Fur and Beginnings

Abruptly from the cold depths, the hand of the boy reached desperately for the sky he had once seen. However, before his eyes, the hand that moved was no longer his. Thin and pale, with fingers once shorter, and upper arms without a trace of shape or definition, his body was no longer his to recognize. Much like his soul and mind, his body felt broken and unmatched to the reflection he had last seen. His eyes squinted at the sight of the bright blue sheet that lay on the sky, his vision was no longer clouded by weariness or with the weight of of his past. The night, a blur, beckoned him to recall the events that were so quickly removed. There were lingering thoughts like a distant dream, and the more he thought about the greater pain it caused him. A sharp pang ran through his leg, waking him completely from his daze.

His body flailed across the frozen floor, one leg raised into the air and into the mouth of something. As he was dragged through the separating sleet, his captor turned into a trail that led through an unfamiliar forest. The trees were vividly green, their leaves thriving within the white world around them, and the sunlight beamed between their branches onto the shadows that they produced.

With a sudden jolt and stop, the body of the boy lay awry across chilled stone and the sky for a moment shone deep blue under the cover of the trees. There was absolute silence and the boy focussed on his own breathing, the beating of his own heart. He counted each beat by threes like it were a clock.

1...

2...

3...

4... There was another beating heart besides his.

The sky became white and textured like fur. Two gems of emerald green stared into the place where his soul had once been. The beats of their hearts were exhaustedly out of synchronisation, the boy's own beat faster and faster. To have survived and then to be eaten by the wildlife seemed to be the fate that was chosen for him. The boy felt no will to live but the warmth of the creature reminded him of the kindness of someone he could not recall anymore. He tried to call out for help but now words could form, and his throat was dry with pain. The mouth of the wolf opened to a pant only. A soft, mellow echo of letters stringed together to form words and words together phrases rebound in the cavities of his mind. Expression returned to his face.

'You dwell with the hunted below and yet remain alive? Young one's scent is unfamiliar yet young one's body is of that of the two-legged ones. Truly curious. Young one has interested Ren.' The wolfs honest words were comforting, as they continued to sing inside his head. He had not the strength to linger on the meaning of his words.

Finally able to open his frozen sealed mind, the boy spoke in broken words to the majestic creature.

'Where… am I?' He breathed heavily and began to sweat, 'What happened… village… sword…' The wolf confused at his speech looked into his eyes. There it saw a hunter. The boys' mind-voice trailed and became occupied with frantically searching for what it was he needed to remember. He could only recall the spilling of blood, and the silver edge of a shining blade upon the snow. His body began to lose control along with his mind which had emptied itself of his life. The wolf's paw pressed against his chest, the muscular might of the great beast on display to the flailing body, spasming in the snow. His mind calmed and his body stilled once again. The wolf looked at the boy with pity and sympathy.

'Young one has Ren worried; its body is cold as though it were fallen to another hunter already. This one is most interesting, and Ren is sure it has many questions. Ren will take you to pack. To warmth.'

The wolfs' muzzle reached below the boy's back and flung him onto his fur, where the slow hum of its heart synchronised with his. The trees became blurs and the wind like liquid as the wolf raced through the cold land at full speed. It halted at a great cliff edge and made a sudden turn into a small grove protected from the snow by the evergreen trees that surrounded it. They towered into the sky hiding the horizon and as they made their way through the brambles and twigs, a clearing came into view. The burnt huts and mounds of bodies where nowhere in sight.

Wolves lounged about by the bases of the massive trees and by the far edge was a cave covered in green. Piles of bones lay about and some places of snow were discoloured red. Despite being covered in snow, instant relief from the seemingly eternal cold reached the boy's body and life, he was confident, had returned to him.

The eyes of the hundreds of wolves looked upon the two-legged furless creature that lay upon the back of Ren, and as the body stirred from his lifelessness, their eyes readied for the hunt. Slow growls reached the boys' ears, and his body began to shake again. His carriage, protective, returned the glares of his pack. All heads bowed as he pressed forward.

'Brothers, I have not prey, but a lost one. Ren has smelt that he is not like… them. Do brothers not smell scent of the young one?', the faces of the wolves became clear to vision and their snarls had changed to that much like the one that saved the boy. His body relaxed, feeling returning to his limbs. The pack shifted ever cautiously closer to the white wolf and its luggage, sniffing the air only to return to a scent unrecognisable to them. The boy, as if instinctively, reached out to the pack with his mind.

'Unwolf child. Much different.' One wolf whispered as the others followed in suite with remarks about the mysterious boy. Their consensus was that he posed no threat.

'Young one is most not common; you have no hate for these ones. Pack agrees that young one will stay with these ones, young brother of the hunt.' The wolf's eyes smiled at him, and his heart hummed louder, warming his body more than before. Questions formed for both the wolf and the body beginning to rise to its feet. The wolf guided the body to stand straight as it swayed in the slight breeze, much like the leaves of the trees. The boy stood by himself and reached for his white saviour, petting his nose and ears. Gratitude built inside the boy, a feeling he had not felt in a very long time. Something else stirred within him, the feeling of community which had lain dormant in his mind for far longer.

'Ren must ask young brother what he is called. The pack is much curious as Ren,' the other wolves closed in as if to listen more closely. The boy searched his mind to no avail once again. He could only remember his language while the images of blood-soaked bodies filled his memories and the endless screeching of the blade in the snow pierced his mind as though it itself were stabbing his head. He fell to his knees, blood running from his nose, the floor absorbing it. His heart pound faster and faster, his mind twisting. The wolves yelped and rushed to his side in sudden worry of this new and unusual creature. Ren lifted the boys' head with his own and forced their eyes to meet. As the boy tried to calm himself with the eyes of this beautiful creature, he glimpsed the wolf's sorrow and grief along with the answer to the question he had first asked before. The wolf's words echoed painfully throughout his broken mind...

'Young brother's scent is of the hunt, but not of fresh hunt. No two-legged ones have hunted in thousands of years, even long before wolfkind.'