour.
"Say...you're not seeing things again, are you?" came her soul-shredding question.
No.

The truth is, I'd been having terrible nightmares, or strange euphoric dreams that were too hazy and too perfect to be true. I'd wake up every morning from them, each dream had been a continuation of the last one, as though my unconscious was trying to tell me a story episodically. Of course, I'd told my parents about these dreams. I'd even gotten my own psychiatrist, to which I'd have to describe them all to. My psychiatrist had insisted that they meant something, that they were all manifestations of my unconscious mind.
But I know they're not.
They're cryptic, metaphoric premonitions. Glimpses of the future. My last one had left me disturbed. It had been of me standing in a field, alone, the hay an unnatural amber and the sky had been a bleeding shade of crimson. I'd felt hot. Incredibly hot. I woke up in a sweat in the middle of the night, running to my parents' room like a young child in need of comforting, clumsily slipping from wall to wall as though I was hungover.
That's when they attempted to diagnose me...but couldn't.
I'd been noticeably quiet and reserved ever since. Mainly because the white wolves that would constantly appear in my dreams were beginning to appear in reality, in my everyday life, I'd see them following me on the streets, while my parents drove me from place to place in our car from behind, out of my window at night.
That's how I got so good at never looking back. That's why I didn't look back at those two kids. Well...I presume there were two of them. It takes at least two to have a conversation after all.

"I..." I cut myself off by sighing. I knew that there was no point in lying to my mother. If anyone, it was her that could see right through me. "I might be." I dared to take a glance at her doubtful eyes, I eventually did, which then prompted a more honest, truthful response. "Ugh, fine! Yes. Yes, I am seeing things."
"W-wolves...? Right?" she asked.
"Ah-huh." a weary smile flickered awkwardly across my face. "You're not concerned, are you?
"Kyro, of course we are," snapped my father from the hallway, striding his way almost angrily into the room as he threw a burgundy-coloured woolly hat my mother's way. "Put that on Ellie, you'll need it." he said as she stared down at what had just been thrown into her crossed arms. She had her mustard-yellow autumnal coat on, and dad is acorn-brown one. They were going for a walk outside, I presumed.
It was late September; almost November, and the trees outside were all warm sunset hues.