A drop of water fell from the cloudy sky onto Christopher Glover's head as he read. It dripped from his blond hair onto the page of his book and he brushed it away, concentration not deterred, only interrupted. He sat under the cover of a tall tree reading deep in the forest, and wrote the water off as only dew.
Kit was utterly blissful; there was nothing he loved more than getting lost among the pages of a great writer on a quiet day. Of course it often took him some time to settle his thoughts enough to read, but when he could he fell hard. Everything was peaceful about the woods, it was the only place where the boy was truly at peace
The place had a calming effect on him: the wind as it gently tussled through the leaves, the shade of an old oak tree, or the scurry of a gleeful little squirrel as it gathered nuts from the path. Everything was just as Kit thought it ought to be, and no matter how much anyone tried to dissuade him from going— he always went back to the woods.
Another drop fell and hit directly on the open page of the book. Kit looked up from his reading in mild annoyance to see if he ought to move under a different tree with less dew. One look at the sky confirmed the drops certainly had not been dew, rather they'd been rain. It had been sunny when Kit had gotten to the forest, but while he was reading the sky had darkened over to a foreboding gray color that threatened to pour at any moment.
With one final sigh Kit placed his bookmark between the pages and let Shakespeare's Othello fall to the ground next to his leg. He didn't want to get up. More than anything he didn't want to go back.
It wasn't that he was unhappy. On the contrary he was really very happy back in Belford where he lived with a local priest and his aunt, a senile old nun. But he also felt as if his entire life was under a microscope. Fr. Charles had a great many expectations for him and those of the town had even more. Sometimes Kit worried that everyone in town was just waiting for him to screw up... just looking for him to fail. It was exhausting to be looked at in such a way.
A few more drops prodded at the boy's face, but he paid them little mind. Kit learned to enjoy his own company from a young age. Fr. Charles was often busy and it didn't help that most of the children were afraid to play with Kit for fear he might tattle on any mischief they got up to.
Many people would be frightened to be alone so deep in the forest, but Kit was never lost so long as he was within the forest. He'd spent many forbidden hours crafting foottrails, playing among the trees, and hiding from bullies within the woods. Having gotten lost so many times in his youth, he'd become an adept tracker. Kit knew where the moss grew, how the ground became more treaded and packed down when he was nearing the town, and how to read the underbrush for his own previous steps. Navigating an abandoned forest was not a skill many people were jealous of, but it was the only one Kit would credit himself as having.
Part of Kit yearned not to have to return. Part of him screamed to run into the forest as far as he could and never look back— but that would be wrong. He would hurt a lot of people in the process. He had a duty to return home, no matter how stifling it could be.
By that point the sprinkling of water had grown more consistent and he was being hit by more than a few droplets. He hadn't worried about walking back during a light drizzle, but if it began to rain really hard he might become disoriented. Prompted by the rain he looked down to his watch and sat up with a start: it was a little past four in the afternoon.
He'd been out in the forest for hours without even realizing it, and he was sure just about everyone in town already knew that he was gone. He had promised himself he'd be home by two which would have left more than enough time to get back before Fr. Charles noticed he was gone, but that window had come and gone.
Of course it was a futile promise, Kit always got distracted and lost track of time. He was just forgetful; important information seemed to fall right out of his head. He'd been reading for hours without even so much as a hint as to how much time had gone by. Kit's focus was certainly hard to catch, but once caught it was nearly impossible to sever away. If he wanted to get back without anyone panicking, he'd have to move quickly.
He rolled over onto his knees and grabbed his red sweatshirt, pulling it around his shoulders. When he stood up there were two wet patches on the knees of his jeans and he shifted uncomfortably. It was what he deserved for his own foolishness, he decided.
The boy then began looking around the base of the tree for his book, which he'd somehow misplaced. It was sitting a few feet away from him, as he must have accidentally kicked it while standing.
Lighting struck somewhere in the distance and Kit jumped in shock. In seconds he was jogging back to the town like a little bunny returning to his burrow. Rain was one thing, but lightning was something else entirely. He'd had about enough of nature, and was not going to sit around in a lightning storm. He was jumpy among other things and lightning always startled him.
