The Purebreds

Chapter One

I sprinted lithely through the forest, enjoying the gentle night wind’s strokes and the soft forest floor. It was a quiet night and apart from the flowing river and the chirping crickets, nothing much could be heard. Ok, so that wasn’t entirely true. You could also hear the highway that was steadily approaching our once quiet and secluded home, but moving along...

As I sprinted past the clearing, a fresh breeze blew against me carrying with it the familiar scent of pine nuts and fresh grass. Mum. I purred in delight, and changed course, following Mum’s scent. It wasn’t often we encountered each other at night. Usually, she was off in the meadow closer to home, while I prowled around the heart of the forest, chasing small prey. Of course, I never actually killed anything though according to Mum, giving the poor critters heart attacks was not much better. I begged to differ; on one hand you had a live critter, on the other you had a mauled critter. Clearly, there was a difference. But Mum had always been gentle-hearted.

Mum’s scent led me deeper into the forest, and after a few minutes her scent was joined by another. The new scent had an odd twang to it, though it smelt mainly of rich soil and burning wood. Hm... kind of smelt old now that I thought about it. Like a nursing home, without the smiling ‘nurses’ and welcome sign. Worry began to wriggle its way into me when Mum’s scent gained a metallic edge. I concentrated on tracking Mum’s scent, flying through the forest, pushing myself harder when I caught sight of the thick, crimson patches on the ground.

I tore past the waterfall that was the heart of the forest. I knew for a fact that Mum had never ventured further than the waterfall. She’d always said that the dense thicket of trees was never meant for a horse; or anything larger than a Labrador really. I continued on like a mad man, ignoring my protesting muscles and the tingle in my spine. I could feel the forest slowly awakening as the sun began its slow ascent. My muscles twitched. It wouldn’t be long now before I changed back, which meant I had to find Mum quickly.

Suddenly, Mum’s scent veered off course. Skidding to a halt, I went crashing into a nearby tree head first. Not the most elegant halt I’d ever executed, but that was the least of my worries. Quickly retracing my steps I turned into the small clearing. I froze. Before me, was Mum propped up against a tree. Unlike in movies and books, Mum did not, in any way, look like she was sleeping. Far from it. Drenched in her own blood, Mum was covered in multiple lacerations across her back and sides. Her usual light blonde, almost white coat had taken a horrible crimson tinge. Her eyes, oh god, her eyes. Dilated in an eternal look of absolute, heart-wrenching fear, Mum gazed at me. Empty. Completely and utterly empty. Hell, a rock would have held more emotion than her eyes. I keened in dismay. Mum’s hair, her beautiful natural ice blond hair was gone. All of it. Heck, had it not been for her size, she could’ve been a tail-less donkey with the amount of hair she had left.

I padded closer to Mum, gently licking her cheek before nudging her head. The tingling in my body escalated and peaked. A small cry escaped my jaws as my body began its awkward transformation back; my tail shrank back into my spine, my legs grew, my fur retracted while my hair grew back to its usual messy pixie cut. Three cat-scratch like marks appeared on my arm, burning gently before settling into my own personal armlet ‘birthmarks’. My keening grew to rattling sobs as my transformation ended with the burning. Mum remained a mare, confirming what I already knew. She was gone.

I had never understood why grief had always been personified as the ocean or at the very least a body of water, but now as I felt my own grief ‘wash over me’ I understood. It sapped away my strength and I knew that resistance would be as futile as swimming against a tsunami. Caught up in its waves, grief consumed and surrounded you. Behind every thought, sound and scene was a memory that brought with it fresh waves of grief.  So, I allowed the waves to carry me. I’m pretty sure I woke the forest up with my sobs, but I didn’t care. My mother, the only family I had ever known, my best friend, my protector was gone. Not just gone, but bleepin’ murdered in her own backyard.

By the time I managed to get myself together, the day had grown old and the sun was once again preparing for its descent. I sat there in a heap, beside Mum, watching over her. Watching over her the same way she’d always watched over me; silently, unconditionally, lovingly. Mum had spent my whole life, looking out for me. Always watching by the sidelines, ready to intervene and help, should I as much as glance her way. In many ways she worked harder than most, trying to be both halves of a whole. I had never known my father and sixteen years later, I still didn’t know him. Not a name, an address, a number, a photo. Nothing. I saw how it pained my mother to see other couples. How it tore through her heart when she realised that unlike them, she didn’t have her other half. So I learnt not to ask. Nothing was worth putting Mum through that pain. And while we both knew her efforts couldn’t compare to having a real father, she never stopped trying. And now I’d never have the chance to tell her that she was more than enough.

A fresh wave of grief swept over me, but this time it brought with it a new fierce resolve and a spark of pure anger. Obviously, Mum had been murdered; by a complete and total coward who knew these forests well. Well enough to chase Mum deep enough into the forest that her discovery by the council would not be immediate. Perhaps even hoping, that any incriminating evidence that may have been left behind would be long gone by the time she was discovered. Clearly, they didn’t count on me venturing across Mum’s scent. Or maybe, they didn’t know about me.

Either way, I was going to make them regret it.

I was going to make them regret the day they ever crossed Skye Lexis Hunter.

I was going to find them, whoever the pathetic excuse for a being was.

And I was going to kill them.

Or die trying.