Blood and Beasts

Chapter 4

Blood on his tongue. In his nostrils, that strong coppery smell. It's beginning to sting his eyes, getting less pleasant by the second. His vision is narrowing, as the world grows a little dimmer and what's right in front of him comes into focus. More blood, and a body. Fur too, lots of fur, different types, some from the wolf, some from the thing in front of him. Clearly an animal of some kind. Guts ripped out, heart missing. Paws, a tail; looks like a dog, but it's a bit mangled for him to be certain.

No, wait. There's a collar. It was a dog, definitely a dog. Someone's dog.

Where is he? There are trees all around. He can hear birds, maybe squirrels, some sort of animals running about in the distance. None are too close; they'll avoid him best they can.

He can see his own hands, always a welcome sight, but covered in blood. He retches and something fleshy comes up. Bit of the heart he thinks.

Thoughts are forming more clearly now, it's easier to focus on one thing. It's the collar that keeps his attention. The dog has a collar. The face is mashed beyond recognition. A bite mark, ripping off the nose and most of the skin. One eye frozen in alarm.

No, focus! There's a collar, that means... Damn it, what does that mean! The other animals in the forest don't have collars. This one belongs to someone. It must have run far away. Or did he?

He looks around at the trees once more. Large, still deeply secluded from anything remotely human he thinks. A bit of sun pokes through the treetops. So nice to see the sun.

The trees though, back to the trees! Has he seen these trees before? He's supposed to be far, far north, far away from anyone. Is this that forest? He doesn't know, nothing looks familiar, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been here before. The wolf would know, but not him.

Have to assume the worst. The wolf migrated for some reason. He's further south and probably close to people. If this dog isn't missing and came from someone's backfield, he could be very close.

He needs to retain control, needs to stay himself long enough to get away from these people, send the wolf in a different direction. He doesn't want anyone to die. A dog, or deer, or any other animals, that's different, but he never wants to harm a person. Not again.

He gets up. Sticks and rocks poke into his bare feet as he starts to move through the forest. But he's only a few feet from the dead dog when he hears something coming, someone. There's a whistle, some calls. It's people. What are they saying? Here boy.

He senses the wolf instantly, and knows what it wants. The dog's flesh only peaked its appetite. He feels the change coming on.

"No please. Please not now," he begs. He fights with all he has, straining to keep focus, keep his own thoughts. But it doesn't work. It never works. A few minutes of clarity is the best he ever seems to manage; just long enough to see the brutality of his existence.

He feels that burning inside. Dark, coarse hair sprouts from the back of his hands and his arms. He sees this, but feels it pressing out all over his naked body. Tiny drops of blood flow out as this hair rips his skin apart. Things are stretching now. His limbs are taking on new shapes, his face too, like hooks are pulling his bones apart. He wants to scream, and tries to, but its no longer human vocal cords in his throat.

A beast's guttural snarl comes from his mouth instead. He's hungry now, god so hungry. And he hears them clearly.

"For fuck sake where did that damn dog get off to?"

"I told you we shouldn't have let him off the leash." A second voice.

"There's some tracks down this way."

The wolf digs its claws into the solid truck of the tree, and climbs high into the branches. It begins to hunt.