The emerald green canopy cast by the tall aging oak trees was doing its best to block as much of the rain as possible, but it was still heavy and it dripped off the trees at almost the same rate. Kit's upper body was soaked as he ran and he tugged his sweatshirt tighter around his shoulders, quickening his pace.
As another crack of thunder sounded, Kit prepared himself for more lightning, but none came and he was relieved. Still, he was angry with himself for being silly enough to get into this mess. Sure, when Kit left the library it had been a calm and clear day but he ought to have checked the forecast before running off alone.
He should have done a million things. He should have told someone where he was going so they could find him if he got struck by lightning. He should have brought an umbrella. He should have even just stayed at the library like he told Fr. Charles he was going to. Kit's mind was always scattered with thoughts, most of them unjust in their judgment of his own character.
The boy hated that he was forgetful and didn't always think things through, it was one of his least favorite parts of himself, but he simply couldn't get his mind to keep track of what was and wasn't important.
Of course, he knew he couldn't have told Fr. Charles that he was going out into the forest; he wasn't allowed there. Fr. Charles had actually forbidden him to be there at all. Too dangerous, he'd been told. Wild animals, he'd been told. Though he never saw anything more wild than the occasional deer or bunny rabbit. Kit wasn't one to break rules, but he discovered a small loophole that still allowed him to return to the forest: as long as he said he was going to read his caretaker would just assume he went to the library. And Kit would never have to lie.
Kit's shoe smashed accidentally into a puddle and the cold water rushed inside. He was shivering harshly, his whole sweater having been soaked through. It made him feel awful and ungrateful for going out like that. Everyone was just trying to protect him and he'd thrown it all away for a couple of minutes alone. Peace was important, but it wasn't so important as to make the man who'd taken him in feel unappreciated.
He scolded himself for this. Here he was running through the forest in a lightning storm and it was exactly what he deserved for his own incompetence. He shook his head from those thoughts as he almost tripped over the branch of a tree; it was too much to be worrying about. He regretted going out into the forest and regretted not being truthful to Fr. Charles, but he had to focus on getting home.
Kit attempted to steady and regulate his breath as he picked up his pace and ran faster. That, rather than worrying about stupid mistakes he'd made, was going to get him home in one piece.
The trees that whizzed by his face as he ran were so packed that he had to dodge from side to side to avoid hitting them. He knew from his surroundings that he was still a little more than a mile from the furthest outskirts of Belford, and being not the strongest runner, he again scolded himself for his carelessness. He wouldn't have gone so far— only he needed some place quiet where he could focus if he wanted to get any reading done. All of the sudden he was walking, and then he was two miles from town before he found a place secluded enough to stop.
As the bitter rain whipped against him he didn't feel secluded. Only awfully foolish and dreadful as to how he was going to be able to explain how he'd gotten so wet. As much as he could feel stifled, he had a good home in Belford, the town in which he lived. One anyone could be proud of. Though not a traditional home, he lived in a small parish rectory with a priest and his aunt, a senile old nun, who'd taken him in when he was just a baby. He loved them both dearly, even if he appeared to be always running away from them.
The faster he could get out of the forest and the rain the better it would be for everyone.
As a cramp formed its way into his side he longed for the freedom of being able to detach his consciousness from his sentient body which always seemed to weigh him down. He wished he had the ability to push all his cares out of his mind and just focus on the task at hand until it was done. Better yet he wished he had the ability to skip ahead in his life, like a fast forward button on the remote, and start up again when he was safe and warm in his bed. He also wished he'd remembered to put the dishes back in the cupboard after washing them at home.
The little things that tended not to bother others always consumed Kit's mind. He constantly worried people felt he was ungrateful to those who cared for him, so he made sure there wasn't the smallest opportunity for things to appear that way.
The rain was falling harder now, and it broke right through the tree canopy like nothing. Being through the thickest portion of the trees they began to thin out and the rain hit harder. It streamed down his face and into his eyes making it harder to see in front of him. Kit wiped feverishly, but it was no use as the water seemed to replace it just as quickly.
