This Is Gonna Hurt

1 - The Forest

Remus bound through the trees, his bare feet protected from debris by thick calluses. The sun was high in the sky and the teenager was content chasing rabbits through the brush, using his heightened sense of smell to track the furry little critters. The ears atop his head twitched with every movement from his prey, making the hunt unfairly easy.

He sunk his claws into the soft grey fur, growling from the thrill. Setting it down on a rock, Remus settled down and began the tedious task of skinning the creature, even using a knife in the particularly fiddly areas. His mother could make something from the fur if he was careful, one of the rare chances she would do something for fun.

She had made everything they owned, from their tents to the clothes he was currently wearing. When he was little, she would set him down by the fire and tell stories of her life in the city, a place he was never going to see. That suited him perfectly, the mere thought of a concrete oasis enough to send shivers down his spine.

The forest was his home, where he could run wild and free. They moved around a lot, careful to not leave any trace of their existence. Fires were a rarity, used to salt and dry meat and occasionally for warmth in harsher winters. He had one rule, and that was to always be within her reach.

In his eyes, rules were made to be broken - all except that one. He didn't know why she was so set on it, but it made her feel safe, so he obliged her.

She smiled warmly when he returned, swinging his haul of two rabbits and a pheasant by a rope tied tightly to their legs. Dried, the meat would last them for at least a week, but tonight they would gorge on the plush bird and wild potatoes.

A pot was simmering away on their small fire, the contents sweet and gooey. The bowl with the remaining blackberries lay nearby, his treat for hunting their dinner. Deep down, he knew she would have left him the berries even if he came back empty handed.

He plopped down beside her with a dramatic sigh, flopping backwards onto the grass.

"What's up with you?" His mother laughed, always happy to play along with his theatrics.

"Oh, mother, 'tis a hard life. And I am just a boy! The hunt was gruelling, twas nearly a fail, but at the last second..." He lunged back up, tackling his mother and a cackle, "I caught the beast!"

They lay tangled in a heap, lungs aching from laughter. Once she eventually caught her breath, she cradled his face and said "Remus, my darling, you know I'm too old to rough house nowadays. I am proud of you for completing such a gruelling hunt."

He beamed at her, rapidly tapping the backs of her hands in excitement. "You're making sauce! You're my favourite!"

"Thank you dear, but if you don't let me go it'll be nothing but charcoal."

"I bet you could still make it taste nice!" He scrambled to his feet, offering a hand to pull her to her feet. Remus left his mother to the cooking, spinning around the clearing until he got too dizzy and crashed to his feet. There was one thing he hated more than rules, and that was waiting. Everything took so long when he just wanted it now, now, now! Boredom was quick to overcome him and he was forced to figure out how to entertain himself.

Spotting a small nest at the tippy-top of a tree, a plan formulated in his head and he was in motion. His claws made for good grip as he tested each branch for decay, easily scaling to the top in a matter of minutes. Three small chicks fumbled around in the nest, their barely feathered bodies still see-through and alien.

They cheeped wildly at the intruder, but he meant them no harm. Reaching a finger forwards, Remus gently stroked the bald head of the closest chick. It's tiny beak was like a needle when it pecked him, instantly drawing his blood followed by a sharp curse. He rocked back too far and lost his balance, crashing through the leaves like an asteroid on its way to earth.

Pain exploded through his body as he struggled for air, tears welling at the corner of his eyes. Nothing was broken, but his ass - and ego - were definitely bruised.

He could hear his mother's laughter from his position on the ground, embarrassment staining his cheeks red. The memory of his mother's warning to avoid that tree played though his mind and he cursed at himself for proving her right. He knew she was always right, but that didn't mean he should to listen to her! He could figure it out on his own.

He stayed moping on the ground until his mother called him for dinner, immediately forgetting his shame as he scurried towards her. She, thankfully, had the grace to not comment on the incident, instead laying out her plan of where they were going next.

It only partially listened to her, something else was nagging at his senses. The pheasant tasted like ash in his mouth, and his ears were pinned back to his head. A grinding roar that made his skin crawl was approaching their camp at rapid speeds, barely even having the chance to grab a hold of his mother's arm before a metallic beast burst into the clearing.