Awarewolf

TW: gore, existentialism, violence

Here, time is like a fox, slipping past the cattails and over the rill to drink—lapping up my years faster than I can live them. Tennyson said that nature was “red in tooth and claw.” That's why I’m carving out the insides of a deer, wondering why I feel emptier than her. She crossed the river, clinging to her life more than I ever would.

Here I am, carrying the remnants of a full life in my stomach, with the rest in my paws. I laid the meat on discarded clothing and tore a line across the top with my claws. The carcass keeps catching on several branches and weeds while I drag it through the woods. These sharp blades of my hands give me some advantage, hooking securely into flesh. As they trail upward toward my head, a swath of onyx fur paints me in its empty hue. The sycamore branches meet me at the neck. My two hind paws support my weight as I lumber on. That’s the best I can say about my form. The river is too murky to see myself in, even when daytime touches these western woods.

I see the lights of Lynchburg reaching over the starry woods. I’m not entirely thrilled at the idea, though. Oftentimes, kids come out here, hoping to catch some semblance of terror with their cameras. If they see me, who can know what they’ll do? It’s not my intention, I promise you. I have no desire to lick my fangs and sink them deeper than the dead. However, it’s not my decision to make. I know what I’ll do if I see them. I need to get home before Nyx licks the sky with her smoke. But this curse leaves me implicit, regardless of my will to ignore the ties that bind. Of course, humans have their own things to be afraid of, such as lost voices taunting them in the moonlit groves. As for myself, I’m not so scared for damnation, only for the lives that must meet the grave to meet my desire. If anybody could illuminate these ideas, it would be Zilpha, a spirit who guards me while I rest. It’s as if any little life could atone for what she no longer has.

She reminds me of what my claws can do to soft bodies. She came close enough once, believing I had goodness still within, and I savored her sweet bones. She lays above the southern sky—and beneath the sycamore. I still watch over when she’s away, yet I have no guess as to what ghosts do in their free time. As if every second isn’t free for them.

The earth crackles beneath me as I move on. I grab a stick from the ground, hoping to char the remainder of this deer’s flesh. Surely, it can get crispy. It’s sloshing behind me now. I can predict nature’s wrath. The trees beat on, quick pulsations on the night like lost birds looking to take refuge. The branches touch the sky with their fingertips, and I lift my muzzle to them. Autumn’s singing tonight, soft howls lulling me until I fall asleep. She whispers sweet nothings, musings of a life before, and I watch my work become slow. Soon enough, Nature will let my life go. Or she’ll show her fur to the world as she consumes me. She’s already lashed the woods apart, such as the clearing that I’m entering. I stop dragging the meat and lay myself beside an oak tree. Frosty crags bring discomfort up my spine. I try to come out of my daze, looking to the figure standing beside me. Wait. My snout tilts to her.

I can feel Zilpha staring down at me. I’m ignoring her now, wrapping my paws around the meat I dragged from the river.

“She didn’t get away? I was sure she was quick enough.”

Her comment rolls past me. My paws press against fangs, filling my mouth with flavors. The forest floor added an earthiness to the meat. The melody of wolves rings out over the night. I have music while I eat.

“This reminds me of my mother’s cooking, back when she was still alive,” I whisper. “But she added seasonings, of course.”

Zilpha nods but won’t look at my meal. I watch her disappear, glowing through the veil of shadows to appear by my side.

“If she didn’t send you out into the woods, you could still have her,” she says.

“Yeah, well, that’s gone now. So is she. Who cares anymore?”

“I do.”

I turn to enjoy my food without being watched, but even I know that it’s pointless. Souls like her come sometimes several times throughout our lives, before or after we impose our greatest regrets.

“I understand it’s woven in your veins,” I hear her mutter. “But you can still live a life you’re proud of.”

I’ve just finished the doe; my center is thundering for flesh, roaring under the weight of its lust. I can feel her gaze pierce me. I want to respond, but something is different right now. My ears perk upward. Human voices.

A glance at her tells me she knows what my mind is thinking. I leap onto all fours. My hackles rise toward the moon, meeting my snout as it whisks the wind, searching for a trail to follow. A low hum trills over the river, and she’s a memory. My muzzle extends to the stars. I scent the faint aroma of humans. Younger. Children? I don’t care.

A stream divides two halves of the forest; I cross it, claws retracting as I leap over the water. Hope echoes over the river—innocent, ignorant jokes and conversations. I let my nose sway about the scents, taking them in in brief bursts. What a dangerous passion—the alluring scent of teenagers. Their flesh conceals the tasty wine below—tender ribbons and textures that leave my stomach snapping at me. My own bones ache for these promises. My hind legs pull me backward, mingling with my mind, clawing at me to forgive them of their trespasses and feast on feathers. The fangs in my core… the hunger…swallow reason whole.

My ears perk upward again, flicking from side to side like pattering fireflies. Outlines form. Faint lights cover the forest floor in phosphor; soon enough, their rays flicker through the trees. Cloth bristles against the pines.

“There are so many better things to do on Halloween night,” one of them says. A female.