Lightning flashed again, this time above his head. The forest lit up with everything becoming a silhouette of black and then returned just as quickly as it had flashed. Kit clutched his hands over his head to block it and crouched to the ground, but he didn't stop moving quickly enough and he tumbled to the ground, smacking his head against the base of a tree.
Kit was knocked senseless for the moment and his head throbbed uncomfortably from the pain. He attempted to sit up, but slouched back over instantly. The world was fuzzy to his eyes and he couldn't tell if it was just the heavy rain that covered his face or if it was a result of the head injury.
There was rustling in the bushes not far from his feet and Kit's attention was drawn to it. The leaves shook and cowered as if whatever was behind them was enormous and strong. The woods generally only had smaller animals, but there was the occasional deer or fox.
Kit attempted to focus his eyes on the spot where the movement had been, urging them to adjust to the darkness and see deeper into the rain. There was a large crack of thunder that shook the boy to his very core.
Then a large brown wolf stalked from behind the trees.
It stood there regal and staring, standing straight and upright. Every limb of the animal seemed strong and certain, completely defined and dangerous. The wolf was wet, as wet as Kit was, but it did not shiver. It had a dark brown head and back which transitioned into a light honey brown across its chest and haunches. At the belly and the ends of the paws the wolf had stark snowy white fur that masked the giant claws.
The boy's breath went still and he felt his face pale and go cold as he laid there in silence. There was no noise exchanged between the two creatures and each seemed to be daring the other one to be the first to make a sound. In fact the entire forest was caught in an eerie silence only interrupted by the fall of the rain.
It was Kit who was first to break the spell and he let out a haggard gasp for air. Now being more capable of his own emotions he pushed himself backwards, his head scarping up the tree, and pulled his legs in. Part of him screamed to run, but he knew he likely wouldn't be able to outrun a wolf. Another part of him urged him to play dead or attempt to appear friendly, but something about the stance of the animal suggested to Kit that it wouldn't fall for that.
The wolf merely looked at him unfazed by his attempt to slip away.
If Kit could think clearly, he might have attempted something different, but the only thing he could think to do was to steady his breath. The wolf still didn't move. It was staring, staring directly into his eyes, but it didn't seem to be challenging him. He met the gaze for a moment, becoming lost in the bright amber hue of the creature's eyes. Wolves were supposed to have brown eyes, he thought, or an icy blue. This otherworldly gold seemed completely out of place.
It must be a fox or a coyote. His thoughts returned as quickly as they'd left, stampeding his brain with calls of danger. There are no wolves in Massachusetts. Maybe it's an escaped dog?
Logically he knew that and yet– the animal staring just a few meager inches from his face was no large runaway dog. It was wild. Its pink tongue hung garishly from its massive teeth... bone crunching teeth no sane person would trust within their home.
The wolf only stared at him. Kit knew it was foolish, but it almost seemed as if the wolf could sense his thoughts and remained to prove him wrong. The animal wasn't a coyote, and he knew that deep down. Somehow he inherently knew it was a wolf.
You hit your head. He argued to himself. It's not really here. It's just a mirage.
The boy shut his eyes quickly, and then reopened them hoping the animal would be gone. It wasn't. He rubbed his eyes harshly; but the wolf remained. It was taunting him. It almost looked cocky, if a wolf could be capable of having that emotion.
In a moment you're going to disappear. He commanded it mentally. Of course it ignored him.
He was dumbstruck. He couldn't run, couldn't even attempt to fight, and couldn't get his voice to work well enough to call for help. The boy was resigned to his fate, the animal need only scratch him with its claws or knick him with its teeth and he would perish.
The wolf took one step forward.
This is it. Kit's fear rose higher in his chest and his head bumbled around with thoughts. This is how I die. It was just playing with me, torturing me before. It's going to eat me. He clamped his eyes shut, ready to feel the pain of his last moments.
