The den was dimly lit that night; I remember the slight flicker of the candle's flame casting dancing shadows across our den. We were close to the Forest, but I was taught to never enter it under any circumstance. It was full of told and untold evils, like the wolves, concealed by the shadowy dark pines. The Forest terrified me and entranced me at the same time; something about it's dangerous beauty made me compelled to go on a stroll through its dark covering. But I was convinced that if I did dare enter that forest, I would never come back out. But something was different tonight. I was no older than sixteen when it happened. I remember me lying in my bed of feathers, sick and delusional with fever as the moon began to rise. It was beautiful; the pure white moonlight illuminating the den much better than our little bronze candle ever could. Exhausted from fighting off my fever demons during the day, I was looking forward to a blissful yet sickly slumber. The cool, wintery Germanic air stung my nose as my labored breathing continues; my twitching laws striking the ground in a cacophony of clicking claws. I cringe in pain as another spasm races through my body, shaking me down to my bones. I want to cry out, but that would only worry my pack more than they are already are. Fever is always the first sign of a plague, and I am the one with the ailment. I know what my family is thinking every time they see my disheveled body lying in the nest of feathers; my crusted eyes sealed but I can still sense their presence, still sense their sorrow. She is going to die. And we will be next. I only open my eyes when I know they are gone, when I know I am the only one in the den. So they are open now, on the night of the full moon, when everyone is gone to battle the wolves in our everlasting territory war. I am near death, I do know that. But I can almost feel something, like a tiny little thread, pulling at my urge to enter the Forest. I want to stand up, I want to leave and join my pack in the battle against those wretched wolves, but my longing is interrupted by the clicking of claws against the stone floor.
"Heidi? Heidi, mom wanted me to check on you." It is my brother, Gregory. He is still very young,still a mere pup, but he already has the mindset of a full grown pack member. I can hear his little paws scampering against the stone floor, and I can see his exaggerated shadow flickering against the wall. I smile faintly. If their is one person I can truly trust, it's Gregory. I remember his face before I fell ill, a lighter coat than mine but with the same patterns, and chestnut brown eyes. He is truly an adorable pup, and I could not love him more. But as Gregory approaches, I can see that the figure is not the cute tan pup that I know. The dark shadow seems to leap off the wall and slink toward me. Ragged gray fur stands up on its neck, and it's teeth are bared in a foaming, rabid growl. It's overgrown talons click on the stone floor, and blood-red eyes bore into my soul. I can feel my heartbeat pick up, and a surge of adrenaline runs through my body. Wolf. "Heidi? Oh, you're awake! I'll go tell mom and dad, they'll be so happy to hear it!" The wolf's mouth moves when I hear my brother's voice, but I know it's not him. My brother is not a wolf. "Heidi? Are you Ok?"
"What did you do with my brother, mangy beast?" I ask, a growl rising up in my throat.
"What are you talking about? I am your brother, Gregory." That seems to be the last straw, for I can feel my legs tense up, and I spring forward on top of the wolf with an amount of strength I didn't know I had. It tries to run, but I snatch the scruff of its neck, and I throw it to the ground. I haven't had much training in the field of fighting, but I have enough pawer and skill to overpower this scout.
"You lie." I say, pinning the scout to the stone floor. I see its mouth gape open, like it's screaming, but I don't hear anything. All I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears, and I pull back my lips to let out a yellow-toothed snarl.
"Wolf"
I say right before I bite into the wolf's throat. It squirms and struggles against my bite, but I don't release. I remember my trainer telling me to not let go of the enemy until they were dead, and that thought runs in my mind as the blood from the wolf wells up in my mouth. It tastes like salt and copper.
"Aus!" I can hear a voice in my head, and at first I think I'm imagining it, that the fever has finally gotten to me. But as it keeps repeating, I realize that the voice is not coming from inside my head, but from the outside.
"Aus, Heidi Aus!" I let go of the wolf's throat, and its body hits the ground with a sickening thud. I look out at the den entrance, and see my mother weeping into my father's shoulder, and my father with a look of pure hatred on his face. I am puzzled; I just killed an enemy, shouldn't they be proud? But as I look back at the wolf, I realize that it was no enemy. The shadowy wolf's image dissolves, and I see a small, tan figure lying crumpled in a pool of blood, deep gashes and punctures on his throat. His chestnut eyes are glazed over with fear and betrayal, and his mouth is open in shock.
Gregory.
The Fever.
It's all just too much. I remember crying out, and while the adrenaline was still racing through my veins, racing into the darkened forest. I don't remember saying anything, I don't remember looking back at my parent's and pack's horrified expressions. I don't remember. All I do remember is the image of my brother's crumpled body on the stone floor, the awful coppery taste of his blood in my mouth, and tripping on a tree root and falling to the soft, leaf-covered ground. I am giving up on everything and I know it. I can begin to see black spots at the edge of my vision as I let what I think is death take me, take me away from my horrible crime. I can feel it spread its shadowy wings around me, and I close my eyes and smile as I slip into a dark haze.
~~~
I wake up on the forest floor, a deer pelt blanket wrapped around my body. There is no more feverish tiredness or chill inside me anymore, in fact, I can see the world with clarity again. The midday sun flickers through the moving the trees, dappling my brown fur and the ground around me. I wipe at my eyes, finally clearing them of the crust that had built up after such a long fever. Then I realize it. I am in the Forest. Finally here, and it is strangely unremarkable. The terrain is uneven and pebbly, and a tree root digs into my neck. I can hear the birds singing, and I try to identify their songs. Blackbird. Jay. Robin. Larch... Suddenly there is movement in one of the shrubs, and I sit up against a tree. I see a paw step through the bush, and another, and soon an entire reveals itself to me, carrying a cup of water. A wolf. I growl and attempt to stand up, but I am overcome by weakness and I fall to the forest floor. I have to leave. Now. He is certainly here to kill me. That is what the wolves do; they despise our Kia pack. But I am no longer part of a pack. I am a loner; a rouge. My mother had told me stories about rouges and loners, and I had always thought that loners must be so sad and lonely. But my problem is not my loneliness, not right now at least. My problem is the wolf five feet from my crippled body.
"Well, you're awake." He says. His gray coat shimmers in the sunlight, and his eyes are an intense yellow. I growl, the sound rising deep in my throat, and I begin to speak.
"Enemy." Is all I can bring myself to say while I'm still crippled by exhaustion.
"Well, I don't think that's the nicest thing to call the wolf that healed you." He says. I stare at the wolf in disbelief. He can't be telling the truth; a wolf would never do anything nice for me. And he didn't even look like a wolf. While the wolves I've encountered were disheveled and scraggly, this one had neatly groomed fur and looked considerably healthy. But it can't be true.
"You..you were the one that brought me here?" I say, finally able to stand up.
"Yes, I was. And I would appreciate it if you would not get my blanket dirty." He says as the deer-skin blanket falls off my shoulders and onto the forest floor. I pick it up with my teeth, and lay it across a low-hanging tree branch. "You were delusional with fever when I brought you to my clearing, and you fell unconscious once you finally were wrapped up in the blanket. But you put up quite a struggle, I must say. Kept squirming and screaming