“Norm already told me that he came here with his friends. He says that it’s all a myth,” a male replies. A soft drawl lingers on his words.

“Well, Norm also told me that he and Lisa got together, so we can make an assumption that he’s a liar,” the girl says.

Another voice echoes around the bend: a higher pitch.

“Yeah, he lies through his teeth. It’s pretty obvious, but it doesn’t matter. I just wanna get out of here before the game warden finds us out here.”

“If we can find our way back, then sure,” a different male says, a raspy tone underneath his words.

The forest itself hosts many scents. Earthy and sweet—or the tantalizing aroma of salt and sweat. But something odd is arising from them—fragrances blending with vanilla and spices.

Is it bitter on the tongue, or only on the nose? How rude to come unwelcome into the dark—needless sounds disturbing the peace.

The kids come into a clearing; their flashlight beams intensify. Something patters against my fur. Icy drops fall from the heavens, and I turn my snout to that abyss above. The tears of God are bathing my coat—I’m not solely stunned by the oncoming weather.

“Dammit!” the girl cries, “I didn’t bring a coat.”

The others dance around in the beams.

“Well, I was a Boy Scout. Our code was ‘Be Prepared’,” the male says, fluffing out his coat. “The world’s unpredictable.”

I skulk around the clearing to get the best view possible without alerting them. By the time they make it to the edge of the clearing, my jaws are visible under the October moon. I don’t need to hide anymore, standing upward on my hind legs.

The male freezes in place. Instinct drives me toward the girl’s scream beside him. When my blades contact her chest, my own ghosts come back to me. The Lynchburg sun blinds me for a second before I see the street in front of me.

Allison watched me from her father’s storefront, as she always did. This time, she came to say hello. I wasn’t in the mood, though. I mean, she did it every time I came down Fox Road.

“What,” I muttered, but she saw my attitude coming. “Want to come give me pity or something?”

“I see you walk through here every day,” she said. “Just because I don’t say anything doesn’t mean I don’t like you. Some things just take time.”

“Yeah, well, I tried to make it obvious that I think you’re nice. You’re one of the smartest people I know. I just wanted to get to know you. That’s it.”

“Well, come with me to the woods tonight and we can talk about it,” she said. “Me and Edwin are heading out into the reserve.”

Screams ring out and draw me from the vision. The girl beneath me lays breathless. I move toward the male; he shudders in my shadow.

As a human, tears would hit the earth in shining drops. Saliva replaces them now. I left that man behind when the curse fell on me—just as I’m leaving my pride behind, devouring what’s come to meet my maw. The yearling thrashes under my weight. His screams are soft under the thunder. Autumn’s icy breath mingles with his warm life. He struggles, writhing down my throat. Life slips between my teeth like sand.

My jaws constrain the shaking rabbit. I see my present spirit past the treeline. Zilpha’s eyes glow on—witnessing the beast she fed with her life. Those roaring orbs brought them back to the past in brief glimpses—my only true friends.

Edwin reared himself back, twisting meat from the soft food beneath. Before his time, I’d never seen eyes widen so far. One simple lash across the chest, and I tumbled to the earth without a fight. The beast lurched, paws outward, wrapping them around me in a painful vice.

My head whips around to the girl lying with an open heart. With each step, her breaths quicken. My claws slice through the ground as they extend. I rip them from the roots, circling her shivering form. My eyes twitch, and I shake the thoughts away.

Allison sniffled as the beasts surrounded us, eyes like stars cutting through the dimness. Those melodic hums of grief rang out—violets splashing on the still lake. The silhouettes shuffled away, and they left me breathing. Their stomachs were full, and their seedlings were in my blood.

If only things were different—or any other beast found them. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to stoke the flames with coals...or souls. Her glittering orbs plead with me to remember myself. Another girl lay below my claws once, and her flavor was distinct, like her gaze is now. With a stroke of unluck, my claws lick across the wick, and I huff it out. Those crystals paint no pictures anymore. Dirt crumbles underneath something; my ears flick toward the sound.

I see the male as he grapples for his fallen flesh. Anxiety collapses him, his core thundering in the quiet night. Soon, he regains a burst of faith and darts across the reserve. Out of sight but never out of my mind.

All that’s left are spirits and pride, so take time. Take the chance and flee, little rabbit.

The others are only meat, and so I drag what I can toward the fire, which rages across the river.

My paws trample the dirt, brittle things crumbling underneath. A disappointing breath tickles my ears. Zilpha appears next to me, glaring at the remains splaying the ground.

“You let one go,” she comments. She turns away, and I savor the liquid on my fingers. My tongue wraps around my claws. Bringing chunks of flesh to my fangs, I leer toward her.

“I’ll live on,” I say, gnashing at the remains of such sweet little lives. “He can bear the weight of curiosity now.”

“Sure. But are you willing to pay the price for giving in?” she asks.

I don’t know how to answer that one.

“You and I both know I have no authority over my impulses,” I breathe.

But maybe I won’t have to. Death can answer their muffled cries, and I’ll find a spot along the river to enjoy this harvest. To enjoy the quiet.