They're never going to find my body, Kit's head turned to. Will anyone even want to find my body? By the time anyone made it, his corpse would be so mangled it would be unrecognizable, of course that was only if anyone could even be bothered to look. Certain his demise was imminent he thought of Fr. Charles and how he hadn't thought to tell him where he was going. He wondered what the man would do when he realized the boy was gone.
He wondered...
He wondered...
He wondered why the wolf hadn't eaten him yet.
Kit's mind snapped back to the present and to the fact that the pain he'd been anticipating hadn't come. Why hasn't it moved? He wondered. What are you waiting for?
Time surely could have been moving slowly for Kit in such a state, but it was even more frightening that he hadn't felt anything. When was it going to happen? When could it just be over?
When he'd built up the courage he peaked one eye open and could make out the large head of what appeared to be a wolf hovering inches from his face. It had come closer to him while his eyes were shut, but it hadn't eaten him. He had expected to see the massive jaws open just inches from his face, but with its mouth closed the jaws didn't seem so frightening.
Kit could feel the breath of the creature on his cheek and it again attempted to grab eye contact with the boy as it stood so close to him.
It's almost like he's looking back at me.
It moved slightly and he flinched, certain this was the end.
Instead the wolf looked down and hung its head as if it had sadly been expecting this reaction from the boy. Kit's heart pumped in his chest.
Kit's breathing remained rough and detached, not quite replenishing the amount he needed in the moment. The wolf didn't move, nor make any inclination that it intended to harm him. Rather its eyes remained locked on Kit's somehow daring him to look away. locked eyes with kit, somehow daring him to look away.
It's just an animal. Kit told himself. If it wanted to eat me, wouldn't it already have? And yet he couldn't force himself to believe that, no matter how pretty a thought it was.
As the wolf remained still, Kit's breathing finally began to settle. His back was firmly pressed on the forest floor, his head to the old tree.
The eyes of the wolf almost seemed to carry emotion, they almost seemed like they were human as opposed to the eyes of an animal. They almost seemed...
The wolf stepped back and extended its front legs, lowering its head. Its eyes were shut and it had a kind of peaceful expression on its face. The position almost looked reminiscent of a bow.
He lifted his head slowly in confusion. The wolf remained in the lowered position, but it didn't look like it was about to pounce. It almost looked like it was...
"Christopher!" A voice called over the noise of the rain. There was the rustle of heavy footsteps not far among the trees, and Kit's head shot over to the sudden intrusion. He couldn't quite make out whose voice it was, but they were clearly looking for him. "Chris!"
Kit turned back to the wolf, not wanting to let his guard down for long enough to give it more of an advantage than it already had, but only caught the sight of its tail as it scampered off.
He lay there waiting in disbelief, unable to accept the fact that the creature had just gone away. He frowned, brows furrowing, and looked frantically from left to right. The wolf was nowhere to be seen. It was as if it had vanished just as quickly as it had come. Surely it needed to make noise as it ran away across the forest floor, and yet he could see nothing– yet it was nowhere.
Still unable to get himself to move Kit let his head fall back onto the tree and looked up at the sky. The rain fell down like daggers pinching at his face and his whole body ached from stress. The adrenaline still coursed through his veins and his breathing remained ragged.
"Chris?" The voice called again. It was only a few feet from him. A man popped into view just above Kit's face with an incredulous look. "Christ! What the hell happened?"
The man knelt down frantically next to Kit's head and lifted it slightly. It was Damien, one of the boys from town who he went to school with. They weren't friends, much less than that actually, and Kit could think of no reason why Damien would be out in the woods in a thunderstorm looking for him.
"Did you fall?"
"I.. I think so?" Kit found it difficult to speak when he tried to and his words came out slightly slurred.
"Jeez, what the hell were you doing out here in the rain?" Damien asked in an exasperated tone. His head was still in Kit's frame of view, and he was just as soaked as the other boy. His black hair dripped with water and hung limply from his head as his gray tee shirt clung to his torso.
"It wasn't raining when I left?"
"And you didn't think to...!" Damien trailed off. "Shit. Can you even walk?"
"I'm alright," He lied. He attempted to hoist himself up but fell back after a few seconds. His head throbbed in pain and he flinched as it came back even worse than before. Something about the wolf almost numbed the pain, perhaps distracting him, but the wolf was gone.
The wolf...
"Did you... did you see anything before you shouted to me?" Kit asked.
"No... It's raining so Goddamn hard I can't see a thing," He complained.
"What were you doing out here?"
"I came to get you, doofus. Fr. Charles figured you'd run off into the woods and panicked when it started raining. Sent me out to go get you." Damien explained angrily. "I figured you were just stupid enough to do it. Now what the hell happened?"
Kit tried to sit up again but still couldn't so Damien helped him to a standing position. The boy winced at the painful sensation as the blood traveled around his body and smashed his eyes shut.
"I... I'm not sure..." Kit attempted. His gaze was still fixed in the direction the wolf had gone and he blinked to be sure he couldn't still see the wolf in the distance.
"Oh Jeez." Damien repeated, seeing the back of Kit's head more clearly. He brushed his hand with hiss over the mark and his hand was covered with thick red blood. "Shit!" Damien whispered, brushing his hand off on his apron. It left a brownish red blotch on the already soaked general store green smock. "Let me look at your head."
Kit begrudgingly turned so that Damien had a clear view of the injury.
"Shit." He repeated. "You hit your head pretty good... it's probably gonna scar."
Kit could feel Damien's fingers in his hair as he inspected the wound and flinched as the boy made contact.
"Sorry," Damien grunted, noticing Kit's discomfort. "Here."
Damien handed Kit a handkerchief from his front pocket and Kit looked at it strangely for a moment.
"It's clean," Damien insisted.
It was wet, but so was everything else. So with no better option, Kit pressed it to the wound to stop the blood from running down his neck and ruining his shirt.
"Thank you," He nodded. "But, you didn't need to come here... I could've found my own way back."
"It's whatever," Damien ran a hand through his short black hair, pushing it back into place. Regardless, he still had a disgruntled look about him. "Let's go back before Fr. Charles loses his shit."
The two boys stood for a moment, both breathing heavily for different reasons. Damien said he hadn't seen anything and he had just hit his head, but something about the wolf made it seem so real. It almost felt like it couldn't possibly have been a mirage, but then how else could it have disappeared so quickly?
"You didn't see any wild animals while you were walking, did you?" Kit paused as Damien looked up at him with a glare.
Damien raised an eyebrow, "What kind of animal?"
"Well.. like a fox or a coyote," He suggested. "Or..."
"Dammit Chris, just tell me what happened!" Damien demanded angrily.
"I really.... I must have fallen over," He lied. "It's all a blur... I thought I might have seen a... a coyote... or–"
"Or what, Chris?"
"A wolf."
"Don't go spreadin' any crazy stories," Damien scolded. "Look, you hit your head... maybe you just imagined it. Whatever it might be, you shouldn't go gettin' people riled up if you aren't sure."
"What?" Kit frowned.
Damien rolled his eyes but said nothing else on the matter. Kit wasn't sure what Damien was talking about, but had a good sense of when he was getting on someone's nerves, so he quieted himself before he could go and make anything worse.
"You know how to get back from here, right?" Damien asked.
"You're lost?" Kit shielded his smile from view.
"No." Damien puffed up his chest. "It's just all this rain."
"It's this way."
Damien nodded grimly and started off in the direction Kit had decreed. He waited an extra moment looking back behind him and into the foliage. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary– no sign of any wolf.
"You comin'?" Damien called in annoyance, presumably aware he couldn't get back if he let Kit out of sight.
Kit nodded and met Damien on what small space between the thickly grown trees passed for a path. He wanted to look back again, but he wouldn't let himself.
(A//N) For those who may be unaware Fr. is the abbreviated title of a Catholic priest meaning Father, and Sr. is the abbreviated title of a Catholic nun meaning Sister. Kit has a bit of an unorthodox family, so that will be relevant.
Also, if you want be sure to tell me your favorite color in the comment section down below! Happy Reading!